I've been task locked, I will admit. Moving on to what? To separate things. I would think. The stars are up tonight. They're mapping me and it's good. I'm thinking about scarification. Or at least a more direct method of production. To accompany. Not so much an accompaniment as a new machine I can introduce to the factory floor and see if they'll pick it up and make good use of it.
I was trying to think of the last time I felt like I was the center of the universe and I can't really remember a time, but that's also probably because my memory basically ends around age 9. Which I'm thankful for. Evening running backward past 11 things basically get so garbled and hazy I'm not really sure if what I'm remembering happened then or earlier. I'm okay with that. If I could wipe everything up through highschool that would just be peaches.
Tomorrow will start a week of industry. I haven't declared one of those in a while, but it's past time. Let's talk about other things. Not to forget, but to make new memories. My time is short. My dreams are long. 4 hours. Not enough. Someone told me I need to get more hours at my job. Honestly, I'm terrified of that. If there's one thing I know about myself it's that we couldn't support that kind of load if we tried. Only so many channels. Let's do some living. Let's turn some metal. Let's not forget our new selves atop the frames still falling.
///Way Out West - "The Gift" the moon and the stars.
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 pay their way. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pay their way. Show all posts
4/5/11
5/15/10
i owe you one
one sentence about what i do know for certain. i was belly aching about the world, like ya do, and i said that i could probably sum up all of the knowledge i can grasp with certainty. today i give you that sentence in all of its shining glory:
death is freedom.
that's it. i mean, that is the one thing that i know to be a certainty. freedom from what exactly is debatable. whether or not there is an afterlife that will be better or worse than the one you're in is debatable. but the cessation of life, the end of all thought, the end of the never ending struggle of blah blah blah whatever. who cares. i mean every single day we get along with knowing less and less for certain. in fact a lack of certainty seems to make life easier to live for everybody. the less you really know the happier you are unless youre mission in life is to be all knowing. then you're just angry all day.
i guess thats the part of me that is looking forward to getting older when i start to forget the things that have been burned into my skull and the abuses and the filthy bits of history that refuse to quit. age will erase them and thats good for me. and the world. i think as i get older i will feel less apt to mass murder and more apt to napping and enjoying ... something. anything. that is the unlearning. the switching of dream life into real life.
i suppose thats the appeal of avatar really. screw the anti war message. screw the native overtones of history and genocide. the real joy in watching avatar is the possibility and promise of that one day down your road when your brain pumps you full of dmt and everything you really wanted in life, everything you were denied, everything your mind mulled over when the real world wouldnt let it, becomes real.
that, i am looking forward to very much. what else do i owe you? oh yeah... a link:... well no. no link. i didnt find anything particularly fun today. today was not a fun day. but who the hell has time for fun these days anyway. i do. i have time for fun. because i have no job.
okay heres something useful: you pay for what you get when it comes to alcohol up to about the 25 dollar mark. beyond 25 its all a matter of taste preference and taste is imparted by the individual maker's process. case in point? you didnt ask? im talking to myself? well, case in point... i like whiskey/bourbon/scotch whatever you call it. i dont know the subtle differences but i do know what fucking disgusting moonshinerocketfueltotheface tastes like. i wanted a 1.75 of old grandad 101. the shop didnt have it. i was going to settle for some beam than. the shop didnt have the 86 proof beam black. fine. next step down for me was beam white. it cost 25 bucks. little iffy. its only 80 proof and id run through it fast. was it worth the 25 dollars, just fucking tell us already. it was, but i didnt know it till after i bought the bottle of kentucky gentleman, went home, and poured a glass. god awful shit, but it was 7.50 a liter.
why so god awful? the proof was the same. they both said whiskey on the label. well in small fucking print it said on the kentucky gentleman whiskey and "other spirits". enter jet fuel. 51% whiskey. 49% jet fuel. 100% not worth 7.50 a liter. let this be a lesson to ye youths. pay the extra 5 or 10 bucks and get something that only needs a pair of ice cubes to drink.
dont buy this.
///luke slater - "hectic bag" rolling deep bass and a moment of clarity matched only by driving on the interstate from chicago to kansas city and somewhere in between with a train drawing a line between sky and land on your left and empty fields stretching to infinity on your right the overcast sky breaks open and the cars dotting the road slipping away in front of you glisten like the backs of dolphins in an ocean of gray light.
death is freedom.
that's it. i mean, that is the one thing that i know to be a certainty. freedom from what exactly is debatable. whether or not there is an afterlife that will be better or worse than the one you're in is debatable. but the cessation of life, the end of all thought, the end of the never ending struggle of blah blah blah whatever. who cares. i mean every single day we get along with knowing less and less for certain. in fact a lack of certainty seems to make life easier to live for everybody. the less you really know the happier you are unless youre mission in life is to be all knowing. then you're just angry all day.
