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This has been a long time coming.

I've never felt this proud or more thankful in my entire life. I finally see the good things happening all around me, instead of always zeroing in on all the shit. It's actually pretty refreshing.

I now have reliable statistics on the number of hits all my outlets are getting and I have to say I'm astonished by the high the numbers for this blog. It's been viewed by (almost) thousands of people from all over the world. Have you ever been so proud you cried? It's a good feeling.

For my final piece of 2010 I wanted to let you know how much you being here means to me.

For those of you who just read one piece and moved on, thank you for giving it a shot. I have no hard feelings if you don't dig what I do.

For those of you "blog surfing" and were on mine for .0003 seconds, slow down a bit. Oh, also thank you for increasing my hits and, therefore, inflating my ego.

To all my visitors from foreign countries who can read English; thank you and I'm sorry my country can be a bit of a dick at times. Our hearts are in the right place, we just need to use our brains a little more when logic comes into play.

For all my offshore guests who can't read English. You probably never understood a single thing I've written here, but thank you all the same. And poop. poop poop poop poopoooppooooppooppoopofpoapfoapdopasdofpasopssssssssssssss

Speaking of nonsense, to all the bots who left countless (meaning I'm too lazy to go and count them all) Engrish words of wisdom or insult, which were always followed by links to porn sites written in hieroglyphics. Thank you for inspiring a piece and making every time I checked my email just a little more interesting.

For those of you who secretly follow this and, or, check my site regularly; thank you so much. While you're not the reason I do this, you are what makes it worthwhile.

To Amber, Missy, Danni and Kiara; I sincerely thank you for the support and strength. While I choose not to go into details about my specific feelings for each, the four of you hold very special places in my heart.

And, last but certainly not least, to "the girl who taught me the art of letting go";...this is the first time thinking about you leaves me without a single thought. Interesting.

Tonight, go out and have fun, but be safe. I need you well and rested for 2011.

Shit's goin down.

My ideal mate.

Tina Fey in public, Heather Brooke in private.

Pay attention.

If you're not reading between the lines or exploring every rabbit hole, you're missing out on the best parts of what I do. I used to be a writer, but it's becoming so much more than the words bled out onto a page. No, it's gotten bigger. In order to truly see how many levels this is all working on, you're going to have to work for it.

I promise you though, the secrets you uncover will be well worth the time and effort.

Happy hunting.

Loss Pt. 2: The eulogy I wish I had given

It's funny the difference a year can make.

I still remember your funeral. The pastor and other members of the church talked about you. They said they didn't know you before you found God, but they liked the Mark they knew after you sheeped up. In fact, you got two different eulogies. One was for the Mark people saw at church. They referred to the Mark I knew, and loved, as "That Other Mark."

This made me furious, though no one else felt aggrieved.

I felt this away every time a church representative spoke, but you should have seen Vinnie. Your son has the heart of a lion, man. Just like his old man.

To me the scariest thing about dying has always been just how fast everyone else moves on without you. I mean, that's what we did once the ache of losing you subsided. Because, once you're gone the people you love are still here. What other choice do they have?

But you're not forgotten. I think about you all the time. Mostly at family functions, because we were always attached at the hip. I wander around lost during them now, like I'm looking for someone I'm never going to find again.

You were the first, of two, family members to read my book. Hearing you talk about it was the first time I truly felt accomplished as a writer.

I think about you when I listen to our most frequent topic of conversation, The Russ Martin Show. He finally made it back on the air, six months too late.

I miss driving around for hours laughing and crying as you'd tell me all about your life. I still treasure your tales of being a professional wrestler. The pastor mentioned this era of your life briefly and dismissively. It was his goddamned dream and it was given one sentence.

See, I knew you as "That Other Mark" and you were a beautiful human being.

You were the brother I never had.

And I miss you.

New audio and a touching moment

I've just finished recording the audio for "Haunted". I originally wrote this piece back in June of '08. I really like doing this stuff because it allows me to breathe new life into old words. It also provides a genuine look into my state of mind at crucial points in my past. It's the fourth one I've done so far; with "My muse", "Expulsion" and "Wake up call" being the others. All of them can be found on the Audile page of

Well, since you've brought up my site I'll tell you a story. A couple of days ago my closest and most missed friend from South Carolina was checking it out and got inspired and created 4 animated promos for it. (you can find them on the F.R.H. TV page) Two of them really stuck with me. The first one I won't ruin it for you, but it's on the Intro page. For the second one, he took lyrics from "Deja Vu" and made a minute long cartoon for it. It was a little low tech, but that only added to its charm. I recorded audio of me singing the lyrics and I can't wait to see what he does with it.

That's about all for now. Expect a lot of site updates in the's kind of my life now.

My muse

2010 is almost over and it's left my head swimming. Every time I've tried to process it all, I'm rendered absolutely speechless.

I was in a weird place when the year began. I was growing increasingly forlorn with my room mate and performing at open mics was my only respite. The main problem with this is, most of the time when I'm on stage, I'm talking about you.

When I was at my loneliest I met her. It happened online and we hit it off immediately. She was loving, passionate and outspoken; three words I could never have used to describe you. In typical fashion, we moved too fast and the passion burned out long before our relationship did.

We were fighting more often than not, each one of them ending with her saying I needed to go back to therapy. The stress of problems in and outside of our relationship led to it ending with a whimper on our sixth month anniversary. My family took it harder than I did.

Right after that, I got promoted and my room mate bailed on me. Suddenly, 75% of the stress in my life was gone...and I flourished.

Aside from kicking ass at work, I started making real progress on myself for the first time in my life. I started writing again, often about you.

With the knowledge and tools I obtained through my new position I began to record and experiment with my words. This led to an emotional baptism. See, writing my book two years ago allowed me to exorcise my demons, but it was the website that truly healed the wounds and opened my eyes. Both of them have echos of you on every single page.

While I am getting better at letting go, there are three things that, while extremely painful, I'm going to choose to hold onto. This is because they are important and have shaped me into the man I am. I don't want to forget how I got here, because that's how I lose myself.

Which, as always, brings me back to you. The memory of our relationship is one of the things I'm going to keep.

