Subject : faulty
Posted Date: : Dec 28, 2006 8:23 AM
alright... it has recently occured to me that the answer to "what gives?" could be and probably is me. j.s. pointed out to me something that i completely overlooked and that's the possibility that the responses i think i get that are negative are actually simply nuetral. for some reason i always expect people to feel either positively or negatively toward something. its a worldview my dad has... i guess ive adopted some of it. funny how things seep into your brain like that.
i thought it was just shades and that there really is no real nuetral. at least with myself i know that i really dont have a nuetral. at least i like to think that i dont. i dont feel nuetral toward anything or anyone, i either feel good about them or it or i feel bad about them or it. there are mixes but there is never a perfect mix that balances out to nothing. i find the thought appalling somehow that someone could feel nothing toward a person... maybe an it would be okay, but a person?!?! gross.
so i may very well have been misqueing myself all along. it could be that people that i feel should feel (hahaha "feel should feel". words are awesome, anyway) people that i feel should feel at least something positive towards me dont feel anything at all. i dont bother them or make them angry or upbraid them so they're actually inclined to feel nothing; in part because im not a threat to them, but also in part because they just dont consider me - at all. i simply fall into the category of a nonfactor. its not depressing. i always said you can't be friends with everyone. im also the one who seems to have forgotten that.
the experiment is cancelled.
and yes... go fuck yourselves.
Clean with alcohol only. Do not attempt to replace blown fuses. Do not remove access panels. Return to certified mechanic for regular maintenance. Made in the USA.
12/28/06
12/27/06
facebook part 2 12/27/06
Subject : facebook part 2
Posted Date: : Dec 27, 2006 12:50 PM
so... i thought about something yesterday. it was the idea that ppl seem to remain distant from me despite the fact that i go to school with them, talk to them repeatedly and in a friendly manner, and express interest in what they have to say. sometimes i even like hanging out with them... so what gives?
i think what is giving is that im not on facebook and am thus the "creepy guy" that talks a lot. maybe i just dont talk about myself enough. maybe if i introduced myself with a list of easy to remember stats and contact information, a very becoming photo, a favorite quote, and something witty someone else has said about me i would be more approachable. maybe everyone should just carry around a trading card to hand out. pretty lame. just because im not on facebook doesnt mean i hate ppl. i do hate a lot of people but that's not the point.
the point is: i will be performing an experiment next semester to see if i make more new friends with a facebook account than i did without one. the other thing i'd have to keep in mind though are the reasons people may want to associate with me. im not going to put anything on there except contact info and the other bare essentials and i will only go on there to check info when i need to call someone or when my email account tells me to. so there. let the test begin.
also: dont get me wrong... im not coming full circle. i still hate facebook. but i have to know. my thirst for an answer has overcome my allergic reactions to water.
Posted Date: : Dec 27, 2006 12:50 PM
so... i thought about something yesterday. it was the idea that ppl seem to remain distant from me despite the fact that i go to school with them, talk to them repeatedly and in a friendly manner, and express interest in what they have to say. sometimes i even like hanging out with them... so what gives?
i think what is giving is that im not on facebook and am thus the "creepy guy" that talks a lot. maybe i just dont talk about myself enough. maybe if i introduced myself with a list of easy to remember stats and contact information, a very becoming photo, a favorite quote, and something witty someone else has said about me i would be more approachable. maybe everyone should just carry around a trading card to hand out. pretty lame. just because im not on facebook doesnt mean i hate ppl. i do hate a lot of people but that's not the point.
the point is: i will be performing an experiment next semester to see if i make more new friends with a facebook account than i did without one. the other thing i'd have to keep in mind though are the reasons people may want to associate with me. im not going to put anything on there except contact info and the other bare essentials and i will only go on there to check info when i need to call someone or when my email account tells me to. so there. let the test begin.
also: dont get me wrong... im not coming full circle. i still hate facebook. but i have to know. my thirst for an answer has overcome my allergic reactions to water.
12/26/06
home for the hole days 12/26/06
Subject : home for the hole days
Posted Date: : Dec 26, 2006 10:18 AM
thats what they are really. they are days that represent holes; holes in your otherwise "busy" life, holes in your pay checks, holes in your souring days, holes in your routine, just lots and lots of holes. its not all bad.
sometimes its nice to crawl into a hole for a while and watch the world whirl by. im glad that this has been the least superficial christmas ive had the pleasure of living through. we didnt pretend to be super rich. we didnt pretend to have big dreams for big gifts. we didnt make dumb ass christmas lists. and we didnt have to sit through a sermon delivered by my overly pious and ultra conservative father. we just had some time to sit in a hole just big enough for the six of us in my family (mommy daddy sister brother me and sister) and enjoy the close company. its been good.
i like to think im gonna write another book of poetry someday. i want to call it "from the bottom of my well" because i dont have enough perspective to pretend i write for the "everyman." my life as it stands right now is sitting at the bottom of a 60 foot well. every now and then i manage to pull some bricks out and stack them up under me; i get a little closer to daylight, but the trick has been keeping the whole thing from collapsing. the funny thing is that until i get out the clouds over head, the shaft of sunlight, could be anything from a hurricane to a sunrise and im too closed up to know the difference.
im planning on going to new york for new years, but it wont happen. i can feel it already. im just going to go home to pittsburgh. im feelin home sick anyway. its an odd place to feel homesick for three different locations at the same time. hopefully my eventual graduation from college will fix that.
speaking of growing up. i thought i would do so while i was at home. i thought i would be able to say "yeah pop i smoke now and then" or "yes i drink in the afternoon, sometimes a beer goes well with lunch (or breakfast depending on what day it is)," but i didnt. there are a couple of things i fear in this world and one of them is my father's disgust. that's why i dont show him writing. that's why i dont talk about my real life when he's around or even in ear shot. that's why i still have to hide who i am from him. maybe when i can fully support my own god damn weight ill finally be able to tell him that this is what im made of. maybe not.
four more days and it wont matter again because ill be on the greyhound with a fresh pack and limitless potential. or at least potential that can rise to the threshold of possessing a bachelor's degree, cuz i still dont have one yet. << its thoughts like that... they make me angry that everyone will be getting on with their lives come may. angry... but also... heart broken.
Posted Date: : Dec 26, 2006 10:18 AM
thats what they are really. they are days that represent holes; holes in your otherwise "busy" life, holes in your pay checks, holes in your souring days, holes in your routine, just lots and lots of holes. its not all bad.
sometimes its nice to crawl into a hole for a while and watch the world whirl by. im glad that this has been the least superficial christmas ive had the pleasure of living through. we didnt pretend to be super rich. we didnt pretend to have big dreams for big gifts. we didnt make dumb ass christmas lists. and we didnt have to sit through a sermon delivered by my overly pious and ultra conservative father. we just had some time to sit in a hole just big enough for the six of us in my family (mommy daddy sister brother me and sister) and enjoy the close company. its been good.
i like to think im gonna write another book of poetry someday. i want to call it "from the bottom of my well" because i dont have enough perspective to pretend i write for the "everyman." my life as it stands right now is sitting at the bottom of a 60 foot well. every now and then i manage to pull some bricks out and stack them up under me; i get a little closer to daylight, but the trick has been keeping the whole thing from collapsing. the funny thing is that until i get out the clouds over head, the shaft of sunlight, could be anything from a hurricane to a sunrise and im too closed up to know the difference.
im planning on going to new york for new years, but it wont happen. i can feel it already. im just going to go home to pittsburgh. im feelin home sick anyway. its an odd place to feel homesick for three different locations at the same time. hopefully my eventual graduation from college will fix that.
speaking of growing up. i thought i would do so while i was at home. i thought i would be able to say "yeah pop i smoke now and then" or "yes i drink in the afternoon, sometimes a beer goes well with lunch (or breakfast depending on what day it is)," but i didnt. there are a couple of things i fear in this world and one of them is my father's disgust. that's why i dont show him writing. that's why i dont talk about my real life when he's around or even in ear shot. that's why i still have to hide who i am from him. maybe when i can fully support my own god damn weight ill finally be able to tell him that this is what im made of. maybe not.
four more days and it wont matter again because ill be on the greyhound with a fresh pack and limitless potential. or at least potential that can rise to the threshold of possessing a bachelor's degree, cuz i still dont have one yet. << its thoughts like that... they make me angry that everyone will be getting on with their lives come may. angry... but also... heart broken.
12/21/06
a poem 12/21/06
Subject : a poem
Posted Date: : Dec 21, 2006 4:22 AM
(so i insist that i have some chops when it comes to poetry so im going to compose a poem as my blog entry. ignore the double spacing. it means nothing, i just couldnt find out how to turn it off when i hit the enter key. it kind of fucks up the form, but try to bear with it. my style of choice has been deemed prose by some older folks [i actually chewed out a woman 30 years my senior with as many of those years spent writing, but she had the nerve to disqualify one of my entries to her contest as "not poetry at all"] but it is poetry. its my poetry.)
"Food Groups"
he turned his head. to see if he was still bleeding
in the mirror. "nothing to worry about"
i told my hands while they zipped me up. the urinal chuckled,
full of fluid and more satisfied than i can remember being.
i washed my hands to get myself off
but the color stuck. i shot my eyes over my shoulder
to see if i could get a last look at his insides.
i only saw porcelain. later we consumated
our first real fight with rounds of drinks.
the brown leather at his elbow chafed my bare skin
where our arms met on the bar. i didnt mind
his jacket as much as his friendship, but it looked good
on him. i kept my mouth mostly shut
to ease my anger into the weight of the wide bar stool.
my arms refused to move when he suggested
we take it outside. i used his empty coaster
to write down the bartender's number.
she said she was half irish too after smoking his
unfinished cigarette. the amber pool in my
fragile glass didn't go down easy when i finally swallowed.
thats it. thats what ive written. as i typed i could feel chips of rust flying off my knuckles, but i still think its kind of good poem. i should write more. i felt like the seasoned rider who, after going on a vacation to the bahamas, finds themself tangled in their familiar harness when they got home and tried to mount up. its embarassing. but i like it. call it internalized favoritism for myself. or call it shit.
Posted Date: : Dec 21, 2006 4:22 AM
(so i insist that i have some chops when it comes to poetry so im going to compose a poem as my blog entry. ignore the double spacing. it means nothing, i just couldnt find out how to turn it off when i hit the enter key. it kind of fucks up the form, but try to bear with it. my style of choice has been deemed prose by some older folks [i actually chewed out a woman 30 years my senior with as many of those years spent writing, but she had the nerve to disqualify one of my entries to her contest as "not poetry at all"] but it is poetry. its my poetry.)
"Food Groups"
he turned his head. to see if he was still bleeding
in the mirror. "nothing to worry about"
i told my hands while they zipped me up. the urinal chuckled,
full of fluid and more satisfied than i can remember being.
i washed my hands to get myself off
but the color stuck. i shot my eyes over my shoulder
to see if i could get a last look at his insides.
i only saw porcelain. later we consumated
our first real fight with rounds of drinks.
the brown leather at his elbow chafed my bare skin
where our arms met on the bar. i didnt mind
his jacket as much as his friendship, but it looked good
on him. i kept my mouth mostly shut
to ease my anger into the weight of the wide bar stool.
my arms refused to move when he suggested
we take it outside. i used his empty coaster
to write down the bartender's number.
she said she was half irish too after smoking his
unfinished cigarette. the amber pool in my
fragile glass didn't go down easy when i finally swallowed.
thats it. thats what ive written. as i typed i could feel chips of rust flying off my knuckles, but i still think its kind of good poem. i should write more. i felt like the seasoned rider who, after going on a vacation to the bahamas, finds themself tangled in their familiar harness when they got home and tried to mount up. its embarassing. but i like it. call it internalized favoritism for myself. or call it shit.
