I won't say I will not continue to try to make myself happy. That's foolish and, honestly, a little bit petty and a lot of bit lie no matter whose mouth it comes out of. I do and will (most of the time). Sometimes I completely screw it up and ruin everything for all of us. Life is about that sometimes. Let's begin and find our ending and hopefully put a bow on it so we can assault the next stronghold.
We're a consumer organism. Advancement, the byproduct. That's easy to yank out of the air because it's been floating around there since I was a kid. "We don't make stuff anymore!" "We export everything!" "We import everything!" And on and on and on. It's very easy to get lost in macro markets and who owes whom X amount of ... have you ever watched a history show?
A show where they talk about ancient constructs or modern constructs or ancient economies or modern economies or ancient populations or modern populations? Have you ever watched a speculative show where they talk about what could be at X time in Y space if A and B happen or if C continues to happen or if D changes to a ridiculous extent and ceases to be or metastasizes into some sort of creature all it's own? Have you ever watched the news or an informative program or a program garbed as one that is vested in speculation or sometimes vested in pure facts?
If you have not laughed, laugh the next time you watch one. Not because what they're saying is true or false. Not because what they're saying could be true or could be false and massive death or infinite life may be just around the corner. Not because what they're saying is a ridiculous analogy or because what they are saying makes no damn sense at all given what we know about the world, given how long human beings have been recording information and analyzing information and the fact that even the people that were completely off were still right by a few degrees and it's largely been a war of precision and infomatic attrition.
Laugh because it is hilarious when they tell you the heart pumps enough blood in your life time to fill an olympic swimming pool. Okay, that's not that outlandish. Bad example. Are you laughing yet? Laugh when they tell you the sun produces as much energy as two billion nuclear power plants over the course of their lifetimes in a single second. Laugh when you hear the Hoover dam can power 900,000 refrigerators for ten days with one day of it's output. Laugh when you know a bullet packs the same punch from a .357 as 200 horse power driving a single 30 cm diesel piston pushing a ten mile rod one inch into glacial ice. The scales get insanely arbitrary, but sound impressive.
We're not a consumer organism. Advancement is the byproduct. Want does make excellent bedfellows, though. Maybe it's just the people I know, or choose to know and the ones I choose to not associate with. Yeah there are a lot of consumers. It gets me down. Who doesn't it get down? Silly question. Programs and users. It get's depressing. On this little operating system. It does. I'm not going to lie and even if I did, you'd know. Consumers give the rest of 'Merica a bad rap.
Where you going to put it? What's your percentage of consumer to user? Well, if you must know and you must because we must... 30% - 70%. The thirty percent gets all the play though. Eventually the 70% become dull eyed. The economy does love the 30%, but some of them, many of them keep the seventy employed or at least in cummed.
The other best two words in the English language? You guessed it: "I'm cumming." And no, that's still not three words. Niggler. I'm on to you and your detail oriented cant.
I came to this point what for was for this: (partly to make a cup of tea and nod off to sleep knowing my books are clear for whatever's next but also the following point) driving through an upscale neighborhood, enclave, everything was out for display in the mid afternoon light. Every garage had a car parked outside of it. Every garage was parked outside of high square footage whatever you want to call it, shoulder to shoulder with the one beside it. Parked outside each was a fit human being. Parked beside them was a fit child or bicycle or motor bike or domesticated animal. Parked beside them was a very well attended tree, beside it a clean swatch of cement and occasionally a glittering sign or hydrant. Parked between them was a fine manhole cover. All of it a strange display.
All of it begging to be wanted. Not to be contrarian. All of it unreal. All of it horribly unreal. All of it violently upsetting at it's worst and unsettling at it's least. Who want's to live in a gift shop? Do you really want to know those people? Do you really want perfect? Do you really want to consume that violently? By all means, take care. Take care and maintain and perform and do not give in to kipple. Kipple only breeds more kipple. It's disconcerting.
Yes, my kingdom is of sand and tied together bits, but they're well taken care of bits. That, I do not mind. When you want me to want yours because someone informed you that it is something to be wanted because someone taught them that it is something to be wanted it get's a little gross and wretchworthy. It get's a little arson worthy because I wonder what you'd be without it. If you'd still be you. Ostentaaaaaaaaaaagh! -tatious. Fueling the economy with your fanned feathers.
My own hang up. I know we're a country of makers, producers, writers, painters, builders, organizers, innovators, capturers, battlers, warriors, sportsmen and women, communicators, grifters, flippers, destroyers, and outright creators. Why are the consumers the most flagrant?
I feel bad taking money sometimes. Earned money. I can't remember the last time I outright stole something from someone and didn't tell the person I stole it from what I did and why within 48 hours. That doesn't count as stealing. Especially when I give it in it's original state or better than I left it, right back to them. It's aggravating. I would be so much further ahead if I could steal better. I would like to think. I dunno if that would work out. I don't believe so. I feel bad taking money sometimes and I have to remember why I had to convert to pay for play a couple years ago. Allow me to relate it briefly. It's a very short, kind of funny story.
One day someone asked me to help them move furniture. After another round of my long standing slug fest with who is and who is not a friend, I realized I could not continue to accept a hug and a few beers for my services. The first time I did it, it was a great time and chummy and sexy and kind of fun to laugh and live and love and help build a new space. It was fantastic. It was downright fantastic. The second time was the same. The second, too. The third, as well. The four, you guessed it, the same.
A sensation began to creep in. A very woeful sensation. As I filled the gas tank and counted bruises and counted unvitations to normal events and counted invitations to things I could not attend for lack of fuel and bodily integrity it dawned on me that myself and my peers were no longer fighting the same war.
One of the great equalizers is college. University. Call it what you will. We're all, more or less, fighting the same battles: studying, trying to eat, trying to have money on the side for fun, trying to pay for housing, trying to connect, (some of us) trying to work too, trying to keep up with family. The war has changed and it took me years and years afterwards to identify the change.
I was doing too many favors. Far too many favors. Far far too many favors. My peers and I are not in the same trenches anymore. Not nearly as close as they were. When they fire their rifle their elbow does not knock my shoulder. When I miss a beat and drop my canteen it does not land near their boot heels at all. When I want a smoke I cannot shout for one and catch their ear. When I slop lunch at the mess hall they do not hear my fork and I do not hear theirs when they do the same. We're on entirely different fronts altogether. Not that we're not still friends, bunk mates, and lifers. We're not all infantry anymore.
What I would and have done for them for free, nearly without asking, no longer applies. Changing watch shifts means little to them and the world to me still. An extra half apple means the world to me. To them, it's something to throw in a pocket for later, ya know, just in case. An extra magazine is the world to me. To them, it's something to leave at home because they're operating beneath air superiority and, hell, the whole god damn squad will be resupplied at the push of a button if need be. The war has changed for many and damn near all of them. Not for me, though. Not yet. When a comm line has been shelled to hell I have to army crawl out to fix it, but they don't.
So now, when they ask me to, it's not a favor anymore. It's mercenary work. I hope it doesn't distance them. I hope they understand. If anything, I hope they are amazed I am only now realizing it. Realizing that "smoke em if you got em" still applies, but now, if you ask me for one of mine I will ask you if you have my back when we get back home after we've shared the same trench because when you get shot you get to go back to the forward base and when I get shot, I get to sit down with a bowie knife and a lighter and a rag and a few minutes, and hope it doesn't get infected.
We're not nearly as close as we used to be. I miss those days. I miss loaning out clean dishes with the only caveat being you had to return them. It's pay for play now. On the big stuff. The little stuff, as long as you can promise I will not get shot, I'll still do for you. May not be the same war, but as long as your fighting, I'll fucking see what I can do and keep my own chatter to do or die please and thank yous.
Do not get offended if I flip out because you spent $250 dollars on a fucking chair. A fucking chair!? Are you kidding me? Different theaters, I know, but that could have kept me and my unit supplied for two months. Just saying, mickey.
A clean ship is a very happy ship. Returning to kipple. It really does breed. Kipple makes it difficult to wake up. More difficult even to think once you are awake. It breeds violence too. They never spoke about that part of it. Kipple particles that flake off of the kipple and get breathed in and become a part of your insides and work their way into your nerves like heartworms. The effect isn't the same as a neurological disorder that causes you to lose motor control and not like the effect (if they existed) of ingesting some sort of nanobot that takes over your musculature or even the effect (I would assume) of incorporating some sort of particulate life form or virus that forced signals. Breathing in kipple dust provokes a profound loss of fidelity. It is very important to keep a clean ship.
More importantly, in the vacuum of space, it is critically important to know what is wrong exactly, or as close to exactly, to diagnose the problem effectively and come to a solution quickly. The margin for error is thin. Part way out of the necessity for distance and part way out of the necessity for the fact that calls for support will take a lot of time to travel to the nearest waypoint or planet or orbital station that you happen to be near and an answer will not, regardless of distance, be able to be assumed available before your ships integrity has been completely compromised and you have to either float until you are picked up or hope the entire structure was lost somewhere close enough to another grave yard to piece something back together. The bonus of being a ship builder and engineer by trade and everything else by passion. It gets hairy sometimes.
Whatever planet I'm on, whatever city I occupy, whatever vessel I visit, whatever waypoint I frequent, when I talk about going home, I'm talking about my ship in orbit and my airlock with my key code and my pressure settings and o2 mix. Sometimes I leave I leave the radio on because it's nice to come home to tunes banging through the tunnels.