I used to think you were the biggest mistake of my life, but now I see you differently. I wouldn't be who I am if it wasn't for our time together. It was the single most painful experience of my entire life, but I treasure every single second.

Now, when I hear you laugh right outside my office it makes me smile. I don't hate you and you're not my baggage.

You're simply...

my greatest inspiration.

Don't judge me. This crap helps.

I had another one of those days again. Today I really wanted to talk to someone. I listened to a lot of people, but I didn't get to attain mutual commiseration. It sucks. I don't mind listening to everyone else's woes, as long as they actually ask me how I'm doing and wait for my reply.

It's getting worse. I'm starting to not feel connected to anyone, which makes me ache for it on any level I can get. I haven't been this alone in a long time. It's beginning to feel as if I'm no longer real.

I don't leave my apartment unless I have to. The phone hardly rings and when it does, it's rarely good news. I eat a lot of pizza because that's the only food a stranger will bring to my door. I take extreme measures to avoid human contact, but it's the thing I think I need the most.


I'm starting to see truths from my past which have alluded me for years. However, knowing the intellection of my demons doesn't make them any easier to control. Especially when you have to carry them unaided.

That's why I do this stuff.

See, writing for me isn't a hobby. It's a goddamn necessity. Without the entire process it takes to get it out I can't even function. I write down every word I never get to tell another human being.

Then I send them out into the abyss of cyberspace. A distress beacon which has, until this point, fallen upon deaf ears.

And now a collection of my status messages from Facebook. With Commentary

I've been kind of lax in my posts lately, but that's because so much has been going on. I wanted to let those of you who still follow this know about them, but there's just been so much it was hard to pick where to start. I guess March is as good a place as any...

Time to invest in myself. The objective is to get 1,000 dollars in order to publish the book. (The latest, "I'm gonna make it big", scheme. Then I researched self publishing and decided against it. I did finally invest in myself, though. It just took several months to figure it out.)

Davlin Stewart wants to do the right thing. (This was something I touched upon in "This is the present I gave myself" three months later.)

The Double Down from KFC is Satan incarnate! Ten minutes after consuming it I gave birth to the anti-christ. ('s fucking awful.) fanboys are a bunch of pathetic, whiny dickholes. I love it. (I read nerd message boards more than any self respecting human being rightfully should.)

After watching "Jesus Camp" and "Hell House" I finally realized the main problem I have with's the Christians themselves. (Speaks for itself.)

I'm completely alone. The apartment is silent. And I can't stop smiling. (This was right after my room mate ditched me and I began to see the silver lining of the situation.)

Bound to Happen-The Spill Canvas (When my girlfriend and I broke up, this song said it all.)

Just recorded my first MP3. Technology is awesome. (This was the spark that started it all.)

Ready to hit the "studio". (It was all I could think about.)

Ok, my goal this weekend is to finish one more track. Wish me luck. (I did a lot of work, none of which I was happy with.)

Watching MST3K. Thank you, Netflix. (One of my all time favorite shows.)

I hate you Assassins Creed 2. I hate you so much. (Fuck that game.)

Collect calls to home, tell them that I realize that everyone who lives will someday die and die alone.----Brand New (Not sure why this particular lyric grabbed at that moment. Still, it's a damn good line.)

I've just recorded something magical. I am in awe. (This track still gives me chills.)

I've written a few new pieces at Check it. (Hopefully, you already have.)

This is a text I just sent a friend of mine. "I know it hurts, that it's hard on both of you. But don't let them poison the love you share. I'm a goddamn woman." (There you go, Missy.)

I can't remember the last time I felt this creative. (This is when I started thinking about the website. It was a slow burn, but it eventually became an inferno.)

Just found out my 360 has a voicemail function. Now I get to hear my friend's snarky comments about me playing "The Dishwasher". (Stoopid Rory.)

I think I'm in love with Tina Fey. (I <3 you, Tina Fey.)

Last night's episode of "The Office" was one of my favorites. Insert "Michael Scott montage with Eminem's "When I'm gone" playing in the background" here. (I've all but given up hope on the series.)

Building a website is tough. (It sure was, past Davlin. But don't worry, it's all worth it in the end!)

Business cards just came in. It feels so good to see the dream take shape. (I told you so.)

After 80 hours of work, designing of the notebook is complete. The site will be up in a manner of weeks. The trailer will be up even sooner. (Oh, past Davlin. You're so naive.)

As a side project, I want to get a group of people together and write a screenplay. Anyone interested? (No one was.)

I just read a wolverine comic done by Jhonen Vasquez...awesome. (Pure fanboy bliss.)

Tonight I listened to "Good Man" by Brand New. It made me think of you. (Inspiration!)

150 hours and the notebook is officially complete. It is the single most beautiful thing I've ever done. (It was two hundred hours for the entire site.)

"Blankets" by Craig Thompson=sheer brilliance (Just a graphic novel I stumbled upon and deserves to be read.)

The site is now live. (And it is GLORIOUS.)

Oh self publishing company who still sends me emails, how I laugh at you. (I did invest in myself, just in my own way.)

Just took dad to see the new Harry Potter flick for his birthday. He also told me he was proud of me. So, yeah...pretty good day. (Which I've previously blogged about.)

God, I love Brand New. (I really, really do.)

After a little over a week my site has gotten just at 80 hits. Not too bad. I mean, it's not great, but it's a start. However, the daily user activity report is mildly disheartening. (Cue the violin.)

Open Mic at Mokah Coffee Bar! (It was a fantastic show.)

Today a co-worker told me I was the coolest white boy he's ever known. It was one of the 5 proudest moments of my life. (I still smile thinking about this.)

Working on a potential article for It's given me a justifiable reason to play with my action figures again. My inner child smiles. (I've been following the site for years, it's been an honor chatting with the creator, Wes.)

Dear Hollywood, I just read the "Deadpool" script review. You've screwed me over so many times in the past. Now, I'm begging you, please make this movie. Hoping you still have a soul, Davlin (I tried to blog about this, but every time I'd try, I'd black out from the white hot rage.)

Been home about half an hour and I still can't stop thinking about my class. The only thing I'd like to be besides a writer is a teacher. It's funny how things work out. (Which brings us to the now.)