i guess thats the part of me that is looking forward to getting older when i start to forget the things that have been burned into my skull and the abuses and the filthy bits of history that refuse to quit. age will erase them and thats good for me. and the world. i think as i get older i will feel less apt to mass murder and more apt to napping and enjoying ... something. anything. that is the unlearning. the switching of dream life into real life.
i suppose thats the appeal of avatar really. screw the anti war message. screw the native overtones of history and genocide. the real joy in watching avatar is the possibility and promise of that one day down your road when your brain pumps you full of dmt and everything you really wanted in life, everything you were denied, everything your mind mulled over when the real world wouldnt let it, becomes real.
that, i am looking forward to very much. what else do i owe you? oh yeah... a link:... well no. no link. i didnt find anything particularly fun today. today was not a fun day. but who the hell has time for fun these days anyway. i do. i have time for fun. because i have no job.
okay heres something useful: you pay for what you get when it comes to alcohol up to about the 25 dollar mark. beyond 25 its all a matter of taste preference and taste is imparted by the individual maker's process. case in point? you didnt ask? im talking to myself? well, case in point... i like whiskey/bourbon/scotch whatever you call it. i dont know the subtle differences but i do know what fucking disgusting moonshinerocketfueltotheface tastes like. i wanted a 1.75 of old grandad 101. the shop didnt have it. i was going to settle for some beam than. the shop didnt have the 86 proof beam black. fine. next step down for me was beam white. it cost 25 bucks. little iffy. its only 80 proof and id run through it fast. was it worth the 25 dollars, just fucking tell us already. it was, but i didnt know it till after i bought the bottle of kentucky gentleman, went home, and poured a glass. god awful shit, but it was 7.50 a liter.
why so god awful? the proof was the same. they both said whiskey on the label. well in small fucking print it said on the kentucky gentleman whiskey and "other spirits". enter jet fuel. 51% whiskey. 49% jet fuel. 100% not worth 7.50 a liter. let this be a lesson to ye youths. pay the extra 5 or 10 bucks and get something that only needs a pair of ice cubes to drink.
dont buy this.
///luke slater - "hectic bag" rolling deep bass and a moment of clarity matched only by driving on the interstate from chicago to kansas city and somewhere in between with a train drawing a line between sky and land on your left and empty fields stretching to infinity on your right the overcast sky breaks open and the cars dotting the road slipping away in front of you glisten like the backs of dolphins in an ocean of gray light.
8/5/09
i walk to work. no. NO, youre not listening. 08/05/09
they are turning it into the worst fucking investment ever. you know the thing. that thing that "no one can take away from you." that thing that unlocks the power and magic of learning. that thing that lets you make 35K a year on average. yeah, that thing. fucking education. the worst fucking personal investment ever. no one should be saddled with this personal burden. ever. its a fucking business.
they let you sign yourself up (and hopefully one of your parents too) to recieve a bacterial infection. Since you cant pay your way or get perfect grades and be in every club (probably because you're a normal fucking person with real concerns in life from a less than absolutely supportive and financially endowed family and youre probably in that big square part of the standard distribution of human beings under the age of 25) the rules clearly state that if you receive this infection you can go to college. the infection degrades your health and your prospects and your financial reputation and your bank account for up to 30 years and is removed if you pay the people that gave you the infection the cost of tuition plus an arbitrary amount of additional money so that they dont have to work and can go on vacations to exotic places and pay for their kids to go to college. but if you dont pay them back and pay for their vacations, and their kids to go to college, within 30 years, sometimes as little as 15, then the infection metastasizes and kills your work life, financial, family life, and cuts you off from all sources of material/meaningful help.
actual phone call today. keep in mind i answer at least 4 of these a day. I recieve between 8 and 12 every god damn day. "hi im calling on behalf of ers a collection company for UIC. we're calling about 6k you owe. will you be able to close that out today?"
"no. of course not. if i was able i would have done so months ago."
"well the account has been... is delinquent" (i made the fucking payment to keep it out of collections the business day before... but hey its my "deadbeat" word against their "without fault" system. the account was never delinquent before either hence its newly minted arrival at ers) "and we need to close it out immediatel-"
i interrupt her "look, if i had the money i would give it to you. i just started a new job a couple of weeks ago and making barely enough to pay rent, keep my phone on, and pay out my 600 a month in student loans" (my job pays about 19k before chicago and fed taxes)"i cand do some kind of payment plan."
while we're talking my phone rings again and its AES on the other line. calling about one dollar and eighty fucking cents, i shit you not.
"well sir, how much do you make" exasperation tinges her voice. "im not authorized to do a payment plan until i know that along with your mortgage or rent."
