Birthday tattoo!

TO CELEBRATE MY 28TH BIRTHDAY TODAY I HEADED DOWN TO NEWPORT TO VISIT MY OLD FRIEND TOM BUTTS AT ANCHOR STEAM  FOR A NEW TATTOO. I CHOSE THE FLAG OF THE PIRATE STEDE BONNET aka "THE GENTLEMAN PIRATE". STOKED HOW IT CAME OUT!!!

 



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Follow my new pet project

Everyone should check out the blog I made for my new pet project "Bearded: A Spiritual Journey". I will be going one full year without a shave, and chronicling the quest for whisker enlightment along the way. Should be fun

http://beardsforenlightment.blogspot.com/

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My Patrick Bateman moment

The other day I opened a small parcel from Australia containing the disposable camera from Ben John Smith for the project he and I are doing, along with Jimmy Gerrard, for Nothing But The Truth (NBTT). After removing the camera, and begin to brainstorm on what horrid things to take pictures of, Ben Smith's new business card came tumbling out too.

Now, Ben and I have been close friends and allies for quite some time now. I consider him a brother and a compatriot. But when I viewed his card: I was instantly stricken with jealousy. Perfect weight, crisp print, solid base color, great half naked model on the back, a commanding logo and address label on the front....It was truly glorious. My breath was robbed at the sheer power of such a small act of perfection. And I immediately knew that my old card, tried and true as it was, simply would no longer do.

And being the jealous cunt that I am, I ordered new cards haha. So, here is my new official business cards. I like them almost as much as Ben's. Pretty close. Be warned Ben, your days of business card supremacy are numbered....



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Adam Schirling's views on fetish and kink: Featured on Classy Fetish

"EDITORS NOTE: THE FOLLOWING ARTICLE WAS WRITTEN EXCLUSIVELY FOR CLASSY FETISH, AN AMAZING SITE ABOUT MODERN KINK AND FETISH FOUNDED AND ADMINISTERED BY THE TALENTED AND LOVELY ALEXIS JAKOBS. SHE RETAINS ALL PUBLICATION RIGHTS TO THIS PIECE. "

A MODERN MANS VIEW OF KINK AND FETISH

I wasn’t very old when I realized I was a bit different, sexually.  At 11 yrs.’ old, when most of my peers were glancing furtively at a stolen Playboy, I was sneaking Hustlers and Club magazines from the homes of friends whose parents were much more sexually accepting than my own. The female form fascinated me, its lines and curves, its valleys and crevices, the haunting and primal whisperings of something dark and forbidden.  But, unlike most of my pubescent friends, simply seeing a naked woman wasn’t enough. When I was 14 years old, I first saw the pictures of Betty Paige that changed my sexual thoughts. They weren’t the cutest pics of Betty smiling on a beach, skimpy bikini and bright sunshine. No, they were the dark ones. The ones where she was clad in silk stockings, with a ball gag, and restraints. When you see BDSM porn these days, those pics were quite vanilla. They simply showed a beautiful girl bound and gagged, sometimes crawling or being playfully swatted by another girl-next-door type. Truly nothing compared to the anal prolapse and burning wax porn that fills such sites these days. But that was the whole key to their very revolutionary existence. Before then, despite rare stag films, such images were considered disgusting and immoral. And young Adam viewed them in breathless fascination, his mind exploding with sexual possibilities beyond what was shown in PG-13 movies. My feelings of sexual identity were further blown far from mainstream when at 15 years old; I convinced a girl I barely knew to pleasure herself with a carrot while I watched. That moment stands transfixed in my mind as the day that I knew that mediocre sexual existence simply would not do for me. Unfortunately, and I am afraid to say: as usual, I belonged to a religion that relied highly upon the suppression of ones urges. And for a small part of my adolescence, I tried hard to adhere to the well-intentioned but deplorable practices of my church. I felt guilty for my thoughts on Sunday mornings, though the night before I was getting a blowjob from my girlfriend on her satin sheet clad bed. At one point I even made a declaration to be strict about my feelings, and reject such impure thoughts. At 18 years of age, I developed strong feelings for a young, beautiful girl from my church. With her, I foolishly thought, I could achieve that monogamous bliss that was preached from our pulpit. She was the first girl I ever ‘loved’ with pure intentions. Then one fateful night, I happened to cut through the church parking lot with some friends after a movie, and caught a glimpse of her giving a blowjob to a guy in her car. For weeks, my heart wrenched in hatred and the angst of betrayal. But then, one morning I woke up, and ‘IT’ was quite clear to me: That before any religious oath, or supposed moral persuasions, sex is the only thing that matters deep down in our souls. Now, I don’t mean at all to say that cheating is part of human biology, I feel that to be a cop out. Rather, this was the first time in my life that I truly realized just how important sexual adventure was to our very being. And at that point I abandoned my short lived life of morality, and adopted one where accepting ones sexual desires was the first priority. And it has been through this life I have learned much of myself and much of human nature. I have had drunken one night stands, paid sexual encounters with ‘ladies of the night’, drug induced sweaty coitus with strippers in seedy clubs, random and laughably strange sessions with complete strangers, and organized meetings with needy women from Craigslist ads. I am even ashamed to admit that I have had sex with the spouses of other men who just wished an honest encounter. With my age and supposed wisdom now, I know just how wrong that was, but at the time I felt that no sexual experience should be denied. And for every encounter I regret, there are 100 I am confident helped me create the sexual identity I know today. It was through this deep spiritual understanding that I finally cast aside a selfish and prudish spouse, who had no understanding or appreciation of human sexual nature, to find the love of my life: the very first woman who I feel truly respects sexuality. Now I say none of this to brag, or seem a foolish ass, but to affirm my belief that respecting the nuances of human sexuality has helped create who I am as a person. It is ok to not be vanilla. It is ok to like to see leather clad women being whipped; it’s ok to enjoy seeing nuns have sex with midgets, or a tranny ejaculating on a woman’s feet. As long as sexual experiences are approved by both (or all) parties involved, the sky is literally the limit. To judge someone over what they find sexually exciting is the most shallow and ridiculous type of ridicule; even surpassing religious or racial bigotry. As long as the sexual acts in person do not harm anyone (who isn’t willing to be harmed of course), to attack someone on what makes them cum is just sickening. We are a society of people who has been on this planet for tens of thousands of years. We accomplished amazing and impossible feats of science, technology, and the arts. We have put men on the moon, cured disease, created gadgets that would make any scientist of the past thousand years scream witchcraft. But yet, despite all this achievement and enlightenment, we continue to judge our fellow humans for their sexuality. We pass laws prohibiting sexuality we (and by we, I mean the religious right) find confusing or deplorable. And nothing, my fellow perverts, makes me sadder. True Enlightment for us as a species will not come from the next scientific breakthrough, or the newest mind boggling gadget, or the next alien planet we step foot on. No, true harmony for us will exist in accepting all others around us for ALL beliefs and passions, whether in gods, or in the bedroom. We are at the cusp of a brave new future, my friends, and I encourage you all to embrace whatever kink you hold sacred. To love just whoever you want you love. And to take to bed whatever person or persons will make you truly happy.  For when the sands of time catch up to us all, don’t we want to be able to say that we loved, laughed, fought, AND fucked without any reservation at all? Go forth, friends, go forth into perverted Nirvana, and do not stop for a second to worry about the judgment of your fellow man. For us all, at the end of eternity, just wish to be happy and loved.