Well, that's been the last few months brought to you by Facebook.

My favorite memory of her.

It was a few years ago, when our relationship was still fresh.

I had fallen on rough financial times and my power was cut off. I took it pretty hard. She was supposed to come over the night I found out, so I called her up and tried to reschedule. She asked me why and I refused to lie to her. I told her how ashamed I was at not being able to pay my own bills, quite horribly depressed and didn't want her to see me in such a state.

"It doesn't matter to me. I'm on my way over."

When she arrived it was after dark and my apartment was illuminated by candlelight. I was crestfallen.

She tried her hardest to bring me out of it.

"You're not a failure, jeez."

"Everybody struggles sometimes."

"I still like you"

Anyone who's ever dealt with me when I'm depressed knows how unresponsive I can be and the feelings of utter frustration that particular trait can instill.

"C'mon," she said, this time much less enthusiastically," what do you want to do?"

My eyes quickly surveyed my surroundings. Almost every single thing we usually did together required electricity. Then, I remembered our outing to Borders two nights prior when I had purchased a novel sized pop up book authored by Stephen King.

I looked at her with the most genuine smile I could muster, "I could read to you by candlelight."

"Ok." She said as she smiled back. It was one of the only times I've seen her eyes and lips smile in concert.

So, I removed the plastic from the tome and began. As I read, I'd change my voice to fit the characters and pull levers which brought the pages to life. She sat and listened untilI turned the last one and brought the story to its end.

During the entire course of our intimate, calamitous relationship, this is the only moment I think we truly shared. I also think I enjoyed it way more than she did.

Yes! In yo' fa-waitaminute...shit.

I realized today my erratic bouts of depression aren't for attention, as I've sometimes wondered. No, in the heat of the moment, I hate the stares and whispers.

Which can only mean they're real.

So, um, yay?

Stream of consciousness

At 8:30, the alarm goes off. I fight with the snooze button for a half hour before my brain decides to finally fire up. I rub my burning eyes and try to string enough words together to form a single, cohesive thought.

Stayed up till 3 watching a Bill Hicks dvd, because I couldn't tear myself away.

Slept on the couch because sleeping on my bed with all it's emptiness is more than I can take lately.

And now, time to get up.

I step into the kitchen and make my single cup of coffee, which accompanies me into the bathroom. I still can't figure out my shower, so I bathe under sporadic bursts of luke warm and biting cold. You see, I can't feel right until I've had a blistering hot shower, so I've started every day since September off on the wrong foot.

I listen to my music as I brush my teeth and suit up. While singing along to "Survive" by Rise Against I examine myself in the mirror. I'm wearing a long sleeve, white thermal shirt, black jeans, white and black tennis shoes, black suit jacket and, of course, the fedora. I deem this acceptable and head out.

It's dad's birthday tomorrow so I told him I'd take him to see the new Harry Potter flick today. When I get to his place he hands me the newest pictures of my little brothers. It makes my heart ache. I place them carefully in the breast pocket of my jacket and we head to the theater.

I have an amazing time. We talk easily, not about anything serious, but it doesn't matter. I'm simply clowning around with my dad. It's like those old days I miss more than anything else. He feels like my dad, again.

The movie is also phenomenal.

After it's over, he goes to the bathroom and I venture outside to smoke. I see this girl sitting by herself who's checking her phone while people watching. Our eyes meet and after that, I could swear I see her staring in my direction a couple times. When dad finishes up we start heading to his car.

She's about ten steps ahead of us when I reach into my jacket and pull out one of my business cards. Right before we pass I hand it to her and say, "You look like you need this. Check it out sometime."

When we're a decent enough distance away my dad asks, "So you only give them to goth girls?"

"Market research says they're my demo." We both chuckle a bit.

When I sit down in the car, as I buckle my seat belt I ask, "Do want to know the real reason I gave her my card?"


"She was the only one I saw who was alone. I know what that's like and I don't think anyone should ever have to feel that way." On the way back to the house we talk about religion and it is glorious.

As soon as we arrive, we meet up with my aunt and cousins and go out to eat together. I love my family, but I don't know how to act around them; I feel uncomfortable and I don't know why. Dad tells a story about how my youngest brother (Casey, 4) says I'm not his brother because I never come to see him. My chest goes numb.

Flash forward an hour or so and I hug my dad goodbye. The two and a half day funk I'd been dragging out evaporates in the beauty of the moment.

Back at the apartment I pull up my site and discover I have a new comment. It's from my dad, which reads:

"Ben, I'm very happy you finally found a way to express your voice. I'm proud of you."

Then I go to facebook and am greeted by a friend request from the girl at the theater. "This should be interesting", I think to myself as I click confirm.

It took 200 hours of work, but it's done.

The website is now live.

Check it.

Life isn't fair...

It's a phrase I've heard and spoke my entire life. It's usually been done during those really dire times where I wanted to rip my heart from my chest and squeeze out its final beat.

See, as long as I can remember, I've only focused on the really heinous shit that happened to me. I became comfortable playing the victim and "life isn't fair" became my mantra.

But I don't want to be that way anymore. It doesn't get you anywhere. Of course life is going to suck if all you look at is the sucky parts. It's all about your outlook. If you can learn to see past all the negativity, you'll see how much the world has to offer once you stop holding yourself back.

Life is fair, you just have to grow up and learn to take the bad with the good.

First cry in awhile

Listening to "Good Man" by Brand New always makes me think about you.

The Lost Songs 1: Best Of Luck

When I moved into my new apartment I found all my journals which had my earliest writings. Some of these have held up pretty well, others not so much. I wrote this one when I was 20. Enjoy!

Best Of Luck

You said,
"Ben let's take a walk,
There's a lot goin' on,
I think we need to have a talk."
So we come,
To a bench in the park,
That overlooks the lake,
Ben here before but now,
Your lips quiver and your hands start to shake.
As you tell me it's over...
But you still wanna be friends.
Well best of luck to you,
In everything you do.
And for what it's worth,
I hope you find what you're looking for.
So you'll go your way,
and I will go mine.
I'll lie to myself everyday,
By sayin' that I'm fine.
End Chorus:
Is it worth it,
tryin to be your friend?
Or should I just count my losses,
And allow these wounds to mend?
I won't be blown off,
or sit through anymore of your lies.
I won't stick around,
as you start dating other guys.
Chorus: 1x
Pain gets worse,
as weeks and months go by.
The more I think about it,
I just wish that you would die.
Cos you can't hurt me,
if you don't exist.
Fuck it, it doesn't matter,
I'm over it.
Chorus: 1x
End Song.

