apunkrockernamedzev

[apunkrockernamedzev]

Does my, “theory,” on reincarnation make sense to anyone?

So I’ve recently been having an existential crisis (as one does) and getting into the idea of reincarnation. Maybe I want it to be true because the alternatives (just disappearing forever, something completely unfamiliar) are too scary for me, so I’m just grasping at straws. But I’ve been thinking about it and it kind of makes sense? So the chances of any of us existing right now, at this point in time are insanely small. Like less than 1 in a trillion. But here I am. Conscious, perceiving things, etc. So what are the odds of me existing only this once? For 70 years or so and then being gone forever? Abysmally small. So that makes me feel like something is always going to be, “me”. There might be gaps where I’m not conscious but if this is really the only time I’ll ever be conscious and it happens to be right now then I’d better buy some lotto tickets.

Does that make sense?

[apunkrockernamedzev]

[apunkrockernamedzev]

HEY! HO! LET’S GO! 

[apunkrockernamedzev]

[apunkrockernamedzev]

When the city streets are barricaded A chaos we ourselves created When there's nothing left Tell me, where will you go? When the factories are automated Broken dreams incorporated Gather your things But there's nowhere to go

-- Rise Against, Broken Dreams, Inc. 

[apunkrockernamedzev]

a long forgotten relic of a post 

i guess i’m just a boy who’s a time bomb….figure i shouldn’t forget to pack a wife ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[apunkrockernamedzev]

you've gotta die, gotta die, gotta die for your government? die for your country? that's shit! you've gotta die, gotta die, gotta die for your government? die for your country? that's shit!

-- Anti Flag, Die For Your Government 

[apunkrockernamedzev]

[apunkrockernamedzev]

Our masters have not heard the people's voice for generations and it is much, much louder than they care to remember.

Alan Moore, V for Vendetta

[apunkrockernamedzev]

How I discovered punk rock

I remember when I first discovered punk rock, at the age of fourteen. I was still attempting to locate who I was, what I wanted to be in life, and then bam. It came to me, like lightning in a bottle of punk rock. 

It came to me through a documentary called The Other F Word, it was all about men in middle age who were lead singers of punk rock bands, going from saying fuck you to authority, to suddenly becoming that authority they so desperately attempted to ward off earlier in their youth. 

Within that said documentary, I was exposed to the likes of Pennywise, Rise Against, NOFX, Bad Religion, Sex Pistols, Circle Jerks, Black Flag, etc. 

And let me tell ya, after I finished the documentary and listened to the bands (religiously) I was a rebel with a cause. I walked up to my friend later that day, and told him, “I’m a punk!” He merely laughed it off, either thinking I was joking or was unaware of what that even was. I got a mohawk, wore this leather vest (later on upgraded to a denim vest with studs, patches, and spikes) which I put buttons on, and found whatever critical thinking books on changing one’s way of thinking, (and a few punk rock books here and there) when I could.

The music was fast, abrasive, angry; I hated the world, and it felt as though the world hated me; it was perfect, truly perfect.

I don’t know about any of you, but that documentary opened this door into a dimension I never thought possible; prior to it, I had no idea what punk rock was.

I became deeply rooted into it, like a spiderweb that entangled me.

I say, fuck yeah, to anyone who discovers it, and says, “Why the fuck didn’t I find this, last year!??!” 

[apunkrockernamedzev]

[apunkrockernamedzev]

Came up that's all me, no help that's all me, stayed true that's all me, all me for real. TOUCHED DOWN IN 86, KNEW I WAS A MAN BY THE AGE OF 6!

[apunkrockernamedzev]

[apunkrockernamedzev]

I remember when I first discovered punk rock, at the age of fourteen. I was still attempting to locate who I was, what I wanted to be in life, and then bam. It came to me, like lightning in a bottle of punk rock. Through a documentary called The Other F Word, it was all about men in middle age who were lead singers of punk rock bands, going from saying fuck you to authority, to suddenly becoming that authority they so desperately attempted to ward off earlier in their youth. Within that said documentary, I was exposed to the likes of Pennywise, Rise Against it, NOFX, Bad Religion, Sex Pistols, Circle Jerks, Black Flag, etc. And let me tell ya after I finished the documentary and listened to the bands (religiously) I was a rebel with a cause. I walked up to my friend later that day, and told him, “I’m a punk!” He merely laughed it off, either thinking I was joking or was unaware of what that even was. I got a mohawk, wore this leather vest which I put buttons on, and found whatever critical thinking books on changing one’s way of thinking, (and a few punk rock books here and there) when I could. 

I was so blessed, to find this community of music and people, that benefited me from such an early age. I don’t know who, or what I’d be, had I never found it. Punk rock allowed me to be an angry, angsty, brooding teenager who hated politics and thought the world was full of sheep. But, then again, that is your typical teenager. 

I was a fourteen-year-old atheist, a critical (and always) thinking, punk rocker. If you asked me, life couldn’t be better. I was into smoking pot and drinking booze on the weekends with my buddies, and I was in bliss. 

I was a rebellious, fun-loving, hating boring sheeple kid. 

Hopefully, you can read this, and say, “Wow! That was me!” 

Later, y’all! 

[apunkrockernamedzev]

The self-congratulatory popular account insists that Dr. King called on the nation to fully accept its own creed, and the walls came a-tumbling down. This conventional narrative is soothing, moving, and politically acceptable, and has only the disadvantage of bearing no resemblance to what actually happened.

Timothy B. Tyson, Blood Done Sign My Name: A True Story

[apunkrockernamedzev]

If you’re not angry, you’re either a stone, or you’re too sick to be angry. You should be angry. You must not be bitter. Bitterness is like cancer. It eats upon the host. It doesn’t do anything to the object of its displeasure. So use that anger, yes. You write it. You paint it. You dance it. You march it. You vote it. You do everything about it. You talk it. Never stop talking it.

Maya Angelou