12/16/06
back at work 12/16/06
Subject : back at work
Posted Date: : Dec 16, 2006 3:53 AM
or rather, just tipping them back while at work. mad dog 20/20 and bellvedere. i have to admit one thing im looking forward to this christmas break is buying my parents my favorite drink instead of stealing theirs when theyre not looking. its nice to be 21.
i conceded victory yesterday to my arch pong rival, hagarman. we've been butting heads on who's number 1 for about two years. pretty much since he pledged my frat up until now. I'm a deep water player, i don't get good until near game's end or the series end. i'm much better at making up a five cup (out of ten) deficit in a game 5 than making up the same deficit in a game one. i've been rated in the top five every single year ive played, be it an official rating or unofficial, for my shear tenacity. if you cant beat them by shooting cups, beat them by drinking them into submission (a.k.a. under the table).
i've had my successes, ive had my failures. i am by no means a phenomenal player, but if you come to my table to play you know the chances are really fucking good you're going to lose. betting against me is like betting against the house. i will win. even if i lose you know you're going to have to play me again tomorrow and the odds will be just as long... because i wont let you rest. when i step to the table i step to work. it is my job to be good at pong. its one of the few things im fucking good at. but i conceded victory yesterday. it was upsetting to say the least.
i dont know what it is, but hags has my number. i cant beat him consistently. maybe he's just never as drunk as me when he starts playing... maybe he just holds half a 30 case of beer better than i do... maybe he just shoots better... but i cant beat him. ive tried. ive tried to make it business to beat him. to take him on when he least expects it. to take him on when he most expects. any and all hours of the day im open to play. and he beats me. i havent taken him to the deep water yet... to the best of 5 series. the fucking iron man 7 game series. i havent played him in personals yet (definitely not for the weak livered), but i gave up.
his shot is too good. thats why i can never be better than him. even if i can out drink him. even if i can destroy him physically. i have to live with the fact that he just shoots better than i do. and that pisses me off to no end. i would give a good piece of my soul for a more accurate and dependable shot. my mental game is better than his. my physiological game is better than his. my physical game is on par with his, or better. but my shot. that one last factor. my fucking shot, is not better than his... and that's why i had to do it.
concessions. maybe he'll cede it back to me at some point. hopefully. but, it fuckin broke my heart to do. im still misty about it. shit.
Posted Date: : Dec 16, 2006 3:53 AM
or rather, just tipping them back while at work. mad dog 20/20 and bellvedere. i have to admit one thing im looking forward to this christmas break is buying my parents my favorite drink instead of stealing theirs when theyre not looking. its nice to be 21.
i conceded victory yesterday to my arch pong rival, hagarman. we've been butting heads on who's number 1 for about two years. pretty much since he pledged my frat up until now. I'm a deep water player, i don't get good until near game's end or the series end. i'm much better at making up a five cup (out of ten) deficit in a game 5 than making up the same deficit in a game one. i've been rated in the top five every single year ive played, be it an official rating or unofficial, for my shear tenacity. if you cant beat them by shooting cups, beat them by drinking them into submission (a.k.a. under the table).
i've had my successes, ive had my failures. i am by no means a phenomenal player, but if you come to my table to play you know the chances are really fucking good you're going to lose. betting against me is like betting against the house. i will win. even if i lose you know you're going to have to play me again tomorrow and the odds will be just as long... because i wont let you rest. when i step to the table i step to work. it is my job to be good at pong. its one of the few things im fucking good at. but i conceded victory yesterday. it was upsetting to say the least.
i dont know what it is, but hags has my number. i cant beat him consistently. maybe he's just never as drunk as me when he starts playing... maybe he just holds half a 30 case of beer better than i do... maybe he just shoots better... but i cant beat him. ive tried. ive tried to make it business to beat him. to take him on when he least expects it. to take him on when he most expects. any and all hours of the day im open to play. and he beats me. i havent taken him to the deep water yet... to the best of 5 series. the fucking iron man 7 game series. i havent played him in personals yet (definitely not for the weak livered), but i gave up.
his shot is too good. thats why i can never be better than him. even if i can out drink him. even if i can destroy him physically. i have to live with the fact that he just shoots better than i do. and that pisses me off to no end. i would give a good piece of my soul for a more accurate and dependable shot. my mental game is better than his. my physiological game is better than his. my physical game is on par with his, or better. but my shot. that one last factor. my fucking shot, is not better than his... and that's why i had to do it.
concessions. maybe he'll cede it back to me at some point. hopefully. but, it fuckin broke my heart to do. im still misty about it. shit.
12/15/06
broken thoughts cohere poorly 12/15/06
Subject : broken thoughts cohere poorly
Posted Date: : Dec 15, 2006 8:15 PM
im hedging about what to write.
i had a crazy dream about dry humping t-girl vampires. it was pretty fucking scary. i also looked up what a post op vagina looks like and it is fucking ugly. nothing like the real ones girls have.... which i guess is hard to define since the ppl that have post op vaginas are technically girls. you know what the fuck i mean though so i wont expound any further. weird dream. it happend while a friend of mine was playing the orchestrated rendition of coldplay's second album. it was good music when i was awake but apparently fucked with my brain on a subconcious level. either that or the fact that i missed dinner. ah well.
i was thinking about something earlier. i was thinking about the idea that...
hmm. some big football player dude just saw me watch his lady friend walk into the bathroom. no sexual thoughts crossed my mind, but seeing the schtuppy hardened look on his face when i glanced back kinda made me wish i had so that i could have a smug moment of self satisfaction. as it stands, the only thing i got out of it was the over riding sensation that he's an idiot. i guess ppl get that sometimes from my writing, you know, except directed towards me. well im not going to tell you to go fuck yourselves... its normal.
i think ive reached fuck quota for this entry so ill try and direct my vocabulary into new realms of fucking awesomeness.
so anyway... i was thinking about something today. oh yeah. i saw time magazines pictures of the year and one of the pictures was a party bus going to a prom at the high school that inspired the TV series the OC. It enfuriated me. i ripped the page out of the magazine and flushed it down the toilet that i was sitting on while i read. i moved on to maxim. if im gonna read shit it better be properly labeled.
in other news... ive been making some strides in getting over the anxiety of influence. ive been told my poetry tends to skew toward wallace-stevens-esque-ness with C.D. Wright sprinkles. I've been avoiding reading their work like the black plague, but I did end up reading one of C.D. Wrights books. I might look up wallace sometime too. being a vessel of tradition ain't so bad so long as i dont let it trap me. oh yeah... fuck this train of thought... what i really wanted to say was this:
i pulled out the 400 pages of notes i wrote in highschool when i was trying to put together a galaxy to host the space opera that i was beginning to envision in middle school. i saw star wars way back then and i was like: man this is awesome, but what about... what if... how come... and the questions lead me, in my writing, to decide i would make my own saga. my own fucking epic. so im gonna try and work on it some more over christmas break. its one of the projects that has literally been nagging the back of my head for years. one thing though... if its ever adapted for cinema... cuz im gonna write the screenplay anyway once its done... but if it ever is... or if it makes it to animation... i get to pick the soundtrack
Posted Date: : Dec 15, 2006 8:15 PM
im hedging about what to write.
i had a crazy dream about dry humping t-girl vampires. it was pretty fucking scary. i also looked up what a post op vagina looks like and it is fucking ugly. nothing like the real ones girls have.... which i guess is hard to define since the ppl that have post op vaginas are technically girls. you know what the fuck i mean though so i wont expound any further. weird dream. it happend while a friend of mine was playing the orchestrated rendition of coldplay's second album. it was good music when i was awake but apparently fucked with my brain on a subconcious level. either that or the fact that i missed dinner. ah well.
i was thinking about something earlier. i was thinking about the idea that...
hmm. some big football player dude just saw me watch his lady friend walk into the bathroom. no sexual thoughts crossed my mind, but seeing the schtuppy hardened look on his face when i glanced back kinda made me wish i had so that i could have a smug moment of self satisfaction. as it stands, the only thing i got out of it was the over riding sensation that he's an idiot. i guess ppl get that sometimes from my writing, you know, except directed towards me. well im not going to tell you to go fuck yourselves... its normal.
i think ive reached fuck quota for this entry so ill try and direct my vocabulary into new realms of fucking awesomeness.
so anyway... i was thinking about something today. oh yeah. i saw time magazines pictures of the year and one of the pictures was a party bus going to a prom at the high school that inspired the TV series the OC. It enfuriated me. i ripped the page out of the magazine and flushed it down the toilet that i was sitting on while i read. i moved on to maxim. if im gonna read shit it better be properly labeled.
in other news... ive been making some strides in getting over the anxiety of influence. ive been told my poetry tends to skew toward wallace-stevens-esque-ness with C.D. Wright sprinkles. I've been avoiding reading their work like the black plague, but I did end up reading one of C.D. Wrights books. I might look up wallace sometime too. being a vessel of tradition ain't so bad so long as i dont let it trap me. oh yeah... fuck this train of thought... what i really wanted to say was this:
i pulled out the 400 pages of notes i wrote in highschool when i was trying to put together a galaxy to host the space opera that i was beginning to envision in middle school. i saw star wars way back then and i was like: man this is awesome, but what about... what if... how come... and the questions lead me, in my writing, to decide i would make my own saga. my own fucking epic. so im gonna try and work on it some more over christmas break. its one of the projects that has literally been nagging the back of my head for years. one thing though... if its ever adapted for cinema... cuz im gonna write the screenplay anyway once its done... but if it ever is... or if it makes it to animation... i get to pick the soundtrack
12/2/06
better people 12/02/06
Subject : better people
Posted Date: : Dec 2, 2006 8:49 PM
having viewed some clips from saw 1 2 and 3 i realized something: the films dont really inspire people to change. if anything they inspire people to judge. they seem to make it okay to judge others on their actions and life styles almost without any reasonable grounds to do so. brutality and cynicism excercised with such abandon as to defy reason.
yes, there are bad people out there who are squandering their lives, but where does anyone get off giving them so much unreasonable shit about it. life is a terrific and painfilled experience, so why add to bad side of it by creating grief. people have the capacity to change. why form permanent assessments of the entiriety of someone's life when they've only lived half of it? killing people doesnt make other people around them want to change. it might inspire a moment of reflection in people already capable recieving such moments, but beyond that what more can anyone really ask or do apart from killing everyone on the planet? part of living is living with people who live off of others. in alot of ways its how communities survive at all. asking someone to change isn't unreasonable. forcing someone to change is crossing the line.
i dunno. i enjoy living. ive considered suicide. everyone has. everyone makes bad decisions and holds grudges whether they mean to or not. trying to solve that problem is like trying to come up with a cure for being human. if there's anything at all to take away from those movies its that there's no substitute for having a conscience and a perspective that is as near to balanced as your brain can manage to see. the world isnt wholly evil and neither are all the people in it as much as it feels and appears that way sometimes.
also those movies were just gross.
im going to watch Interstella 5555 now... because daft punk makes my heart smile like no other band can.
Posted Date: : Dec 2, 2006 8:49 PM
having viewed some clips from saw 1 2 and 3 i realized something: the films dont really inspire people to change. if anything they inspire people to judge. they seem to make it okay to judge others on their actions and life styles almost without any reasonable grounds to do so. brutality and cynicism excercised with such abandon as to defy reason.
yes, there are bad people out there who are squandering their lives, but where does anyone get off giving them so much unreasonable shit about it. life is a terrific and painfilled experience, so why add to bad side of it by creating grief. people have the capacity to change. why form permanent assessments of the entiriety of someone's life when they've only lived half of it? killing people doesnt make other people around them want to change. it might inspire a moment of reflection in people already capable recieving such moments, but beyond that what more can anyone really ask or do apart from killing everyone on the planet? part of living is living with people who live off of others. in alot of ways its how communities survive at all. asking someone to change isn't unreasonable. forcing someone to change is crossing the line.
i dunno. i enjoy living. ive considered suicide. everyone has. everyone makes bad decisions and holds grudges whether they mean to or not. trying to solve that problem is like trying to come up with a cure for being human. if there's anything at all to take away from those movies its that there's no substitute for having a conscience and a perspective that is as near to balanced as your brain can manage to see. the world isnt wholly evil and neither are all the people in it as much as it feels and appears that way sometimes.
also those movies were just gross.
im going to watch Interstella 5555 now... because daft punk makes my heart smile like no other band can.
