AUTHOR.CALHO: If I didn't write it, I would be hitch hiking cross country to Maine and then Alaska in that order. While taking frequent breaks to spread leaflets. And sit in diners. And write on things because I wasn't at a computer. I may still do that in a few years. Writing this also helps me forget about and better understand the limitations of being human, and keeps me busy enough to allow me no free time to burn the world down.

THEMATIC.ABOUT : Collapse often. The things that hold people together and hold them apart and scatter brains. The things that make thoughts go boom. The things that ooh and aah and [expletive deleted]. Sometimes poking around the margins where responsibility ends and the only one to look to is the Original Equipment Manufacturer and say "but, I already pressed 9 for more options and the menus are exactly the same. Can you just replace it?" The answer will be: "please hold." Sometimes hanging out in dark corners. Sometimes following the train tracks. Looking for ways out and ways in and all the while sharing the things seen and heard and done and drawn and written and scorched and healed and teased and caged and dreamed along the way.
Showing posts with label obliviousness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label obliviousness. Show all posts

11/8/17

The Shadowman and the Irrationality of Humans

The common understanding is that humans are irrational.  You can leave off the "beings" part.  Instinctual?  Sure, yes.  Emotional?  Mhm.  Logical?  Ehhhhh... sometimes?  Reasonable?  By turns.  The common understanding is that humans are rational.  It's unfortunate that the base assumption is so.  Where it is born, who knows.  My thought is that the seed of the assumption is formed in the assumption that you are a human and you're decisions and behaviors are rational to you and have furthered your survival and existence so if another human exists their behaviors and decisions must be rational too because they are also surviving.  Something along those lines.  It gets reinforced all over the place from every angle and channel of input.  You get it.  You are rational.  Why would you choose to do something that would jeopardize your very existence?  You don't have a death wish.  You are alive!

Humans are irrational.  Please stop building arguments and drawing lines in the sand from the standpoint of echos reverberating from advertisements and observed actions sculpted into frameworks and canned calls and responses and your pasts and your futures.  We are not rational.  Beings?  Sure.  Yes.  Rational?  No.  Rational some of the time?  Sure, yes.  If you want to make it absolute, one or zero, then we are one.  No being or thing is rational all of the time.  Okay, some things are.  Coins are rational.  Geometry is rational.  Math is rational and even when it's irrational it's rational (I think... I knew mathematicians existed and played at the fringes... pretty sure that foggy math is still relatively...  okay, maybe not... you get the point).  Alright, everything is irrational!

In all seriousness, life has been very frustrating trying to understand why events bring out expressions of concern for well being and continued survival in strange ways.  The most recent shooting is not a tipping point, but mumbling to myself while I worked through the day and the following day was telling.  Enter vice and criminality.

When the argument is made that laws have to stay the way they are because the criminal element will find a way to get what they want regardless of what laws are or are not in place and the citizenry must be able to protect itself from this shadow force, I cringe.  That shadow is being cast from the rational mind inside.

Is there a criminal element in the human population?  Yes.  Is that criminal element rational?  Of course not.  The percentage of the human population that makes up that criminal element is extremely visible and equally small.  It skews perception.  How much of that perceived element is gratified and punched up by the echoed reinforcement of  "I am a rational human being and criminals are humans and therefore also rational."  It is incredibly basic.  If you make laws to prevent something from happening or encourage something to happen to promote survival, a lot of humans will see the outcomes, understand mutual survival, and continue to be.  Those same communal laws will be ignored by some humans for all sorts of reasons and interactions and protein chains and chemical reactions.  We are not rational!  As much as you want to believe it.

Let's bring it to weapons. I need to be able to purchase a weapon capable of defending my life against the criminal element.  The rational criminal will find a way to get the weapon they want.  I need to be able to get one capable of answering whatever challenge that may be and limiting my options is sending me to certain harm.  You're flinching away from your own shadow.  Life is insecure.  Life is irrational.  The penalty for your crime is twenty years in prison.  I'm still going to do it.  The penalty for your crime is 40 years in prison.  I'm still going to do it.  The penalty for your crime is 80 years in prison.  I'm still going to do it.  The penalty for your crime is consecutive life sentences.  It's the principle!  The penalty for your crime is death.  You don't understand how much I've been through!  The penalty for your crime - will never be able to influence some humans actions.  That population is a lot smaller than advertised.