The Last Song

The Last Song

As I look back,
at the city I’ve left-behind.
A year ago,
Our fingers were intertwined.
You used to look at me,
With love in your eyes.
Now I watch the life I’d led,
As it withers and dies.
Hopefully I’m movin onto,
bigger and better things.
And when I come back,
you won’t even recognize me.
Chorus 1:
But I believe it’s gotta get worse,
before it gets better.
There’s gotta be a rainstorm,
before the sunny weather.
I’ve grown up,
seen the error of my ways.
I’ve moved on,
while mourning the loss of the good ol’ days.
But there’s no point,
Stressing over things,
that you can’t change.
End Chorus 1:
I gained a scar,
for every lesson I have learned.
A trail of black smoke,
emits from all the bridges I have burned.
I'm on a bus headin,
For the east coast.
When I arrive I’ll raise my glass,
To those I’ll miss the most.
But any chance of a decent future,
Is fadin fast.
Unless of course I can,
Finally bid farewell to my past.
Chorus 1x:
I walk alone now,
got nowhere to call my home now.
If given the chance would I,
have thrown this all away?
Cuz I’m lost,
and I’m confused.
I’ve been emotionally abused,
and I will fight this to the death,
because I’ve got nothing left to lose.
So this is gonna be,
the last song,
I’ll ever write about you.
Just keep me in your prayers,
cuz mine don’t seem to be getting through,
getting through.

A question for the dedicated readers.

Of all the pieces I have accumulatated in this blog, which ones would you like to see make the Scattered Thoughts spoken word album?

I'd love any feedback you may have. Drop me an email, or sound off in the comments.

Another Stewart Family Memory

It was the Fourth of July.

Packed in a van with my father, step mother, two younger brothers and now ex-girlfriend on our way to my grandfather's to shoot off some fireworks. Alex, the elder of the two, was sitting in the back with my girlfriend. While staring out the window, I heard him tell her this.

Alex: Did you know Brother Ben used to be crazy? But that was a long time ago. He's better now. But he used to be crazy.

He's six years old.

This is fucked up and I don't know why I wrote it.

Your heart skipped a beat when we,
first connected at the hips.
But I'll only love you skin deep,
then throw your husk on a pyre made of regrets.

This is a text message I just sent a friend.

"I know it hurts, that it's hard on both of you. But don't let them poison the love you share. I'm a goddamn woman."

I swear to God, this one's positive.

Did you ever have one of those days?

You know the kind I'm talking about. It hits you before you even open your eyes..."This day's gonna suck". And that's the attitude you carry with you all day long. Everything just goes wrong and makes you want to curl up and cry. But you still try your hardest. It's not the best game face you could have, but at least you're making an effort. Eventually, you go from trying to be at least somewhat productive to just riding out the clock. You go past the point of being upset to just siting in bemused acceptance, eager to see just what could happen next.

Anyway, that's the kind of day I had today. By the end of it, I was so stressed I was calm. If you've ever experienced this, you know how unsettling it is. I got a jump for my car (Oh, yeah, my battery died while I was going to get lunch for management), put on one of my favorite shamelessly emo bands and sang my heart out all the way home. It helped.

When I arrived at my apartment, I was finally able to sit down and breathe. I decided not to let my previous negativity make the day be a complete waste by getting something positive done tonight. I re-read what I had written the night before. Then, I read it aloud and it sounded good. Unfortunately, I didn't have the mic with me. I started going through all my options and decided to try recording it through my MP3 player. I knew the quality would be awful, but at least I'd be able to listen to it immediately.

So, I hit recorded and laid it down. It felt amazing. I've listened to it 20 times. (that's how I rehearse) It's terribly raw, what with the stumbling of some words and the mic distorting my vocals when I get too into it, but it shows a lot of potential. I'm getting somewhere with this.

I started looking back at all the events of the day. I saw something I didn't see before when I was too wrapped up in myself, all the kind gestures from those I work with. I am so grateful to all the people who put up with me today. I also realized something vital...

An attitude can really fuck up your day.


I can't keep going on like this. It has to stop. I guess it's time to finally let it all go. I go into the bathroom and strip down, leaving my clothes in a heap on the floor. I step into the bathtub and close the curtain behind me. This is going to get messy.

I sit down in the tub, clutching my knees to my chest. With my eyes closed I focus hard on everything that's been building up inside me. From the cruelty of the schoolyard, the reciprocated disappointment between my family and I, the laughter, love, broken hearts and repressed memories; I remember it all. I let each feeling pass through me. Then, I start to push. It starts out like always, with the tremors coursing through by body, then the tears.

But this time, it's different.

I can feel a trail burning from my eyes all the way down my cheeks. The tears sizzle when they meet flesh and porcelain. I look down and see a puddle forming in the tub, it's black and thick like oil. It's a start.

I zero in on the memories and push harder. The inky fluids trickle from every pore and scorch my skin before congealing in the tub. Take it all, leave nothing behind. I don't want it anymore.

Goddamn, this really hurts.

I can feel a knot starting to swell behind my ribcage. The pressure reaches its crescendo as the sharp, deafening crack of my sternum reverberates off the porcelain around me. All I can do is gasp as my chest explodes outwards, smearing black and red all over the the walls. I had always wondered what a soul looked like. It's gross.

I reach a hand into the gaping hole that was once my torso. It doesn't hurt anymore...I've nothing left to feel.

I now have a couple of options. I could choose to fill the breach with new, positive feelings until that's all I have to focus on. But I'm going to go the safer route. I seal the hole with bricks and mortar, so nothing else will ever be allowed in again.

There, I feel better already.


Tonight I came home and finally beat Mass Effect Two. I cooked myself dinner in my own kitchen. I did a little recording in my living room. Right now, I'm crashed out on the couch watching MST3K. There's no one else around and I can do whatever I want. So, yeah. Pretty good Friday night.

