Archive for the Uncategorized Category

Here comes the story of The Hurricane

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 30, 2008 by gothicusmaximus

Forgive the delay between this post and my last. Readjusting to my relentlessly fast-paced, action-packed New York lifestyle has required me to briefly avert my attention from blogging, but I have an announcement that I believe will instill in my readers joy to sufficient compensate for whatever feelings of neglect they may have suffered on my account. 

As many have come to know through experience, deep sadness can oftentimes compel one to, in desperation to distract oneself from the source of that sadness, enact somewhat impulsive behavior. Though said compulsion most commonly manifests as binge drinking, regrettable sexual misadventures, or some combination thereof, those afflicted, even when of a perfectly contented disposition, by a profound lack of responsibility in regard to the management of fiscal assets, such as that one must possess in order to judge the purchase of the domain name ‘’ to be a good idea, are often susceptible to inducement by sorrow to carry out exorbitant monetary expenditures. There exists perhaps no evidence that better legitimizes the latter idea than that represented by the 200 dollar fog machine presently sitting on a chair in the 7’x7′ chamber I generously call my kitchen.



This glorious device possesses a 1,000 watt heater, allowing it to be primed for fog production, which it carries out at a nigh-unbelievable rate of 5,000 cubic feet per minute, almost immediately after activation, and a 1.4 watt tank, along with a warning light that signals impending fuel depletion, ensures all but perpetual function. Unfortunately, despite these impressive capacities, the utility of even such an masterful work of engineering within the context of my life is almost entirely nil. Thus far, I have been unable to cogitate a use to which The Hurricane might be turned, beyond providing atmospherics for a kickin’ party, encapsulating the entire effects budget for a mid-20th century British Horror Film, or the blasting of fog into the faces of new acquaintances into order decrease even further the rate at which I make friends.
Undaunted by the unshakeable sensation that I may have dedicated my resources to a somewhat reckless end, I am resolved to not relent, and to reflect, a year from now, on the day I bought my fog machine with minimal regret. Any willing to offer suggestions as to how I might achieve this goal would earn my gratitude. 
– Gothicus Maximus

Back to School

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 24, 2008 by gothicusmaximus

The identification card adhered to my door, its prompts answered so to optimally alienate everyone (click to enlarge): 

It’s good to be back. 

Ghosts: The Most Depressing Belief One Can Possibly Maintain

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 14, 2008 by gothicusmaximus

Indisputably, nearly all human societies throughout history have demonstrated a fascination with the idea that, subsequent to the death of a given individual’s body, the spirit or ethereal essence of that individual might somehow linger on Earth. That this fascination persists among denizens of the contemporary west is attested by the existence of that Patrick Swayze movie, paramountly stupid reality television franchise Ghost Hunters, the supernatural docudramas that dominate the comprise the bulk of the Biography channel’s programing, and Casper The Friendly Ghost; the purpose of this entry is to inquire as to the reason for which this is true. I caution you, readers, to not expect this dissertation to end in a resolution of this curiosity, as treatises that begin with a question often do, as I genuinely have no idea why any human being would feel delighted by the prospect that ghosts exist.  

I understand entirely the allure of a belief in heaven, for the idea that life possesses some inherent objective is naturally alluring to human beings. I can even grasp from where proceeds the concept of hell, as once the foresaid objective has been accepted, the question regarding what happens when it is unfulfilled must naturally be addressed; also, organized religious movements have, over the course of centuries, come to realize that the instillment of mortal fear is the most effective conversion technique. The appeal of faith in ghosts, however, consistently eludes me, for even if the existence of such spirits was supported by a wealth of incontrovertible evidence, I’d imagine it to be a vulgar subject unmentionable in polite company.

We enact, throughout our lives, petty, asinine behaviors, to the primary end of distracting ourselves from the brevity of our tenures on this planet and the reality of our irrelevance in the scope of all time, and are, in turn, subjected to the petty, asinine behaviors that others enact to the primary end of distracting themselves from the brevity of their tenures on this planet and the reality of their irrelevance in the scope of all time. That human life is even peripherally bearable is accountable to the prospect of vast wealth, the possibility of fame, and sex, all of which are essentially denied to the ghost by its very nature, and thus the notion that, upon death, one might become a ghost can be extrapolated to the conclusion that one might be made victim of the petty, asinine behaviors of one’s fellow man long after one has lost all reason to react to these behaviors in any manner but to say “fuck this shit”. If the motivation of those phantoms who throw knives and scrawl “GET OUT” on the walls of homes in ectoplasmic blood is still a mystery, I submit that I may possess some valuable insight. 