"well i make 19k and my rent is 200 a mo" i live wth my gf. it should be 450 but shes letting it slide for now
"thank you sir" she interupts me
"well wait a minute" i interupt her "hold on a sec. i have 70k in student loan debt. doesnt that matter?"
silence. then "well its not really a part of our equations. we do our calkalations based on housing and income" WHAT THE FUCK. ARE YOU SERIOUS? how fucking caniving is that? well next time ill just lump the 6 to 7 hundred a month i pay out to student debt in with my rent.
"based on what i calkalated can you make a 234 dollar good faith payment today?"
"no, if i could do that i would have just paid UIC directly and avoided all this mess."
"can you make a 100 dollar payment?"
"i dont know. maybe."
"okay i need your routing number and check number" WHAT!
"no, i said maybe. i need to do some calculating too and find out what i can afford to pay. i dont have any debt information in front of me because im at work right now"
"do you have your check book?"
"no im at work. im standing at the front counter right now, at my job, so i can make money to pay you people."
"well can you go and get it on your lunch break?"
"no, i walk to work. i cant get home and back here on my lunch break."
"well cant you just give me the routing number?"
what the fuck. listen to the words coming out of my fucking mouth!!!
"no, im at work. i dont have a car. if i could afford a car i could afford to pay you people."
pohone rings again. guess who? its ers. on another line. in another office. calling about the same fucking thing. literally to the T. i switch and then switch back to cynthia.
"i am car less. i have a hard enough time just keeping my phone on just so i can get calls from you people six times a day. i walk to work. i dont have my checkbook because when i left i planned on going to work. not to the bank. its what i do on week days."
"well can you call me tonight then so we can discuss this matter?"
"there isnt much else to discuss unless you're coming up with smaller monthly payments. i need to go home and review some information and my finances and ill get back to you as soon as i can and hopefully itll be with good news."
literally twenty minutes later phone rings again. ERS. about the same thing. i tell the new lady i just talked to cynthia. must be a fake name because she had no fucking clue who that was. i tell her everything i told the first lady. she tries to play the "oh i know youre struggling but i just want to help you. do you have a routing number today? well call me back tomorrow at 9am." which turned right before she hung up to "ill call you tomorrow at 9am." which i promptly corrected
"dont call me. ill call you with information."
but she tries to play the "i identify with your position and want to do whats best for you and my company and get this resolved as quickly (left out satisfactorially) as possible" but i wasnt buying it. they always do that. see the thing is... that person on the other end doesnt fucking identify with you. they dont know what it feels like to get these calls year after fucking YEAR after FUCKING YEAR. they have no fucking clue. and thats why i want to strangle them. i want to put their eyes in meat grinders. i want to beat their children till their skin comes off in wet sheets. i want to pull their teeth out one mm at a time, suck the ripped nerve ending out of it and spit it into their empty eye sockets. they have no idea what its like to not sleep... to grind your teeth... to jump everytime your fucking phone rings.... to miss job opportunities because you didnt recognize the incoming calls number... agonize over spending 99 cents on a fucking piece of candy because it might make or break you that month.
its a fucking industry. and every day this goes on. it makes me wish more and more. that i hadnt aspired to anything more than dropping out of highschool and learning how to fucking dig ditches, flip burgers, and never look past the end of my own dick. fuck education. thats how the lending situation as it stands today makes me feel. its gonna take decades before i can even dream about telling my future kids differently. let alone anyone else who asks me for advice. the wonderful usa is pay to play. and you better be fucking prepared to pay or your fucked. they might not smash off the back of your head with a hammer and fuck your gray matter today... but theyll get you. they got nothing but time.
///nine inch nails - right where it belongs (year zero): yeah i get that feeling sometimes trent. your a poet and a scholar, but mostly you're just honest.
they let you sign yourself up (and hopefully one of your parents too) to recieve a bacterial infection. Since you cant pay your way or get perfect grades and be in every club (probably because you're a normal fucking person with real concerns in life from a less than absolutely supportive and financially endowed family and youre probably in that big square part of the standard distribution of human beings under the age of 25) the rules clearly state that if you receive this infection you can go to college. the infection degrades your health and your prospects and your financial reputation and your bank account for up to 30 years and is removed if you pay the people that gave you the infection the cost of tuition plus an arbitrary amount of additional money so that they dont have to work and can go on vacations to exotic places and pay for their kids to go to college. but if you dont pay them back and pay for their vacations, and their kids to go to college, within 30 years, sometimes as little as 15, then the infection metastasizes and kills your work life, financial, family life, and cuts you off from all sources of material/meaningful help.
actual phone call today. keep in mind i answer at least 4 of these a day. I recieve between 8 and 12 every god damn day. "hi im calling on behalf of ers a collection company for UIC. we're calling about 6k you owe. will you be able to close that out today?"