So you have to carry a gun because if you were them you would have a gun and you are rational, unlike them, and you follow the law because the law keeps everyone alive and well and they'd have one anyway because that's what you would do.  You have to protect yourself against the irrational ones.  Sometimes it makes me giggle the way people perceive laws because we see their statements about them and wonder how much of their conviction comes from what they've observed and how much comes from the little voices inside their own heads that they mash and thumb down and keep inside because they are reasonable humans doing what's best for human survival instead of slamming the door shut on who they are only to have it pop open a slip with a loud screeeeeeeeaak an inch or two because the bolt didn't quite seat to the strike plate, but the door's hinges are stout.

Getting what you want, when you want it, when you need it, if laws and community prohibit it, is not nearly as easy as television and hearsay and books and articles make it sound.  How many times have you followed an instruction manual to the letter and failed?  How many times have you gone to a holiday office party to be sociable and improve your image and come away exactly the same as you arrived?  How many times have you turned right on a red lit intersection with a dedicated right lane lamp because you were late and the lanes were clear?  How many times did you walk fifteen minutes away from the bar to get a pack of smokes and fire one up on the way back to the bar because they didn't sell them there and disallowed smoking on the premises?  The easy stuff.  The forgivable stuff.

Ramp it up.  Imagine that gas station is thirty miles away.  Imagine that intersection has five cameras pointed at it.  Imagine that party was organized by you and you showed up fashionably late too.  Imagine holding that instruction manual in your hand, closed, as you flipped the switch to "on" and the entire K'nex set whirred, wobbled, and cracked to pieces in seconds.  Getting what you want, when you want it is not an easy task, but it's fun to think hypothetically as a rational human.

"If I were them, I could do that.  I would do that!  If we are to survive we must make sure that if they do that (they are rational because that's what I would do and I am rational) we can stop them."  No, you couldn't.  It's hilarious and frustrating at once.  If I want to do drugs, I will find a way to do drugs!  No, not really.  If it's convenient, why not.  The feeling may pass.  The chemical programming may or may not.  The decision making is tied to the chemicals and past experiences hard coded upstairs.  It may take a while to shift.  It may never shift.  If it's not readily available, fifty one miles is just too damn long to go get it so I'll stew and grind on with my life without it.  The rational addict goes to get it, makes a way, finds someone who knows someone who heard about someone that was seen somewhere once and goes there to meet them for lunch.  The irrational human stumbles on through the next day and the next day and sits down some afternoons to cuss quietly or aloud and does something else with its time until it becomes a little more convenient and sometimes reflects on why its so upset in the first place.  Sometimes it kills itself, sometimes it hurts others, sometimes it decides to drive fifty one miles to ask a question.  Sometimes it decides now is now and another day is another day.

It's guffaw disappointing when the shadowman is invoked as a reason to do or not do something.  The shadowmen are arming themselves, laws be damned; do you want me to die?!  The shadowmen are circulating drugs all over the place; what of the children?  The shadowmen, the shadowmen, the shadowmen!  Without laws keeping step with the threat of the shadows no one is safe!

Yes, no one is safe.  No ones safety is ever guaranteed.  That goes back to when humans had to worry about giant nocturnal multi-legged hunters stealing away their curious young.  People die.  People will be killed.  Someone may murder you.  Someone you know.  Someone you know may murder someone you know.  People find ways to get what they want or need and laws don't stop them no matter how much they have to risk or harm themselves to get it.  The answer isn't lowering the threshold from irrational decision to action.  Raise it.  Otherwise you might as well be trying to fix a hole in a canoe by punching more holes so that everyone is treading water.  If everyone is under threat of drowning we are all safe, right?  Another terrible analogy.  Believing making something proven and observed to be extremely hazardous to other people readily available to everyone to level an imaginary playing field is just flat laughable.