There exist, to my knowledge, no standardized criteria by which whether a deceased person will live on as a ghost can be determined. The widely held premise seems to be that anyone could, virtually at random, be condemned to a pale mockery of life devoid of those few contingencies that occasionally render our time in this world to be marginally pleasant. Nevertheless, bewilderingly, a considerable number of people exhibit a desire see this proposition validated as truth– if anyone among my readership is able to put forth an answer as to why, consider this my attempt to elicit it. 

– Gothicus Maximus

I improve the recruitment strategies of revolutionary political movements, with castles

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 10, 2008 by gothicusmaximus

As I am not only a denizen of New York City, but one who gravitates toward punk rock shows, I have been, in my time, petitioned by many proponents of radical political ideologies, handed many a free-paper concisely delineating the cause to which those men and women have pledged themselves. While I have personally never been impelled to take up the banner of insurrection, as, given that I am subsisting to my satisfaction under the present American constitution, to do so would require me to manifest compassion for strangers when I barely care about people I personally know, I have resolved, in my near boundless generosity, to endeavor to offer these admirably dogged insurgents some wisdom.

My main qualm with political systems focused on egalitarianism and the elimination of class stratification, one I imagine to be shared by many other men and women of the modern world, is that communal ownership of the means of production and the equal distribution of the resources yielded through these means will likely interfere in my possession of nice things. For a man whose primary ambition is to be lord of a castle, “from each according to his ability, from each according to his need” is essentially a four letter word. Although today’s disciples of Marx, Bakunin, and Proudhon must recognize that I absorb their freepaper’s illustrations before I do their words, those images are consistently depictions of spartan farms and squalid factories. I’m expected to betray the pledge of allegiance I was forced to make, every day of my elementary school career, to the flag of the United States of America and to the Republic for which it stands so I can live on a lame, shitty farm? Take a big step back, comrade.

After puzzling over this predicament for some time, the solution dawned upon me, beautiful in its simplicity. COMMUNAL CASTLES. Offer me the chance to live in a castle, and I’ll sign up to participate in a communist experiment faster than one can say “Workers of the World, Unite!”. I wouldn’t even be horribly averse to sharing my citadel, as even within a capitalist economic model, the manor would also be occupied by servants. Put a kickass gothic tower on the cover of a pamphlet instead of some ramshackle huts, and I guarantee the glacial rate of the populace’s radicalization will grow exponentially.   

Take notes, 

– Gothicus Maximus

Remember what I said yesterday about financial responsibility?

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 2, 2008 by gothicusmaximus

Roughly 24 hours and 15 dollars later, I am officially the owner of I figure this is excusable as I don’t smoke, and am therefore entitled to spend money more liberally than those who maintain such an expensive habit. Nevertheless, I am not totally at ease, for somehow when I type into google, the search engine incorrectly informs me that no such domain exists, which complication is interfering in my ability to fully enjoy this purchase. I would greatly appreciate any insight into the source of and possible solutions to this vexing problem.

-Gothicus Maximus

What happens to a goth kid when he gets struck by lightning? The same thing that happens to everything else.

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 28, 2008 by gothicusmaximus

In a smoke-shrouded office, utterly devoid of light but for the dull glow of a shaded lamp, the dark forms of the Long Island Power Authority’s inner circle coalesce into a singular shadow. A voice cuts through the thick black like a sharpened blade of ice, “Before we adjourn, I’d like to bring forth a final matter of concern.”

“Well, make it quick,” another replies, the tip of his cigarette incandescent as he inhales, “I have no intention of missing the Yankees game.”  

“My sources have informed me that a certain presence on the internet has disseminated an impression of LIPA contrary to that this organization prefers to convey. I move that this presence be neutralized.”

A dismissive grunt clears the air surrounding its utterer’s mouth, “Surely you don’t mean-”

“Yes. That’s the one. We often forget, Gentlemen, that this operation is a delicate one.  Even the most meager attempt at subverting our designs could develop into catastrophe, the unravelling of all we’ve worked towards. No opposition can be permitted to persist.”  

“Director, this man’s faggy online diary receives 27 hits daily. He can’t simply be made to disappear, at least if we intend to avoid troublesome inquiries.”

“An admissible point. We cannot proceed carelessly. We must be at once uncompromising discreet and unerringly effective. To that end…”

As realization sweeps slowly over them, each body assembled feels its muscles tense, its breathing accelerate. The Director’s lips give way to a frigid smile.