Admittedly, we've learned to entertain ourselves. There is no slight to the galaxy outside ourselves or Sol. We just don't get along. I remember the shit times and the good times dragging around the inner system. It was pretty fun sometimes. It was pretty hell too. There's a disconnect. I understand that. I'm not going to stage a war against it. The book taking precedence over the rest is the composition of the Spacefarer's Bible. Not to be confused with the Hitchhiker's Guide. It will be a handbook (so I have to keep it short) on how to not screw up when you are responsible for every single last little thing that happens to and for and within your ship. It's taking some precedence. Should I even be talking about it here? I don't know how that shit works. Let's stop cussing so fucking much. How about that?
I woke up yesterday with the realization that since the cessation of communication with my birth parents life has been a very pax by comparison. I had to remind myself not to forget new memories while running from the blacked out ones. I was going willy nilly, erase that one, and that one, n'at, n'at, n'at!!!! I think everything that should be glass is finally glass and god damn I feel pretty nice about it. I will not say mission accomplished just yet, but almost. Not 'til they're dead and I can move freely. Then, yes. Camo theory. The double fake. The triple fake? Off grid: suspicious. On grid: innocuous. Off grid: hello. On grid: hello. Who has the discipline for that?
Do not forget to look up. Every summer I think about and pain over how hard summer is going to hurt me. It's hot. It's bright. It's humid. The days are long. The nights are too short. The world is busy. Kids run everywhere screaming. Teens judge you and you want to knock them down with a well placed baseball to the teeth and then beat their ears in with rocks for having the nerve to say shit to someone they do not fucking know. And the little children run around bewildered at how green everything can be and you want to spin around in circles with them too and pick flowers and the littler ones just scream and cry because they're too hot and the pool is too cold and you want to scream too because it seems like good fun and one hell of a way to get to a good nap for a few hours until it cools off enough to sleep alright if you want to or run around alright if you want until you're too tired to run around and then take a good long nap under the stars or maybe go fishing and start a fire and find some dumb ass tweens to beat to death with a rock you found at the river while they're getting high and being rebels in the woods behind your fishing spot or find the guy who lives there each year or open your mouth in the 10 A.M. sun shower and just look up at the sky and the thunderheads and the moon all up at once and see lightning at ten in the morning. Don't forget to look up when the air is hot and thin at night and the stars come clearer.
I know I'm not a write off or disposable. Scratch that, I am disposable. That I do know. I'm okay with that. The challenge is making yourself indisposable for stretches. Making yourself available. Laying out the factory floor. Not changing the blueprint for the map's sake, but changing it because you've changed. Because we've changed. "WHO DO YOU WORK FOR" shaken by the collar. I work for you. Don't you remember me? I came in during operation sea hawk midway through mission wolf noose. You don't remember me?
Save things for a good time. Save nothing for a perfect time.
///Django Django - "Zumm Zumm" sometimes you yawn and realize you still have 8 bit roots
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.
Showing posts with label classism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label classism. Show all posts
7/15/14
A Brief Intermission and Yes, I Know You Don't Work Here
I just want to know if you've seen tea bags anywhere in Wal-Mart. That's all. I'm not hitting on you. I've been over the aisles six times now multiplied by six aisles and I cannot for the life of me find any tea and it's getting frustrating and I know I'm a little not all there, but it makes sense that if there is a coffee section with a very wide selection of coffees and methods of making coffee there should at least be a shanty town for the people who are not allowed to have coffee and do enjoy the brewed beverages containing caffeine who still worship at the teapot instead of the press or grinder. It makes perfect sense.
I know you don't work at Wal-Mart. I only ask so I can know that I'm not losing it and my map is still relatively accurate. No need to flip an attitude Ms. Ma'am. No need to ignore me Mr. Guy. It's a genuine concern. Not a conversation starter. I don't get out much and I like it that way. Who wants to start a relationship based on the search for tea at a store that has no business selling foods and potables in the first place! Absurd. It's a yes or no question. And for that matter, what's wrong with working for Wal-Mart, you classist.... ugh..... it's weird sometimes how closely the town I love abuts a town a have a distinct distaste for. Well, guess what, mister... we share the same store and I don't like it anymore than you do. I'll clip the mirror on your double parked Bentley GT on my way out.
It is kinda funny though. My truck is difficult to park sometimes. I don't bother with trying to park close to the shopping center entrances because that's asking for a cluster fuck. Every few times a year though the excessively wealthy find their way to parking in the lots at the shopping center equidistant, them to there and there to me. They usually park in the way back. Where I park my horse. You know where this is going. I snuggle my beast right up next to them whenever I can. Inside the lines. Perfectly parallel. The ambassador from the other side of the tracks. As you get older, the games you get to play increase their restrictions and demand more creativity.
I know you don't work in my factory. I know what you build is not what I build. I know what you make is not what I would make, given the same choices. Don't be offended if I ask for help because, when I ask, I've already been over the information and the outcomes and the paths and I know going it on my own is begging disaster. I don't want your help. I need your help. Need makes strange things out of us. Cookies and milk and a nap? You can have a nap, or cookies and milk, not both. I know you don't work here; can you save me some time?
Never did find the tea. When I got home, though, found a full box of 100 bags of black tea in the pantry, still in it's plastic wrap. Yep, already solved. It was one of the happiest cups of tea I had in a little while. Massive relief. I could see why tea leaves could and have started wars.
///Stereolab - "Space Moth" ...i've been here before, haven't you?
I know you don't work at Wal-Mart. I only ask so I can know that I'm not losing it and my map is still relatively accurate. No need to flip an attitude Ms. Ma'am. No need to ignore me Mr. Guy. It's a genuine concern. Not a conversation starter. I don't get out much and I like it that way. Who wants to start a relationship based on the search for tea at a store that has no business selling foods and potables in the first place! Absurd. It's a yes or no question. And for that matter, what's wrong with working for Wal-Mart, you classist.... ugh..... it's weird sometimes how closely the town I love abuts a town a have a distinct distaste for. Well, guess what, mister... we share the same store and I don't like it anymore than you do. I'll clip the mirror on your double parked Bentley GT on my way out.
It is kinda funny though. My truck is difficult to park sometimes. I don't bother with trying to park close to the shopping center entrances because that's asking for a cluster fuck. Every few times a year though the excessively wealthy find their way to parking in the lots at the shopping center equidistant, them to there and there to me. They usually park in the way back. Where I park my horse. You know where this is going. I snuggle my beast right up next to them whenever I can. Inside the lines. Perfectly parallel. The ambassador from the other side of the tracks. As you get older, the games you get to play increase their restrictions and demand more creativity.
I know you don't work in my factory. I know what you build is not what I build. I know what you make is not what I would make, given the same choices. Don't be offended if I ask for help because, when I ask, I've already been over the information and the outcomes and the paths and I know going it on my own is begging disaster. I don't want your help. I need your help. Need makes strange things out of us. Cookies and milk and a nap? You can have a nap, or cookies and milk, not both. I know you don't work here; can you save me some time?
Never did find the tea. When I got home, though, found a full box of 100 bags of black tea in the pantry, still in it's plastic wrap. Yep, already solved. It was one of the happiest cups of tea I had in a little while. Massive relief. I could see why tea leaves could and have started wars.
///Stereolab - "Space Moth" ...i've been here before, haven't you?
3/22/14
Passports
Visitors are always welcome, but those passports expire same day. It didn't always used to be that way, but the policy has grown out of necessity. An offshoot of the "protection" arc. Is it necessary? Yes. If you pick up nothing from the course of life you've never lived and one of the things I've picked up is the fact that passports should not be granted on a long term basis. Complete citizenship.
I'm sure part of the passport policy's origin lies in mental dysfunction and it's many symptoms, but part of it also lies in a love for the ones worth loving and preventing them from being damaged by the many symptoms more numerous expressions. If you do insist on being issued a passport I can only stand in your way for so long. I used to go out of my way to issue them, until the activity bit me in the ass so hard I could not deny the recklessness with which I was stamping books. So I stopped stamping books.
To help me and to help you. I want nothing to do with you, not because I want nothing to do with you, but because I can have nothing to do with you. It is, in all actuality, just actually, very simple. Or not. At least to me. I don't understand what I have to offer you. Further from that understanding, is getting that it is okay to have nothing to offer you explicitly. I don't get it. Guilty. I still have yet to grasp that. Does that make me wrong to reject closeness?
Fear of change? Yeah, sure. That's already established. I hate change like I hate playing with a board of objects wired to voltage. Why does this one shock me now when it didn't on the last go round. Fucking scientists. Fucking psychologists. Fucking experiments. I don't know what I'm supposed to say or what I am to do or is an acceptable response. So I am myself and I worry if that self at that time is acceptable or not. After the fact. Paying forward to increased anxiety.
Everything a study. Too plodding. Too thorough. And knowing letting go is an option. Still and caged. Not caged, but trying to figure out how to gift wrap appropriately. Gift wrap in a way that will be received to expectation.
Visitors from other lands. No one belongs here except the ones born here. It's a simple fact that helps me make the most of my interactions. It's an understanding that helps me make sense of where froms and how tos. They could never live here and I could never live out there for too long. The things chasing me to sleep. Not over thinking it or taking on some stance of god failure or "waaah, no one gets me," just adding up without trying to be ridiculously deterministic.