Why are you so afraid of the shadowman?

Who's been whispering in your ear?

How do you not see the upside-down superimposed on what you advocate for and not pause?

We are not rational people.  Hearing arguments bounce back and forth with real ramifications, buoyed by this ghost echo of an assumption of reasonable behavior, it's stupefying.  The invocation of this evildoer for all seasons with no regard for law or just basic basic basic irrational humanness is disheartening.  But we are rational people.  We will survive.



///The Shadow




8/18/14

What Scares You

What scares you?  What scares you?  What really fucking scares you?  That he's better than you?  That he's better than you in every way?  That the choice was the right one?  That she's still down there enabling him?  That the paper is still blank?  That the paint has gotten too old to use?  That he might be angry at you instead of with you?  That you are not properly equipped?  That the next gas station may be out of range?  That your keys are at home?  That you are being entertained?  That you're not incorporated?  That the bug may be permanent?  That there is not enough gauze?  That the tuna may run out?  What really scares you?

Don't make me wait.  I am exceptionally patient except when I'm not.  I don't know what really scares me, for what I've compensated for.  I do know what really scares me.  All of the above.  Very long knee jerk reactions.  Knee jerk reactions spanning days and weeks and months and now years.  I'm okay with it, I suppose.  We never do come for money, except when we specifically do.

What scares me is not the not knowing for sure.    What scares me is not knowing how to respond at an appropriate volume.  Of course they can tune you out at will.  Which is nice.  The option takes a bit of the guess work out.  I typed guest work.  It's true, though.  You are a guest.  We are guests.  And they can.  I'm not where the being polite or respectful or conscientious ends and being a good proper guest and friend ends.  Division by addition feels like it works.  The results are wishywashy.  Concernedly so.

Why will you not tell me?  Do you believe that I will somehow be irrevocably shattered by the information?  Do you believe that I will somehow be so shaken that  I cry all of the water out of my body and shrivel up and die?  It makes me laugh the not good laugh to think that may be true.  If you're not a friend, you're not.  Friend is the worst "F" word.  Loaded for no reason.  If you're not an associate, you're not an associate and that's perfectly fine.  You can waste time if you like.  Placate me too, if it twists your earlobe good when you get the itch.  I'm fine with that too.

I think what I'm trying to articulate is that what scares me the most is that I am in hot pursuit of avenues of communication and the way it comes out is a three dimensional graphics sprint into a brick wall, legs chugging, my little arrow on the map, my associates viewing and confused.  What really fucking scares me is not communicating in an understandable and lagoon clear way.

Though I may be a dragon, if you speak lizard, I can talk to you.  We can do dragon business.  Fear doesn't scare me.  Occasionally, day light does.  Police officers and their flashlights too, but I am civil and citizen.

I want to listen to the Penguin Freud orchestra and hear more songs about Easter Island and travel more.  Growing up American.  Straight up fucking American.  The child of explorers.  The child of, perhaps, orphans and seafarers now land locked and fairly domesticated.  The child of pressure and heat and weapons and bombs and "on threat of death."  A child whose fences end where the nuclear powered ships cannot go.  Yeah, I'm good with that.  How long does it take to breed the grit and horizon lust out of the genes?  How long does it take to saw off the hard nosed muzzle and graft in the gatherer for the hunter?  Fuck if I know.



///Seatbelts - "Spokey Dokey"  and they called me old fashioned.  they called me old fashioned!
///

1/26/14

What Is and Should Not Be

I'm pretty sure, fairly certain, that what I am is asexual.  Ambivalent to any and all ranges of sexual encounters.  Does that make me some kind of freak animal?  No.  Does that make me open to any and all sorts of encounters?  Yes.  Does that make me bored with sex?  Also yes.

It also makes me very disappointed and disinterested in every and all things involving sexual parts.  Interest peaked?  Sure.  Able to love, again, sure.  Able to participate?  Also, again yes.  With enthusiasm?  Of course.