12/1/06
katamari fortissimo damacy 12/01/06
Subject : katamari fortissimo damacy
Posted Date: : Dec 1, 2006 7:09 PM
katamari damacy is one of the most incredible video games ever.
the best song on the soundtrack is "angel flavor's present," and whats more is that every song has something to do with rolling things up into balls. the story goes that your daddy, the king of the universe, somehow fucked things up and accidentally destroyed every star in the sky. so... being the good natured guy he is (however, very busy because he has a universe to run) he decides to let you take a crack at fixing things. he gives you this ball called a katamari and your job is to roll it around and pick up progressively larger and larger things (starting with thumbtacks, chewing gum, paper clips, and moving through the course of the game to buildings, cars, and trees). the last level of the game is picking up continents on earth. if your katamari becomes massive enough by the end it ignites into a star. pretty bad ass and one of the best and most diverse gaming soundtracks ever. play it.
against my better judgement, ive started watching inuyasha. fuedal drama is okay (champloo) but this stuff is just shitty. its addicting in the way lost, or MTV made, or even everybody loves raymond is addicting. my shame knows no bounds.
on a side note... im pretty sure my professor is screwing me over by giving me an additional assignment in the same vein of a previous assignment. he just made the kill list.
on a further askew side note... i think im going to save up some money and buy some badass sex toys. if i can drink when i want to and smoke when i want to why cant i have sex with inanimate objects when i want to? so i will. it sounds bad, but its really not. if you can isolate yourself so far from your hand that masturbation gets you off quickly you might as well spring for one. im also thinking about having someone interview my alter self. i was really thinking about it the other day because if theres one thing ive always wanted to know its who's at the controls when i black out. so im going to have someone strap me down and feed me shots till i switch over then record an interview. i guess ill have to cathetize myself so i dont piss my pants or something during the process.
im kind of looking forward to it.
im also considering freestyling a poem here at some point. for more poetry can be kind of embarassing... like ejaculating... except that its really awesome when you can free up a good one... like ejaculating... then there's the fear of inadequacy... like ejaculating... and being completely misunderstood... like pre-mature ejaculation... and then the other thing is once its out there its out there and theres no bringing it back... like nuclear missles. so im considering it. knowing me ill do it. cuz i love words.
Posted Date: : Dec 1, 2006 7:09 PM
katamari damacy is one of the most incredible video games ever.
the best song on the soundtrack is "angel flavor's present," and whats more is that every song has something to do with rolling things up into balls. the story goes that your daddy, the king of the universe, somehow fucked things up and accidentally destroyed every star in the sky. so... being the good natured guy he is (however, very busy because he has a universe to run) he decides to let you take a crack at fixing things. he gives you this ball called a katamari and your job is to roll it around and pick up progressively larger and larger things (starting with thumbtacks, chewing gum, paper clips, and moving through the course of the game to buildings, cars, and trees). the last level of the game is picking up continents on earth. if your katamari becomes massive enough by the end it ignites into a star. pretty bad ass and one of the best and most diverse gaming soundtracks ever. play it.
against my better judgement, ive started watching inuyasha. fuedal drama is okay (champloo) but this stuff is just shitty. its addicting in the way lost, or MTV made, or even everybody loves raymond is addicting. my shame knows no bounds.
on a side note... im pretty sure my professor is screwing me over by giving me an additional assignment in the same vein of a previous assignment. he just made the kill list.
on a further askew side note... i think im going to save up some money and buy some badass sex toys. if i can drink when i want to and smoke when i want to why cant i have sex with inanimate objects when i want to? so i will. it sounds bad, but its really not. if you can isolate yourself so far from your hand that masturbation gets you off quickly you might as well spring for one. im also thinking about having someone interview my alter self. i was really thinking about it the other day because if theres one thing ive always wanted to know its who's at the controls when i black out. so im going to have someone strap me down and feed me shots till i switch over then record an interview. i guess ill have to cathetize myself so i dont piss my pants or something during the process.
im kind of looking forward to it.
im also considering freestyling a poem here at some point. for more poetry can be kind of embarassing... like ejaculating... except that its really awesome when you can free up a good one... like ejaculating... then there's the fear of inadequacy... like ejaculating... and being completely misunderstood... like pre-mature ejaculation... and then the other thing is once its out there its out there and theres no bringing it back... like nuclear missles. so im considering it. knowing me ill do it. cuz i love words.
11/30/06
fear of wanting 11/30/06
Subject : fear of wanting
Posted Date: : Nov 30, 2006 10:40 AM
so what happend many eves ago: was probably nomal. probably not so weird as i thought it was. ive always been confused to a degree. confused sexually. essentially a late night of drinking left two boys passed out on my couch. and i wanted to give them both blow jobs. really badly at the time. other strange things happend that night, at least they felt strange.
ultimately i didnt, which was probably for the best. i think i have a fear of wanting. wanting to know that the people i love are cared for. i dont think i want to be trash. i want to be loved and to love as much as the next person. im just also very passionate and there isnt much place for that where ive tried to jam it in. anxiety. grappling with what is and what i want. i have an overwhelming desire to do things right, but also to do things my way, and my way never seems to be the right way. i keep screwing up. so much so that it gets hard to feel which way is down. so much so that it gets hard to feel. to know.
when that happens its nice to have someone to point the way for you. but sometimes there's no one who knows the way any better than you do. and then confusion sets in.
Posted Date: : Nov 30, 2006 10:40 AM
so what happend many eves ago: was probably nomal. probably not so weird as i thought it was. ive always been confused to a degree. confused sexually. essentially a late night of drinking left two boys passed out on my couch. and i wanted to give them both blow jobs. really badly at the time. other strange things happend that night, at least they felt strange.
ultimately i didnt, which was probably for the best. i think i have a fear of wanting. wanting to know that the people i love are cared for. i dont think i want to be trash. i want to be loved and to love as much as the next person. im just also very passionate and there isnt much place for that where ive tried to jam it in. anxiety. grappling with what is and what i want. i have an overwhelming desire to do things right, but also to do things my way, and my way never seems to be the right way. i keep screwing up. so much so that it gets hard to feel which way is down. so much so that it gets hard to feel. to know.
when that happens its nice to have someone to point the way for you. but sometimes there's no one who knows the way any better than you do. and then confusion sets in.
11/23/06
low way down
Subject : low way down
Posted Date: : Nov 23, 2006 5:24 PM
laying low on thanksgiving. ill be up tomorrow. then we'll see what's what. some weird shit happend over the past four or five days. weird, weird, weird shit... but kinda cool. the only thing i dont look forward to is composing the words. composing the words will require hindsight thought. if there's anything that can diminish cool, its hindsight.
Posted Date: : Nov 23, 2006 5:24 PM
laying low on thanksgiving. ill be up tomorrow. then we'll see what's what. some weird shit happend over the past four or five days. weird, weird, weird shit... but kinda cool. the only thing i dont look forward to is composing the words. composing the words will require hindsight thought. if there's anything that can diminish cool, its hindsight.
11/17/06
close the deal 11/17/06
Subject : close the deal
Posted Date: : Nov 17, 2006 6:12 PM
ill admit it. i dont know how to "close the deal." I am just not a closer. i cant tell when its time to stop hitting on a girl and whip it out. i have no idea how thats supposed to even work, and whats more is that sometimes im not even sure if im hitting on them or if my advances are registering as something else. i know im a charismatic guy, but so was satan and im pretty sure hes not getting laid that often.
using lines like, "do you wanna go upstairs," just seem to me like bullshit. utter bullshit. why cant i just say "lets fuck". how come honesty isnt appreciated. well maybe it is. i guess i just have to find that girl that appreciates honesty. i dont want to date in college... i dont want to put in weeks of work on something that will only last a couple of nights... and i dont want to have my fucking hands tied up all day for a wet hole to put my penis in at night. i want my cake and i want to eat it. all of it.
okay... rant over. on another note... i went to get beer today and the beer garage wouldnt take my license. this is the second god damn time they've done this and i have no idea why. im pretty sure its not because im black. i just got the id a few days ago. brand fucking new. why does maryland make non-scannable licenses! what the fuck is going on with the world!
to hit yet another note... i read the most widely circulated coloumn in america yesterday. it was a coloumn written the day after 9-11 and it was terrible. it read like an over blown steroid shooting coaches speech to his team after they were down 28 points at the half. it was clearly a bunch of emotional crap that people would eat up like margarine rolled in powdered sugar and it was totally bullshit. to sum up the coloumn i will say one phrase because this was essentially the only point the coloumnist made: "we're gonna mess you guys up for this, man." that was it. the language he used was so broad and so sweeping it made me want to wretch right there in the middle of class. just yak all over my desk. it was awful, it was presumptuous, it was horribly biased, it was hateful, and it ignored the scope of the event in the longer run. it was as though bush paid the guy to whip it up and help get everyone here riled up and saber rattling. lame.
its times like these that i wish i could go back in time and assassinate people. fuck going back in time to make money. i just want to go back and adjust the gene pool of America cuz she is getting mighty retarded these days.
Posted Date: : Nov 17, 2006 6:12 PM
ill admit it. i dont know how to "close the deal." I am just not a closer. i cant tell when its time to stop hitting on a girl and whip it out. i have no idea how thats supposed to even work, and whats more is that sometimes im not even sure if im hitting on them or if my advances are registering as something else. i know im a charismatic guy, but so was satan and im pretty sure hes not getting laid that often.
using lines like, "do you wanna go upstairs," just seem to me like bullshit. utter bullshit. why cant i just say "lets fuck". how come honesty isnt appreciated. well maybe it is. i guess i just have to find that girl that appreciates honesty. i dont want to date in college... i dont want to put in weeks of work on something that will only last a couple of nights... and i dont want to have my fucking hands tied up all day for a wet hole to put my penis in at night. i want my cake and i want to eat it. all of it.
okay... rant over. on another note... i went to get beer today and the beer garage wouldnt take my license. this is the second god damn time they've done this and i have no idea why. im pretty sure its not because im black. i just got the id a few days ago. brand fucking new. why does maryland make non-scannable licenses! what the fuck is going on with the world!
to hit yet another note... i read the most widely circulated coloumn in america yesterday. it was a coloumn written the day after 9-11 and it was terrible. it read like an over blown steroid shooting coaches speech to his team after they were down 28 points at the half. it was clearly a bunch of emotional crap that people would eat up like margarine rolled in powdered sugar and it was totally bullshit. to sum up the coloumn i will say one phrase because this was essentially the only point the coloumnist made: "we're gonna mess you guys up for this, man." that was it. the language he used was so broad and so sweeping it made me want to wretch right there in the middle of class. just yak all over my desk. it was awful, it was presumptuous, it was horribly biased, it was hateful, and it ignored the scope of the event in the longer run. it was as though bush paid the guy to whip it up and help get everyone here riled up and saber rattling. lame.
its times like these that i wish i could go back in time and assassinate people. fuck going back in time to make money. i just want to go back and adjust the gene pool of America cuz she is getting mighty retarded these days.
