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Showing posts with label planning. Show all posts
Showing posts with label planning. Show all posts
7/6/13
That Instant
You realize you need to brace yourself for the next undertaking and without it you will stumble. Hard. On your face. And your only excuse for a bloody chin will be "I didn't pause." And you will know that it was, without a doubt, a "you" problem.
12/28/12
Redrum and Other Origins and Valuation
Is it wildly addictive, yeah of course. Does it change you? No not really. There's a certain amount of disappointment that comes with it. A certain amount of asking yourself questions that persist despite the time of day. It's a pretty weird thing. A confluence of circumstance and luck so thick I can talk about it now almost a year removed. Can you imagine sitting on anything for a year?
I tried to talk to my friend about it and she pretty much shut me out. That sucks. I did not anticipate at all how I would be re evaluated. That part of it has been hard to parse and it really has been across the board with each person I've shared it with, chosen to share it with. It's an odd difficulty but I can understand the rejection. I can understand it, but I don't have to accept it, I would like to think.
Do I feel better? Not really. Not as good as I thought I'd feel. Kind of reminds me of paint snuffling. Very short lived and very gorgeous and very forgettable, but so far away from everything enjoyable on a common basis. A rare sadness that presents some unforgettable joy. It's difficult to talk about. Because I know there are people missing her and all that. It's difficult to relate because on top of that there is the knowledge of the missing and maybe that's why I don't sleep so good these last years. Getting away without really getting away (heart in the floor kinda shit except ...)
The most difficult thing has been trying to relate this story without who I relate it to drastically reevaluating who I am as a person. I'm still the same. What's so difficult to understand about needing and finding practice? I understand that I am a very strange and enchanted boy and eventually luck runs out, but how does that mean love evaporates? Or should evaporate? How come once suddenly doesn't mean enough? I could understand trust lost. I could understand that. Total abandonment still stymies me. I don't care what you did or what you do. If I love you I love you. That's it. Where it starts and ends I guess. I think that's all I wanted in return. That's all. Step by stepped is what I got. Oh well. let's explore more. It's a big world and I've a small heart and there's a hell of a lot of music along the way. we'll see where this goes, but honestly i want more comedy. I don't think that's too much to ask. Trying to increase my value to others, you know? It is the first and last time I'll talk about it, so enjoy.
The Seatbelts - "Rain" - its a strange balance. even to me. the worst being that i dont know its been struck yet. knowing how i feel afterward i will try, but i cannot promise anything and i never will.
I tried to talk to my friend about it and she pretty much shut me out. That sucks. I did not anticipate at all how I would be re evaluated. That part of it has been hard to parse and it really has been across the board with each person I've shared it with, chosen to share it with. It's an odd difficulty but I can understand the rejection. I can understand it, but I don't have to accept it, I would like to think.
Do I feel better? Not really. Not as good as I thought I'd feel. Kind of reminds me of paint snuffling. Very short lived and very gorgeous and very forgettable, but so far away from everything enjoyable on a common basis. A rare sadness that presents some unforgettable joy. It's difficult to talk about. Because I know there are people missing her and all that. It's difficult to relate because on top of that there is the knowledge of the missing and maybe that's why I don't sleep so good these last years. Getting away without really getting away (heart in the floor kinda shit except ...)
The most difficult thing has been trying to relate this story without who I relate it to drastically reevaluating who I am as a person. I'm still the same. What's so difficult to understand about needing and finding practice? I understand that I am a very strange and enchanted boy and eventually luck runs out, but how does that mean love evaporates? Or should evaporate? How come once suddenly doesn't mean enough? I could understand trust lost. I could understand that. Total abandonment still stymies me. I don't care what you did or what you do. If I love you I love you. That's it. Where it starts and ends I guess. I think that's all I wanted in return. That's all. Step by stepped is what I got. Oh well. let's explore more. It's a big world and I've a small heart and there's a hell of a lot of music along the way. we'll see where this goes, but honestly i want more comedy. I don't think that's too much to ask. Trying to increase my value to others, you know? It is the first and last time I'll talk about it, so enjoy.
The Seatbelts - "Rain" - its a strange balance. even to me. the worst being that i dont know its been struck yet. knowing how i feel afterward i will try, but i cannot promise anything and i never will.
10/18/12
Crying and Everybody Gets One
Sometimes I feel like all the tears I did not get to cry from the age where my memory starts in patches, five and sometimes six, to where it starts to form a continuous timeline, ten and on, are coming now. Balancing books and things. I've been thinking about it somewhat hard nosed and what I came to was, especially given what came down the pipe at twenty, I'd rather have them now than not at all.
Playing emotional catch up.
I'd rather be emo now, however, than be emo at age fifty (assuming I can make it to fifty iterations. that's a pretty tall order, nah mean?). Part of what I was taught, in writing classes that were worth their weight in gold when they weren't taught by tenured dick faces and holier than though masters ph.d cock tip cum nuggets whom I would still like to punch in the craw and who prevent me from going back to the English department because I will try to strangle them with their own belt, was that you have to exorcise the junk first and everything else will come with time.
That's what she said. Still, there's some merit to that. Problem is I have junk for years. When did everything turn into a fifteen year plan?
Anyway, when I'm rich and famous I'm going to work out my short list of simple assaults. When I'm set for life I'll start chipping into my kill list. First things first. Gotta lay down the work first. Get the junk out of the way. Everything else will come in due time. I can abide by that principle. The hard part is not letting other people jump your gun.
///Vangelis - "One More Kiss Dear"
10/5/12
Musicality
I'm trying to find the music in common sense. Not just that, but I'm trying to find the fun. I believe one of my greatest fears is writing ending being an occupation. Do what you love and everything else will come is largely a lie. Taking bobby pins out of my hair.
I don't know what I want to be, but I know I can't be an astronaut or a race car driver or a stuntman. Well maybe stuntman. Childhood dreams still haunt me, but at least I know (my third pick) I can be a writer given the right circumstances. I can be a bass junkie. That works too.
I know we had a lot of conversations about this
so I will stop there.