I understand the artistry of it.  The mechanics of it.  The connection as well.  What I am attempting to define is the isness of sex.  I can no longer participate in the action and experience the subtexts of it in a meaningful way.  Meaningful being defined as a further connection or a connection that helps define a further relationship.  For better or for worse I do believe I am evolving into an asexual state.

Monotone perhaps.  Evolution not necessarily meaning some sort of higher or greater sense, but simply a thing not defining the current state.  Every attraction being a curio and nothing more, but being something and meaning something more than the cellar dweller slut.

Maybe meaning something more like "yes this or that feels good, but if an inanimate object could give me that on occasion I would actually marry it and talk to it and have tea with it and sit and watch television with it and adopt a child with it and help he/she learn how to play baseball with it and introduce it one day and explain the birds and the bees and the birds and the wind to it and disclaim immaculate conception to him/her while it sat on a chair beside us" kind of way.

A relentless pursuit of violence through love.  Where that one is divides the ground by gashes and swathes of earth scorched and the question persists: "can you live on this, because I can go lower?"  The question persists: "I have seen the floor and seen yours, are you ready to hold hands and see how deep that rabbit hole goes?"

It is difficult to rake the years and every time we hang out I cannot understand why you did not let go too.  I wonder for seconds if I did something wrong.  I want some times to attack the people you call home because they know nothing and I read them right and, if not, can at least scream to you that they read me wrong and the only thing protecting them from me is you and the respect therein and the laws they built their bullshit on and the same laws keeping me from spilling guts and skating toward the door on intestine.

No one is as intense in person as they are on paper.  That's simple fact.  Give me one day of freedom.  True freedom.  And everything done on that day will remain inside those 24 hours.  I will make tracks and make tracks, and close loose ends, and if you need more than 24 hours to catch me, tough luck because the statute of limitations says so.

I am plushy.  Everyone needs.  Everyone wants.  Each and everyone has something to forget.  Sometimes it is easier to erase everything else than make edits.




///Fergie - (Clumsy)       "...some day, we'll have a two car garage, a tea nook, and a butcher locker..."

8/3/13

that instant

you almost poked yourself through your messy parts because you fell into your chair too fast all upset about nothing again.   Take it down a notch, home slice.

5/9/12

Not Again. Yes Again

  I pretty much exploded just about every single breaker on my mind this past weekend.  It was rough.  Massive overload.  Massive violence.  Memory loss.  Found things in my apartment that did not belong to me that were covered in blood that was not mine.  Strange stuff.  Just a complete collapse that was punctuated by a friend in bad straits and there was nothing I could do really to help her, but god damn it I tried and I will try again if it happens again.  Powerlessness.  Is a terrible thing.  Drives me to do and exercise the things I can do.  Which are few.  And most of those things lead to bad circumstances.

I know at some point my luck is going to run out and things will not go anywhere near the way I planned them.  I will be on the wrong end of the violence and rage.  Over my head without even knowing it.  Without realizing it until it happens.  I don't think I'll be all that upset though.  A way out.  Not the way out I would want, but how far I would go to resist is questionable.  I don't think I would, beyond reflex.  I did set out to specifically kill someone.  Ended up in tears and bloodless.  I suppose that was the second time.  I don't remember what happened the first time.  The point is I've got stop letting go like that.  Gotta stop letting myself be provoked.

Control.  Without control there is nothing.  I can't afford to lose like that.  Not yet.  Still too much work to do.  Gotta get my head back on straight if I'm going to live through the bull shit and the slippage and the blow outs and the


///Tosca - "Oscar"  I've had the most fantastic dreams over the last two days about stories I need to write.  I need to do it.  I'm not really afraid of running out of time.  I just know that time is running out of me like blood from a head wound.

12/7/11

Moving Pictures

I have been dodging, though I hope artfully. I have been fairly thick into writing as I should be. I had a bad spate of poetry that was sexual frustration pure and simple. It never got resolved but like the urge to work out or smoke it went away with time so I could get back to imagination. It's still there on the back burner crisping up into something unrecognizable, but it's a thing I can at least be okay with.

