On Top of Everything

Andrew Jackson was a romantic. He was a lover AND a fighter. The love and devotion he felt for his country was only matched by that for his wife. If you had any reason to believe that I cared about what anyone else said, especially on the character of Andrew Jackson, let me say here that I don't, and that Andrew Jackson is the single greatest thing that has happened to this world. It is by his example that I have chosen to live the rest of my life.

To Rachel Jackson
From Andrew Jackson
Nashville January 8th. 1813

My love,

I have this evening since dark received, your affectionate letter by Dunwodie

He has carefully handed me your miniature—I shall wear it near my boosom, but this was useless, for without your miniature, my recollection, never fails me of your likeness.

It now one Oclock in the morning the candle nearly out, and I must to bed, May the angelic hosts that rewards & protects virtue and innocence, and preserves the good, be with you untill I return - is the sincere supplications of your affectionate Husband

Andrew Jackson

To Rachel Jackson
From Andrew Jackson
Head quarters Fort Strother
February 21rst 1814

My love, I have this moment recd. your letter of the 10th Instant, and am grieved to think the pain my absence occasions

I have a pleasing hope of seeing you before long -can I get up my supplies shortly I will soon put an end to the Creek war, as soon as this is done and I can honourably, retire, I shall, return to your arms on the wings of love & affection

Andrew Jackson

Rachel and Andrew Jackson: A Love Story

Drunk is Relative.

No, I'm not Drunk.

Nor shall I be anytime soon. But hey, let's face it; everyone gets a little hammered now and then. You see, life is choice. Choice is life. There's little fate to go aroudn but the choices that you make around it. You may look back retrospecticely and say "Hey, wasn't that a hokey coincidence?"
It was chance.

But the point being herein though:
You are driven to choice, whether the decision is by yourself, or by someone else. One can be outwardly driven (I.E. influenceable), or Inwardly driven (I.E. Influencing), and each of these types determine how one may acted when faced with a decision.
I've taken a long, damned hard look at myself (for reasons of which I shant divulge. Only a few people may know one, and one of them is damnably me.), and have determined, that I am both. I can be so stubborn and so passionate about something that, forces, be they bullets or torrential rainstorms, I'm invulnerable to the world about me. And yet, someone's words can so influence my decisions that I could crumple right there, 2 feet from my goal and cry out.

Is it the poeple themselves who do that? Are they just a modified howitzer version of the regular influencers? Or is it an immortal weakpoint within? To feel? To appreciate? To give oneself for?

We have no weaknesses. We only make them ourselves....
For some reason, I choose to have that one. A weakness of heart.

Chance, Fate...What is it all but ways of delving into forever? It's something we rarely understand...the vastness of everything...

But I guess, if you hold on to someone...if you find those who so move your stubborn ox-hided asses into gear, make you want to change, want to improve....
Well, you better fuckin' hold on tight. They're worth it.

~L
Coming from a different time. (For a friend.)

Late post because of a late post.

Well, I had fully intended to not usurp the power of the pen and take the thunder away from my good friend Lazer, but, Nuff's 'Nuff. I'm posting, even if the magical, royally ordained "Order" is disrupted.



Now then...It kind of seems to me that I go perpendicular to whatever my colleagues agree to, but, yet again, I have a counter-point to all of our drivel (Mine included.)

Men like sex. It's a fair given, anyone who's watched cheerleaders at a football game, seen a swimsuit competition, or, blasphemy that it may be (Har Har), looked at porn, you can tell that sex is a heavy industry to compete with in itself. Stronger than steel, oil, electricity put together nearly, Sex is practically a bigger motivator in society than religion.



Yet what I question is Why it plays such a huge role... Sure, it's a physiological reaction to feel sex appeal, sexual tension, to become aroused, get horny, however you may put it, but, for the most part, this reaction is Mental. I believe that anything mental can be regulated by willpower, and, while this can be simply stopping yourself from popping a boner in a crowd of hot chicks, it can go as far as celibacy (Although, full societal celibacy is just...stupid. Wouldn't recommend it.)

Men lie slaven to desire today, torn apart by their blatent needs and wants in a quest that, in the overall, adds only slightly to our complete happiness and social well-being. A one night stand can be a great relaxer, but after a while, they'll become fewer and farther between, and that guy/girl is gonna get lonely.



And that's where we come up with our second large institution in the states: Love. Love is one of the most marketed and labeled ideas perhaps in the history of mankind. Yet...Society as I know it has slurred that word so damned much now that we can barely pick out what it truely means anymore. Ask a teenage girl why she loves her boyfriend, and she'll likely say "Because he's hot," or, "Because he can talk to me." Now, first and foremost, the first one is obviously not Love. In that case, Love is being confused with another L word which most people don't understand, Lust.

Lust is physical desire, basically, the reason for rampant college fornication, drunken orgies, and facetious relationships. Lust isn't something to build love upon, yet, it can come With love.



You may ask, where the hell is he going with this? Well...
I'm sick of all these yuppies calling out, booze-infested, into the night at the girl they've just fucked, "I love you." Such a cry is Lust, not Love, and should never, EVER be confused otherwise. And, as our society has conditioned our girl's delicate (or otherwise) little hearts to flutter and butterflies to explode out their crotches, I see more and more bad relationships, drunken pregnancies, and just generally stupid decisions being made over those three rampantly misused letters...

So then, the next time you roll off of some nameless chick in the night, unless you really REALLY do, just say, "That was a nice screw," or something of the like.

Leave the loving to us Lovers.

~C

"Holy shit holyshit holy shit holy shit... TWO!!! TWO TWO TWO STREETLIGHT MANIFESTO TRACKS LEAKED AND I GOT THEM AND ITS THE MOST AMAZING FEELING!!!!"

(Transcribed from a text message to Lazer)

"Oh my god... I vastly underestimated how amazing these tracks would make me feel... seriously, you wont [sic] know what pleasure feels like til [sic] you blast these fuckers at 100 percent. My heart skipped not one but several dozen beats. In a row. Imagine the greatest orgasm you will ever have and mltiply [sic] it by three, except that it lasts at least 10 minutes unless you have the tracks on repeat [in which case it would last longer]. I honestly used to think that I loved Socialism and Camus, but those emotions are mere hiccups in comparison to how good this music makes me feel. I Wuld kill 100 thousand baby kittens to listen to these tracks if someone told me that I had to. I would sell my wife and children into slavery for these songs... SHIT... Now combine all of the above metaphors, and you get a small fraction of how these songs really make me feel..."

I couldn't put it more eloquently if I tried...

I love you like a jew loves money...

... beer.
But when people give me shitty beer, it's as if Juliet turns out to be a man. I want to find out that Juliet has a penis as much as I want to drink Genny, Keystone, Natural Ice, or (God forbid) Red Dog.

WHAT.
THE.
FUCK?
Seriously, what the fuck, college kids? I know that good beer costs more, but it makes me not want to be your friend if you can't have the insight to at least get some Miller or Bud or something that isn't so shitty that it's been quarantined. Well, at least I think that's why I never heard of any of this shit until I got to Rochester. Not that I'm complaining, it's just that I'm of the belief that beer should only taste like watery and/or bitter piss AFTER it's gone through my urinary system.

The same goes for you, vodka. I know that people complain about you tasting like rubbing alcohol a lot, but that's just because they're too cheap to buy the good shit. I could probably down an entire bottle of Skyy or Grey Goose without a chaser, but give me some Taaka or some shit like that and I'll gag after two shots.