The first Scattered Thoughts MP3

I've just recorded a performance of "Wake Up Call". If you want the free MP3, just let me know.


Brothers and sisters hold me up high,
For tomorrow,
I fall.


She once told me she didn't think anyone really knew who I was, at least not the true me. This was during one of my episodes where she was trying so desperately to understand, but wasn't listening. I'm starting to think she's right. But how much of this is due to my holding back and how much to people never fully listening to what it is I have to say?

People only hear what they want to. I can't tell you how many times I've told someone something,only to have to repeat it again 30 seconds later. It makes me wonder if they're only half listening, or maybe I'm just that bad at communicating with others. It's frustrating.

What's worse, is when people talk to me...I actually listen. I can tell you just about everything there is to know about the people in my life. Now, how many people could truly say the same about me and get it right? Kind of makes me feel like I'm all alone, even when I'm surrounded by those that are supposed to know me best.


I dreamt about her again last night.

It used to bother me, but it doesn't anymore. The only thing I remember about it was taking her into my arms and the sound of her voice as our eyes met. I liked the dream, but that's only because it wasn't real.

See, when I dream about her, I dream about the person I thought she was or wanted her to be. The reality of her is always much more disappointing.

In the dream, her embrace was warm, inviting, not cold and empty like it was all the times we physically held each other. Her voice was soothing and it filled me with a feeling her lackadaisical one could never conjure in the waking world. I could stare into her counterfeit's eyes forever, never even scratching the surface of the secrets hidden deep within. On this plane, however, they were simply hollow.

I've come to grips with the fact that I have to see her every day. The thing is, though, since it's impossible to forget her, I've decided I want to remember her how I always liked her best; the way she is when she comes to me in my dreams.


I hate taking pictures. I've spent the majority of my adult life trying to get over the past and move on. The last thing I need lying around are visual remnants of memories to remind me. It never fails, whether I'm going through my phone or cleaning out a drawer, the perfect picture pops up at the most inopportune time.

An Examination of Some of the Recent Comments I Have Received

My blog has been visited by a strange phenomenon. More on that in a second. First, there's something you should know.

I take my comments very seriously. You have no idea how great it feels to find an honest comment about something I've written. It doesn't happen very often, and it's usually only a select few (I love you all, dearly), but when it makes my fucking day.

But lately, I've been getting some unusual ones. It started out perplexing enough.

Entry: "Great Moment on OK Cupid 3"
Comment: hello........................................-by 愉悅.

Now, this brings up some questions. Who is this 愉悅? Why did he follow his hello with a link to a porn site in his/her many ellipses? Very odd. Maybe just a very excited fan.

Entry: "Just a Taste"
Comment: 很用心的blog,推推哦 ........................................ -by 皮東

Why, yes, 皮東. It is a blog. Good for you.

Entry: "Harbinger Ch. 10: We interrupt this broadcast"
Comment: 變天了~~注意身體,別感冒囉! ........................................-by 天天影片

Really? You're writing in hieroglyphics now? What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?

Entry: "Following Footsteps?"
Comment: your artical is so funny!! it make me so happy!!........................................-by 雅惠

Now I'm starting to get creeped out. This particular "artical" was not so funny. Not even a little bit. I know it's just a spammer, but it's fucking with my head a little bit. Why are there so many ellipsis? Is the porn site really that big?

And it never stops.

Beauty, unaccompanied by virtue, is as a flower without perfume...................................................

(They're getting classier now)

Virtue dwells not in the tongue but in the heart. ............................................................

(I kind of liked that one)

It takes all kinds to make a world.............................................................

(It takes dif'rent strokes, it takes dif'rent strokes to rule the world)

the best as always thanks............................................................
(My ego still allowed me to enjoy this one)

But I'll leave you with the last one I received. The post this one was left on was my latest self pitying diatribe. (I'm better now! The joys of being manic!) In this post I said that I'd take a break from writing and didn't want to share what was going on in my head anymore. This is what 韋以韋以 had to say about that.

GOOD IDEA~thanks............................................................

Mr. 韋以韋以, you're a right prick, but I've gotta give that one to you. Well played, sir. Well played.

I'm Now Getting Over Self Pity 37% Faster!

My apartment is so quiet now.

Sometimes, I like to turn everything off, close my eyes and listen to the cacophony of the world outside.

It's filled with an unending wail of sirens, people screaming and the occasional gunshot.

It almost sounds like the world is ending.

And it makes me wonder how long it'd take me to notice if it did.

This is the present I gave to myself.

A couple of years ago, my ex-girlfriend gave me genital herpes and it put me in the mental hospital. There. I fucking said it.

Back in spring, I learned she had been with another guy for an entire year, she still hadn't told him she was a carrier AND they had unprotected sex. I didn't care that she was with another guy, but I couldn't let the fact that he didn't know go. It just wasn't right. So, I made a fake facebook page, with a name that would let her know it was me without actually saying so, and told him everything. She convinced him that it was a lie and they now live together.

I tried my best to save him.

In the last 36 hours my room mate not only managed to royally fuck me over, but also drop out of our lease agreement a mere three months from when it was up and two weeks before the first of the month. I was so close.

This morning, his girlfriend came to me and asked me if I thought she could trust him. I then proceeded to tell her everything. I also told her that she could do better, she deseved better than him. Right now they're both sitting on the couch watching a movie together. She didn't listen either.

I'm sick of trying to save people.

But, here's the thing. I've got one more secret to tell and it's a motherfucker. The retaliation of which could probably ruin me, if done right. But it still needs to be told, because it involves the safety of a small child. So, what do you say?

Should I try and save one more?

Also, yesterday was my birthday and another ex-girlfriend of mine wasn't there. I did everything we had planned together, alone.

And that makes me sad.

I really, really fucking hate my birthday.

That's it.

The hard truth

I know it's truly for the best. I know this.

But still...

I missed you a lot today.

Just something I had in my head, will try to finish later...

In honor of Eminem's new album, Recovery, I wanted to try and write a rap. This is just the rough cut.

I can feel it building up again,

This smile I wear, my facade, is wearing thin.

I can see them talking,

'cause their eyes say so much more,

than their mouths ever could.