All we ever wanted to be was loved. That's a lie. Trying to find a good way to coda this. And I can't find one. The scrap yard has been busy today. Train noises. Bright lights. I feel I am aging inside beyond my years and I don't like it. Precipitation begging the clouds, but sometimes you have to look up
My condition is getting worse. Ghosts in the back room. And all I have to look forward to is the worsening of my schizophrenia. Fuck. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. It hurts. I just want others around me to be happy and to kill them at the same time. I suppose in another life things worked out slightly differently because at this point it is a game of edges. I cannot imagine how things would have worked out otherwise. If I got the help I needed when I needed it instead of, no offense, Jesus.
the highs keep getting higher and the lows lower. There's only so much equipment a frame can carry. But all in all you just try to stay on the human side of things.
Double tracks pending.
///DJ? Acucrack - "In Yer Mind" all the pills
I don't know what I want to be, but I know I can't be an astronaut or a race car driver or a stuntman. Well maybe stuntman. Childhood dreams still haunt me, but at least I know (my third pick) I can be a writer given the right circumstances. I can be a bass junkie. That works too.
I know we had a lot of conversations about this
so I will stop there.
All we ever wanted to be was loved. That's a lie. Trying to find a good way to coda this. And I can't find one. The scrap yard has been busy today. Train noises. Bright lights. I feel I am aging inside beyond my years and I don't like it. Precipitation begging the clouds, but sometimes you have to look up
My condition is getting worse. Ghosts in the back room. And all I have to look forward to is the worsening of my schizophrenia. Fuck. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. It hurts. I just want others around me to be happy and to kill them at the same time. I suppose in another life things worked out slightly differently because at this point it is a game of edges. I cannot imagine how things would have worked out otherwise. If I got the help I needed when I needed it instead of, no offense, Jesus.
the highs keep getting higher and the lows lower. There's only so much equipment a frame can carry. But all in all you just try to stay on the human side of things.
Double tracks pending.
///DJ? Acucrack - "In Yer Mind" all the pills
6/18/12
Admissions, Missions, Poor Planning, Hobos, and Caught Out
So I didn't plan this particularly well. Not as well as I could have. Given my circumstances and propensity for utter restlessness. I'm in a position where I'm dying to hit the road and run, but I just finished a six pack and I know if I go outside right now and try to do anything, my judgement will couple up with my reckless streak and I'll end up punching a hobo in the face in a train tunnel by the river and possibly getting shanked. Nobody wants that. Especially not the part of me that likes to not get knifed. All I can think about, well not all, but most of what I can think about is getting out in that humid cool air and sucking lung fulls of it. Then again I have to keep in mind the mileage I put on last week and make sure I rest my hooves enough to do it all again this week. So maybe, not poor planning. Maybe out smarting myself while out out smarting myself. Or just poor planning. That's easier to say. I'm about ready to jump out of a second story window.
More importantly though I had to go in and delete some blogs. Projects I had a vision for that never panned out. Sometimes because they were joint efforts with other people and the other people never put in the effort and they metastasized into additional solo projects I couldn't support on my own along with the things I was already doing on the regular (and subsequently killed some of the regular efforts I was bending myself to in the brief time I tried to do both). It is kind of tough to admit. Sometimes things just don't work out anywhere near where I expect them to, which is why I am reluctant to do anything with anybody anymore. Not that their real lives tend to take precedent. Or maybe they do. I have no real idea why anyone stops. I know why I stop and start. I just don't see those same reasons being relevant to others. Not that I'm unique or anything like that. I'm just unique in my limits and strengths. No, I'm kidding. Experience has taught me that is the case. My perceptions of myself, however, may vary.
They went down easy though. I downloaded the ones with enough content to want to reread them at some point. Revisit the prisoners of the digital infomatic time capsulator 9000. I glossed some of them as I downloaded and reviewed and decided yay or nay for axing. What was lost is not worth going over explicitly. What survived is a pair of joint efforts with the real j chen. One not touched in forever and the other edited more recently than I expected, but still a year out from today. I owe it a call back at least. Wait and see, maybe. A wait and see kind of deal. The other survivors were all things with names I could pick up and immediately begin rebuilding or re-purpose, restructure, and give new life to, in light of new efforts forthcoming. There's still Fingerslip (the long gestation writing space), there's Hateitalready (which will be repurposed from a place to rant about new products I hate already into an infrequent comic I've been putting off forever, but have wanted to do for easily three years now), there's Simplelongingundertow (which will be about sex and strictly so), and then the Encyclopediamechanica (a store house for made up tech stuff I want to have available to myself and searchable primarily for story construction and resolution of timeline continuity issues, but available to the public because sometimes the best parts of stories are the gadgets and I want that to be documented... assuming I can write and produce something worth reading and reviewing and delving deeper into [adding a richness perhaps I otherwise could not achieve on a short story budget... I dunno]). Thems the survivors.
The mission becomes not letting myself get as caught out as I have been. Focus. Hocus focus were to be the names of my cats if I got a pair, but I didn't. I have been a little bit caught out. Caught between reading and reading up on old movies by watching them and reading up on old stories and rewatching (more like studying and breaking down) films I have enjoyed and disliked and plot lines I have enjoyed and passed off as trash and scripts. A lot of time has been spent plotting and planning to the point of compulsion. A lot of time has been spent, yes, dreaming still. That is probably one of my top five primary functions. Dream composition. Now it's time to start making the faces and planes and points and lines intersect. They're all there, even though I'm not always. I had a thought about the sky being the limit, which is patently false. What I came to was that the sky is not the limit, but the sooner you understand that, the sooner you can get to working toward putting yourself in a position where that might actually become the case through some luck, coincidence, and connection. I glass ceiling implies a glass floor somewhere.