What shines brightest are those willing to dive in and take the chance that I'm wrong, which is wholly possible, pending my own ability to give them a chance to do so and also pending on my ability to accept a "no" on whatever grounds they find necessary or pertinent or fact. I'm not sure I'm ready to do the first yet and I damn sure am not ready for the second.
My heart is made of glass. I know this. My brain is made of glass too. Which one is a person to trust less? Beats the hell out of me. Let's find out. "You don't belong here. What are you doing here?! What is your objective??""
///Bowery Electric - "Electro Sleep" a lull in the battle
I'm sure part of the passport policy's origin lies in mental dysfunction and it's many symptoms, but part of it also lies in a love for the ones worth loving and preventing them from being damaged by the many symptoms more numerous expressions. If you do insist on being issued a passport I can only stand in your way for so long. I used to go out of my way to issue them, until the activity bit me in the ass so hard I could not deny the recklessness with which I was stamping books. So I stopped stamping books.
To help me and to help you. I want nothing to do with you, not because I want nothing to do with you, but because I can have nothing to do with you. It is, in all actuality, just actually, very simple. Or not. At least to me. I don't understand what I have to offer you. Further from that understanding, is getting that it is okay to have nothing to offer you explicitly. I don't get it. Guilty. I still have yet to grasp that. Does that make me wrong to reject closeness?
Fear of change? Yeah, sure. That's already established. I hate change like I hate playing with a board of objects wired to voltage. Why does this one shock me now when it didn't on the last go round. Fucking scientists. Fucking psychologists. Fucking experiments. I don't know what I'm supposed to say or what I am to do or is an acceptable response. So I am myself and I worry if that self at that time is acceptable or not. After the fact. Paying forward to increased anxiety.
Everything a study. Too plodding. Too thorough. And knowing letting go is an option. Still and caged. Not caged, but trying to figure out how to gift wrap appropriately. Gift wrap in a way that will be received to expectation.
Visitors from other lands. No one belongs here except the ones born here. It's a simple fact that helps me make the most of my interactions. It's an understanding that helps me make sense of where froms and how tos. They could never live here and I could never live out there for too long. The things chasing me to sleep. Not over thinking it or taking on some stance of god failure or "waaah, no one gets me," just adding up without trying to be ridiculously deterministic.
What shines brightest are those willing to dive in and take the chance that I'm wrong, which is wholly possible, pending my own ability to give them a chance to do so and also pending on my ability to accept a "no" on whatever grounds they find necessary or pertinent or fact. I'm not sure I'm ready to do the first yet and I damn sure am not ready for the second.
My heart is made of glass. I know this. My brain is made of glass too. Which one is a person to trust less? Beats the hell out of me. Let's find out. "You don't belong here. What are you doing here?! What is your objective??""
///Bowery Electric - "Electro Sleep" a lull in the battle
10/17/12
What Makes You Laugh
I was just thinking about unfortunate super powers and I laughed a little bit because of a dream I had. Not a dream, but a day dream while I was riding. I was burning down Center Avenue on my bicycle next to a tanker truck that had the high polished aluminum finish that was so glassed I could see my face and helmet and glasses in it when I glanced to my right. I was going fast enough to pass it, but the light was red so I cruised next to it while we rolled up to the intersection together.
I could of waited, but I was about to pull a right turn at the next light after the stretch of 200 feet, once the next light came up, so I figured (correctly) I would be out of the gate fast enough to beat him there by enough of a long shot and why suck truck exhaust and obstruction when you know what the score already is. Plus, sometimes it's just fun to flirt with disaster when you know the whale couldn't give two blinks for what you want to do, you being so small and flit a fish. They know you know if you knew what was good for you, you'll stay away from their fins and wheels, and I for the most part do. Sometimes I am a reckless jackass, but most of the times, this being one of those times, we both know I'm operating at my own risk and out not to cause trouble and enjoy the sights and speed. At least that's what I think.
It occurred to me, in day dreaming about it, how awesome it would be to see the tanker explode in slow motion, but not have to actually be there physically, yet have my point of view so close and so slowed down to see it happen. And then I wondered if, in real time, I would be able to see the flash or if my eyes would be disintegrated and turned to mist before my brain could know what was going on.
The whole thing made me think, in the few seconds before the light turned green, what an awful super power that would be. The power to make flammable things explode as long as you were close enough to be exploded too. You wouldn't die, but the one drawback, because super powers with no actual drawback besides responsibility makes you a comic book caricature, would be that you always experience the pain of death even though you are immediately reconstituted and the pain stays fresh. Furthermore you experience the compounded pain of everyone else who dies in the blast, directly and indirectly, so that even the people that don't immediately die still channel and communicate their living, burn ward, debilitated, living pain for as long as they live directly into your brain beneath the layers upon which drugs can intervene. So you have to really think about who and what you blow up and when and where, but not necessarily why.
Unfortunate super powers. Like the power to make yourself drunk. Like you can think about a specific BAC and put yourself there instantaneously. Instantaneously. However, you still get to deal with the health repercussions and you still have to figure out ways around hangovers and you still have to live your life. But, you get to be as drunk as you feel like, whenever you feel like, because you can call upon a secret power within yourself to generate alcohol directly into your blood stream from your bones. So, if, for instance, you have painted yourself into a corner and you know you are about to get the ass beating of a lifetime, you can instantly push yourself up to .2 BAC and not feel a thing and then meter yourself when you wake up at a solid .05 and continue to not feel a thing, but still be functional enough to ride a bus to work and do your job and go home. You could, potentially, never be hung over again, but will likely poop out your foam sponge liver by the time you're 40. I don't know, man. Every boring movie would suddenly be interesting. Every bad hookup would be forgettable, because you could have the power to black out instantaneously. It would be one hell of an unfortunate super power.
Speaking of explosions, I got an exploding pound today at the gas station. It was pretty absurd, because it came out of the blue. From a man who was clearly in his sixties. I don't know what that means. I wish I knew why I was attractive to older people. I have no idea. And why, of all things, the explosion pound? Is that what they think we're up to? Because I have no idea what the kids are up to today being the age that I am, I guess I probably would have no idea what the people my age are up to when I will be his age so I guess I will probably fire shots in the dark after the same fashion when I meet people my age when I am his age so I will probably go for some antiquated (but what I consider timeless) dap and talk about long resolved issues and the merits of industrial music, dub step, and the last relevant artist I knew or maybe go on a good fifteen minute rant about Goldie and underground hip hop by people that sold out decades before.
I have no idea why they love me, but I have no misgivings about loving them back. I think we ended up talking for a solid five minutes in the parking lot, smoking cigarettes. When I was walking home I couldn't help snickering a little bit. Still though, it was nice to connect briefly. I've been taking some talking point notes in working this up, mostly because I couldn't sleep, still can't, and didn't want to have to comb through my voice recordings to find the parts I wanted to expound upon.
Which brings to the point that people that fire their cum must have a hard time jerking off on short notice. Not super short notice, but I mean like you just rubbed one out and someone rang your doorbell, but you didn't go get toilet paper because you are almost broke and you're down to your last bit of lotion anyway, and who rings a doorbell at 1 P.M. on Saturday anyway and you're already downstairs opening the door before you realized you spooged four feet away from your computer and your chair is angled in such a way as to avoid spraying your monitor, but is pointed directly into the swatch of sunlight where your cum landed and when your guest comes upstairs to shoot the shit with you it'll be there sparkling like pixie dust on a Pan's head if a Pan's head were floor boards and pixie dust were cum? Did that turn into a question half way through? The next time you feel like less of a man for not having rocket cum, just remember it's a two edged talent. And everything will be okay.
Which is more than I can say about late night commercials. It seems every commercial after ten at night is about talking to people while jerking off, jerking off better, having sex with strangers, having sex with strangers better, buying cars, buying food that is somehow more expensive than it was last year even though it is in principle the same fucking thing it was the year before, buying cars, buying cars that cost the same for less money somehow and letting strangers jerk you off over the phone if you sit on your hand long enough and download the latest application that lets you download the latest application for getting strangers wet in the pants or making you feel less inadequate in your powers to make strangers wet in the pants. That and sleep aids that are non-addictive, and what fun is a drug without the blown relationship of all out love? An excuse, is what that is. Is what that is? Nyeh. Television outside of the hours of ten P.M. and 5 A.M. is garbage anyway, unless it's football. Plus, we all know commercials are lies. Sexy, colorful, somewhat intriguing lies.
Kinda sort of brings me to comics. Comedians. You like to think that maybe if you met them you'd be good friends, but they actually hate you. In real life. Which is in itself a little bit hilarious. They can't stand you. But they're so accessible, aren't they? The trip up is that you get excited and thrilled about the small, obscure, things they don't give two shits about. Where the common ground lies, they find very little joy because the joy in them is in the spaces where differences are most acute. I'm kidding. I'm sure they're nice people in real life if you are a part of the things they don't like. But they don't like so many things. Do they do that on purpose? I suppose this is a bad venue for dissecting comedy. The dissection simply reminds me of when you tell someone that you're going home, and sometimes suffix that comment with "to jerk off" or "to play some video games and then jerk off" and the person you are talking to comes back with some absurd bullshit like "well, I'm going yachting tomorrow so I should probably turn in."