Had a major identity crisis. Not really a crisis as much as a realization that there is no way I can use somebody or let somebody use me again. Even if it is a mutual causation, a mutual understanding of the fact of the reduction of the human being to object. Basically I came to the understanding that shifting my expectations of what fucking is backward to the level of what someone else understands it to be, successful or not, is a failure on my part. It gets to the point where trying to meet someone halfway, because they don't believe knives should be involved and pretending you think that is okay with you when you are on the hunt for someone at least as open and screwed in the head case as you and also homosexual and who will not turn pale when you describe your dream date, becomes an effort to use someone to fulfill, by most standards, bad fantasies. And I'm a user of many things, but I will never use a human being. Hell, I would never use an animal for that matter.

I don't care two licks for most classes of emotions just because I don't feel many of them as they relate to relationships and friendships fairly often unless they fall into my pretty obscure and unrecognized code of ethics and procedure, but I do care for the idea of the preservation of happiness. I think that should be the governing principle in life. If everyone did everything they possibly could every day to disappoint the least amount of people... who am I kidding. That would be a terrible policy. On an individual level, an isolated level, it works, but scale it up and you don't have to go far before it produces stinging and awful results.

The point is I have been dodging you. At first I was dodging you because I had nothing to show. Then I had something to show, but I was so long away I was ashamed to return. And then I had something to show and was ashamed and then on top of that I was gone so long I felt what I had to show did not justify the length of the absence. And it went around and around and around until I came to be here to face the music, my own music, an orchestration I gestured on my own, all the while missing you and the me that could still make sentences. The worst is over, again. Missed out on health insurance. Not by my own lack of action. I was excluded because of how the time line fell into place. So I don't have to worry about meds in the short term. Which means I do have to worry. It's aggravating. Disparaging? Is that even the right word? No it is not. Disappointing. Anti-soothed.

I did put together a pair of stories. It was difficult. They were souping up and I ended up forcing both endings because I ran out of time. The problem was that the stories still had a few thousand words to go before they reached reasonable clipping points where they would sew themselves up nicely and I jumped the gun. Not an honest mistake. Just a regular mistake, but sometimes being able to move on to other things is a good thing. It's not like I can't go back and reopen the sutures, dig my fingers back in, and get the knife out. That's the best thing about having them out there in the bin. And they're not complete still births. Some things worked well and part of the work is learning what works and then using the structure and pieces later on to make other things better. Same thing with poetry. Anyway. Rearranging some things to get more out of myself without pushing too far over the line and shutting down.

Take care. I'll try to. I've been thinking of what I actually use facebook for. I think at this point my wall is basically an art space. Just one big ball of expression. An interactive art piece of sorts. I think I'm happy with that. I don't really use it for connecting with people. I don't think people use it for connecting with me. Maybe they do. Maybe it's pretty much as close as some people should get. I think I am okay with that too, most of the time, as anger management and interpersonal relations are not exactly fortes these days. Those social skills keep eroding because I hardly use them. Partly my own fault. Circling the camps. Every time I go in I'm reminded of why I shouldn't be there. So I'll keep balling up art.

Later on.


///Tricky - "Excess" I believe in people being.

8/2/11

The Right One In

This entry was about a thousand words longer, but I thought about it some more and boiled it down beyond harping.

There are people that are there for you and there are people that think they are there for you. People that listen to you talk and try to participate in your dreams and delusions and end up sounding like hollow eyed parrots. People that try to hug you and have no idea how to actually hug another human being. People that think being there means saying "hey come by anytime" when you're not actually able to get there. Or, saying "sure come and stay as long as you need to except we'll have you moved to a homeless shelter if you don't find a place to stay in fourteen days." Amongst other things, it's just galling and conceited of a person to insist that they're "there" for you when they have no concept of what "being there" actually means to you and they believe themselves to be a saint to you when what they're doing is about as useful as giving a homeless man an end table and saying "my work here is done."



Don't tell me we have everything in common because we both had bad parents and should suddenly be bonded for life with endless stories to tell each other. Suffering maybe universal on a general level of human experience, but personal suffering is just that. Exceptionally personal. Never tell someone, after they tell you explicitly that you have nothing in common, that you have everything in common because you both had a bad dad, or wanted to play sports when you were little. How arrogant do you have to be to tell someone that you know them better then they know themselves. It's just plain stupid.