11/15/06
moving on 11/15/06
Subject : moving on [also: why omalara will fuck her gardener]
Posted Date: : Nov 15, 2006 8:17 PM
so i think ive moved on. i think ill always vasilate on how much i love her, but i know there is a basic unit of love there, im just not sure of the units numeric value. chalk it up to a last year of college and a first real college relationship.
anyway... moving on from what was [its been nearly a half year process including the two and a half weeks of withdrawal] it recently occured to me on a trip home this past weekend why a girl i knew in high school even spoke to me at all.
omalara. she was carribean, big boobies, nice twists in her hair, nice lines, all that and/or a bag of chips. she never seemed to notice me unless it was a monday. on the bus rides home on mondays she'd give me blow jobs. no not really, but it woulda been awesome if she had. she did chat me up pretty hard until she had to get off the bus. so this one monday i was sitting next to her and i was pissed off because there was still some gasoline in my back pack (i was a lawnmower in the spring to make money) and it stank up my books. The minute i pulled out my texts for my class there she was on the back of my chair saying whats up. i told her about how fuckin pissed i was cuz my shit smelled like gasoline and she just completed threw her arms around me.
she said she loved the smell of gasoline. that explained it all. thats why she only talked to me on mondays after a weekend of riding my bike to gas stations with a gas can in my bag to fill up my little lawn mower. i wish i could have mowed her lawn. that woulda been nice. but anyway. i think that little fact is why she will definitely be one of those people who fucks her gardener. all that fuel in the air... rippling muscles... probably no shirt on... she wont be able to resist. at this point in my life my only chance of ever getting in her pants will probably be to literally mow her lawn. hopefully itll work out nicely.
otherwise ill have to stick to my other plan of attending doctorate parties and picking up phone numbers of soon to be very wealthy and career minded women. that way i can call them up later on in life when im still sprye and they're too burnt out to find a man to ring their bells. call it an investment strategy. i couple of purchase cosmopolitans now may very well equal set-for-life later.
i think im gonna redo my front page too. eventually. its nice to move on. its been a long war.
Posted Date: : Nov 15, 2006 8:17 PM
so i think ive moved on. i think ill always vasilate on how much i love her, but i know there is a basic unit of love there, im just not sure of the units numeric value. chalk it up to a last year of college and a first real college relationship.
anyway... moving on from what was [its been nearly a half year process including the two and a half weeks of withdrawal] it recently occured to me on a trip home this past weekend why a girl i knew in high school even spoke to me at all.
omalara. she was carribean, big boobies, nice twists in her hair, nice lines, all that and/or a bag of chips. she never seemed to notice me unless it was a monday. on the bus rides home on mondays she'd give me blow jobs. no not really, but it woulda been awesome if she had. she did chat me up pretty hard until she had to get off the bus. so this one monday i was sitting next to her and i was pissed off because there was still some gasoline in my back pack (i was a lawnmower in the spring to make money) and it stank up my books. The minute i pulled out my texts for my class there she was on the back of my chair saying whats up. i told her about how fuckin pissed i was cuz my shit smelled like gasoline and she just completed threw her arms around me.
she said she loved the smell of gasoline. that explained it all. thats why she only talked to me on mondays after a weekend of riding my bike to gas stations with a gas can in my bag to fill up my little lawn mower. i wish i could have mowed her lawn. that woulda been nice. but anyway. i think that little fact is why she will definitely be one of those people who fucks her gardener. all that fuel in the air... rippling muscles... probably no shirt on... she wont be able to resist. at this point in my life my only chance of ever getting in her pants will probably be to literally mow her lawn. hopefully itll work out nicely.
otherwise ill have to stick to my other plan of attending doctorate parties and picking up phone numbers of soon to be very wealthy and career minded women. that way i can call them up later on in life when im still sprye and they're too burnt out to find a man to ring their bells. call it an investment strategy. i couple of purchase cosmopolitans now may very well equal set-for-life later.
i think im gonna redo my front page too. eventually. its nice to move on. its been a long war.
7/8/06
facebook no more 07/08/06
Subject : facebook no more and other paranoias
Posted Date: : Jul 8, 2006 3:34 PM
i am a paranoid person. i am a very paranoid person.
in light of the facts that i try to keep no secrets and am racked periodically with undeniably powerful bouts of paranoia and am incessantly talking to myself (the only times im not talking to myself are during sexual activities {including masterbation}, during video games, and while im writing) i have cancelled my facebook.com account.
i hated it for many reasons.... damn it i just paused for a minute and i started talking to myself again. sometimes i wonder where the voices come from to begin with because it says things i wouldnt say... or at least i dont think i would say. but then ... ugh... i just did it again. fuck this.
Posted Date: : Jul 8, 2006 3:34 PM
i am a paranoid person. i am a very paranoid person.
in light of the facts that i try to keep no secrets and am racked periodically with undeniably powerful bouts of paranoia and am incessantly talking to myself (the only times im not talking to myself are during sexual activities {including masterbation}, during video games, and while im writing) i have cancelled my facebook.com account.
i hated it for many reasons.... damn it i just paused for a minute and i started talking to myself again. sometimes i wonder where the voices come from to begin with because it says things i wouldnt say... or at least i dont think i would say. but then ... ugh... i just did it again. fuck this.
6/27/06
bureaucracy... yeah... 06/27/06
Subject : bureaucracy... yeah...
Posted Date: : Jun 27, 2006 8:56 AM
i dont even know if i spelled it right... but anyway... i just wanted to say that it sucks. it sucks horrible horrible prickly donkey balls.
im at work right now and there are 8... count it... EIGHT head honchos on my floor. theyre never up here for any reason (cuz they have to climb stairs to get to the floor i work on) and now there are 8 of them up here. why? well im glad you asked.
theyre installing new microfiche/film readers. well actually they are installing one new microfiche/film reader. why does it take 8 of them to do this??? dont they have better things to do like managing and improving the library catalog system (which fucking sucks dicks) at the university??? there are 8 honchos and 3 technicians.
when we had to shift the entire periodicals collection (literally about two thousand items) to physically make space for new items being added the following year we had all of TWO people working on it. me and some other guy who you wouldn't know anyway. installing one 100 pound machine takes 11 people, but shifting a couple of TONS of materials takes only 2??? they can all go to hell and die. god damn them.
i dont fuckin get it. i guess thats why im just an assistant.
Posted Date: : Jun 27, 2006 8:56 AM
i dont even know if i spelled it right... but anyway... i just wanted to say that it sucks. it sucks horrible horrible prickly donkey balls.
im at work right now and there are 8... count it... EIGHT head honchos on my floor. theyre never up here for any reason (cuz they have to climb stairs to get to the floor i work on) and now there are 8 of them up here. why? well im glad you asked.
theyre installing new microfiche/film readers. well actually they are installing one new microfiche/film reader. why does it take 8 of them to do this??? dont they have better things to do like managing and improving the library catalog system (which fucking sucks dicks) at the university??? there are 8 honchos and 3 technicians.
when we had to shift the entire periodicals collection (literally about two thousand items) to physically make space for new items being added the following year we had all of TWO people working on it. me and some other guy who you wouldn't know anyway. installing one 100 pound machine takes 11 people, but shifting a couple of TONS of materials takes only 2??? they can all go to hell and die. god damn them.
i dont fuckin get it. i guess thats why im just an assistant.
common sensing 06/27/06
Subject : common sensing
Posted Date: : Jun 27, 2006 7:51 AM
i read an interesting piece the other day about film noir.
The piece discussed the fall of tragedy from a tale that depicted the struggles of a hero, a real tale of tumbling from way "up there" to way "down here" and all points southward and more hellish then wherever "here" happens to be, to a tale of the struggles of the common man. It pointed out that the commonizing of tragedy in film noir marks the end of tragedy as a genre because any persons experience could be referred to or depicted as tragic. Then the essay turned. It shifted gears and threw in the exception.
The argument went something like this: "tragedy as it stands today must be reborn into something that not everyone can identify with,but everyone can recognize as uncommon pain not like their own. Tragedy as a genre is not dead. It is only more difficult to properly diagnose. Tragic figures are no longer the aristocrats of society displaced to hell. Tragic figures are those who are already there who are socio-economic minorities and are cut off from the common pool of society, who through incredible and fatalistic turns find themselves somehow further ostracised from the common pool of suffering, which is a far worse place to be because it is suffering without the ability to identify oneself with the common sufferings of your fellow man." thats a total paraphrase. the guy who wrote the piece had a much more in depth argument... but you get the idea (i hope).
the problem with being hard out for luck, in need of support, or on the ropes for any reason is that /everyone/ really believes thiers is the ultimate tragedy, and they "turned out okay" so why should they help or even try to empathize with you? thank you media for making hugh grant look like the saddest man alive.
according to this article, a true "tragic figure" candidate could be one of the poor bastards interned in cuba who later returns to society, his life in shambles, dirt poor, and with literally no one willing to identify with him because of his nationality, and his own government, the shining united states of america, unwilling to touch him so they wrap him up in red tape, put a nice little tag on him that says "don't worry, it's all taken care of" and poke him into the back corners of everyones minds with a thirty foot pole to quietly rot away like so much discarded food behind a stove.
so next time you read something that sounds like a person is whining about how hard their life is and they didn't just return from a foriegn countries prison camp where they were raped every night as a prisoner of war maybe give some consideration to the idea that they actually are having a hard time of it (assuming, of course, that their whole life isnt one big complaint. there are people that are addicted to sorrow and lamentation, or at least i think there are). instead of accusing them of crying to heaven "WHY ME!!" get out of your own stories of overcoming woes for just a moment, discard your images and ideas of how everyone suffers the same, and take a minute to consider that given their circumstances you really have no frame of reference (besides media, which pollutes, dilutes, and confuses the idea of what is and is not suffering on a day-to-day basis and, loosely, your own personal experiences) to judge them accurately.
this is not to say that you have no right to make your judgements. it is to say that i believe you should not pass judgement based on the idea that you've had it just as bad or know someone who has, when what you're really operating on is an idea based in the commonizing of tragedy and the assumption that suffering is an experience without meter that unifies us all. it doesnt.
i wish i could remember the name of the article... it was very provocative.
Posted Date: : Jun 27, 2006 7:51 AM
i read an interesting piece the other day about film noir.
The piece discussed the fall of tragedy from a tale that depicted the struggles of a hero, a real tale of tumbling from way "up there" to way "down here" and all points southward and more hellish then wherever "here" happens to be, to a tale of the struggles of the common man. It pointed out that the commonizing of tragedy in film noir marks the end of tragedy as a genre because any persons experience could be referred to or depicted as tragic. Then the essay turned. It shifted gears and threw in the exception.
The argument went something like this: "tragedy as it stands today must be reborn into something that not everyone can identify with,but everyone can recognize as uncommon pain not like their own. Tragedy as a genre is not dead. It is only more difficult to properly diagnose. Tragic figures are no longer the aristocrats of society displaced to hell. Tragic figures are those who are already there who are socio-economic minorities and are cut off from the common pool of society, who through incredible and fatalistic turns find themselves somehow further ostracised from the common pool of suffering, which is a far worse place to be because it is suffering without the ability to identify oneself with the common sufferings of your fellow man." thats a total paraphrase. the guy who wrote the piece had a much more in depth argument... but you get the idea (i hope).
the problem with being hard out for luck, in need of support, or on the ropes for any reason is that /everyone/ really believes thiers is the ultimate tragedy, and they "turned out okay" so why should they help or even try to empathize with you? thank you media for making hugh grant look like the saddest man alive.
according to this article, a true "tragic figure" candidate could be one of the poor bastards interned in cuba who later returns to society, his life in shambles, dirt poor, and with literally no one willing to identify with him because of his nationality, and his own government, the shining united states of america, unwilling to touch him so they wrap him up in red tape, put a nice little tag on him that says "don't worry, it's all taken care of" and poke him into the back corners of everyones minds with a thirty foot pole to quietly rot away like so much discarded food behind a stove.
so next time you read something that sounds like a person is whining about how hard their life is and they didn't just return from a foriegn countries prison camp where they were raped every night as a prisoner of war maybe give some consideration to the idea that they actually are having a hard time of it (assuming, of course, that their whole life isnt one big complaint. there are people that are addicted to sorrow and lamentation, or at least i think there are). instead of accusing them of crying to heaven "WHY ME!!" get out of your own stories of overcoming woes for just a moment, discard your images and ideas of how everyone suffers the same, and take a minute to consider that given their circumstances you really have no frame of reference (besides media, which pollutes, dilutes, and confuses the idea of what is and is not suffering on a day-to-day basis and, loosely, your own personal experiences) to judge them accurately.
this is not to say that you have no right to make your judgements. it is to say that i believe you should not pass judgement based on the idea that you've had it just as bad or know someone who has, when what you're really operating on is an idea based in the commonizing of tragedy and the assumption that suffering is an experience without meter that unifies us all. it doesnt.
i wish i could remember the name of the article... it was very provocative.