What the fuck is that? Number one: I did not ask you what you were doing tomorrow. Did you decide to throw that in to make me feel worse about what I'm doing for the rest of tonight? That's kind of fucked up. It's not like I'm thrilled to say "yeah, my big plans are pretty much encapsulated in two hours of shame followed by sleeping into Saturday until the NCAA games start and then I'll get up and jerk off some more while half watching them and then go back to bed until the bars open and I can thinly veil a little afternoon sousing in catching late afternoon games." Did you want me to feel bad about myself for not having plans as grand? Because if you wanted me to feel included in your adventures you could have invited yourself over for the yankfest, but that would have been understandably awkward, but at least give me the chance to say so and decline instead of feeling left out of your life altogether, if that's where we're going. Because I mean, I only broached the topic of plans so you would know that I know my plans are not as great as yours, but at least you know that I know I'm not leaving the party because I don't want to be there, it's just because I can't over stay my fucking welcome.
I didn't ask you what you were going to go do, and you didn't ask me either, but I'm rolling over. It's a complement to your party. Why can't you take a complement? And that's why comics will never be your friends. Because you get excited about dumb, irrelevant, shit that is basically the frills and lace on the sides of granny panties to life. Granted, I'm not going to break into your house, duct tape your wrists together behind your back, drive you out to New England in the middle of the night until dawn, haul you out of the trunk in the middle of nowhere, and shove your face into the leaves by the side of a one lane road and scream "this is Fall!!! This is what autumn tastes like!!!" That's just not me. Plus, who has the time to do that these days? I don't. But forgive me if I don't give a !@#$ about the latest tech or music or who's hot on what coast and is performing half price and where. I'm never going to be in that sphere and the people that are also are not particularly fond of folks like me anyway.
And that's what's made me laugh these days.
I could of waited, but I was about to pull a right turn at the next light after the stretch of 200 feet, once the next light came up, so I figured (correctly) I would be out of the gate fast enough to beat him there by enough of a long shot and why suck truck exhaust and obstruction when you know what the score already is. Plus, sometimes it's just fun to flirt with disaster when you know the whale couldn't give two blinks for what you want to do, you being so small and flit a fish. They know you know if you knew what was good for you, you'll stay away from their fins and wheels, and I for the most part do. Sometimes I am a reckless jackass, but most of the times, this being one of those times, we both know I'm operating at my own risk and out not to cause trouble and enjoy the sights and speed. At least that's what I think.
It occurred to me, in day dreaming about it, how awesome it would be to see the tanker explode in slow motion, but not have to actually be there physically, yet have my point of view so close and so slowed down to see it happen. And then I wondered if, in real time, I would be able to see the flash or if my eyes would be disintegrated and turned to mist before my brain could know what was going on.
The whole thing made me think, in the few seconds before the light turned green, what an awful super power that would be. The power to make flammable things explode as long as you were close enough to be exploded too. You wouldn't die, but the one drawback, because super powers with no actual drawback besides responsibility makes you a comic book caricature, would be that you always experience the pain of death even though you are immediately reconstituted and the pain stays fresh. Furthermore you experience the compounded pain of everyone else who dies in the blast, directly and indirectly, so that even the people that don't immediately die still channel and communicate their living, burn ward, debilitated, living pain for as long as they live directly into your brain beneath the layers upon which drugs can intervene. So you have to really think about who and what you blow up and when and where, but not necessarily why.
Unfortunate super powers. Like the power to make yourself drunk. Like you can think about a specific BAC and put yourself there instantaneously. Instantaneously. However, you still get to deal with the health repercussions and you still have to figure out ways around hangovers and you still have to live your life. But, you get to be as drunk as you feel like, whenever you feel like, because you can call upon a secret power within yourself to generate alcohol directly into your blood stream from your bones. So, if, for instance, you have painted yourself into a corner and you know you are about to get the ass beating of a lifetime, you can instantly push yourself up to .2 BAC and not feel a thing and then meter yourself when you wake up at a solid .05 and continue to not feel a thing, but still be functional enough to ride a bus to work and do your job and go home. You could, potentially, never be hung over again, but will likely poop out your foam sponge liver by the time you're 40. I don't know, man. Every boring movie would suddenly be interesting. Every bad hookup would be forgettable, because you could have the power to black out instantaneously. It would be one hell of an unfortunate super power.
Speaking of explosions, I got an exploding pound today at the gas station. It was pretty absurd, because it came out of the blue. From a man who was clearly in his sixties. I don't know what that means. I wish I knew why I was attractive to older people. I have no idea. And why, of all things, the explosion pound? Is that what they think we're up to? Because I have no idea what the kids are up to today being the age that I am, I guess I probably would have no idea what the people my age are up to when I will be his age so I guess I will probably fire shots in the dark after the same fashion when I meet people my age when I am his age so I will probably go for some antiquated (but what I consider timeless) dap and talk about long resolved issues and the merits of industrial music, dub step, and the last relevant artist I knew or maybe go on a good fifteen minute rant about Goldie and underground hip hop by people that sold out decades before.
I have no idea why they love me, but I have no misgivings about loving them back. I think we ended up talking for a solid five minutes in the parking lot, smoking cigarettes. When I was walking home I couldn't help snickering a little bit. Still though, it was nice to connect briefly. I've been taking some talking point notes in working this up, mostly because I couldn't sleep, still can't, and didn't want to have to comb through my voice recordings to find the parts I wanted to expound upon.
Which brings to the point that people that fire their cum must have a hard time jerking off on short notice. Not super short notice, but I mean like you just rubbed one out and someone rang your doorbell, but you didn't go get toilet paper because you are almost broke and you're down to your last bit of lotion anyway, and who rings a doorbell at 1 P.M. on Saturday anyway and you're already downstairs opening the door before you realized you spooged four feet away from your computer and your chair is angled in such a way as to avoid spraying your monitor, but is pointed directly into the swatch of sunlight where your cum landed and when your guest comes upstairs to shoot the shit with you it'll be there sparkling like pixie dust on a Pan's head if a Pan's head were floor boards and pixie dust were cum? Did that turn into a question half way through? The next time you feel like less of a man for not having rocket cum, just remember it's a two edged talent. And everything will be okay.
Which is more than I can say about late night commercials. It seems every commercial after ten at night is about talking to people while jerking off, jerking off better, having sex with strangers, having sex with strangers better, buying cars, buying food that is somehow more expensive than it was last year even though it is in principle the same fucking thing it was the year before, buying cars, buying cars that cost the same for less money somehow and letting strangers jerk you off over the phone if you sit on your hand long enough and download the latest application that lets you download the latest application for getting strangers wet in the pants or making you feel less inadequate in your powers to make strangers wet in the pants. That and sleep aids that are non-addictive, and what fun is a drug without the blown relationship of all out love? An excuse, is what that is. Is what that is? Nyeh. Television outside of the hours of ten P.M. and 5 A.M. is garbage anyway, unless it's football. Plus, we all know commercials are lies. Sexy, colorful, somewhat intriguing lies.
Kinda sort of brings me to comics. Comedians. You like to think that maybe if you met them you'd be good friends, but they actually hate you. In real life. Which is in itself a little bit hilarious. They can't stand you. But they're so accessible, aren't they? The trip up is that you get excited and thrilled about the small, obscure, things they don't give two shits about. Where the common ground lies, they find very little joy because the joy in them is in the spaces where differences are most acute. I'm kidding. I'm sure they're nice people in real life if you are a part of the things they don't like. But they don't like so many things. Do they do that on purpose? I suppose this is a bad venue for dissecting comedy. The dissection simply reminds me of when you tell someone that you're going home, and sometimes suffix that comment with "to jerk off" or "to play some video games and then jerk off" and the person you are talking to comes back with some absurd bullshit like "well, I'm going yachting tomorrow so I should probably turn in."
What the fuck is that? Number one: I did not ask you what you were doing tomorrow. Did you decide to throw that in to make me feel worse about what I'm doing for the rest of tonight? That's kind of fucked up. It's not like I'm thrilled to say "yeah, my big plans are pretty much encapsulated in two hours of shame followed by sleeping into Saturday until the NCAA games start and then I'll get up and jerk off some more while half watching them and then go back to bed until the bars open and I can thinly veil a little afternoon sousing in catching late afternoon games." Did you want me to feel bad about myself for not having plans as grand? Because if you wanted me to feel included in your adventures you could have invited yourself over for the yankfest, but that would have been understandably awkward, but at least give me the chance to say so and decline instead of feeling left out of your life altogether, if that's where we're going. Because I mean, I only broached the topic of plans so you would know that I know my plans are not as great as yours, but at least you know that I know I'm not leaving the party because I don't want to be there, it's just because I can't over stay my fucking welcome.
I didn't ask you what you were going to go do, and you didn't ask me either, but I'm rolling over. It's a complement to your party. Why can't you take a complement? And that's why comics will never be your friends. Because you get excited about dumb, irrelevant, shit that is basically the frills and lace on the sides of granny panties to life. Granted, I'm not going to break into your house, duct tape your wrists together behind your back, drive you out to New England in the middle of the night until dawn, haul you out of the trunk in the middle of nowhere, and shove your face into the leaves by the side of a one lane road and scream "this is Fall!!! This is what autumn tastes like!!!" That's just not me. Plus, who has the time to do that these days? I don't. But forgive me if I don't give a !@#$ about the latest tech or music or who's hot on what coast and is performing half price and where. I'm never going to be in that sphere and the people that are also are not particularly fond of folks like me anyway.