Don't ever tell me you're there for me and I won't let you in or don't want to be your friend because I'm afraid that you're "there for me," and I'm running away. It's a thing I don't want to dignify with a response.

I know myself pretty god damn well (though there's still so much I still learn) and know one knows me better than my former psychiatrist because I've told him things I haven't and will never tell anyone. Don't tell me, ever, that I'm afraid to let you in. Any person can want to be let into your life. Any person can want to be there for you and stand outside the windows of your eyes asking why you treat them so badly because they've been there for you all this time and you never once thanked them. Any person can want to be like you and have everything in common with you. But what it takes to "be there for me", trust, you cannot and have not done. Why should I thank you. When I tell you we have nothing in common, it's because I know myself well enough to be able to say so with certainty. And when it comes to who you let into your life, everything else becomes secondary, as long as you let the right one in, and I'm sorry, but it isn't you.

I'm sorry about that last part. It wasn't written directly to you, but to the person who is causing some problems because they thought and probably still swear to themselves up and down that they are all of those things that I just explained to you, so many people are not. It's grown tiresome, and I just had to get it out of my skull.

Some people really are there for you. Some people can be let into parts of your life. Some people do have things in common with you and me. But most people aren't, can't, and don't and one thing life has taught me through the years is that if you don't let the right one in, it makes it tough to move anything else forward when they start to ask you why you push them away.

Anyway, missed ya. Be back later with more items de arte.


Massive Attack - "Man Next Door" ...from here... onto the night.

7/10/10

get sorted

Well, I'm lost. I realized it today. Well actually I realized it yesterday when I went to bed at 5:30 in the morning. That was a pretty good indicator that I'm not really driving in any particular direction with any sort of conviction. On the other hand, it could be an indication that I'm driving in every direction with complete conviction. Either way the sum of detectable movement is a big fat zero.

Qualifier: it is a happy zero. I haven't accomplished nothing in my efforts to accomplish everything. I simply haven't produced anything measurable by fiscal standards, and who's really keeping track of that? Everyone, you say? Well I don't care all that much. Like Lady GaGa apparently said (I heard from a friend of a friend who read something who was told about the thing to read by a friend's friend) money is boring. The only reason why I want to make money is so that I can pay for things that will free me up to do other things. If food and housing were free, the only jobs I would do were the jobs I wanted to do and I wouldn't have to worry about getting paid because the jobs that I actually want to do are jobs that I would literally do for free. Seeing someone enjoy the product of your labor should, and for me actually is, so enjoyable that I rarely do the things I enjoy for money unless its necessary.

To get back to the point, I've been using my pen tablet to make things like this:



I'm not completely sure why. I used to doodle a lot in high school instead of learning stoichiometry and trigonometry. I suppose if I paid more attention I would be getting home from a 60,000 dollar job after doodling equations instead of sitting at home making pictures. I'm not sure I would make a trade though. I mean obviously it would be nice to have a pay check and a car and an apartment, but I'm not dead, I'm not homeless, and I'm not being starved at the moment so I suppose it's not all bad. I'd rather be able to dream and create than be able to dream and unable to creatively articulate.

And you know what else? I'll fix those images right now before I go to bed, because if I don't I'm going to end up putting it off until I'm on my death bed telling a priest that my only regret was not fixing the graphics on this page.

///Susumu Hirasawa - "Jouken Douji" If you thought Anime music was composed entirely of campy Japanese pop tunes and you haven't tried anything I've recommended by Kanno or Susumu, today should be the day you listen to a track that is all kinds of funky intricate and sexy. Like "really awesome piece of slick technology" sexy, not "anemic girl with plastic breasts" sexy. The bass line in this track is hotter than a lot of hip hop bass lines and from what I know of production (admittedly very little), I'd say the production value is higher than the norm for Anime music. Susumu Hirasawa delivers complexity in balance with beauty and gets it right more often than not.