6/20/06
you cant sleep with everyone 06/20/06
Subject : you cant sleep with everyone
Posted Date: : Jun 20, 2006 4:03 PM
yep... its true. you really just cant sleep with everyone. more importantly though, when you think about it, its not so much that everyone you meet who gets your panties in a bunch or gets your wang a twitchin' is worth jackin or jillin off. the thing is that aspects of these people remind you of someone you know who actually is worth jillin or jackin off.
like say for instance someone's got really cute toes. you dont really want to sleep with them for that, but you probably will go masturbate about it. (maybe not... im not saying we're all perverts here). even if you did shag them, i mean how shitty would that be in the morning when you've had it out and theres not much left to do, but say "k thanks, bye." its not even a matter of having a girlfriend either.
you just cant sleep with everyone you meet that you fancy because it really just wont be worth it. you might as well break your favorite decorative plate (hahaha who buys those!) or your favorite bong, or pipe, or shot glass, or beer mug, or glass dildo, or whatever you prize... shatter it and then roll around on the shards. yeah you might got stuck with a few pieces you like... a few pieces you fancy... but ultimately you'll see that its just not the same as having the whole beautiful thing you really wanted tucked safely into your arms.
why are celebrities so sad? because they have that option to squeeze and rub that shard of something that reminds them of what they really want. except they are surrounded by beautiful broken things and what they really want inevitably gets burried beneath all the glittering pieces of glass.
so by all means look if you must. hug when you can because everyone deserves a little warmth now and then. but for christs sake dont squish it up into your cooch every time or jam your man piece into that glass hole just becuase it's attached to a cute face. you'll bleed yourself dry trying to "satisfy" urges that aren't urges at all. they are merely reflections manifest on someone elses body.
of course you can always simply enjoy being in the presence of something you consider to be beautiful. and its okay to masterbate over beauty. i actually tried masterbating to a car... the results were interesting.
on another note... have you ever wondered how many people manifest their reflections on you? how many people (man or woman) look at you and think to themselves... i would give him/her a fucking that would decimate their lower posterior chain. just think about that next time a guy/girl looks away from you, but don't look away from them too... just look ahead, keep walking, and smile.
Posted Date: : Jun 20, 2006 4:03 PM
yep... its true. you really just cant sleep with everyone. more importantly though, when you think about it, its not so much that everyone you meet who gets your panties in a bunch or gets your wang a twitchin' is worth jackin or jillin off. the thing is that aspects of these people remind you of someone you know who actually is worth jillin or jackin off.
like say for instance someone's got really cute toes. you dont really want to sleep with them for that, but you probably will go masturbate about it. (maybe not... im not saying we're all perverts here). even if you did shag them, i mean how shitty would that be in the morning when you've had it out and theres not much left to do, but say "k thanks, bye." its not even a matter of having a girlfriend either.
you just cant sleep with everyone you meet that you fancy because it really just wont be worth it. you might as well break your favorite decorative plate (hahaha who buys those!) or your favorite bong, or pipe, or shot glass, or beer mug, or glass dildo, or whatever you prize... shatter it and then roll around on the shards. yeah you might got stuck with a few pieces you like... a few pieces you fancy... but ultimately you'll see that its just not the same as having the whole beautiful thing you really wanted tucked safely into your arms.
why are celebrities so sad? because they have that option to squeeze and rub that shard of something that reminds them of what they really want. except they are surrounded by beautiful broken things and what they really want inevitably gets burried beneath all the glittering pieces of glass.
so by all means look if you must. hug when you can because everyone deserves a little warmth now and then. but for christs sake dont squish it up into your cooch every time or jam your man piece into that glass hole just becuase it's attached to a cute face. you'll bleed yourself dry trying to "satisfy" urges that aren't urges at all. they are merely reflections manifest on someone elses body.
of course you can always simply enjoy being in the presence of something you consider to be beautiful. and its okay to masterbate over beauty. i actually tried masterbating to a car... the results were interesting.
on another note... have you ever wondered how many people manifest their reflections on you? how many people (man or woman) look at you and think to themselves... i would give him/her a fucking that would decimate their lower posterior chain. just think about that next time a guy/girl looks away from you, but don't look away from them too... just look ahead, keep walking, and smile.
6/19/06
spit is not super glue 06/19/06
Subject : spit is not super glue
Posted Date: : Jun 19, 2006 9:26 AM
using saliva to join two surfaces does not work. so it just occured to me that using saliva to join two individuals also will not work, or at least should not be expected to perform as a lasting solution.
the above analogy further reminded me of that time i tried to fix the wiring inside a vibrator that was broken (those things aren't cheap) using super glue. it also did not work... and was discovered for the small phallus of a paperweight it was at its greatest time of need.
moving from disconnected wires, i was struck by how frayed my nerves have recently become. life is hard. ugh. life can feel like a near waterless diet of celery and peanuts on that fifth day when the constipation finally breaks. my nerves are shot. i can literally feel my nerve endings buzzing and firing off little shocks into my muscles, but not returning any relevant information to my brainstem. that odd feeling of nervous, numb energy that makes you feel cold in the face and palms and hot in the belly. there are lots of things i want to do and so many things that need doing.
i need to write about the economy of eccentricity.
i need to write about the 92 / 8 split.
i need to draft lyrics for a friend of mine.
i need to ... need to... need to...
the repitition of this phrase places a person in strange state of paranoia that swells the throat and keeps the fingers clicking back and forth from the email inbox, to the cell phone, to the instant messenger and back. looking for something to do. anything to do. that weird place where the only comfortable view is the one over your shoulder, except that your neck always gets tired and you must turn around. a place where the only rest to be had is in the security of the tasks at hand though the resting isn't what a person is used to calling rest.
i need to write about the restlessness of need.
Posted Date: : Jun 19, 2006 9:26 AM
using saliva to join two surfaces does not work. so it just occured to me that using saliva to join two individuals also will not work, or at least should not be expected to perform as a lasting solution.
the above analogy further reminded me of that time i tried to fix the wiring inside a vibrator that was broken (those things aren't cheap) using super glue. it also did not work... and was discovered for the small phallus of a paperweight it was at its greatest time of need.
moving from disconnected wires, i was struck by how frayed my nerves have recently become. life is hard. ugh. life can feel like a near waterless diet of celery and peanuts on that fifth day when the constipation finally breaks. my nerves are shot. i can literally feel my nerve endings buzzing and firing off little shocks into my muscles, but not returning any relevant information to my brainstem. that odd feeling of nervous, numb energy that makes you feel cold in the face and palms and hot in the belly. there are lots of things i want to do and so many things that need doing.
i need to write about the economy of eccentricity.
i need to write about the 92 / 8 split.
i need to draft lyrics for a friend of mine.
i need to ... need to... need to...
the repitition of this phrase places a person in strange state of paranoia that swells the throat and keeps the fingers clicking back and forth from the email inbox, to the cell phone, to the instant messenger and back. looking for something to do. anything to do. that weird place where the only comfortable view is the one over your shoulder, except that your neck always gets tired and you must turn around. a place where the only rest to be had is in the security of the tasks at hand though the resting isn't what a person is used to calling rest.
i need to write about the restlessness of need.
6/12/06
bearded ladies dont shave 06/12/06
Subject : Bearded Ladies Dont Shave
Posted Date: : Jun 12, 2006 8:00 AM
and neither do i. i mean, come on! im a guy. im entitled to my patchy beard, by virtue of having testicles and a wang. if a bearded lady is entitled to keep her beard and not even get a sideways comment like... "why dont you shave" (obviously she is okay with her facial hair) then why should i?
so there. bleh. on another note... i hate my nose in one of my pictures so im deleting it. even bearded ladies have their bad photo days.
Posted Date: : Jun 12, 2006 8:00 AM
and neither do i. i mean, come on! im a guy. im entitled to my patchy beard, by virtue of having testicles and a wang. if a bearded lady is entitled to keep her beard and not even get a sideways comment like... "why dont you shave" (obviously she is okay with her facial hair) then why should i?
so there. bleh. on another note... i hate my nose in one of my pictures so im deleting it. even bearded ladies have their bad photo days.
6/8/06
the forest for the trees 06/08/06
Subject : the forest for the trees... people still do that?
Posted Date: : Jun 8, 2006 7:48 AM
i conducted an interview of a co worker last month and then converted the interview into a piece of non-fiction for a class. i drafted the piece and then re-drafted the piece and then reinterviewed and then let it sit for a couple of days. then i edited the piece again and then redrafted the whole thing.
not only was the piece recieved to a near standing ovation from my professor, but i personally felt like it was one of the better things i'd written that year. it was long, but not overly so. it had twists and turns. it was not self promoting nor biased. it was brutally honest and uplifting. this piece of biographical non-fiction is so good i am going to submit it to some minor non-fiction journals and see how well (or poorly it does). this piece was art.
at least that was what i and others thought for the past month until about ten minutes ago. the co-worker whom i interviewed and promised to remain true to in giving him a copy of the piece just told me what he thought of it. this is what he had to say:
"okay there were a few things, first of all you should delete all of the quotes because those quotes don't sound anything like me. secondly the books i read are not on any middle school book lists. they are deep and dark works by world renowned authors. thirdly im not gay because its kind of insenuated in there that i am, but im not."
those were his exact words. there were more. in fact he went on about the books and the gay thing for quite some time before he remembered to harangue me some more about the quotes. where he got those problems from i have no idea.
in the paper i say that we share the same sexual preference and im not gay... so i guess he's just a homophobe.
in the paper i say that im jealous of how well read he is and that he didn't just pick books off of an obscure list for the sake of reading obscure authors like other people with no taste in books often do... so he pulled that book shit outta of two or three words i said in the beginning of the piece to set up the revelation of his deep knowledge.
in the paper i quote him word for word... its not my fault if he doesn't believe he actually sounds like that or not. he said the words. i didn't make them up. and its not like i just stuck on a speech impedement or bogus accent either.
in short it is clear to me that he has completely missed the 99% of the paper that is nothing but positive toward him. the man is ugly. i did capture that faithfully as well... but he didn't have issue with that at all. he only found problems with the 99% that was true, honest, accurate, and positive.
yes, people still miss the forest for the trees. im not making any of the changes he asked me to.
i am going to make one change though. his name.