And that's what's made me laugh these days.
10/23/11
Wall Street
> We are Wall Street. It’s our job to make money. Whether it’s a commodity, stock, bond, or some hypothetical piece of fake paper, it doesn’t matter. We would trade baseball cards if it were profitable. I didn’t hear America complaining when the market was roaring to 14,000 and everyone’s 401k doubled every 3 years. Just like gambling, its not a problem until you lose. I’ve never heard of anyone going to Gamblers Anonymous because they won too much in Vegas.
> Well now the market crapped out, & even though it has come back somewhat, the government and the average Joes are still looking for a scapegoat. God knows there has to be one for everything. Well, here we are.
> Go ahead and continue to take us down, but you’re only going to hurt yourselves. What’s going to happen when we can’t find jobs on the Street anymore? Guess what: We’re going to take yours. We get up at 5am & work till 10pm or later. We’re used to not getting up to pee when we have a position. We don’t take an hour or more for a lunch break. We don’t demand a union. We don’t retire at 50 with a pension. We eat what we kill, and when the only thing left to eat is on your dinner plates, we’ll eat that.
> For years teachers and other unionized labor have had us fooled. We were too busy working to notice. Do you really think that we are incapable of teaching 3rd graders and doing landscaping? We’re going to take your cushy jobs with tenure and 4 months off a year and whine just like you that we are so-o-o-o underpaid for building the youth of America. Say goodbye to your overtime and double time and a half. I’ll be hitting grounders to the high school baseball team for $5k extra a summer, thank you very much.
> So now that we’re going to be making $85k a year without upside, Joe Mainstreet is going to have his revenge, right? Wrong! Guess what: we’re going to stop buying the new 80k car, we aren’t going to leave the 35 percent tip at our business dinners anymore. No more free rides on our backs. We’re going to landscape our own back yards, wash our cars with a garden hose in our driveways. Our money was your money. You spent it. When our money dries up, so does yours.
> The difference is, you lived off of it, we rejoiced in it. The Obama administration and the Democratic National Committee might get their way and knock us off the top of the pyramid, but it’s really going to hurt like hell for them when our fat a**es land directly on the middle class of America and knock them to the bottom.
> We aren’t dinosaurs. We are smarter and more vicious than that, and we are going to survive. The question is, now that Obama & his administration are making Joe Mainstreet our food supply…will he? and will they?”
End email. I don't normally respond to threads like this, but I was struck by the flippancy and offered a rebuff:
dear content of email
hilarious. if the reduction of the "food supply" ever gets down to hyper competitive opportunists versus ingenuity and survivability,
wall street will find itself in an afghanistan of its own creation. good luck.
rejoicing in what income i have and living on it too. i get home at 5 a.m. if im lucky. but better than lucky is working a sixteen hour day. i work every hour im given and i take hours from coworkers whenever i can. ive been trying to get expelled from the ufcw since the union forced me to join as a condition of employment. good luck coming down here and eating the food off my plate lol. wash your car and cut your own hair and your lawn and everything else you have that needs washing and doing and guarding and tending to.
you might get some of my "food", but im used to being hungry. eventually my knife and fork are taking your hand. and it will be delicious. and ill leave you to moan and divorce and spring idle bastard children in failing school districts because you wont be able to live in the good ones no matter how hard you work at minimum wage jobs that cut and limit your hours and send you home or on leave when you hit the red line they define and the only release you can have is fucking strangers on wellfare with six kids to net massive child support and other benefits that work the system until she files a bogus PFA when you don't pay on time and the fuzz come and lock you up and you lose that job for "no call/no show" and can't get another one for two years thanks to your criminal record.
and then, hopefully, youll buy a shotgun from a pawnshop and end the dance, wherein your children will pick up where you leave off. hilarious. very much enjoyed. mostly because it's reflective, i guess, of an extremely homogenized community versus an extremely diverse community pressed into a stereo typical mold for easy digestion/dissection. also i am super hungry now with all the talking
about food.
not wall street does not equal an inability to compete and dominate. all it means is "not wall street." life can be just as vicious, demanding, painful, unforgiving, unblinking and violent as downtown manhattan any day of the fucking week for many people who have had a different set of opportunities presented to them. capitalize all you want. break your hands trying to beat down doors. the fact of the matter is it's not a level field, will never be a level field, and for civilization to continue to advance or plateau or whatever there will have to be some kind of hierarchy and class system and learn to fucking live with it and pursue yourself. i think. whatever.
hilarious.
i guess its just funny when people beat their chests and say "you couldnt do what i do" without for a second realizing they couldnt do what i do either.
i dont want to be rich or fat and happy or a gym member who would otherwise be fat and happy. all i ask of you, wall street, is that you dont let your "rejoicing" become an obstacle to my happiness.
End Rebuttal.
I don't hate wall street. But if a person with hired landscapers can frown upon those landscapers billing hour of work incorrectly or frown upon a maid secreting away the homeowners possessions, why can't those of us who keep them employed by participating in the economy frown upon its mismanagement and abuse? When you order your cheeseburger at the diner you expect a cheeseburger, not a thing that has been gutted and cheated to make it more cost effective and time conserving for the line cook to make. Sure, I can't solve differential equations easily, if at all, but the fact of the matter is the people who can more than likely couldn't do my job for a week either before they quit to pursue something easier. So I guess we're even. On an uneven playing field.
> Well now the market crapped out, & even though it has come back somewhat, the government and the average Joes are still looking for a scapegoat. God knows there has to be one for everything. Well, here we are.
> Go ahead and continue to take us down, but you’re only going to hurt yourselves. What’s going to happen when we can’t find jobs on the Street anymore? Guess what: We’re going to take yours. We get up at 5am & work till 10pm or later. We’re used to not getting up to pee when we have a position. We don’t take an hour or more for a lunch break. We don’t demand a union. We don’t retire at 50 with a pension. We eat what we kill, and when the only thing left to eat is on your dinner plates, we’ll eat that.
> For years teachers and other unionized labor have had us fooled. We were too busy working to notice. Do you really think that we are incapable of teaching 3rd graders and doing landscaping? We’re going to take your cushy jobs with tenure and 4 months off a year and whine just like you that we are so-o-o-o underpaid for building the youth of America. Say goodbye to your overtime and double time and a half. I’ll be hitting grounders to the high school baseball team for $5k extra a summer, thank you very much.
> So now that we’re going to be making $85k a year without upside, Joe Mainstreet is going to have his revenge, right? Wrong! Guess what: we’re going to stop buying the new 80k car, we aren’t going to leave the 35 percent tip at our business dinners anymore. No more free rides on our backs. We’re going to landscape our own back yards, wash our cars with a garden hose in our driveways. Our money was your money. You spent it. When our money dries up, so does yours.
> The difference is, you lived off of it, we rejoiced in it. The Obama administration and the Democratic National Committee might get their way and knock us off the top of the pyramid, but it’s really going to hurt like hell for them when our fat a**es land directly on the middle class of America and knock them to the bottom.
> We aren’t dinosaurs. We are smarter and more vicious than that, and we are going to survive. The question is, now that Obama & his administration are making Joe Mainstreet our food supply…will he? and will they?”
End email. I don't normally respond to threads like this, but I was struck by the flippancy and offered a rebuff:
dear content of email
hilarious. if the reduction of the "food supply" ever gets down to hyper competitive opportunists versus ingenuity and survivability,
wall street will find itself in an afghanistan of its own creation. good luck.
rejoicing in what income i have and living on it too. i get home at 5 a.m. if im lucky. but better than lucky is working a sixteen hour day. i work every hour im given and i take hours from coworkers whenever i can. ive been trying to get expelled from the ufcw since the union forced me to join as a condition of employment. good luck coming down here and eating the food off my plate lol. wash your car and cut your own hair and your lawn and everything else you have that needs washing and doing and guarding and tending to.
you might get some of my "food", but im used to being hungry. eventually my knife and fork are taking your hand. and it will be delicious. and ill leave you to moan and divorce and spring idle bastard children in failing school districts because you wont be able to live in the good ones no matter how hard you work at minimum wage jobs that cut and limit your hours and send you home or on leave when you hit the red line they define and the only release you can have is fucking strangers on wellfare with six kids to net massive child support and other benefits that work the system until she files a bogus PFA when you don't pay on time and the fuzz come and lock you up and you lose that job for "no call/no show" and can't get another one for two years thanks to your criminal record.
and then, hopefully, youll buy a shotgun from a pawnshop and end the dance, wherein your children will pick up where you leave off. hilarious. very much enjoyed. mostly because it's reflective, i guess, of an extremely homogenized community versus an extremely diverse community pressed into a stereo typical mold for easy digestion/dissection. also i am super hungry now with all the talking
about food.
not wall street does not equal an inability to compete and dominate. all it means is "not wall street." life can be just as vicious, demanding, painful, unforgiving, unblinking and violent as downtown manhattan any day of the fucking week for many people who have had a different set of opportunities presented to them. capitalize all you want. break your hands trying to beat down doors. the fact of the matter is it's not a level field, will never be a level field, and for civilization to continue to advance or plateau or whatever there will have to be some kind of hierarchy and class system and learn to fucking live with it and pursue yourself. i think. whatever.
hilarious.
i guess its just funny when people beat their chests and say "you couldnt do what i do" without for a second realizing they couldnt do what i do either.
i dont want to be rich or fat and happy or a gym member who would otherwise be fat and happy. all i ask of you, wall street, is that you dont let your "rejoicing" become an obstacle to my happiness.