Anyway, the point is, what do I have to do to get laid in this town? And more importantly.... you know, I don't think there's a second part to that. At what age do you just forget about getting laid altogether. Cause that shit is distracting. Can I skip to that age? That spot in the timeline where it's not even that you forget about it, but it's that your genitals transmogrify from a point of expression and emotion and even, sometimes, source of soul and self into little more than say a plumbing fixture or decorative coaster. What I do know is that one of these days along my life span I am going to wake up with super powers and the world better hope I die before that day comes because I will be the worst superman ever. Can superman even do crack? Does he have to do supercrack to get an equivalent high? I know there was that one superman movie where he got drunk, but seriously, if he went to a bar he would have to drink the entire bar to get drunk. Unless his powers only apply to mechanical elements. musculo skeletal systems. Worst super power ever. Or just not a great movie. I don't know. The point is, stuff is going to get did. Because the stuff not getting done is gone. Also because if things don't get done I will feel terrible and listless and end up down at the docks again fighting hobos.
///Aphex Twin - "Waxen Pith" think time
More importantly though I had to go in and delete some blogs. Projects I had a vision for that never panned out. Sometimes because they were joint efforts with other people and the other people never put in the effort and they metastasized into additional solo projects I couldn't support on my own along with the things I was already doing on the regular (and subsequently killed some of the regular efforts I was bending myself to in the brief time I tried to do both). It is kind of tough to admit. Sometimes things just don't work out anywhere near where I expect them to, which is why I am reluctant to do anything with anybody anymore. Not that their real lives tend to take precedent. Or maybe they do. I have no real idea why anyone stops. I know why I stop and start. I just don't see those same reasons being relevant to others. Not that I'm unique or anything like that. I'm just unique in my limits and strengths. No, I'm kidding. Experience has taught me that is the case. My perceptions of myself, however, may vary.
They went down easy though. I downloaded the ones with enough content to want to reread them at some point. Revisit the prisoners of the digital infomatic time capsulator 9000. I glossed some of them as I downloaded and reviewed and decided yay or nay for axing. What was lost is not worth going over explicitly. What survived is a pair of joint efforts with the real j chen. One not touched in forever and the other edited more recently than I expected, but still a year out from today. I owe it a call back at least. Wait and see, maybe. A wait and see kind of deal. The other survivors were all things with names I could pick up and immediately begin rebuilding or re-purpose, restructure, and give new life to, in light of new efforts forthcoming. There's still Fingerslip (the long gestation writing space), there's Hateitalready (which will be repurposed from a place to rant about new products I hate already into an infrequent comic I've been putting off forever, but have wanted to do for easily three years now), there's Simplelongingundertow (which will be about sex and strictly so), and then the Encyclopediamechanica (a store house for made up tech stuff I want to have available to myself and searchable primarily for story construction and resolution of timeline continuity issues, but available to the public because sometimes the best parts of stories are the gadgets and I want that to be documented... assuming I can write and produce something worth reading and reviewing and delving deeper into [adding a richness perhaps I otherwise could not achieve on a short story budget... I dunno]). Thems the survivors.
The mission becomes not letting myself get as caught out as I have been. Focus. Hocus focus were to be the names of my cats if I got a pair, but I didn't. I have been a little bit caught out. Caught between reading and reading up on old movies by watching them and reading up on old stories and rewatching (more like studying and breaking down) films I have enjoyed and disliked and plot lines I have enjoyed and passed off as trash and scripts. A lot of time has been spent plotting and planning to the point of compulsion. A lot of time has been spent, yes, dreaming still. That is probably one of my top five primary functions. Dream composition. Now it's time to start making the faces and planes and points and lines intersect. They're all there, even though I'm not always. I had a thought about the sky being the limit, which is patently false. What I came to was that the sky is not the limit, but the sooner you understand that, the sooner you can get to working toward putting yourself in a position where that might actually become the case through some luck, coincidence, and connection. I glass ceiling implies a glass floor somewhere.
Anyway, the point is, what do I have to do to get laid in this town? And more importantly.... you know, I don't think there's a second part to that. At what age do you just forget about getting laid altogether. Cause that shit is distracting. Can I skip to that age? That spot in the timeline where it's not even that you forget about it, but it's that your genitals transmogrify from a point of expression and emotion and even, sometimes, source of soul and self into little more than say a plumbing fixture or decorative coaster. What I do know is that one of these days along my life span I am going to wake up with super powers and the world better hope I die before that day comes because I will be the worst superman ever. Can superman even do crack? Does he have to do supercrack to get an equivalent high? I know there was that one superman movie where he got drunk, but seriously, if he went to a bar he would have to drink the entire bar to get drunk. Unless his powers only apply to mechanical elements. musculo skeletal systems. Worst super power ever. Or just not a great movie. I don't know. The point is, stuff is going to get did. Because the stuff not getting done is gone. Also because if things don't get done I will feel terrible and listless and end up down at the docks again fighting hobos.
///Aphex Twin - "Waxen Pith" think time
1/10/12
The Ice-stache (grow one for your own safety), Hotwheels, No Age, and Serial Commitment
So I'm taking the next step toward building something to get me closer to making the writing I want to be able to make. Not necessarily the next step toward it as much as a reanimation, reorganization, of the effort. Partly, I want to get more from short stories and I can't expect to get more character development and practice from trying to cram more into small jars. Not that I haven't enjoyed the challenge and sucked at it and succeeded in parts and pieces (by my measure), but it presents problems with having a job and other things to chase after that are life necessities not granted. I have to step into something that won't force me to make endings where they don't belong and rush souls into bodies, and while there are people to animate and worlds to create, I have to give myself time where time is all too often short. And I need the pressure of show and tell to push it forward. The answer? Serials. One chapter at a time. The thing is, I can't even press myself into that old trap (I did once and it worked out well until a stretch of weeks where work overtook time available to chop a story into chapters and commit to staying put at the pen and paper to force out entire chapters, because, let's face it, not all chapters are created equal, so some days I could sit down and bang out a magnificently lengthy, but appropriately so, chapter and others days I couldn't because I had to go to bed at some point or stop to get ready for work, and things simply would not resume the same flow and grip it had when I left it and I ship wrecked myself repeatedly between the start of one and its end.