"no. of course not. if i was able i would have done so months ago."
"well the account has been... is delinquent" (i made the fucking payment to keep it out of collections the business day before... but hey its my "deadbeat" word against their "without fault" system. the account was never delinquent before either hence its newly minted arrival at ers) "and we need to close it out immediatel-"
i interrupt her "look, if i had the money i would give it to you. i just started a new job a couple of weeks ago and making barely enough to pay rent, keep my phone on, and pay out my 600 a month in student loans" (my job pays about 19k before chicago and fed taxes)"i cand do some kind of payment plan."
while we're talking my phone rings again and its AES on the other line. calling about one dollar and eighty fucking cents, i shit you not.
"well sir, how much do you make" exasperation tinges her voice. "im not authorized to do a payment plan until i know that along with your mortgage or rent."
"well i make 19k and my rent is 200 a mo" i live wth my gf. it should be 450 but shes letting it slide for now
"thank you sir" she interupts me
"well wait a minute" i interupt her "hold on a sec. i have 70k in student loan debt. doesnt that matter?"
silence. then "well its not really a part of our equations. we do our calkalations based on housing and income" WHAT THE FUCK. ARE YOU SERIOUS? how fucking caniving is that? well next time ill just lump the 6 to 7 hundred a month i pay out to student debt in with my rent.
"based on what i calkalated can you make a 234 dollar good faith payment today?"
"no, if i could do that i would have just paid UIC directly and avoided all this mess."
"can you make a 100 dollar payment?"
"i dont know. maybe."
"okay i need your routing number and check number" WHAT!
"no, i said maybe. i need to do some calculating too and find out what i can afford to pay. i dont have any debt information in front of me because im at work right now"
"do you have your check book?"
"no im at work. im standing at the front counter right now, at my job, so i can make money to pay you people."
"well can you go and get it on your lunch break?"
"no, i walk to work. i cant get home and back here on my lunch break."
"well cant you just give me the routing number?"
what the fuck. listen to the words coming out of my fucking mouth!!!
"no, im at work. i dont have a car. if i could afford a car i could afford to pay you people."
pohone rings again. guess who? its ers. on another line. in another office. calling about the same fucking thing. literally to the T. i switch and then switch back to cynthia.
"i am car less. i have a hard enough time just keeping my phone on just so i can get calls from you people six times a day. i walk to work. i dont have my checkbook because when i left i planned on going to work. not to the bank. its what i do on week days."
"well can you call me tonight then so we can discuss this matter?"
"there isnt much else to discuss unless you're coming up with smaller monthly payments. i need to go home and review some information and my finances and ill get back to you as soon as i can and hopefully itll be with good news."
literally twenty minutes later phone rings again. ERS. about the same thing. i tell the new lady i just talked to cynthia. must be a fake name because she had no fucking clue who that was. i tell her everything i told the first lady. she tries to play the "oh i know youre struggling but i just want to help you. do you have a routing number today? well call me back tomorrow at 9am." which turned right before she hung up to "ill call you tomorrow at 9am." which i promptly corrected
"dont call me. ill call you with information."
but she tries to play the "i identify with your position and want to do whats best for you and my company and get this resolved as quickly (left out satisfactorially) as possible" but i wasnt buying it. they always do that. see the thing is... that person on the other end doesnt fucking identify with you. they dont know what it feels like to get these calls year after fucking YEAR after FUCKING YEAR. they have no fucking clue. and thats why i want to strangle them. i want to put their eyes in meat grinders. i want to beat their children till their skin comes off in wet sheets. i want to pull their teeth out one mm at a time, suck the ripped nerve ending out of it and spit it into their empty eye sockets. they have no idea what its like to not sleep... to grind your teeth... to jump everytime your fucking phone rings.... to miss job opportunities because you didnt recognize the incoming calls number... agonize over spending 99 cents on a fucking piece of candy because it might make or break you that month.
its a fucking industry. and every day this goes on. it makes me wish more and more. that i hadnt aspired to anything more than dropping out of highschool and learning how to fucking dig ditches, flip burgers, and never look past the end of my own dick. fuck education. thats how the lending situation as it stands today makes me feel. its gonna take decades before i can even dream about telling my future kids differently. let alone anyone else who asks me for advice. the wonderful usa is pay to play. and you better be fucking prepared to pay or your fucked. they might not smash off the back of your head with a hammer and fuck your gray matter today... but theyll get you. they got nothing but time.
///nine inch nails - right where it belongs (year zero): yeah i get that feeling sometimes trent. your a poet and a scholar, but mostly you're just honest.
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