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.
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.
11/17/06
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)
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