to see more amazing content on all things kink and fetish, and more of this lovely lady, Ms. Alexis X. Jakobs: check out her site Classy Fetish

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The Revolution: Under Construction

Today was supposed to be the day that Drunken Absurdity dot com re-launched with new material, but unfortunantly that will have to wait. I have decided, after the persuasive urgings of our webmaster(my gf), to give the site a whole new look, a complete makeover to make it more professional and more reflective of our styles.

Everyone that is posted on the old site, will of course be on the new one as well. All the submissions I have recieved to this point have been placed into a folder and will absolutely be posted once the facelift is complete. We are 100% still open for submissions. STILL FUCKING OPEN!!!!

The new site will have some new features I am excited about. One will be an Editors page for my personal work to be featured. The second will be my Drunk Chicks! section, whisch I have discussed on here before. So if you are a alt model, cam girl, or just hot chick who likes to drink, get in touch with us!!!

September 1st 2011

We will relaunch a fucking website to be reckoned with. I will be hard at work finding submissions, chicks, and doing interviews, so keep fucking reading and checking in.

Septemeber 1st, motherfuckers

we will mind rape you

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join the Drunken Absurdity street team..

New stickers are in, and soon they will be making their way across the globe, getting slapped up in the night on light poles, street signs, sleeping hobos, and store fronts.

If you want to join the street team, and help spread the word of our glorious literary revolution, then drop me an email at drunkenabsurdity@gmail.com, and i will send you out a stack. I only ask that you fearlessly post them up where they will be seen by the masses, and send me a pic of one back.

Big thanks to Ben Smith, Ian Shearer, VL Sheridan, Willis Gordon, Laura Patterson, Arash Frazier, and Austin Grieg for doing such great work with the last round of stickers.

Lets keep this shit going

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The Revolution is coming back!!

July 18th 2011

the re-launch of Drunken Absurdity dot com

join the revolution of underground writing

or die as the puppets of the establishment

we. are. back.........motherfuckers

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New article posted on AltReel....

My latest article, "Now that's what I call a sticky situation", has been posted on AltReel. Give it a read, and leave me some love/hate...

and yes, it is a true story

I'm a crazy fucker sometimes

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Make sure you check out my other blog

Come check out my other spot, the Average Bro Food Review sometime. My chance to rant about all joints I go to for a meal or some booze. Stop by and leave some love or hate, it's all gravy


Average Bro Food Review

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new short story posted on Horror Sleaze Trash

Big thanks to my good friends Ben John Smith and Ian Shearer for posting another short story of mine      "old friends" on the brilliant site HST. Love you crazy fuckers

check this shit out

Horror Sleaze Trash

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confessions of an american drunk...

by adam schirling...