Posted Date: : Jun 8, 2006 7:48 AM
i conducted an interview of a co worker last month and then converted the interview into a piece of non-fiction for a class. i drafted the piece and then re-drafted the piece and then reinterviewed and then let it sit for a couple of days. then i edited the piece again and then redrafted the whole thing.
not only was the piece recieved to a near standing ovation from my professor, but i personally felt like it was one of the better things i'd written that year. it was long, but not overly so. it had twists and turns. it was not self promoting nor biased. it was brutally honest and uplifting. this piece of biographical non-fiction is so good i am going to submit it to some minor non-fiction journals and see how well (or poorly it does). this piece was art.
at least that was what i and others thought for the past month until about ten minutes ago. the co-worker whom i interviewed and promised to remain true to in giving him a copy of the piece just told me what he thought of it. this is what he had to say:
"okay there were a few things, first of all you should delete all of the quotes because those quotes don't sound anything like me. secondly the books i read are not on any middle school book lists. they are deep and dark works by world renowned authors. thirdly im not gay because its kind of insenuated in there that i am, but im not."
those were his exact words. there were more. in fact he went on about the books and the gay thing for quite some time before he remembered to harangue me some more about the quotes. where he got those problems from i have no idea.
in the paper i say that we share the same sexual preference and im not gay... so i guess he's just a homophobe.
in the paper i say that im jealous of how well read he is and that he didn't just pick books off of an obscure list for the sake of reading obscure authors like other people with no taste in books often do... so he pulled that book shit outta of two or three words i said in the beginning of the piece to set up the revelation of his deep knowledge.
in the paper i quote him word for word... its not my fault if he doesn't believe he actually sounds like that or not. he said the words. i didn't make them up. and its not like i just stuck on a speech impedement or bogus accent either.
in short it is clear to me that he has completely missed the 99% of the paper that is nothing but positive toward him. the man is ugly. i did capture that faithfully as well... but he didn't have issue with that at all. he only found problems with the 99% that was true, honest, accurate, and positive.
yes, people still miss the forest for the trees. im not making any of the changes he asked me to.
i am going to make one change though. his name.
6/5/06
great depression is over 06/05/06
Subject : Great Depression is Over
Posted Date: : Jun 5, 2006 8:14 AM
The great depression is over. We won. We may have lost the adamson awards but to hell with those and pass me a fuckin beer because its time to start the government funded projects and get this economy of words on the mutha feckin road to recovery.
There's no sense in stuffing my creativity in the closet of work a day world maturity because if you're a writer and you can't multi task between "real world" responsibilities and your real passion then something's going to be compromised and itll probably be your imagination. Of course im actually saying this to myself right now. the you is me.
I didn't want to come back until i had my own website to post on and toy with but it seems like this is going to be as close as i can get to creating my own venue (the dollar strikes again). i may not have returned with a website to my name but i do return with a fine skill set that lets me play with html code like putty and that is exactly what i intend to do. i will forge a myspace page befitting of my greatness (which aint so great, but i dont care because i think i am and that's all that matters) and let loose the goldfish of war.
the great depression is over and nothing gets things going like a good old fashioned war. (insert battle cry here)
Posted Date: : Jun 5, 2006 8:14 AM
The great depression is over. We won. We may have lost the adamson awards but to hell with those and pass me a fuckin beer because its time to start the government funded projects and get this economy of words on the mutha feckin road to recovery.
There's no sense in stuffing my creativity in the closet of work a day world maturity because if you're a writer and you can't multi task between "real world" responsibilities and your real passion then something's going to be compromised and itll probably be your imagination. Of course im actually saying this to myself right now. the you is me.
I didn't want to come back until i had my own website to post on and toy with but it seems like this is going to be as close as i can get to creating my own venue (the dollar strikes again). i may not have returned with a website to my name but i do return with a fine skill set that lets me play with html code like putty and that is exactly what i intend to do. i will forge a myspace page befitting of my greatness (which aint so great, but i dont care because i think i am and that's all that matters) and let loose the goldfish of war.
the great depression is over and nothing gets things going like a good old fashioned war. (insert battle cry here)
4/3/06
PSA 04/03/06
Subject : A Public Service Announcement
Posted Date: : Apr 3, 2006 8:34 PM
For the time being this channel will be dead. Experiencing technical difficulties because there were campus contests to be entered.
I am getting published for a second time, but once again it is a single poem, and not the poem I wanted to win selection.
When am I going to make out with anything more than scraps of recognition? I suppose I'm probably just not fit for recognition just yet. Ah well.
I'll be back later at an undisclosed time and at an undisclosed place with more tasty treats to read, but until then...
[stop]
Posted Date: : Apr 3, 2006 8:34 PM
For the time being this channel will be dead. Experiencing technical difficulties because there were campus contests to be entered.
I am getting published for a second time, but once again it is a single poem, and not the poem I wanted to win selection.
When am I going to make out with anything more than scraps of recognition? I suppose I'm probably just not fit for recognition just yet. Ah well.
I'll be back later at an undisclosed time and at an undisclosed place with more tasty treats to read, but until then...
[stop]
3/20/06
back to b-6
Subject : Back to B-6
Posted Date: : Mar 20, 2006 9:11 AM
There is a problem in life. The problem is efficiency. The problem used to be time management.
The problem with my writing used to be that I spent the time I meant to spend free writing monitoring porn downloads instead. Hours upon hours spent, no, /wasted/ watching the gray progress bars of kazaa or the ugly greens of limewire fill up. Salivating for more material to bleed myself dry. Eventually I worked things out so that I would squirt some words between downloads, but even that only allowed for a few minutes of writing a day, because in order to keep the downloads coming you had to search for more and monitor the search window as well as the traffic. This inability to cope with having an erect penis used to destroy my time management.
Not anymore! Now I simply start up kazaa and let it work while I attempt to get my own work done. Therein lies the new problem of efficiency. Now that I've got everything parsed and on schedule the problem has been actually doing what I have alotted my time to do. For instance giving myself an hour to write means five minutes to start my laptop, two minutes to start kazaa, two minutes to find my music, three minutes to get out the power cable and ear phones, five minutes to check my inbox, five minutes to settle in and focus and then the reverse process at the end of the time alottment. Efficiency equals zero because half of the remaining time im adjusting the gadgets and cables and the other half im monitoring traffic to make sure i keep within bandwidth limits and then the other half of the time im distracting myself with the internets many goodies. The centerpiece of all of these problems has been trying to get the writing i want to do done on the laptop. Everything that slows me down is instantly identifiable as being connected to this accursed piece of hardware.
So Im going back to basics. I broke out my old notebook from sophmore year of college and im getting back to writing there instead of trying to use myspace as a way to force myself to write.
I think what i really wanted to say there was: instead of trying to use myspace as a way of forcing myself to write im going to force myself to write by writing. besides, the writing i want to do isn't even related to myspace in a positive way. you dont read blogs to hear poetry or little viniettes or scripts and the groups related to that kind of writing all suck, Ive finally realized, not necessarily because of their members, but because the kind of writing their trying to put into a classic forum format simply does not work.
So its back to basics for this cat. Or otter. Wet otter. Word.
Posted Date: : Mar 20, 2006 9:11 AM
There is a problem in life. The problem is efficiency. The problem used to be time management.
The problem with my writing used to be that I spent the time I meant to spend free writing monitoring porn downloads instead. Hours upon hours spent, no, /wasted/ watching the gray progress bars of kazaa or the ugly greens of limewire fill up. Salivating for more material to bleed myself dry. Eventually I worked things out so that I would squirt some words between downloads, but even that only allowed for a few minutes of writing a day, because in order to keep the downloads coming you had to search for more and monitor the search window as well as the traffic. This inability to cope with having an erect penis used to destroy my time management.
Not anymore! Now I simply start up kazaa and let it work while I attempt to get my own work done. Therein lies the new problem of efficiency. Now that I've got everything parsed and on schedule the problem has been actually doing what I have alotted my time to do. For instance giving myself an hour to write means five minutes to start my laptop, two minutes to start kazaa, two minutes to find my music, three minutes to get out the power cable and ear phones, five minutes to check my inbox, five minutes to settle in and focus and then the reverse process at the end of the time alottment. Efficiency equals zero because half of the remaining time im adjusting the gadgets and cables and the other half im monitoring traffic to make sure i keep within bandwidth limits and then the other half of the time im distracting myself with the internets many goodies. The centerpiece of all of these problems has been trying to get the writing i want to do done on the laptop. Everything that slows me down is instantly identifiable as being connected to this accursed piece of hardware.
So Im going back to basics. I broke out my old notebook from sophmore year of college and im getting back to writing there instead of trying to use myspace as a way to force myself to write.
I think what i really wanted to say there was: instead of trying to use myspace as a way of forcing myself to write im going to force myself to write by writing. besides, the writing i want to do isn't even related to myspace in a positive way. you dont read blogs to hear poetry or little viniettes or scripts and the groups related to that kind of writing all suck, Ive finally realized, not necessarily because of their members, but because the kind of writing their trying to put into a classic forum format simply does not work.
So its back to basics for this cat. Or otter. Wet otter. Word.
3/14/06
sorry, but not really 03/14/06
Subject : sorry, but not really
Posted Date: : Mar 14, 2006 1:50 PM
alright alright alright... so talking about tossing salad isnt the most pleasing of topics... so instead lets talk about commas.... those curly motherfuckers that lurk within so many sentences and make it difficult if not impossible to read anything coherrently.
well lets not. how about i just acknowledge that licking assholes is okay .001% of the time and leave it at that. don't agree with me? okay. im not going to try to convince you, but the seed is there... germinating.
Posted Date: : Mar 14, 2006 1:50 PM
alright alright alright... so talking about tossing salad isnt the most pleasing of topics... so instead lets talk about commas.... those curly motherfuckers that lurk within so many sentences and make it difficult if not impossible to read anything coherrently.
well lets not. how about i just acknowledge that licking assholes is okay .001% of the time and leave it at that. don't agree with me? okay. im not going to try to convince you, but the seed is there... germinating.
3/9/06
toss your salad for a quarter 03/09/06
Subject : toss your salad for a quarter
Posted Date: : Mar 9, 2006 9:05 PM
No really. I mean what if someone really said that to you, or me for that matter. What kind of a person would you want poking their face around that most intimate of intimate places. Seriously. Some people have no problem showing off their penis or vagina but the minute someone gets around the crap shoot the tenseness sets in and you could probably squeeze a "thigh master" completely shut between their cheeks. I don't think its so much that its a "dirty" thing to do. As long as the last delivery was made at least 4 hours prior and a shower featuring a full scrub down of every orifice was performed, I would be okay with it... since I scrub everyone of my orifices anyway I think I would probably give this mysterious salad tosser the okay to jump right in. But everyone isn't like me.
I think some people just have an intrisic fear of letting someone touch their most unmentionable of unmentionable bodily areas... which is understandable given the vulnerability involved with being naked, facing away from the action, unable to see whats going on, or who is doing what. There's also no way to anticipate that first moment of contact, and then you have to keep in mind the after effects of poop scenting especially if the proper precautions weren't followed. If someone doesn't want to put their lips on someone elses cowabunghole it probably means that don't want to put their lips on lips that have been on a cowabunghole. Even in the refferal to the region of thebody when people say ass they usually mean those lovely fleshly orbular things called buttcheeks.
ah well... at least i can rest in comfort knowing when that 60 year old vixen swoops out of her multi million dollar loft apartment and im hunkered down working at a coffee shop in the same city and she asks me to toss her salad for a quarter (and hopefully a lifetime of wealth from our subsequent relationship/black mailing) ill be able to stand tall and proud and say "would you like that with ranch, spicey italian, or cream sauce dressing?"
Posted Date: : Mar 9, 2006 9:05 PM
No really. I mean what if someone really said that to you, or me for that matter. What kind of a person would you want poking their face around that most intimate of intimate places. Seriously. Some people have no problem showing off their penis or vagina but the minute someone gets around the crap shoot the tenseness sets in and you could probably squeeze a "thigh master" completely shut between their cheeks. I don't think its so much that its a "dirty" thing to do. As long as the last delivery was made at least 4 hours prior and a shower featuring a full scrub down of every orifice was performed, I would be okay with it... since I scrub everyone of my orifices anyway I think I would probably give this mysterious salad tosser the okay to jump right in. But everyone isn't like me.