“Unleash the Weather Machine.”


My fucking house got hit by fucking lightning. I was roused from my bed at roughly noon today, which to a nocturnal prince of darkness such as myself is essentially as the dead of night is to a normal person, by the loudest noise to which my ears have ever been audience. My most immediate guess regarding the source of the disturbance was that terrorists were attacking, this fact serving as affirmative proof that, when my primal fear reflex overcomes me, I do in fact support the patriot act. Upon gathering sufficient resolve at the behest of my screaming father, I, clothed only in a pair of boxer shorts, made my way downstairs, navigated through the smoke that now congested the ground floor of my home entirely, draped a wool topcoat over my shoulders, and stepped into the torrential rain to wait for the fire department. 

I have been made a victim of the most improbable inconvenience to which a man can possibly be subjected, excepting possibly attack by a shark, which Discovery Channel informs me is less frequently experienced. This indicates to me either that the universe owes me some substantially good fortune, manifested perhaps as my winning the lottery, passing the road test, or meeting a woman I want to marry and not eventually divorce, or that I can now expect to suffer, at some point in my lifetime, each of the nearly innumerable less likely miseries that could befall a human being. 

That, in the wake of this proverbial brush with death, my perspective on and attitude toward life undergo a dramatic shift might be expected, yet I am forced to report that no such upheaval has taken place within me. Presently, I am sitting on my couch watching That 70’s Show, in much the same manner as I did so yesterday, before lightning hit my fucking house. 

– Gothicus Maximus

LIPA Sucks

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , on July 24, 2008 by gothicusmaximus

Allow me to apologize profusely for my failure to update yesterday, especially given that I promised to do so twice. The Long Island Power Authority has added a new chapter to its storied history of dropping the ball and failed to in any way abate the widespread power failure that descended upon Nassau County at roughly 10:30 PM yesterday evening. Should fortune choose to smile upon me as it so rarely does I’ll be able to author a post tonight, but I’m sadly unable to make any promises, though I suppose this is just as well, as I’ve failed to fulfill so many in the two weeks for which I’ve maintained this blog that my word is scarcely worth anything any longer. Adieu for now, I’m in a library and am only permitted to make use of this internet connection for five more minutes.

-Gothicus Maximus

Brief lull in post frequency

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , on July 19, 2008 by gothicusmaximus

OMG A BAT’s sole author is presently in Pennsylvania engaged in the pretense of having a life, and will therefore be unable to produce a proper update until sometime Sunday evening. Until then, I encourage you to read your favorite posts a second time, as my subtle wit often begs scrutiny.  

-Gothicus Maximus


Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , on July 15, 2008 by gothicusmaximus

I failed.

-Gothicus Maximus


Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , on July 15, 2008 by gothicusmaximus

By 9:30 AM today, I will either have become certified to operate an automobile, unsupervised, at any time, or have failed in my fourth attempt to do so. My driving instructor, when asked whether he believed I, most probably his oldest student, would pass the test with which I would imminently be confronted, averted his eyes to the ground and refused to answer. I can feel the unquantifiable weight of inevitability bearing down upon me, I can feel the heavy, putrid breath of inexorable disappointment on the back of my neck, and yet I will not surrender to defeat. I maintain that a man can only perpetrate a finite number of mistakes before the universe all but coerces him to do something right, and if I am correct in maintaining this, I have fucked up sufficiently in the past year that I am owed five minutes of flawless performance behind the wheel of my mother’s Audi A6. By 9:30 AM today, I will either become certified to operate an automobile, unsupervised, at any time, or die in the pursuit of this goal. I will signal when pulling away from the curb, I will adjust my mirrors and check my blindspot. I will steer hand over hand, I will slide my palms along the frame of the wheel as it returns to its default position.  I will remain almost presciently aware of my surroundings, I will stop before the white line at every stop sign. I will not confabulate any more excuses concerning Jack Kerouac or Carbon emissions. I will, from this day forward, travel to the Kentucky Fried Chicken on Glen Cove Road whenever I want. I won’t be no scrub, a scrub is a guy who won’t get no love from you, hanging out the passenger’s side of his best friend’s ride, trying to holler at you. I will, one day, purchase a car of my own, and I will adorn that car with a Sex Gang Children bumper sticker, which will provoke onlookers to remark “Sex Gang Children? That sounds horrible. The youth these days,” as I drive, unsupervised, wherever I should be pleased to drive. At 9:00 AM today, destiny and I meet at an uncontrolled intersection, and, for once in my life, it will yield to me.

-Gothicus Maximus