I try giving a little smile,

but they know it isn't real,

so it never does any good.

The second I pass by,

they start in with the,

whispering behind my back.

Is this finally it?

Is today gonna be the day,

that the lunatic snaps?

I can feel it building up again,

This smile I wear, my facade, is wearing thin.

But I don’t feel like sharing,

Cuz I’m sick of caring,

And all these people staring,

Just makes it worse.

Instead of making progress,

lately I feel like,

it's all going in reverse.

You told me that when I’m down,

You don’t like having me around.

Which means there’s no solace to be found.

So, let’s quit wasting time and just burn this to the ground.

Oh, so now I’ve got your attention,

But it’s a little too late for that, now.

I learned something today.

It's crazy how you can see someone almost every day for over a year and never really get to know them. I realized today that I still had a lot to learn about my big sister.

See, at work, I take my smoke breaks with her. Now this might not seem like a big deal to you pantywaist non-smokers, but let me tell you something, there isn't another bond on earth that can compare with the ones you forge while on smoke breaks. Because when you're hunkered down in a cramped stairwell, trying to block out the rain so you can inhale every last drag before you have to go back to work where the next sweet puff of relief is an agonizing two hours away you can't walk leave that stairwell without feeling closer.

But tonight I sat down with her outside the office where we didn't have to worry about who may hear. For the first time in over a year...I just listened to her. I had the privilege of hearing in detail things which had only been hinted on previously before. I feel like I got to know my big sister much better.

It also made me think about all the other people in my life I consider myself close to? We're all so wrapped up in ourselves and our own lives that we never take the time to listen to stories about the lives of others. You have no idea what kind of events are transpiring around you at all times. It has shown me that none of us are really all that different. We've all got problems and woes, so it doesn't make you special. It makes you just like everyone else.

So please, do yourself and everyone else a favor and shut the fuck up for just one day.

You might be surprised what you discover.

Davlin's Paranormal Journal

December 2009

It was late that night, I had just spent hours on my laptop and my eyes felt like they were going to bleed. I set the computer by my side, took off my glasses and placed them on the nightstand. That's when I heard the voices. There were dozens of them and they came from all directions. A few of them were angry, others in frightened whispers, but they were all speaking the same language. I've never heard another one like it before or since. Suddenly, I was pushed and held down by an incredible force. From the light of the laptop, I could see my clothes being moved and pulled down by invisible hands in a hungry attempt to expose more skin. Then, they were all over me. I could see the paths of their fingertips as they explored every inch of my body. The voices grew louder and louder until they were screaming with delight. That's when I blacked out.

True story

I want my childhood back

I have a confession...

I, Davlin Stewart, am a shameless nerd.

Most of the things I get passionate about aren't the hippest of topics to bring up in bar conversations. For example, one of the most heartbreaking experiences of my childhood was reading X-men #25 and seeing Wolverine get the adamantium ripped from his skeleton through his pores at the hands of Magneto. Seeing him face a world full of bitter enemies without the near invincibility given to him by his healing factor or unbreakable skeleton showed me a lot about inner strength and it still inspires me to this day. I take this shit a little too seriously.

Growing up, I would watch the cartoons, read the comic books and even wear the fucking X-Men underoos. The one thing I always wanted to see was my favorite character popping his claws on the big screen. Some years down the line, I finally got my wish.

Kind of.

In actuality, what I got was a watered down version featuring characters who were more two dimensional than those found on the page and also sported biker fetish gear. Everything about it was just wrong.

Now, here's what I don't get; the characters have already been developed, there are countless stories that could easily be faithfully translated into film AND yet they still managed to fuck it up. It doesn't make any sense to me. Why change so much that you lose everything that made the property great to begin with?

Because apparently that's the kind of shit you like, mainstream fans.

Last year was a rough one, what with the abomination that was X-Men Origins. I couldn't escape it, because that shit was everywhere. 711 had posters for the flick at the gas pumps. Now, it takes me ten minutes to fill my car up, because my gas tank is fucked off. This means a couple of times a week I would have to stand for ten minutes at a time and stare at Hugh Jackman as he made a mockery of my youth. Don't even get me started on Deadpool. Since it came out, I've seen it one and a half times and it deeply sickens me. I actually enjoyed the new Star Trek movie over the Wolverine one? How is that possible? There's only one explanation, really.

It's the end of times.

And now it's going to happen again, because tomorrow I will have to sit and watch as my other favorite childhood obsession will get a reboot that I still don't feel is necessary. I'm going to write more in detail before and after I see the film tomorrow and Saturday. But, I will say that I've read some of the reviews from the sites I trust and I gotta be honest...I'm terrified and not in the way I want from Nightmare on Elm Street.

Please, Platinum Dunes...don't take this one from me, too.

Not Exactly What I Set Out To Write

Thank you, Missy, for reminding me why I do this.

I originally started this post as a song. If you follow my stuff, you know how those tend to turn out. I write them when I'm manic, lending them an intense, often haunting vibe. I deleted it, because it made me feel ashamed. It was one of those things I didn't want to share.

Those types of writings...I don't tend to keep.

You see, I don't finish a piece if it's not something I'm willing to share. And, you have to understand, I've already shared a lot. These unwritten words are a fertile womb, providing the agonizing burden of giving birth to demons. Dramatic, right?

Well, check this out.

I was in the bathroom at work today when the floor opened up and swallowed me whole. I fell for 9 and a half hours and I'm not speaking in metaphors. On the outside, I'm on auto-pilot and leaking from the eyes. Inside, however, I'm whaling my arms around in a desperate search for solid ground. I'm screaming for something, but it's all coming out in tongues. What the fuck am I dieing for?

What is it that I need?

I can almost see it, but I'm not wearing my glasses so it's all distorted and out of focus. I only slept for three hours this morning and I'm running on fumes.

Suddenly, it starts to become clearer. My answer, it's right in front of me and I begin to smile.

With every breath I take, I get closer. My epiphany is just within my grasp.

Oh my god...I can't believe I didn't see it before. This whole time my honest to god revelation was

It was


I lost it.