I think some people just have an intrisic fear of letting someone touch their most unmentionable of unmentionable bodily areas... which is understandable given the vulnerability involved with being naked, facing away from the action, unable to see whats going on, or who is doing what. There's also no way to anticipate that first moment of contact, and then you have to keep in mind the after effects of poop scenting especially if the proper precautions weren't followed. If someone doesn't want to put their lips on someone elses cowabunghole it probably means that don't want to put their lips on lips that have been on a cowabunghole. Even in the refferal to the region of thebody when people say ass they usually mean those lovely fleshly orbular things called buttcheeks.
ah well... at least i can rest in comfort knowing when that 60 year old vixen swoops out of her multi million dollar loft apartment and im hunkered down working at a coffee shop in the same city and she asks me to toss her salad for a quarter (and hopefully a lifetime of wealth from our subsequent relationship/black mailing) ill be able to stand tall and proud and say "would you like that with ranch, spicey italian, or cream sauce dressing?"
2/21/06
peak hours for strip clubs 02/21/06
Subject : peak hours for strip clubs
Posted Date: : Feb 21, 2006 8:02 PM
The question of the night: "are you going to stop?" Apparently not. My girlfriend and I were both passengers in a car with her roomate when my girlfriend notices a little ol' red light perched above the street at an intersection. Not only was the red light ignored, but her roomate slammed on the brakes bringing us to a complete stop directly in the middle of the intersection. If there were a prize for going 40 to zero and stopping your car on a bulls eye she would have won it hands down, no questions asked.
The worst thing about that night was not that we were all pretty fucking lucky there was no traffic in the crossing lanes. The worst thing was not that we were stopped dead in no mans land. The worst thing was not even that the sudden stop left all of us a little shaken up after packing our stomachs with F grade beef at taco bell. The worst thing about the whole incident was that I'd spent the seconds preceding the near death experience discussing why the stripper club we passed had no cars parked in front of it in the middle of the night when the dregs of society are supposed to be hustlin' and bustlin' and "gettin' they party on".
The logic I managed to come up with moments before peeing my pants was that sunday isn't the busiest day of the week so most people that would be there are probably regulars that walk there instead of people from out of town looking for a good time late at night. not that these people wouldnt go looking for a good time at taco bell like we did; just that these people with cars to be parked probably had jobs to go to early in the morning to pay for their cars.
The worst thing about the whole incident is that my last thought, had their been oncoming vehicles, would not have been of love or world peace or anything worth while... my last thought would have been dedicated to an analysis of peak hours for strip clubs.
Posted Date: : Feb 21, 2006 8:02 PM
The question of the night: "are you going to stop?" Apparently not. My girlfriend and I were both passengers in a car with her roomate when my girlfriend notices a little ol' red light perched above the street at an intersection. Not only was the red light ignored, but her roomate slammed on the brakes bringing us to a complete stop directly in the middle of the intersection. If there were a prize for going 40 to zero and stopping your car on a bulls eye she would have won it hands down, no questions asked.
The worst thing about that night was not that we were all pretty fucking lucky there was no traffic in the crossing lanes. The worst thing was not that we were stopped dead in no mans land. The worst thing was not even that the sudden stop left all of us a little shaken up after packing our stomachs with F grade beef at taco bell. The worst thing about the whole incident was that I'd spent the seconds preceding the near death experience discussing why the stripper club we passed had no cars parked in front of it in the middle of the night when the dregs of society are supposed to be hustlin' and bustlin' and "gettin' they party on".
The logic I managed to come up with moments before peeing my pants was that sunday isn't the busiest day of the week so most people that would be there are probably regulars that walk there instead of people from out of town looking for a good time late at night. not that these people wouldnt go looking for a good time at taco bell like we did; just that these people with cars to be parked probably had jobs to go to early in the morning to pay for their cars.
The worst thing about the whole incident is that my last thought, had their been oncoming vehicles, would not have been of love or world peace or anything worth while... my last thought would have been dedicated to an analysis of peak hours for strip clubs.
2/14/06
do i really want to be a writer? 02/14/06
Subject : do i really want to be a writer?
Posted Date: : Mar 14, 2006 3:20 PM
yes, more than anything in the world. i know ill find success eventually and i know that i have this inexplicable urge to write all of the time. I dont write as much as i probably should because i spend a chunk of time doing other things and another person (which is unfortunate at times, but i just haven't reached that level of eccentricity that would allow me to eshew everyone and everything that might stand in the way of writing eight hours a day, masturbating two hours a day, drinking six hours a day, and sleeping off the hangover and depression for the remaining eight).
wondering everyday about what i will or will not be able to do with my BA in creative writing, shoddy grades (almost across the board), and just about complete lack of experience in writing related fields outside of school, would probably result in me sitting down in the bathroom with a shotgun purchased at Wal-Mart. who's to say what the market is for BAs in CW. I mean, these degree programs exist all across the nation at both private and public instituations... is it designed for those kids with trust funds who don't need employment to support themselves? the people who can "afford" to be eccentric? Ill have to compete with them eventually and theyll have the advantage of little pressure from the day to day struggle of... wait a minute... this is sounding like another "haves and have-nots" rant.
Posted Date: : Mar 14, 2006 3:20 PM
yes, more than anything in the world. i know ill find success eventually and i know that i have this inexplicable urge to write all of the time. I dont write as much as i probably should because i spend a chunk of time doing other things and another person (which is unfortunate at times, but i just haven't reached that level of eccentricity that would allow me to eshew everyone and everything that might stand in the way of writing eight hours a day, masturbating two hours a day, drinking six hours a day, and sleeping off the hangover and depression for the remaining eight).
wondering everyday about what i will or will not be able to do with my BA in creative writing, shoddy grades (almost across the board), and just about complete lack of experience in writing related fields outside of school, would probably result in me sitting down in the bathroom with a shotgun purchased at Wal-Mart. who's to say what the market is for BAs in CW. I mean, these degree programs exist all across the nation at both private and public instituations... is it designed for those kids with trust funds who don't need employment to support themselves? the people who can "afford" to be eccentric? Ill have to compete with them eventually and theyll have the advantage of little pressure from the day to day struggle of... wait a minute... this is sounding like another "haves and have-nots" rant.
i do really want to be a writer and it does worry me a little bit from time to time... but if i didnt want to be a writer im pretty sure i would drop out and become a serial killer prostitute whose MO involved shotguns, natty light, and ass licking.
obsessing.
2/8/06
why i hate myspace writers 02/08/06
Subject : Why I hate Myspace Writers
Posted Date: : Feb 8, 2006 4:37 PM
on second thought... i dont mind having to click through five levels of bullshit to get to the writing communities.... the REAL issue here is that none of the writers or at least only a select handful of them are actually worth associating with. fuck 'em, they all suck.
there's nothing wrong with being a self styled writer. what makes it wrong as all hell is when someone proclaims themself a writer and all they do is churn out whatever is bubbling on top of their brain without giving it a second thought. i cant count how many times ive asked people if they ever revise and the answer comes back "i revise as i write." what the fuck does that mean! does that mean they never have to do second drafts because its always perfect word for word as it hits the page. jeeeeezus, i hate hobbyist writers because they make career writers that havent made it yet look like assholes. perfectionist, arrogant assholes. which is untrue for at least half of us.
gah!!!! think about it... if you found a way to eliminate every hobbyist and aching heart pre puber and old ass retired wench knob with too much time on his/her hands and an internet connection, you would thin the field down immediately to college students, career writers, and thinking adolescents. this would, over night, eliminate 1599 of the 1605 groups and would improve the quality, be it a niche group or a broad multi-topical group, of the remaining 6 groups drastically.
so fuck 'em. fuck all of them dabblers and shit scrawlers. someone should just hand them a stick and point them to a hole in the ground full of feces and tell them to stir, because thats all they do when they think they're "contributing." theyre just stirring around the same pot of used up pointless crap the person immediately before them shat out in a different color and texture with the words "comments please," or "first post, be nice" or "suggestions welcome."
The second worst part to all of this is the fucking encouragement loop these dabblers have going. when someone writes shit i call it what it is because they need to know that publishing something to the community means that youve done some work on it and its not just a spray of mucus from a brain sneeze that happend the night before. what the dabblers do however is discredit everything i say by immediately patting their fellow/fellette on the back and saying things like "great job", "i really loved that one", "good metaphor." FUCKING SHIT FACE. stop enabling the bastards and lay down some laws of what it means to be a writer!!! shits gotta stop somewhere.
what i hate the most about myspace is the piss poor quality of the writing groups, what i hate second most are the pointless bits of encouragement that keep them going, revolving doors of no talent hacks and their no talent hack readers.
Posted Date: : Feb 8, 2006 4:37 PM
on second thought... i dont mind having to click through five levels of bullshit to get to the writing communities.... the REAL issue here is that none of the writers or at least only a select handful of them are actually worth associating with. fuck 'em, they all suck.
there's nothing wrong with being a self styled writer. what makes it wrong as all hell is when someone proclaims themself a writer and all they do is churn out whatever is bubbling on top of their brain without giving it a second thought. i cant count how many times ive asked people if they ever revise and the answer comes back "i revise as i write." what the fuck does that mean! does that mean they never have to do second drafts because its always perfect word for word as it hits the page. jeeeeezus, i hate hobbyist writers because they make career writers that havent made it yet look like assholes. perfectionist, arrogant assholes. which is untrue for at least half of us.
gah!!!! think about it... if you found a way to eliminate every hobbyist and aching heart pre puber and old ass retired wench knob with too much time on his/her hands and an internet connection, you would thin the field down immediately to college students, career writers, and thinking adolescents. this would, over night, eliminate 1599 of the 1605 groups and would improve the quality, be it a niche group or a broad multi-topical group, of the remaining 6 groups drastically.
so fuck 'em. fuck all of them dabblers and shit scrawlers. someone should just hand them a stick and point them to a hole in the ground full of feces and tell them to stir, because thats all they do when they think they're "contributing." theyre just stirring around the same pot of used up pointless crap the person immediately before them shat out in a different color and texture with the words "comments please," or "first post, be nice" or "suggestions welcome."
The second worst part to all of this is the fucking encouragement loop these dabblers have going. when someone writes shit i call it what it is because they need to know that publishing something to the community means that youve done some work on it and its not just a spray of mucus from a brain sneeze that happend the night before. what the dabblers do however is discredit everything i say by immediately patting their fellow/fellette on the back and saying things like "great job", "i really loved that one", "good metaphor." FUCKING SHIT FACE. stop enabling the bastards and lay down some laws of what it means to be a writer!!! shits gotta stop somewhere.
what i hate the most about myspace is the piss poor quality of the writing groups, what i hate second most are the pointless bits of encouragement that keep them going, revolving doors of no talent hacks and their no talent hack readers.
taint working 02/08/06
Subject : taint working
Posted Date: : Feb 8, 2006 4:17 PM
taking an online information design course has taught me one thing... i need to figure out how to edit the code for myspace pages without using one of those retarded ass prepackaged editors because the results are gay. well not gay in the sense of something being homosexual but gay in the .... well fuck, you know what i mean so fuck you. alls im saying is that it taint working out being here. i need more... plus i hate having to click through three and four and fuckin five levels just to get to the writing communities...
maybe ill just go and join the circus and have one suicide act that ill be famous for... or maybe ill just aspire to get a perfect score in pacman. speaking of which it has been discovered that pacman has been played more than 10 billion times around the world and a perfect score has only been achieved ONCE. how's that for hardest game ever created candidate. even harder than super starwars for the snes (which was, if you ask me, just a shitty game to begin with. bankrupt in both character and game play.)
speaking of bankrupt... my relationship is not bankrupt! its just reached a critical mass where it needs to cool off and depressurize to remain productive, fruitful, sexful and functional or chernobylize and take a hundred thousand innocent bystanders with it in a white hot flash of .... whatever it is volatile relationships are made of (probably pheromones, good intentions, and 151).
in summation.... isn't it time you masturbated today?