End Rebuttal.
I don't hate wall street. But if a person with hired landscapers can frown upon those landscapers billing hour of work incorrectly or frown upon a maid secreting away the homeowners possessions, why can't those of us who keep them employed by participating in the economy frown upon its mismanagement and abuse? When you order your cheeseburger at the diner you expect a cheeseburger, not a thing that has been gutted and cheated to make it more cost effective and time conserving for the line cook to make. Sure, I can't solve differential equations easily, if at all, but the fact of the matter is the people who can more than likely couldn't do my job for a week either before they quit to pursue something easier. So I guess we're even. On an uneven playing field.
8/3/11
Manifesto (just kidding)
It's tempting to construct manifestos when things don't go your way. Tempting to take the bum raps you keep getting and try to think of a way to correct everything wrong that's happened to you, letter by letter, number by number until you arrive at a list of things and virtues that can correct the world once and for all and make it, not only a place in which your alternate self who experienced all of the positive outcomes you have been deprived truly exists, but a world in which everyone's alternate selves experience every positive outcome they possibly can while only actively subtracting the negative and leaving the ceiling open for the positive (perhaps they won't experience as positive an outcome as they would have previously, but the potential would still be there).
So enough about that shite.
Everybody's different. Some people will never understand how to be people. How to be human. I myself am much closer to being feral, to identifying with the senses and sensibilities of the higher functioning animal kingdoms than the lower functioning partitions of society. I don't know if I'm the right person to ask what it is to be human. I'm comfortable there. I suppose if I had to choose which side of that fence I wanted to stand on, I know what side I'd pick. I can't hold it against the people that have never been down that end of the spectrum if they don't understand how to relate. I can fucking still hate them though. For a little while. And then I get bored because I can howl as hard as I want into that wind coming down from where they are, and they'll never hear me clearly. And then I get back to rooting around my woods for things to eat and things to do and other wolves with which to play.
Ire. It's there. There is no ire extinguisher. I can break all the glass I own, but inside those cases there is only an ax with which to fight the fire. Swing away. Go find a patch of grass that is not burned to crisp ash. Roll around for a bit. Run off into the burning woods again after the scent of the something gorgeous, eyes wilder, mouth drawn back from teeth and hungry for something fat and slow. And happy to feel my lungs beating against my smoke stained ribs. Just break glass.
Don't invite me to your pity party. I'll drink all the liquor and toss back all the punch and go dancing on rooftops singing praises to the moon and starry ash smudged sky. I'm not without compassion. It's just something that's hard for me to understand. To feel and synthesize and give back. Sympathy yes. I can understand that. Sometimes I feel like my heart is the bleeding heart of a broken little girl fallen into a ravine in the Black forests of Germania, but my head is screwed on with steel lag bolts and filled with enough warheads, .50 cals, and trigger happy children to stage a military coup in darkest Africa and enough warpaint to terrify the most elaborate and landed samurai. I do my best to feel. And then I take what's left and make sense of what I read back from the dials and switches.
///El-P - "Love Theme" ...love though, I guess that's one thing that stays the same, but even that... the understanding fractures. As if the symmetry alone is a prescription to live. The world is busted, learn to live in it and treat people right. No manifestos necessary.
So enough about that shite.
Everybody's different. Some people will never understand how to be people. How to be human. I myself am much closer to being feral, to identifying with the senses and sensibilities of the higher functioning animal kingdoms than the lower functioning partitions of society. I don't know if I'm the right person to ask what it is to be human. I'm comfortable there. I suppose if I had to choose which side of that fence I wanted to stand on, I know what side I'd pick. I can't hold it against the people that have never been down that end of the spectrum if they don't understand how to relate. I can fucking still hate them though. For a little while. And then I get bored because I can howl as hard as I want into that wind coming down from where they are, and they'll never hear me clearly. And then I get back to rooting around my woods for things to eat and things to do and other wolves with which to play.
Ire. It's there. There is no ire extinguisher. I can break all the glass I own, but inside those cases there is only an ax with which to fight the fire. Swing away. Go find a patch of grass that is not burned to crisp ash. Roll around for a bit. Run off into the burning woods again after the scent of the something gorgeous, eyes wilder, mouth drawn back from teeth and hungry for something fat and slow. And happy to feel my lungs beating against my smoke stained ribs. Just break glass.
Don't invite me to your pity party. I'll drink all the liquor and toss back all the punch and go dancing on rooftops singing praises to the moon and starry ash smudged sky. I'm not without compassion. It's just something that's hard for me to understand. To feel and synthesize and give back. Sympathy yes. I can understand that. Sometimes I feel like my heart is the bleeding heart of a broken little girl fallen into a ravine in the Black forests of Germania, but my head is screwed on with steel lag bolts and filled with enough warheads, .50 cals, and trigger happy children to stage a military coup in darkest Africa and enough warpaint to terrify the most elaborate and landed samurai. I do my best to feel. And then I take what's left and make sense of what I read back from the dials and switches.
///El-P - "Love Theme" ...love though, I guess that's one thing that stays the same, but even that... the understanding fractures. As if the symmetry alone is a prescription to live. The world is busted, learn to live in it and treat people right. No manifestos necessary.
5/1/10
life snobs
for a while i was afraid that what education ive pieced together over the years has made me a snob. like a life snob. the kind of person who turns their nose up at everything because of things encapsulated in the following phrases:
"the book was better"
"the original from (insert obscure year) was better"
"i wouldnt buy that if i were you"
"i researched X Y and Z and this is my informed opinion"
"i heard on npr the other day..."
"i read on bbc.co.uk the other day..."
"thats just history repeating itself if you look back to (insert obscure date and event)"
"that was actually a sample from (insert less known band)"
"if you weight the pros and cons of it..."
"i think you are definitely mistaken..."
"well if you think about it, thats what they want you to think..."
"thats how the system works..."
and so on. any one of the above phrases can be exchanged for simpler cruder and more direct and colloquial phrases like "you dumb shit"... and "that is some nigga shit right there" and on and on so the point is.... the point is that normally i would be extremely self conscious about these kinds of things and go home and worry that people think that i must think im some kind of poindexter life snob who knows more than he should about anything and tries to lord it over his peers cuz he has no friends and sleeps with a teddy bear and a dictionary under his pillow.
but the fact of the matter is... haha what an ugly phrase... how about the simpler answer to this conundrum is that all this percieved snobbery is a machination of being American. Simple as that. America encourages simple, muddy, plain as dirt thinking for the masses. Sure schools don't (usually) but the other school, the tv, does and continually. whats more is that any show of discernment, of critical consideration, automatically punts you up to the ugly "elite" class... those people that are too smart for their own good that fuck up the country for everyone, regardless of what your actual income is. im broke as hell most of the time, but im 99% certain that my parents think im some uppity smart ass who doesnt understand the value of a dollar. whatever the fuck that means
so i guess what im trying to say is that the french aint so bad. or the brits. what passes for snobbery now used to just be critical thinking skills and the ability to turn down cheap and instant for slightly more costly and much longer lasting. the desire to turn max profit out of everything has essentially made anything less into snobbery, when in fact most profits should not be measured in dollars despite the thousand dollar bills the tv smacks us with continually. but thats snobbery. dont be a snob. dont make your own sandwiches because they taste better. just shove some mcdonalds in your throat. its cheaper too so you get to put more money in your pocket. no brainer.
everyone has become so obsessed with no brainers when the honest to god truth is the people that keep the brains in their skulls and turned on have a hard time passing in the world of the no brainers. so many things happen and we have to say to ourselves ... wait what the fuck just happened there... but what have to say it internally because if we said it out loud we would sound crazy. if we said half of the things we actually thought about we would probably be called crazy.
i dunno.... maybe the problem here is that my thirst for knowledge has vastly outpaced my station in life. that could be seen as the problem. if i was a lot dumber. like a lot fucking dumber.... i would be happy as a skunk doing whatever it is skunks do the 23 hours and 55 minutes i dont see them walking across my parents back yard. i would be happy to be at home doing nothing. happy to eat food and wash dishes and mow the lawn and happy to listen to my mom talk about her bleeding fucking toes and my dad talk about how he has to beat the sluts off of his fat disgusting body all day while he works as a phone technician. christ... the root of this entire existential crisis is my education.
at least thats what a no brainer might say. and you know what... in the current setting... in this state of the union... they'd be right. fuck them. my brain is strapped on at all times and it might be the death of me, but god damn it, if thats the case then im ready to die.
///four tet - "Untitled [SAW2 CD1 Track1] (Four Tet remix)" this song has brought me nothing but joy. i came across the four tet remix album in the second lowest pit of my life. it wasnt a shovel. it wasnt water in the desert. it was meaning and reason and design written across the formless mass and black and blue of life's crush. and thats why i still like it. and thats why i still love it.
"the book was better"
"the original from (insert obscure year) was better"
"i wouldnt buy that if i were you"
"i researched X Y and Z and this is my informed opinion"
"i heard on npr the other day..."