Davlin talks about movies: The Hellraiser Remake

I am now laying on the couch engaged in one of my favorite nerd activities; reading the latest movie buzz. I usually become enraged at every news article regarding the next remake or adaptation of something I love. It's the fanboy in me...he refuses to let me be happy.

However, sometimes I smile because the people doing it not only get what makes it work, but also want to do it justice. Sin City, Watchmen, Harry Potter, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and Friday the 13th remakes, there are quite a lot of them, actually, you just have to see them for what they are. Unfortunately, most of them are dogshit and I get so angry I nearly give myself an aneurism when talking about them at lenth.

The Hellraiser remake, is one of the former.

Speaking as a person who enjoys Clive Barker's work on a more than casual, but less than fanatical level, the movies are very hit or miss when it comes to how successful they are in adapting an already flawless short story or novella. The recent adapations of the short stories found in the Books of Blood have only truly gotten it right once.

But, let's talk about Hellraiser. The movie itself was written by Clive Barker, an adaptation of his novella "The Hellbound Heart". Now, as an adaptation of the book, the movie did a piss poor job. I'm not saying it was a bad movie, it's 80's horror at it's finest, it just sucks as an adaptation.

Now over 20 years later and they're remaking it, but this time it's different, somehow. This time we're getting a remake of an adaptation of a book, which is an adaption of the book and not the movie it's remaking? Hold on, I'm still processing that last sentence. Ok, I'm listening.

Here's some of the speculation from

This flick will reportedly be in 3D
Ok, I know the first instinct here is hop on the "Fuck 3D" bandwagon, but this could be interesting. If it doesn't take the cheap route and use it as a lame scare tactic (My Bloody Valentine), but instead tries to use it in a way to bring the world to life (Avatar) the possibilities could be astounding. Hell, in full 3D? I'm fuckin in.

Fully titled Clive Barker Presents: Hellraiser.

The Pinhead in this film will be different from the one we've grown to love.
The book and movie have very different takes on the cenobite's, with Pinhead in particular. In the book the cenobites are still there, they just took a back seat to the real story. See, the main plot detailed how far one woman was willing to go for her lover, who just so happened to be her husband's brother. The cenobites just pop out every now and then and there is no leader of the pack. There's one in particular who did happen to stand out above the others, but that character was female. In the movies you know her as Pinhead.

Back in the 80's, every big horror movie that became a franchise, had a male embodiment of evil as the protagonist. All the horror icons are male, so I'm guessing that's why Pinhead was moved to the foreground and given the change in gender. It might have even been this change alone that made it the classic it is today. So, as a remake this is a blasphemy, but as an adaptation of the book it's absolutely necessary. I'll allow it.

Pascal Laugier (Martyrs) was once attached to direct before he left the project.
I'm so pissed, this would have been epic!

Now, this is all speculation, but if it gets made and they do it this way, it'll be what the original film should have been all along.

Coming soon: My thoughts on Nightmare On Elm Street

Small Talk

I try not to live in the past, honest to god, I really don't wanna be like that anymore.

But sometimes...

I wonder what my life would be like if I had done just a few things differently. What if I had never gotten on that plane, preventing me from making that drunken mistake? What if I hadn't spent my entire senior year fucking off, thus allowing me to go to college? What if I had said "no"?

It's a dangerous game to play. No matter which imaginary road you go down, it's empty and it distracts you from what you have.

You see, if I had actually gone down one of those roads...I know what I'd have missed and, let me tell you, it's a hell of a lot.

So, me?

Nah...I have no regrets.

Following the dream

I've finally found a company to publish my book. Not only will they help me design it from cover to cover, they'll also publish it, put it on, handle advertising and send it to reviewers. They'll even give me ten free copies for the fuck of it. I've looked them up online and they have a high rating with the better business bureau. The drawback? They're not going to do it for free.

Welcome to the world of self publishing. Where, for a mere $999 you can put out any book you want, because you're doing it on your own dime. You can make it big this way, but you'll be forever scorned, because you didn't have to sell your soul in order to do it. You also get to take risks others don't, because you're spending your own money. This gives you complete control. Suddenly, 999 doesn't seem like such a bad idea after all.

Out of all the extravagant "make it big" schemes I've had over the past year, this one makes the most sense. I'm sick of talking about being a writer. I'm ready to fucking do it already. I'm ready to fail or succeed based on nothing more than the strength of my talent.

So now, I'm going to finish the book and get the money. There are simply no other options if I want to become a successful writer. If there even is really such a thing.

To all my fans and other people I don't know:

I'm serious about this. You can send me your prayers if you'd like, but donations would be nice, too!

No, panhandling online is not beneath me.


I've been keeping a low profile.

Because here's the thing. A year ago I talked a big game. I had a comic book that was going to be the biggest thing since since Preacher. I was about to pitch my first novel to a real agent who would buy my book, fly me out to L.A. and I would never have to see her again.

Almost a year later...I'm still here.

My artist kinda jumped ship on me a few months in. The agent told me to pull out the tampon and quit crying because no one on earth would ever voluntarily read my bitchy little emo book. Only, you know, in fancy big boy college words. And as for the girl who taught me the art of letting go? I still see her every fucking day at work. And you know what?

I'm ok with all of it.

For a few weeks there I thought I was slipping, but I took a look back at everything that has happened since then. First, there was the girl who couldn't handle knowing my secret and the one who finally embraced me in spite of it. Then, was me getting on stage for my first open mic night where I began to find my voice, but was set into a series of events that led to the loss of my dearest friend. I also recently exorcised the old (in)significances of April.

And I'm almost ready to tell you everything.

Harbinger Ch. 10: We interrupt this broadcast (Jerry)

Do you want to know the secret of a long lasting, happy marriage? The answer is really quite simple; it’s finding perfection in the banality of the day to day. Take tonight for instance. When I got off of my shift my wife and I cooked dinner together, talking of our days and ate at the table in relative silence. Afterwards, we cuddled up on the couch and watched hours of bad TV before retiring to bed.

Now, you may say that doesn’t seem like much, but it’s having this to come home to that gets me through the day. It’s what I live for. She’s sleeping soundly next to me and I smile. I lay on my back and take it all in. Her scent still hangs heavy in the air from when we made love hours ago. It intoxicates me. I lay on my back and listen to the rhythmic sounds of her breathing. This is the closest to heaven I ever want to be.