Posted Date: : Feb 8, 2006 4:17 PM
taking an online information design course has taught me one thing... i need to figure out how to edit the code for myspace pages without using one of those retarded ass prepackaged editors because the results are gay. well not gay in the sense of something being homosexual but gay in the .... well fuck, you know what i mean so fuck you. alls im saying is that it taint working out being here. i need more... plus i hate having to click through three and four and fuckin five levels just to get to the writing communities...
maybe ill just go and join the circus and have one suicide act that ill be famous for... or maybe ill just aspire to get a perfect score in pacman. speaking of which it has been discovered that pacman has been played more than 10 billion times around the world and a perfect score has only been achieved ONCE. how's that for hardest game ever created candidate. even harder than super starwars for the snes (which was, if you ask me, just a shitty game to begin with. bankrupt in both character and game play.)
speaking of bankrupt... my relationship is not bankrupt! its just reached a critical mass where it needs to cool off and depressurize to remain productive, fruitful, sexful and functional or chernobylize and take a hundred thousand innocent bystanders with it in a white hot flash of .... whatever it is volatile relationships are made of (probably pheromones, good intentions, and 151).
in summation.... isn't it time you masturbated today?
2/7/06
blood and chocolate 02/07/06
Subject : blood and chocolate
Posted Date: : Feb 7, 2006 5:19 PM
I believe my weekend can be summed up in the condition of my sneakers. They are still clean and white in some places, muddy in others, but of most important notice is the chocolate on the toe of one and the blood on the toe of the other.
The swing arm of my life is at a point such that I can experience the sweetness of everything zen one evening, followed by pointless violence the next. What makes it all the more frustrating is that it is simply a result of not seeing eye to eye on a few key points. Two to be exact. When my girlfriend and I do see eye to eye, or more importantly don't have to see eye to eye on these two points everything is perfect. These two points are completely contingent on college life and will cease to exist as soon as college ends, so what gives? Can we meet halfway? I'm pretty sure we can except that for 90 percent of the time I'm covering 89 percent of the ground; love makes people do crazy things.
If I could describe being in love in three words those words would be "blood and chocolate." I wouldn't really give this up to aspire towards finding my niche in the kept man market, but if blood and chocolate turns into just blood after college, at least I know I can do other things, unlike pocket solar powered calculators.
<3<3<3
Posted Date: : Feb 7, 2006 5:19 PM
I believe my weekend can be summed up in the condition of my sneakers. They are still clean and white in some places, muddy in others, but of most important notice is the chocolate on the toe of one and the blood on the toe of the other.
The swing arm of my life is at a point such that I can experience the sweetness of everything zen one evening, followed by pointless violence the next. What makes it all the more frustrating is that it is simply a result of not seeing eye to eye on a few key points. Two to be exact. When my girlfriend and I do see eye to eye, or more importantly don't have to see eye to eye on these two points everything is perfect. These two points are completely contingent on college life and will cease to exist as soon as college ends, so what gives? Can we meet halfway? I'm pretty sure we can except that for 90 percent of the time I'm covering 89 percent of the ground; love makes people do crazy things.
If I could describe being in love in three words those words would be "blood and chocolate." I wouldn't really give this up to aspire towards finding my niche in the kept man market, but if blood and chocolate turns into just blood after college, at least I know I can do other things, unlike pocket solar powered calculators.
<3<3<3
2/3/06
out of the loopC----> * 02/03/06
Subject : out of the loop C ----> *
Posted Date: : Feb 3, 2006 3:39 PM
Having successfully roused from sleep I proceed to play some tunes to get the ol energy thing going and I instantly realized I hadnt touched a new album or artist in the past YEAR. It was then that I immediately deduced that I was not only listening to the same things again and again, but that I was now incapable of obtaining new music. Not for lack of desire, but for lack of the ability to identify any new music or new artist at work today, right this minute. I'm out of the loop. Way, way waaaaay out of the loop. I don't even know where to start looking for new music anymore, and I don't want to become one of those amazon groupies who looks for music guides put together by other people. That's it then. That's what's so scary about being in this situation. I've lost my musical identity and in my vulnerable state it's too easy to simply adopt someone elses. Identity.
Maybe this fear runs deeper than music. Maybe I've always been afraid of losing my individuality and thus have always pushed others away who had strong personalities of thier own until I could fully establish my own personality. Maybe on some level everyone is afraid of losing their identity and act to protect it with behavior that appears irrationally fearful of something not directly connected to their original fear.
Posted Date: : Feb 3, 2006 3:39 PM
Having successfully roused from sleep I proceed to play some tunes to get the ol energy thing going and I instantly realized I hadnt touched a new album or artist in the past YEAR. It was then that I immediately deduced that I was not only listening to the same things again and again, but that I was now incapable of obtaining new music. Not for lack of desire, but for lack of the ability to identify any new music or new artist at work today, right this minute. I'm out of the loop. Way, way waaaaay out of the loop. I don't even know where to start looking for new music anymore, and I don't want to become one of those amazon groupies who looks for music guides put together by other people. That's it then. That's what's so scary about being in this situation. I've lost my musical identity and in my vulnerable state it's too easy to simply adopt someone elses. Identity.
Maybe this fear runs deeper than music. Maybe I've always been afraid of losing my individuality and thus have always pushed others away who had strong personalities of thier own until I could fully establish my own personality. Maybe on some level everyone is afraid of losing their identity and act to protect it with behavior that appears irrationally fearful of something not directly connected to their original fear.
1/31/06
boredom 01/31/06
Subject : boredom
Posted Date: : Jan 31, 2006 7:53 PM
Im a bit bored with things right now. Mainly with writing. I think im tired and sleep y too. Yes. boredom is definitley the word for it. Sooooo in leiu of stuff from me heres some stuff about me from the trusty internet
in the chinese zodiac... i am an ox. in the other 13 symbol zodiac i am a Taurus... i mean really what are the chances?
article here: The OX
Posted Date: : Jan 31, 2006 7:53 PM
Im a bit bored with things right now. Mainly with writing. I think im tired and sleep y too. Yes. boredom is definitley the word for it. Sooooo in leiu of stuff from me heres some stuff about me from the trusty internet
in the chinese zodiac... i am an ox. in the other 13 symbol zodiac i am a Taurus... i mean really what are the chances?
article here: The OX
the next time (p2) 01/31/06
Subject : the next time someone says PART 2
Posted Date: : Jan 31, 2006 8:03 PM
the next time someone says "what the hell did you spend all of your money on?!"
you should answer by saying you spent it all on 8 inch diameter plastic penises and then refer them to jtstockroom.com
Posted Date: : Jan 31, 2006 8:03 PM
the next time someone says "what the hell did you spend all of your money on?!"
you should answer by saying you spent it all on 8 inch diameter plastic penises and then refer them to jtstockroom.com
1/10/06
the bums lost 01/10/06
Subject : the bums lost
Posted Date: : Jan 10, 2006 12:43 PM
and i need to get a job. so something has come up that is right up my alley... writing. in case you havent noticed yet, my alley is writing. followed in a close second by sex. and a close third by drinking.
this job will entail molding young minds and will probably set me onto the first steps of world domination by converting a few highly intelligent youth to my pessimistic ideals. no one fights harder than the man embittered.
getting this job will entail some luck and unfortunately the application process is encapsulated online so there will be no one to blow to get ahead. this means it will also involve having the right skills, which, as far as im concerned, i do have. so fucking wish me luck. or dont. ive made it this far without your well wishing so dont feel obligated to do something youre not comfortable doing. tard.
Posted Date: : Jan 10, 2006 12:43 PM
and i need to get a job. so something has come up that is right up my alley... writing. in case you havent noticed yet, my alley is writing. followed in a close second by sex. and a close third by drinking.
this job will entail molding young minds and will probably set me onto the first steps of world domination by converting a few highly intelligent youth to my pessimistic ideals. no one fights harder than the man embittered.
getting this job will entail some luck and unfortunately the application process is encapsulated online so there will be no one to blow to get ahead. this means it will also involve having the right skills, which, as far as im concerned, i do have. so fucking wish me luck. or dont. ive made it this far without your well wishing so dont feel obligated to do something youre not comfortable doing. tard.
the next time (p1) 01/10/06
Subject : the next time someone says PART 1
Posted Date: : Jan 10, 2006 12:49 PM
the next time someone says to you that your eyes are bigger than your stomach.... say to them "my eyes may be bigger than my stomach, but so is my determination, ambition, and perserverance so fuck you and worry about your own god damn plate... asshole."
building respect one over reaction at a time.
Posted Date: : Jan 10, 2006 12:49 PM
the next time someone says to you that your eyes are bigger than your stomach.... say to them "my eyes may be bigger than my stomach, but so is my determination, ambition, and perserverance so fuck you and worry about your own god damn plate... asshole."
building respect one over reaction at a time.
1/4/06
what happens when you... 1/04/06
Subject : what happens when you dont masterbate
Posted Date: : Jan 4, 2006 1:56 AM
everything feels better. seriously. things only get better when you stop jerking your leathery hand over your penis. if you must, make sure you lube. all it takes is one evening of infirmity and lubelessness to ruin the paint job and texture of your "saddle" making it less super fun for all riders you may be involved with. and we all know how much we enjoy SUPER fun.
so remember... dont do it unless you must and if you must, use a toy if available or use your hand if no specially designed devices are readily available. im just trying to look out for you! and if there is no lube then be the bigger man and just let the shift nob go. driving without lube is like jerking without transmission fluid. somethings gonna break down and your gonna get nowhere.
Posted Date: : Jan 4, 2006 1:56 AM
everything feels better. seriously. things only get better when you stop jerking your leathery hand over your penis. if you must, make sure you lube. all it takes is one evening of infirmity and lubelessness to ruin the paint job and texture of your "saddle" making it less super fun for all riders you may be involved with. and we all know how much we enjoy SUPER fun.
so remember... dont do it unless you must and if you must, use a toy if available or use your hand if no specially designed devices are readily available. im just trying to look out for you! and if there is no lube then be the bigger man and just let the shift nob go. driving without lube is like jerking without transmission fluid. somethings gonna break down and your gonna get nowhere.
1/2/06
amsterdam is NOT in canada 01/02/06
Subject : Amsterdam is NOT in canda
Posted Date: : Jan 2, 2006 7:06 PM
News to me. Last I heard there was an Amsterdam in canada. There was a red light district with canals and Amsterdam coffee shops and Amsterdam fun and excitement right across our friendly canadian border. Well guess what! LIES ... ALL LIES... there is no amsterdam in canada my friend... not a one... nary a scrap of netherland goodness to be found across that friendly canadian border.
and whats more? there are places that prey upon this misguided knowledge of teary eyed, wet nosed hopeful americans like you and me and call themselves shops directly from Amsterdam! "importers" of that genuine amsterdamanian flavor. So the next time someone says theyre going to amsterdam dont ask them to smuggle back booze and pot in their car because its not going to work... what with the fucking atlantic ocean to cross and all...
Posted Date: : Jan 2, 2006 7:06 PM
News to me. Last I heard there was an Amsterdam in canada. There was a red light district with canals and Amsterdam coffee shops and Amsterdam fun and excitement right across our friendly canadian border. Well guess what! LIES ... ALL LIES... there is no amsterdam in canada my friend... not a one... nary a scrap of netherland goodness to be found across that friendly canadian border.
and whats more? there are places that prey upon this misguided knowledge of teary eyed, wet nosed hopeful americans like you and me and call themselves shops directly from Amsterdam! "importers" of that genuine amsterdamanian flavor. So the next time someone says theyre going to amsterdam dont ask them to smuggle back booze and pot in their car because its not going to work... what with the fucking atlantic ocean to cross and all...
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