An organizational thing. Maybe show and tell is not the right motivator. It's hard to systematize it. I guess, part of it is that I don't trust myself to continue. I'm sure I could learn, at least I think I am sure that I need to force myself to learn. Learn the low lines, the high latency, and it's benefits. Put less pressure on myself and shift that strength of worry and fear of failed completion into something more positive, more enduring than the eye crossing, tongue chewing, wind sprint of watch hands across freed hours to produce things less panicked, scattered, and hit and miss spiny. Actually, as I'm talking this over, I think the best commitment to make may not be a serial one, but a commitment to development with fewer showings. Going farther down the rabbit hole is by necessity a thing that divorces a person from constant communication and seeing little dividends every day in views is encouraging. Encouragement is fairly impossible to come by. I envy the people that can get it often. So, in doing this I would be giving myself fewer opportunities to enjoy the little pats on the back, but I would also be putting myself in a position to work longer and more thoroughly on everything.
It's not a question of motivation anymore. At first it was. At first it was overcoming the fear of being connected to the things I do that I am passionate about that people might not agree with or could say "wow, you're terrible." I'm comfortable with that now. Have been for a while. Motivation came up when I lapsed for months and swore off all communication because I didn't feel like it. I couldn't feel it. I lost touch with the worlds in my mind and couldn't care to find them again, until things fell apart and I realized they are one of the few steady states, though changing, one of the few places where I feel myself all of the time. Anywhere can be learned to be home, but within my head everywhere is always home and it's like pulling up a chair with old friends I love and love to hate who know me and talk to me about things and we mull things over and they ask me about you and everyone else and they love and kill and do things I wish I could do and sometimes I do things they wish they could do and it's a back and forth that's so much a part of me I completely took it for granted for a while until I was utterly miserable and realized what was missing. It's not a question of motivation anymore. I have to engage it deeper and add taking care not to let the reduction of constant connection to a couple times a couple months get to me (it's not like I connect with people everyday this side of the bridge). Then again there will still be this in between to keep me company so it's not all bad. Not even half bad. Just not the conclusion I would have drawn this time last year.
Consider it a year end retooling of the factory. The final sessions of congress in a year that's not quite closed yet in my head.
Which takes me up to the ice-stache. So I'm walking home and it's a good 25 minute walk if I'm not running on most of my cylinders and my nose is running. Which is fine. You get used to it. Working in a cooler for hours a day, you can't rub your nose every single time it runs. By the end of the day you would have a red coke nose-ish hole in your face where your nostrils should be and then when you got home you'd have to deal with that junk all night only to go back to work in the cooler to repeat the process and get so nicked up about it that you end up putting a hole in the wall (that you'd have to fix) or putting a fist sized dent in your locker (that would probably get you suspended for a week and assigned to anger management when you got back [not that a week off from that crap would be a terrible thing, but I sat through anger management classes three times before and it's more of a pain than nursing busted knuckles and wrecked up wrist bones). You get used to it in the Winter.
The best thing about letting your nose run though, is that if you don't want to be talked to while you're out and about, letting your nose run is the best way to do it. People either assume you are a badass who does not give a fuck or are too retarded to realize your nose is running and therefore would not acknowledge, understand, or participate in a conflict along understood, predictable, or reasonable manner. Not to say that you wouldn't still get mugged by a coke head or someone not looking for reasonable conflict that sticks to standard rules of engagement. Which is why you can't just let your nose run. You have to make sure you are outside long enough for the snot and the condensation of your breathing against your upper lip and stache crystallize into ice and grow into a full on mustache of icicles. Then you are not just careless, retarded, devil-may-care, but you are also tough enough to be outdoors for long periods of time, possibly under dressed, with people and places you need to be that demand you be there regardless of the mode of transportation and that, potentially, these people will be looking for you if you don't show up when you said you would, and maybe you won't respond to threats and maybe you're late and have already had it up to your eyes with the weather, and walking untold distances, that you will absolutely blow up at the drop of a half smoked cigarette or suspicious footstep or even a "hey you" if you are kind enough to respond at all. So ice-stache it up. Worst comes to worst someone might yap at the back of your head, but all you have to do is turn around with your viking face on for a second and who wants to deal with that at any time of day? And then keep walking, because the only thing more certain to produce a fight, than engaging idle talk, is staring at groups of individuals when the only thing at stake is their bogus sense of pride. And after all, it is half past two A.M. and you still have a ways to go.
Hotwheels are amazing, by the way. Walking through stores and seeing the blue displays doesn't really bring me back to any particular period in my life, but I love cars. I dream about cars. Next to viking ice-staches, cars are awesome and every time I see them I want to know what exactly, which car exactly, is being modeled to scale and whether or not I can add it to my garage someday. Half the time it turns out to be some dopey made up car with ugly body work and funky orange tinted windows for some reason and chrome wheels in enormous flared wheel arches that pretty much touch the apex of the A pillar and the whole thing makes you scratch your head and wonder who thought it was a good idea.
Then every now and then, the thing that makes you stop and look every damn time, you stumble across a model of a DMC-12 DeLorean, or a Boss Mustang, or a bright blue and white Yenko Camaro, and you know you'll never make enough money to own them. You see a 240z in that hotwheels orange and blue blister pack and your eyes go wide because someone thought that fair lady from the 80s deserved to be forever immortalized on some lucky kids shelf and if you had a little less sense, maybe yours. You could have them all, and it's not at all about saving them because they might be worth something later, it's just to have them all in your fantasy garage made real, in a way, and be able to stroke the body work and see the curves from every angle you will never get to see them in person, quite possibly for as long as you live. It could be there, just for you, for a scant two bucks. That Ferrari GTO, right there at your fingertips, right there. You can feel the speed and feel the air slipping by the rear views and splitting away clean across the spoiler. I don't know when I'm going to outgrow hotwheels. Quite possibly never.
So that's it for now. That and there will never be that party that makes me feel my age. At least not in a physical sense where a person is like "oh my god, this hangover is too much. I can't drink like I used to." I already had that sense of that party where I was like "wow my beard is way thicker than the pubes any of these people have ever experienced in their lifetime if they never shaved them at any point between the time of their birth until now" and my beard wasn't even that thick. I definitely had it in terms of "wow the music I remember fondly in the club is all music by artists that stopped making music before these people owned their first discman. Oh wait, they've never even held a discman before. The hell am I doing here?" I also definitely had it in terms of overhearing fights and thinking "really, is it really that serious? Don't they have bills to pay or something?" But in terms of raw "too old to throw down..." never gonna happen. This old panther still has moves that'll make your mullet spin. That's from venture brothers. The best cartoon action series, possibly ever.