4/3/10

useful information and the other chris davis

so we all like useful information. are we in agreement? sure we are. so maybe i should make an effort to post useful information. maybe. maybe. thinking about it. considering it. useful information to me? or you? to us? to us!

no i dont think so. well maybe. its tempting. i could put ads on it and stuff to links of things that are useful. but when you think about it people are simply obsessed with useful things. like really super useful ultra niche things. pointlessly useful things, like a shoe horn on a stick. or... hmmm.

heres some useful information... or not.... its hard to think. my wonderful neighbors are having some sort of reunion or gathering and they parked their buicks and dodge chargers, 20 inch crome rims and all, in everyone elses driveways and theyre smoking black and milds and blasting gospel music and generally driving me insane. i hate south bowie. its times like these i wish i was 10 people.

but if you had the power to divide yourself into 10 people and then sent them off to do 10 different things then you could have the potential to feel an infinite mix of emotions at any given moment. if one person could feel mixed emotions about anything it must then be like feeling nothing to feel an infinite mix of emotions. like mixing a bunch of colors of paint together ... eventually it always makes black. so i guess being the core of a collective mind is like being the most level headed person ever... but then if things settle down it would become like one or several of many mental disorders. speculation is sometimes not useful. maybe this is one of those times.

useful information is good. entertainment is better? maybe. a blog full of speculation is better for me. and useful. useful information is good for you, but not here. well maybe once in a while. maybe not. im on the fence.

suuuuck it belgium. maybe. yeah. suck it belgium.



in other news... i found another christopher davis with a blog about optimism and self starting and other strange things. in short its another business man trying to spread his businessmanly old guy wisdom by way of shitty plugs to things he didnt create. i guess thats why i hate the idea of useful information. im just not going to fill my pages with "useful information" you would find elsewhere anyway. im not going to be a middle man for your bullshit. i have my own bullshit to peddle thank you very much. and you can suuuuck it too chris davis on other blog. suuuck a fat ... hmmm whats something original that hasnt been said before.... suuuuck a fat stick of old spice, prick!!! then go blog about how smelling good makes for better business deals or something. i mean come the fuck on.... slivers of goodness? thats what you call it? slivers of razors blades in my wrists. rage. but not enough rage to actually... well maybe. we'll just have to wait and see.

///aphex twin - "next heap with" get some of that peace in your brain before you do something crazy like sick german shepards on people while beating them with batons and hoses cuz it doesnt matter how many of you there are god damn it, this is a quiet nieghborhood and you cant just park where ever the hell you want to in the middle of the day when people are coming and going from their personal business that does not involve asking you to move your god damn car while you stand in a row with your arms crossed trying to intimidate strangers. kthnx.

8/7/09

hey fuck head

next time you invite guests over, dont block the fucking exit. sure its fun to imagine you have so many friends who like hanging out at your place, but the reality of the situation is most of us dont want to be there but cant leave with your oblivious ass squarely in the way suggesting we try the appetizers and insisting so'n'so that we're good friends with "is totally gonna be here in like ten minutes" .

at least have the decency to leave the back door unlocked. while the grand tour is always nice, dont expect us to fall madly in love with your two room studio. so in love in fact that we actually want to hang around there till 1 am... even though we dont really know you... or like your music... or like the people that do seem to know you... or the fact that you asked everyone to bring beer and the only thing youve provided is a box of fucking ritz crackers and colored napkins and shitty music and no places to sit. dont expect us to hang out till 1am when its not worth it to take the half hour hike to a bar (that'll close in half an hour by the time we get there) and the local trains stop running and the only food we can get is a bag of chips and a pack of smokes from the all night deli... and we're all cranky because the cheap wine has managed to give us all hangovers six hours early and the beer is gone and you didnt even have the sense to buy a pack of cards for entertainment.

no we will not be impressed by the cuteness of your cat and late night reruns of bill cosby while the radio oscilates between nickelback and lil wayne for five fucking hours. how about next time not insisting everyone come to your place for a change?

kthnx.

seriously. whut thu fuck.