"i read on bbc.co.uk the other day..."
"thats just history repeating itself if you look back to (insert obscure date and event)"
"that was actually a sample from (insert less known band)"
"if you weight the pros and cons of it..."
"i think you are definitely mistaken..."
"well if you think about it, thats what they want you to think..."
"thats how the system works..."
and so on. any one of the above phrases can be exchanged for simpler cruder and more direct and colloquial phrases like "you dumb shit"... and "that is some nigga shit right there" and on and on so the point is.... the point is that normally i would be extremely self conscious about these kinds of things and go home and worry that people think that i must think im some kind of poindexter life snob who knows more than he should about anything and tries to lord it over his peers cuz he has no friends and sleeps with a teddy bear and a dictionary under his pillow.
but the fact of the matter is... haha what an ugly phrase... how about the simpler answer to this conundrum is that all this percieved snobbery is a machination of being American. Simple as that. America encourages simple, muddy, plain as dirt thinking for the masses. Sure schools don't (usually) but the other school, the tv, does and continually. whats more is that any show of discernment, of critical consideration, automatically punts you up to the ugly "elite" class... those people that are too smart for their own good that fuck up the country for everyone, regardless of what your actual income is. im broke as hell most of the time, but im 99% certain that my parents think im some uppity smart ass who doesnt understand the value of a dollar. whatever the fuck that means
so i guess what im trying to say is that the french aint so bad. or the brits. what passes for snobbery now used to just be critical thinking skills and the ability to turn down cheap and instant for slightly more costly and much longer lasting. the desire to turn max profit out of everything has essentially made anything less into snobbery, when in fact most profits should not be measured in dollars despite the thousand dollar bills the tv smacks us with continually. but thats snobbery. dont be a snob. dont make your own sandwiches because they taste better. just shove some mcdonalds in your throat. its cheaper too so you get to put more money in your pocket. no brainer.
everyone has become so obsessed with no brainers when the honest to god truth is the people that keep the brains in their skulls and turned on have a hard time passing in the world of the no brainers. so many things happen and we have to say to ourselves ... wait what the fuck just happened there... but what have to say it internally because if we said it out loud we would sound crazy. if we said half of the things we actually thought about we would probably be called crazy.
i dunno.... maybe the problem here is that my thirst for knowledge has vastly outpaced my station in life. that could be seen as the problem. if i was a lot dumber. like a lot fucking dumber.... i would be happy as a skunk doing whatever it is skunks do the 23 hours and 55 minutes i dont see them walking across my parents back yard. i would be happy to be at home doing nothing. happy to eat food and wash dishes and mow the lawn and happy to listen to my mom talk about her bleeding fucking toes and my dad talk about how he has to beat the sluts off of his fat disgusting body all day while he works as a phone technician. christ... the root of this entire existential crisis is my education.
at least thats what a no brainer might say. and you know what... in the current setting... in this state of the union... they'd be right. fuck them. my brain is strapped on at all times and it might be the death of me, but god damn it, if thats the case then im ready to die.
///four tet - "Untitled [SAW2 CD1 Track1] (Four Tet remix)" this song has brought me nothing but joy. i came across the four tet remix album in the second lowest pit of my life. it wasnt a shovel. it wasnt water in the desert. it was meaning and reason and design written across the formless mass and black and blue of life's crush. and thats why i still like it. and thats why i still love it.
7/25/09
fuck the news
Subject : fuck the news
Posted Date: : Jul 25, 2009 2:42 PM
the news sucks. ihate watching it. i hate all the networks. i hate all the spins. i hate that i rarely ever get to hear about anything even remotely important. and i hate that its now more or less a source of entertainment, product placement, and spectacle more than it is a source of information, reliable or not. its something to tell you how to think and feel. and it does it with arguments and commentary that wouldnt stand up in a highschool logic and proofs class if people even went that far in high school, let alone college.
watching the news is like a recieving a daily reminder about just how fucking dumb the majority of americans are. which kind of reminds me of something i thought about near the end of a drug policy class. the conclusion was that the war on drugs was an unsustainable war that is not even close to fighting the real source of the drug problem, if you can even call it that. america is a country of wars. we need wars to dominate everyone else and to flex our will on them, but the only sustainable war, in a country that has thrived on war decade after decade, the only war worth fighting that will take care of so many problems that lead to desert storm part 2 in the first place, the only war to potentially end all wars is a war fought against ignorance.
if people werent so god damn stupid and complacent and fucking misguided there wouldnt be unions, we wouldnt need them, classism would fucking die out because it had to, legislation would be reasonable, people would care about public policy, american cars wouldnt suck dicks and would be worth more than the CHILTON manuals printed about them, fossil fuels wouldnt be a crisis, renewalable energy would be a lot more than a pipe dream, the banks wouldnt have gotten so far gone, gore would have been elected, bush wouldnt have been elected twice, a bill wouldnt have passed making it okay to bring guns into bars, all university would be free, homes wouldnt be built ten feet away from hurricane swells, infrastructure would be stable and able to grow, wal mart would be gone, america wouldnt be an exclusionist state, global warming would be under control, 1 percent of the people wouldnt have 50 percent of the wealth, healthcare would be available for everyone, cigarettes would go away, stupid drug laws would never happen, you'd have to be older than 16 to drive, and younger than 21 to drink, politics wouldnt be nebulous, school would teach you how to learn and grow, prison would reform instead of being a self serving industry, campaigning wouldnt mean pandering, the best man would usually win, the f22 would be out of production years ago, we wouldnt be in a consumer/debt driven society, outsourcing would be non-existant, religion wouldnt be law, the free market would be a myth, job security would be real, a life of excess would be considered abhorrent instead of the ultimate goal to work toward, celebrity would shrivel up and die like the wretched pox on humanity it is, tv would be worth watching, homelessness would be a choice, joining the military wouldnt be the only way out of a dead end life, people would be upwardly mobile, stories of courage would be exclusive of any tv or film personality or lifestyle choice, rags to riches stories would never be told, athletes would not command more money than the president, and corn wouldnt be fucking subsidized.
but the news reminds us every day that america is a pretty fucking ignorant place populated and run by sheep with expense accounts and a desire to someday own an escalade and a helicopter and a house so big the electric bill alone would swallow a low class persons monthly paycheck whole with a pool big enough to provide enough water for a small town to drink and a lawn as green as the sky is blue all located in the middle of the fucking driest climate possible with a gate hardy enough and security force reckless enough to keep out the god damn huns and lurking have nots. cuz what is stupidity and excess without that wonderfully american "they said it couldnt be done so i did it" spirit.
fuck the news. i dont need to be reminded.
///lily allen - ldn: because sometimes things get so rediculously sour that all you can really do is smile about it. the scale of disdain only extends so far. and sometimes things are so black they can only be described in shades of white.
Posted Date: : Jul 25, 2009 2:42 PM
the news sucks. ihate watching it. i hate all the networks. i hate all the spins. i hate that i rarely ever get to hear about anything even remotely important. and i hate that its now more or less a source of entertainment, product placement, and spectacle more than it is a source of information, reliable or not. its something to tell you how to think and feel. and it does it with arguments and commentary that wouldnt stand up in a highschool logic and proofs class if people even went that far in high school, let alone college.
watching the news is like a recieving a daily reminder about just how fucking dumb the majority of americans are. which kind of reminds me of something i thought about near the end of a drug policy class. the conclusion was that the war on drugs was an unsustainable war that is not even close to fighting the real source of the drug problem, if you can even call it that. america is a country of wars. we need wars to dominate everyone else and to flex our will on them, but the only sustainable war, in a country that has thrived on war decade after decade, the only war worth fighting that will take care of so many problems that lead to desert storm part 2 in the first place, the only war to potentially end all wars is a war fought against ignorance.
if people werent so god damn stupid and complacent and fucking misguided there wouldnt be unions, we wouldnt need them, classism would fucking die out because it had to, legislation would be reasonable, people would care about public policy, american cars wouldnt suck dicks and would be worth more than the CHILTON manuals printed about them, fossil fuels wouldnt be a crisis, renewalable energy would be a lot more than a pipe dream, the banks wouldnt have gotten so far gone, gore would have been elected, bush wouldnt have been elected twice, a bill wouldnt have passed making it okay to bring guns into bars, all university would be free, homes wouldnt be built ten feet away from hurricane swells, infrastructure would be stable and able to grow, wal mart would be gone, america wouldnt be an exclusionist state, global warming would be under control, 1 percent of the people wouldnt have 50 percent of the wealth, healthcare would be available for everyone, cigarettes would go away, stupid drug laws would never happen, you'd have to be older than 16 to drive, and younger than 21 to drink, politics wouldnt be nebulous, school would teach you how to learn and grow, prison would reform instead of being a self serving industry, campaigning wouldnt mean pandering, the best man would usually win, the f22 would be out of production years ago, we wouldnt be in a consumer/debt driven society, outsourcing would be non-existant, religion wouldnt be law, the free market would be a myth, job security would be real, a life of excess would be considered abhorrent instead of the ultimate goal to work toward, celebrity would shrivel up and die like the wretched pox on humanity it is, tv would be worth watching, homelessness would be a choice, joining the military wouldnt be the only way out of a dead end life, people would be upwardly mobile, stories of courage would be exclusive of any tv or film personality or lifestyle choice, rags to riches stories would never be told, athletes would not command more money than the president, and corn wouldnt be fucking subsidized.
but the news reminds us every day that america is a pretty fucking ignorant place populated and run by sheep with expense accounts and a desire to someday own an escalade and a helicopter and a house so big the electric bill alone would swallow a low class persons monthly paycheck whole with a pool big enough to provide enough water for a small town to drink and a lawn as green as the sky is blue all located in the middle of the fucking driest climate possible with a gate hardy enough and security force reckless enough to keep out the god damn huns and lurking have nots. cuz what is stupidity and excess without that wonderfully american "they said it couldnt be done so i did it" spirit.
fuck the news. i dont need to be reminded.