Let's work on it as we wrap this year up and catch up with the rest of the Earth. Orbit adjustments aboard the good ship.
///no song today. just some thought.
///just kidding. music is life.
///Paul Murphy - "Soul Call" This jazzy jem from Paul Murphy always makes me happy to be alive to hear it. It was a dead heat between this and Aphex Twin's Girl/Boy Song. Maybe next time around.
An organizational thing. Maybe show and tell is not the right motivator. It's hard to systematize it. I guess, part of it is that I don't trust myself to continue. I'm sure I could learn, at least I think I am sure that I need to force myself to learn. Learn the low lines, the high latency, and it's benefits. Put less pressure on myself and shift that strength of worry and fear of failed completion into something more positive, more enduring than the eye crossing, tongue chewing, wind sprint of watch hands across freed hours to produce things less panicked, scattered, and hit and miss spiny. Actually, as I'm talking this over, I think the best commitment to make may not be a serial one, but a commitment to development with fewer showings. Going farther down the rabbit hole is by necessity a thing that divorces a person from constant communication and seeing little dividends every day in views is encouraging. Encouragement is fairly impossible to come by. I envy the people that can get it often. So, in doing this I would be giving myself fewer opportunities to enjoy the little pats on the back, but I would also be putting myself in a position to work longer and more thoroughly on everything.
It's not a question of motivation anymore. At first it was. At first it was overcoming the fear of being connected to the things I do that I am passionate about that people might not agree with or could say "wow, you're terrible." I'm comfortable with that now. Have been for a while. Motivation came up when I lapsed for months and swore off all communication because I didn't feel like it. I couldn't feel it. I lost touch with the worlds in my mind and couldn't care to find them again, until things fell apart and I realized they are one of the few steady states, though changing, one of the few places where I feel myself all of the time. Anywhere can be learned to be home, but within my head everywhere is always home and it's like pulling up a chair with old friends I love and love to hate who know me and talk to me about things and we mull things over and they ask me about you and everyone else and they love and kill and do things I wish I could do and sometimes I do things they wish they could do and it's a back and forth that's so much a part of me I completely took it for granted for a while until I was utterly miserable and realized what was missing. It's not a question of motivation anymore. I have to engage it deeper and add taking care not to let the reduction of constant connection to a couple times a couple months get to me (it's not like I connect with people everyday this side of the bridge). Then again there will still be this in between to keep me company so it's not all bad. Not even half bad. Just not the conclusion I would have drawn this time last year.
Consider it a year end retooling of the factory. The final sessions of congress in a year that's not quite closed yet in my head.
Which takes me up to the ice-stache. So I'm walking home and it's a good 25 minute walk if I'm not running on most of my cylinders and my nose is running. Which is fine. You get used to it. Working in a cooler for hours a day, you can't rub your nose every single time it runs. By the end of the day you would have a red coke nose-ish hole in your face where your nostrils should be and then when you got home you'd have to deal with that junk all night only to go back to work in the cooler to repeat the process and get so nicked up about it that you end up putting a hole in the wall (that you'd have to fix) or putting a fist sized dent in your locker (that would probably get you suspended for a week and assigned to anger management when you got back [not that a week off from that crap would be a terrible thing, but I sat through anger management classes three times before and it's more of a pain than nursing busted knuckles and wrecked up wrist bones). You get used to it in the Winter.
The best thing about letting your nose run though, is that if you don't want to be talked to while you're out and about, letting your nose run is the best way to do it. People either assume you are a badass who does not give a fuck or are too retarded to realize your nose is running and therefore would not acknowledge, understand, or participate in a conflict along understood, predictable, or reasonable manner. Not to say that you wouldn't still get mugged by a coke head or someone not looking for reasonable conflict that sticks to standard rules of engagement. Which is why you can't just let your nose run. You have to make sure you are outside long enough for the snot and the condensation of your breathing against your upper lip and stache crystallize into ice and grow into a full on mustache of icicles. Then you are not just careless, retarded, devil-may-care, but you are also tough enough to be outdoors for long periods of time, possibly under dressed, with people and places you need to be that demand you be there regardless of the mode of transportation and that, potentially, these people will be looking for you if you don't show up when you said you would, and maybe you won't respond to threats and maybe you're late and have already had it up to your eyes with the weather, and walking untold distances, that you will absolutely blow up at the drop of a half smoked cigarette or suspicious footstep or even a "hey you" if you are kind enough to respond at all. So ice-stache it up. Worst comes to worst someone might yap at the back of your head, but all you have to do is turn around with your viking face on for a second and who wants to deal with that at any time of day? And then keep walking, because the only thing more certain to produce a fight, than engaging idle talk, is staring at groups of individuals when the only thing at stake is their bogus sense of pride. And after all, it is half past two A.M. and you still have a ways to go.
Hotwheels are amazing, by the way. Walking through stores and seeing the blue displays doesn't really bring me back to any particular period in my life, but I love cars. I dream about cars. Next to viking ice-staches, cars are awesome and every time I see them I want to know what exactly, which car exactly, is being modeled to scale and whether or not I can add it to my garage someday. Half the time it turns out to be some dopey made up car with ugly body work and funky orange tinted windows for some reason and chrome wheels in enormous flared wheel arches that pretty much touch the apex of the A pillar and the whole thing makes you scratch your head and wonder who thought it was a good idea.