Despite that, however, there’s this nagging sense of dread that I can’t seem to shake. Something in the back of my mind is screaming for acknowledgement, but it’s impossible to define. It’s like chasing a white rabbit through a blizzard; I can only get a glimpse of it before it disappears again. Something bad has happened, but why can’t I remember it? My wife shifts at my side, her breathing becoming erratic.

Then the TV at the foot of our bed kicks on. On its screen rhere's an old, white man in a suit behind a news desk. There's absolutely nothing remarkable about him save for his hands. They are crimson and oozing all over the table. He smiles at me. Not to the camera. He smiles at me.

"Good Evening Jerry." The man in the TV says to me. He then looks to my right.

"Mrs. Delange, you look absolutely radiant."

At my side, my wife lets out a giggle I've never heard before. I turn to look at her and I can only process what I see in fragments.

First, she's laying on her side with her back to me. The long auburn hair that should be resting past her shoulderblades is absent. This is because her head is turned 180 degrees and facing me. Her eyes are opened wide, painfully so because tears are flowing down her face. This a stark contrast to the smile stretching from one ear to the other. From the TV's glow I can see teeth wet with blood behind the cheshire grin.

"Hey, Jerry. Can I have your attention?" The TV man beckons my gaze back to him. His hands are stretched out, reaching for me and dripping gore. My wife begins laughing hysterically at my side.

"Now," the TV Man says. "Lady and gentleman..."

My wifes laughing becomes so loud I feel like my eardrums are about to burst.

"...I proudly present to you..."

I glance over at her, still facing me and still laughing. Blood begins to seep from her every pore. I look back at the TV.

"...The end of the world." The TV cuts off. I look outside and the sky erupts into flames.

I sit up lean to my left and throw my guts up into the trashcan by the bed. I'm back in the hotel room. Not at home. Rain beats down on the windows. No fire. I look to my right at the empty space next to me. I'm all alone.

It was just a dream. Just a bad, bad dream.

The angels are gone. I don't need to check my surroundings for them, I can simply feel their absence. The security and complacency I felt at their side is gone now. More urgent things suddenly come to mind. Like my wife.

I reach for the phone on the nightstand and punch in my wife's cell phone number. Straight to voicemail. I try the home phone. No luck. This isn't right. My partner's dead and I'm missing. There's no way she wouldn't answer. Something's wrong and I need to go home.

I get dressed and drink two glasses of water. I grab my gun and tuck it in the waistband of my pants and my last clip into the front pocket of my jeans. I place the knife Gabe gave me into my boot and I call a cab. I leave the angels a note that says "Fuck it" before I walk outside to wait for my ride in the rain.

Just a taste

I’m driving home after another amazing weekend with you. My heart aches for every mile put between us. There is one good thing about the drive, however, it gives me time to reflect. And my new favorite thing to reflect upon? Us.

It’s January and the heater’s still busted. Despite the many layers I’m wearing, the night still cuts into me, leaving my extremities vulnerable to overexposure from the chill. Then, I see your face. The memories shine through your visage’s incandescence. I’m warmed from the inside out as I relive each and every one of them.

The Soundtrack Of My Life vol. 3

This one is dedicated to you, beautiful.

Face Your Fears

1. “Colorado Sunrise”-3OH!3!3&title=Colorado%20Sunrise

2. “Dismantle. Repair”-Anberlin

3. “Ugly Side”-Blue October

4. “Kind Of Perfect”-Armor For Sleep

5. “Collapse”-Saosin

6. “Head Up”-Sugarcult

7. “Black Eyed”-Placebo

8. “Fix You”-The Offspring

9. “Guernica”-Brand New

10. “Hold My Hand”-New Found Glory

11. “When You Were Young”-The Killers

12. “It’s Just Me”-Blue October

13 “Promise”-Eve 6

14. “Learning How To Smile”-Everclear

15“Meant To Live”-Switchfoot

Psst...Hey you, can I tell you something?

Sometimes, I feel like a joke.

But most times, I don't.

The Soundtrack Of My Life vol. 2

My Time In Hell

To get the actual story, you’ve gotta read my book.
To read my book, it's gotta get published. So, spread the word already!

1. “The Glory Of Love”-New Found Glory

2. “This Disease”-Smile Empty Soul

3. “What’s Behind”-Normal Like You

4. “Dry Your Eyes”-The Streets

5. “Deep Inside Of You”-Third Eye Blind

6. “Guardrail”-Bayside

7. “Wait And Bleed”-Slipknot

8. “Black Dahlia”-Hollywood Undead

9. “HRSA”-Blue October

10. “Pain”-Jimmy Eat World

11. “Excorcise Demons”-The Forecast

12. “Bleed It Out”-Linkin Park

13. “Save Me”-Unwritten Law

14. “My Sexual Life”-Everclear

15. “Lycanthrope”-+44

16. “My Favorite Scar”-The Vanished

The Soundtrack Of My Life vol. 1

Ok, I'm trying something different here. Whenever there's a lot on my mind I put my MP3 player on shuffle. The random songs sometimes tell a story that relates to what I'm going through. I'm going to start posting these stories. Play the songs, or read the lyrics, and see if you can find the story told within. Comment your thoughts down below, I'd love to know what you think. For now, I hope you enjoy The Soundtrack Of My Life vol. 1...

Bi-Polar: Stage II

"I’m not your boyfriend baby"-30h!3!3&title=I%27m%20Not%20Your%20Boyfriend%20Baby

"Last night"-Motion City Soundtrack

"Hold Me Down"-Motion City Soundtrack

"No it isn’t"-+44

"Daisy"-Brand New

"Me vs. Madonna vs. Elvis"-Brand New

"When it all goes wrong again"-Everclear

"Smoke two joints"-Sublime

"Destination Anywhere"-Sugarcult


"Tiny Vessels"-Deathcab for Cutie

"Sexual Powertrip"-Blue October

"Say It"-Blue October

"Scarred"-Kevin Rudolf

"Try Honesty"-Billy Talent

Fuck Legion

I did it first.

And, oh yes, I did it better.

So, suck it, Sony.