///lily allen - ldn: because sometimes things get so rediculously sour that all you can really do is smile about it. the scale of disdain only extends so far. and sometimes things are so black they can only be described in shades of white.
7/21/08
muthafuckinassholes 07/21/08
Subject : MuthaFuckinAssholes
Posted Date: : Jul 21, 2008 8:02 PM
I'm going to get my MFA.
its decided. next fall. not this fall. but the next.
i dont have money now. i cant get a job in the industry i've chosen without my BA. its just an unreal expectation. im going to work at a grocery store. im okay with that! im happy. because im choosing to be.
so fuck you. and fuck me. but not for trying. i dont know where i came under the impression that i would somehow magically break into writing/publishing/editing without putting in time to at least get a BA or an internship first. Actually... i take that back
i came under that impression because i've been at the whole college game for five years now... going on six. ive already put it in a lot of time, and i feel like ive paid some of my dues... some of my maturity debt... but apparently i havent paid enough to the mfa-s that run things.
which kind of sucks... but its what keeps the world turning so i have to do more time on the bottom before i can get a taste of that middle crust. i dont even want a lick of the top yet. im going to get it though.
i wont say if it kills me. not that desparate yet. but im getting there. here's to hoping that my plans don't continue to collapse on themselves. just imagining the rebuilding operation already required of me is enough to give me a headache. im working overtime just to keep the rubble already on site from crushing the life out of what's left- let alone from catching fire again.
oh well...
no song for today... maybe tomorrow.
Posted Date: : Jul 21, 2008 8:02 PM
I'm going to get my MFA.
its decided. next fall. not this fall. but the next.
i dont have money now. i cant get a job in the industry i've chosen without my BA. its just an unreal expectation. im going to work at a grocery store. im okay with that! im happy. because im choosing to be.
so fuck you. and fuck me. but not for trying. i dont know where i came under the impression that i would somehow magically break into writing/publishing/editing without putting in time to at least get a BA or an internship first. Actually... i take that back
i came under that impression because i've been at the whole college game for five years now... going on six. ive already put it in a lot of time, and i feel like ive paid some of my dues... some of my maturity debt... but apparently i havent paid enough to the mfa-s that run things.
which kind of sucks... but its what keeps the world turning so i have to do more time on the bottom before i can get a taste of that middle crust. i dont even want a lick of the top yet. im going to get it though.
i wont say if it kills me. not that desparate yet. but im getting there. here's to hoping that my plans don't continue to collapse on themselves. just imagining the rebuilding operation already required of me is enough to give me a headache. im working overtime just to keep the rubble already on site from crushing the life out of what's left- let alone from catching fire again.
oh well...
no song for today... maybe tomorrow.
7/20/08
notes to self 07/20/08
Subject : notes to self
Posted Date: : Jul 20, 2008 7:48 PM
things not to forget in this late hour:
the arts are still largely the realm of the landed gentry... for those with the liesure time (read ain't gotta work all day everyday for a penny to pay their landlords & lenders) to indulge in the creative work it takes to become successful in a lasting impactful way. of course there are exceptions. classism in america is built on accentuating those exceptions so everyone can feel better about their meddling and dabbling. sure some people work at it for years and make it but they are the mutha f kin minority.
the problem with starting from a now state is that all the reference to the past is lost at the blocks. so retreading, albeit in grand and eye popping fashion to some, is still a retread for the ones that were there before the now. should that matter to the starter? probably not. it might be harder to find fresh ground to break. it might take longer. it might never happen. but then again a lot of things might never happen. so let the critics place the position where ever it may fall and keep walking.
being put in a box. to be feared? flaunted? or simply ignored? should a person be worried that the work they are doing is like the work someone else halfway around the globe is doing and that when held up to the general standard, if there is one (i think there has to be), they might get lumped in with people that are not as great as they think they should be considered? i mean, is c.d. wright an elliptical poet? should someone care if they're considered part of a "school" of thought and action or be concerned when they are left free floating and unaffiliated by anyone to any greater human art project? well, it shouldn't make the project any less worthwhile. but maybe it does...
the problem with education in creative writing is that its taught through emulation. if you don't succeed at emulation you must be failing at understanding where the art has come from. i dont like that. historical orientation should not be the function of- there has to be a better way to learn forms. i agree that you cant break rules till you learn them, but god damn it. for fucks sake.
carnegie mellon was recently praised for its "strict disciplinary structure" that somehow, through the magic of perspective and self righteous justification, unites the woefully disparate schools. i dont agree with that. im an example of what inflexible disciplinary structures can do to anyone who doesnt fit the prototypical student mold. you fail. at all classes. despite your knowledge, despite your growth, despite your ability to demonstrate said knowledge, synthesize your own ideas from said knowledge, and create new ones of your own design, its all for nothing because you missed four classes out of the entire semester. its all for nothing because you changed majors and none of the units transferred. its all for nothing because you had to work a part time job to support yourself and it cut in to your ability to produce a paper that regurgitated information from another paper that had nothing to do with your final project (which you subsequently aced) anyway. f l ustration.
take more notes. i lost two ideas today that held promise because i didnt write them down. thats two things i could have added to my co activated knowledge that now leads to dead end neurons.
get more sleep. lack of sleep is where it all starts... you dont want to be back on pills, do you? no. i dont.
Posted Date: : Jul 20, 2008 7:48 PM
things not to forget in this late hour:
the arts are still largely the realm of the landed gentry... for those with the liesure time (read ain't gotta work all day everyday for a penny to pay their landlords & lenders) to indulge in the creative work it takes to become successful in a lasting impactful way. of course there are exceptions. classism in america is built on accentuating those exceptions so everyone can feel better about their meddling and dabbling. sure some people work at it for years and make it but they are the mutha f kin minority.
the problem with starting from a now state is that all the reference to the past is lost at the blocks. so retreading, albeit in grand and eye popping fashion to some, is still a retread for the ones that were there before the now. should that matter to the starter? probably not. it might be harder to find fresh ground to break. it might take longer. it might never happen. but then again a lot of things might never happen. so let the critics place the position where ever it may fall and keep walking.
being put in a box. to be feared? flaunted? or simply ignored? should a person be worried that the work they are doing is like the work someone else halfway around the globe is doing and that when held up to the general standard, if there is one (i think there has to be), they might get lumped in with people that are not as great as they think they should be considered? i mean, is c.d. wright an elliptical poet? should someone care if they're considered part of a "school" of thought and action or be concerned when they are left free floating and unaffiliated by anyone to any greater human art project? well, it shouldn't make the project any less worthwhile. but maybe it does...
the problem with education in creative writing is that its taught through emulation. if you don't succeed at emulation you must be failing at understanding where the art has come from. i dont like that. historical orientation should not be the function of- there has to be a better way to learn forms. i agree that you cant break rules till you learn them, but god damn it. for fucks sake.
carnegie mellon was recently praised for its "strict disciplinary structure" that somehow, through the magic of perspective and self righteous justification, unites the woefully disparate schools. i dont agree with that. im an example of what inflexible disciplinary structures can do to anyone who doesnt fit the prototypical student mold. you fail. at all classes. despite your knowledge, despite your growth, despite your ability to demonstrate said knowledge, synthesize your own ideas from said knowledge, and create new ones of your own design, its all for nothing because you missed four classes out of the entire semester. its all for nothing because you changed majors and none of the units transferred. its all for nothing because you had to work a part time job to support yourself and it cut in to your ability to produce a paper that regurgitated information from another paper that had nothing to do with your final project (which you subsequently aced) anyway. f l ustration.
take more notes. i lost two ideas today that held promise because i didnt write them down. thats two things i could have added to my co activated knowledge that now leads to dead end neurons.
get more sleep. lack of sleep is where it all starts... you dont want to be back on pills, do you? no. i dont.
6/17/07
people are smart 06/17/07
Subject : "people are smart"
Posted Date: : Jun 17, 2007 1:00 PM
there are few things funnier than commercials that convince their viewers that they are smart. first of all if you can be convinced of your inteligence by a television commercial you are probably not that bright. second of all a commercial is not the authority on human inteligence, inteligent people are. and thirdly its a fucking commercial!!! commercials dont change the smart half of the publics opinion about the dumber half... no offense to the morons out there.
ditech. "people are smart" dream on.
Posted Date: : Jun 17, 2007 1:00 PM
there are few things funnier than commercials that convince their viewers that they are smart. first of all if you can be convinced of your inteligence by a television commercial you are probably not that bright. second of all a commercial is not the authority on human inteligence, inteligent people are. and thirdly its a fucking commercial!!! commercials dont change the smart half of the publics opinion about the dumber half... no offense to the morons out there.
ditech. "people are smart" dream on.
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.
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