Then every now and then, the thing that makes you stop and look every damn time, you stumble across a model of a DMC-12 DeLorean, or a Boss Mustang, or a bright blue and white Yenko Camaro, and you know you'll never make enough money to own them. You see a 240z in that hotwheels orange and blue blister pack and your eyes go wide because someone thought that fair lady from the 80s deserved to be forever immortalized on some lucky kids shelf and if you had a little less sense, maybe yours. You could have them all, and it's not at all about saving them because they might be worth something later, it's just to have them all in your fantasy garage made real, in a way, and be able to stroke the body work and see the curves from every angle you will never get to see them in person, quite possibly for as long as you live. It could be there, just for you, for a scant two bucks. That Ferrari GTO, right there at your fingertips, right there. You can feel the speed and feel the air slipping by the rear views and splitting away clean across the spoiler. I don't know when I'm going to outgrow hotwheels. Quite possibly never.
So that's it for now. That and there will never be that party that makes me feel my age. At least not in a physical sense where a person is like "oh my god, this hangover is too much. I can't drink like I used to." I already had that sense of that party where I was like "wow my beard is way thicker than the pubes any of these people have ever experienced in their lifetime if they never shaved them at any point between the time of their birth until now" and my beard wasn't even that thick. I definitely had it in terms of "wow the music I remember fondly in the club is all music by artists that stopped making music before these people owned their first discman. Oh wait, they've never even held a discman before. The hell am I doing here?" I also definitely had it in terms of overhearing fights and thinking "really, is it really that serious? Don't they have bills to pay or something?" But in terms of raw "too old to throw down..." never gonna happen. This old panther still has moves that'll make your mullet spin. That's from venture brothers. The best cartoon action series, possibly ever.
Let's work on it as we wrap this year up and catch up with the rest of the Earth. Orbit adjustments aboard the good ship.
///no song today. just some thought.
///just kidding. music is life.
///Paul Murphy - "Soul Call" This jazzy jem from Paul Murphy always makes me happy to be alive to hear it. It was a dead heat between this and Aphex Twin's Girl/Boy Song. Maybe next time around.
4/19/11
Under Consideration and Lesser Titles for Greater Things
Having experienced various points of system shock through various psychological breaking points over the last five days there are so many facets of existence to consider. I guess first and foremost is the relationship between- brake fail. Entry point. New thread. Same thread. If I want to enter into steady state society, contiguous existence, beyond the high speed passes, lower the charge without damaging consciousness- skip break. how far can you go. how far are you willing to go to make sure you don't die alone. Found it.
The hole. If the break cannot be controlled and it has been demonstrated that the entry points are getting. Growing in number beyond traceability to a point of trustlessness and protection to enter to ask. We already know we can't ask without. The offer is real isn't it? Standing for the claimant. The ability. To reject the known for the unknown again. To start it over. We did it for her once. For both her and us and now we face ourselves and potentially the division from. And entry into not just the hole, but what lives inside.
I'd forgotten what great company was. For some time. I thought I understood to an extent. And the reality apart from the extent of understanding was more incredible. More fantastic than I could have hoped. I've heard that heaven's gonna burn your eyes, but I didn't believe it. The noises were amazing. Would we still feel it inside. Could we know it if we did.
I'm trying to reconstruct the memories. They are without sensations. The ones from that earlier time and rocky trial of prescriptions. Disconcerting eveness. All things advance. Could it really be any different from the functional calls to operations and sectional being. Yes. It would have to be. Out of the reason that the responses are all. Why not have access to. that's part of the issue. The access is cut apart. But how badly do you not want to die alone. And there's the fear that comes without description. Because there is no description for what exists apart from the ability to describe. But released from what can be described and known though invisible artifacts of the corrupted and tuned highly tuned circuit. Facing a way. A way in. A way out. A way in. To become less and a part of.
So we'll walk into it. And find what has been seen. And see it again. Charting space and spaces. We'll see what happens through this week. Thursday and straight on till morning. Not goodbye. An extended hello. To further modification. Answers. A heaven that will burn your eyes. A start of beginnings. That are loops and waves. On our insides drawing together divisions. Of necessity and being. It will throw our ways. I'll catch you yet. And maybe there really is nothing inside of that hole anymore. Or maybe the only way to deal with it is entry into. We'll find what lies and lower the charge and enter into the gravity of society. Space is just too cold. So I've learned. And it's taken loss to unravel that concept. I'll catch you if you'll wait for me. I don't like to promise much, but just don't leave too soon. I'm gonna drive it straight into the atmosphere. The flames will be gorgeous, but by the time my wheels touch the ground the tiles and plates and cooling vents will be easy on the eyes and ears and to the touch. The runway's not as long as it used to be. I didn't pack a chute when I left.
///Thievery Corporation - "Heaven's Gonna Burn Your Eyes" ...you can't be afraid forever... so I'm going to try a different way to be brave and maybe there will be a hero's welcome yet. Don't wish us luck. Save it for the day I shake your hand. That's when I'll need it. And we'll sit down with some coffee and I can tell you all about where the fuck I've really been and maybe there'll still be something left behind my eyes familiar to you and we both.
The hole. If the break cannot be controlled and it has been demonstrated that the entry points are getting. Growing in number beyond traceability to a point of trustlessness and protection to enter to ask. We already know we can't ask without. The offer is real isn't it? Standing for the claimant. The ability. To reject the known for the unknown again. To start it over. We did it for her once. For both her and us and now we face ourselves and potentially the division from. And entry into not just the hole, but what lives inside.
I'd forgotten what great company was. For some time. I thought I understood to an extent. And the reality apart from the extent of understanding was more incredible. More fantastic than I could have hoped. I've heard that heaven's gonna burn your eyes, but I didn't believe it. The noises were amazing. Would we still feel it inside. Could we know it if we did.
I'm trying to reconstruct the memories. They are without sensations. The ones from that earlier time and rocky trial of prescriptions. Disconcerting eveness. All things advance. Could it really be any different from the functional calls to operations and sectional being. Yes. It would have to be. Out of the reason that the responses are all. Why not have access to. that's part of the issue. The access is cut apart. But how badly do you not want to die alone. And there's the fear that comes without description. Because there is no description for what exists apart from the ability to describe. But released from what can be described and known though invisible artifacts of the corrupted and tuned highly tuned circuit. Facing a way. A way in. A way out. A way in. To become less and a part of.