To see us, you may not see anything worth a second glance…we are the middle, the nobody on the corner and in the grocery store. We hail from many different backgrounds and belief systems. But one thing sets us apart. Our thirst. The thirst never dies, no matter how many churches or meetings you go to or pills you swallow in a vain attempt to kill the primal urge that bubbles up from the darkest recesses of the soul. It is what binds us, makes us a powerful voice to be heard, the true blessed beings that strive for perfection through indulgence in liquid suicide. This bitter search for a way to soothe the onslaught of an uncaring universe..
It takes quite a bit of gumption to begin a quest such as ours. Many do it without knowing, they were the amateur boozers at one point, light beers and girly shooters. But as others grew out of this phase to more mature and subdued submission to the all mighty bottle, usually in the form of dinner wine or football game beers, we kept at it, kept striving for transcendence. Many reasons can cause this phenomenon. The clergy driven mindset of the mindless scum that occupy rehab centers would have you believe that this gift is a genetic curse, wrought upon us in the womb, and that we have no power over our desires. This, of course, is wrong. Whether it is sorrow, or naivety, or just good old fashioned American love of good times, we all made a conscientious decision to be as we are.
If there is one thing I have learned as I stumble through this world in a drunken haze, it’s that temperance is a curse. Those that refuse that 3rd drink, citing work in the morning or the watching of calories or not wanting to feel the icy hot fingers of intoxication wrapping around their throat, are not to be trusted. These are the folks that will be the destruction of our society, of our very way of life. We are descended from beasts, wild animals that once ran amok in the jungles and plains of the world, fighting and fucking and succumbing to every whim that crossed their simple minds. Over the long centuries of evolution and so called progress, we have learned to ignore these calls, these instincts. We as humans lost touch with our most human aspects. We became polite and formal and wrapped our minds in the shroud of decency, and the lies of pleasant relations with our friends and neighbors.
But there are some of us who will not adhere to these principles that we have no understanding of. There are some of us who will not sit idly in minivans and pta meetings. There are some of us that will not be kept quiet. We are the drunks, the boozers, the rummies, the beerguts and diseased livers. There is a very simple reason that the pleasant warm kiss of alcohol can kill you if consumed in vast quantities over time. For anyone that has felt the thrill and the immortality of drunken absurdity knows this already. The gods give us this beautiful gift, this enlightenment; for the drinks are a key to the door to understanding everything that ever was or will ever be. But it comes at a cost, and that is our health, and our friends, and the respect of society as a whole.
But we don’t care. We need none of that. We need another drink, for the day is young, and a few dollars remain in the wallet, and we have the need to explore the mystery and intricacies of the human experiment.
And it’s fucking delicious.

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My Fortress of Schirlingtude

The streets are full of the trendy, the hip, the loud and fucked. 90 dollar shirts covering waxed and spray tanned bros. They stand like douchebag cattle outside their loud clubs, smoking and basking in the warmth of their bullshit and smug self worth. Cheap makeup plastered on girls dressed in their sluttiest best. The game continues for them. The hunt. The smell of PBR, desperation, and hardons fill the air. I make my way through this crowd, head down. Avoid eye contact, thats how they get you. A polite hello one minute to a semi-familiar face, and the next thing you know you are doing jagerbombs and dancing to a top 40 hit. Fuck No. Not me. Keep the head down. Weave through this tapestry of bullshit and fucked priorities. Stay anonymous. Keep the goal in mind. Target acquired. I see the green door. Relief washes through me like a cool crisp wave. Almost safe. Almost there. Don't lose focus now. Oh fuck, a drunk fat girl is making a scene, crying on the street, fatter friends trying to console her. Avoid this last obstacle. I reach it. Like a HOME, but without the judgment, and constant disappointment. The sign greets me, NO FUCKING HIPSTERS. This isn't the place for that. People take their drinking seriously here. Mass amounts are consumed in a unhealthy amount of time by the perpetually awesome. The truly blessed. Those that have no time for dancing and girly shooters. The door opens, beckoning, welcoming us back. Hug the doorman, a compatriot. I glance at my brother, I see the same look in his eyes. So many crazy things have happened in here. Too much of us......blood, sweat, tears, vomit......has been spilled on these floors for us to ever call another place home. Take the plunge, go down the stairs. Descending into the musty dank soothing womb. Madness awaits. I have seen it all here. The true dregs of humanity. Occasionally, despite the ominous undertones in the entryway, some of the brave tools will venture down, poke a head in. I see the disgust, the wrinkled brow. There is no bullshit here, not for the kind they crave. Get the fuck out. This is our place. The vibe is loud now. I see my brother yelling in the corner. My Guinness, number 5million tonight, is cold and soothing. A chick falls off her barstool. A fat uggo is puking in a trash can. the shitters are clogged again. I look up. Deep breathe. I am at home among the madness, the random acts of bullshit. I am at home.

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