So we'll walk into it. And find what has been seen. And see it again. Charting space and spaces. We'll see what happens through this week. Thursday and straight on till morning. Not goodbye. An extended hello. To further modification. Answers. A heaven that will burn your eyes. A start of beginnings. That are loops and waves. On our insides drawing together divisions. Of necessity and being. It will throw our ways. I'll catch you yet. And maybe there really is nothing inside of that hole anymore. Or maybe the only way to deal with it is entry into. We'll find what lies and lower the charge and enter into the gravity of society. Space is just too cold. So I've learned. And it's taken loss to unravel that concept. I'll catch you if you'll wait for me. I don't like to promise much, but just don't leave too soon. I'm gonna drive it straight into the atmosphere. The flames will be gorgeous, but by the time my wheels touch the ground the tiles and plates and cooling vents will be easy on the eyes and ears and to the touch. The runway's not as long as it used to be. I didn't pack a chute when I left.
///Thievery Corporation - "Heaven's Gonna Burn Your Eyes" ...you can't be afraid forever... so I'm going to try a different way to be brave and maybe there will be a hero's welcome yet. Don't wish us luck. Save it for the day I shake your hand. That's when I'll need it. And we'll sit down with some coffee and I can tell you all about where the fuck I've really been and maybe there'll still be something left behind my eyes familiar to you and we both.
3/30/11
Trying Hard
I'm sorry, I meant to meet up with you sooner, but there have been obstacles. Tough ones. Familiar ones. Unfamiliar ones. It's been very difficult to relate to other human beings on the simplest terms of things that should be universally understood except that when I make the calls to those things there is nothing more than empty drawers and dead lines. The ringing is back. I must have spent a solid twenty minutes looking for a telephone in my bedroom before it occurred to me that I keep my phone on silent. Then I went out into the hallway. As soon as I touched the door knob it stopped. As soon as I went back inside it started again so I went to bed. Then I woke up to the sound of my phone ringing with it's single beep (the beep it makes when it's set to silent). Fourteen times today and not once was it actually going off. And then the name calling started and stopped and started again. No one in my building knows my name. I know their voices though and no one in my building has a single one of those voices.
I've been trying to eat, but it's horrible. Ridiculous stomach clenching anxiety. And then the sounds my body makes while it's digesting. And then feeling like any second it's all going to come straight back up. It's hard to deal with. It felt like it was all control. All I had to do was keep my fingers on my head functions and the rest was easy and now even with that awareness the rest rips away like a table cloth in the hands of a retarded magician and sends it all to pieces on the floor. It was a nice sunny day. I tried to go outside. I really did. I got so far as putting on a sweater before I had to take it all off and start over again. I didn't do it right. And then it was dark outside, but the bus stops were all full of people and I can't go out like that. Not with them there.
What is there to be afraid of? What is there to be afraid of? I don't know, but it's fucking there. I've been trying to fight sleep, but it's the only place I know and feel secure in. When I'm sleeping I don't have to eat anything. I don't have to go outside like here. I don't have to hear my voice talk. I don't have to hear their voices talk. I don't have to hear at all. I don't have to rely on my stupid eyes. Just hearing the neighbors talking through the walls, apart from the untrue voices, made my head feel like it was busting like glass in a poorly packed cardboard box. Everything is people. I'm so fucking nerve wrecked at work because I have to keep checking to make sure I'm not being watched. I don't have anything to hide, but I'll be damned if they think they can hunt me like some oblivious dog. They think I don't know, but I do.
There were keys in my door locks earlier today. I thought my chest was going to cave in on itself listening to the locks open and the door swing, but I got up anyway to face it. There was nothing there. Not at my door or the neighbor's door. Still scared the living shit out of me. I don't understand where it's all coming from. I just want to go to bed and not have to be awake anymore. Whatever it is I want it to come kill me already. How long is this chase supposed to go before it's over?
A friend of mine passed away recently. Maybe that's what's eating up my control. I hate myself for a lot of reasons, but mostly for not being more accessible. I don't know how to fix that. I can't make people want to spend time with me in the same way I want to spend time with them. Who want's to hang out with a fucking retarded person who can't talk straight and who, when he can put words together out of his mouth, can't relate complete ideas the few times there are complete ideas to relate? I wouldn't. It's not about being normal or not. It's just massively frustrating. I would ask what is wrong with me, but I already know what's fucking wrong with me. And I feel selfish for even wishing he'd gone farther out of his way to hang out. That's simply ridiculous. I am the seldom seen fucked up individual with the bad history and the not so great outlook and why the fuck am I licking my own perpetual gashes...I don't know. I want the spit to make me better, and it doesn't. I don't miss him so much as I miss the him that everyone else got to know and that fills me with so much fucking rage.
And I can't even grieve properly because trying to focus in on the meaning of his absence is like trying to fire a gun from the rocking deck of a vessel burning and sinking at a target so far distant I can barely see it clearly. I'm sorry. I just can't put it together. I'm slapping the god damn pieces back on and more fall off and the whole thing is functioning if only just. The closest thing to a functioning family and I'm so far out of the loop out of necessity. I'm just trying hard. I'm trying hard not to lose all grip, but it makes me so fucking tired. I still have so much left to do. I just have to gut it out. And if that means screaming into a balled up sweater for minutes or hours till the shit turns off then fine. If that means locking myself away safe for days or diving into the safety of unconsciousness for 13 hours then fine. Not fine. It's not okay. I'm sick of telling people it's fine. But, I have to wear that. I've already learned once that it's unreasonable to share this with people. I guess that's why I've been dodging you for so long. It takes a lot to get up everyday and it's completely unfair, just wrong, to spread the dysfunction. He should still be here. I guess, more than anything else, my life is committed to ending it's proliferation. I should not be here. And the means to that end is also this blueprint to understanding why that has to be so.
///Morcheeba - "Diggin' a Watery Grave" ...not all at once
I've been trying to eat, but it's horrible. Ridiculous stomach clenching anxiety. And then the sounds my body makes while it's digesting. And then feeling like any second it's all going to come straight back up. It's hard to deal with. It felt like it was all control. All I had to do was keep my fingers on my head functions and the rest was easy and now even with that awareness the rest rips away like a table cloth in the hands of a retarded magician and sends it all to pieces on the floor. It was a nice sunny day. I tried to go outside. I really did. I got so far as putting on a sweater before I had to take it all off and start over again. I didn't do it right. And then it was dark outside, but the bus stops were all full of people and I can't go out like that. Not with them there.
What is there to be afraid of? What is there to be afraid of? I don't know, but it's fucking there. I've been trying to fight sleep, but it's the only place I know and feel secure in. When I'm sleeping I don't have to eat anything. I don't have to go outside like here. I don't have to hear my voice talk. I don't have to hear their voices talk. I don't have to hear at all. I don't have to rely on my stupid eyes. Just hearing the neighbors talking through the walls, apart from the untrue voices, made my head feel like it was busting like glass in a poorly packed cardboard box. Everything is people. I'm so fucking nerve wrecked at work because I have to keep checking to make sure I'm not being watched. I don't have anything to hide, but I'll be damned if they think they can hunt me like some oblivious dog. They think I don't know, but I do.
There were keys in my door locks earlier today. I thought my chest was going to cave in on itself listening to the locks open and the door swing, but I got up anyway to face it. There was nothing there. Not at my door or the neighbor's door. Still scared the living shit out of me. I don't understand where it's all coming from. I just want to go to bed and not have to be awake anymore. Whatever it is I want it to come kill me already. How long is this chase supposed to go before it's over?
A friend of mine passed away recently. Maybe that's what's eating up my control. I hate myself for a lot of reasons, but mostly for not being more accessible. I don't know how to fix that. I can't make people want to spend time with me in the same way I want to spend time with them. Who want's to hang out with a fucking retarded person who can't talk straight and who, when he can put words together out of his mouth, can't relate complete ideas the few times there are complete ideas to relate? I wouldn't. It's not about being normal or not. It's just massively frustrating. I would ask what is wrong with me, but I already know what's fucking wrong with me. And I feel selfish for even wishing he'd gone farther out of his way to hang out. That's simply ridiculous. I am the seldom seen fucked up individual with the bad history and the not so great outlook and why the fuck am I licking my own perpetual gashes...I don't know. I want the spit to make me better, and it doesn't. I don't miss him so much as I miss the him that everyone else got to know and that fills me with so much fucking rage.
And I can't even grieve properly because trying to focus in on the meaning of his absence is like trying to fire a gun from the rocking deck of a vessel burning and sinking at a target so far distant I can barely see it clearly. I'm sorry. I just can't put it together. I'm slapping the god damn pieces back on and more fall off and the whole thing is functioning if only just. The closest thing to a functioning family and I'm so far out of the loop out of necessity. I'm just trying hard. I'm trying hard not to lose all grip, but it makes me so fucking tired. I still have so much left to do. I just have to gut it out. And if that means screaming into a balled up sweater for minutes or hours till the shit turns off then fine. If that means locking myself away safe for days or diving into the safety of unconsciousness for 13 hours then fine. Not fine. It's not okay. I'm sick of telling people it's fine. But, I have to wear that. I've already learned once that it's unreasonable to share this with people. I guess that's why I've been dodging you for so long. It takes a lot to get up everyday and it's completely unfair, just wrong, to spread the dysfunction. He should still be here. I guess, more than anything else, my life is committed to ending it's proliferation. I should not be here. And the means to that end is also this blueprint to understanding why that has to be so.
///Morcheeba - "Diggin' a Watery Grave" ...not all at once
2/25/11
Upcoming Projects Outlay and Fewer Made Up Words
As much as I love reassembling language, I'm going to try and cut down on the made up words, no matter how functional they are to me. There's just something about the ring of things like legister, and healspan, and gastronaut, and dreadlot that color things in my head, but make no sense outside of it. I'm not saying they won't come up at all. I'm saying I'm going to try and keep a lid on it (as much as I'm going to try and cap my typing to more reasonable lengths of chained thoughts).
In other news, I'm still trying to work in time for Bits. It's daunting because there are more than thirty short stories that are unedited that were at one time fully edited and since I'm left with the unedited versions by redoing the edits I'm essentially going to end up with stories different from the ones I came to love once I edited them. It's like leaving for work and coming home and all the furniture is moved and because so many things are moved and they all existed relative to one another you can't begin to put things back where they go because by placing one thing you are essentially displacing everything no matter what that first thing is so you get comfortable instead in your weirded home and the weirdness becomes acceptable though deeply irritating and depressingly better than the peak fear of resetting the changes, but ultimately you're rushing toward a breaking point where the peak of the fear of completely inverting the reality and order you originally wanted to induce is broken by the critical mass of foreignness settling daily. So I'm going to do it. There is no way I can't. In short, it's a trap. A glorious trap.
I don't know when my days off will fall week to week so I think I may just settle on Wednesday mornings as Saturdays are dedicated to sewing my realities back together after days of cutting sutures and vision bleeds. That's longer term.
Shorter term outlay:
Finish paper robot and mail it to Boulder.
Go get computer in mid-March so I can do design again without cramping my hand on a mouse using crappy windows xp paint programs.
After I get computer, finish novel on the computer (no seriously, it was 2/3s done... I don't like it, but I told myself I would do it so I have to finish it so I can get that monkey off my neck and get the bullshit devices out of my body and then actually do one I want to do).
I guess that's it. Oh wait-
Need to build a target to punch. My knuckles are way too soft.
And need a big ol' scroll of paper to tape to my wall so I can draw on it and write things.
And then the list of bull required by living on my own like a trash can. And chairs. And a desk. And a lamp.
And of course more poetry. But the kid has been absent. I don't know where the whimsy has gone. The climate in the factory has turned a bit gritty and I want more than anything to be able to write and rhyme about the stars in my sky between the leaves of my dreams of the gray sand castles and tide pools on the shores of a warm hell. It's just hard to find sometimes without a guide. I'll keep looking though. It's strange sometimes. With the bridge gone and slipping across into the unreal only to find the city is abandoned and you're alone to wander the concrete blocks turned over to the trod and glass eyed streets and on slipping back you are quarantined for contamination and failing inside for particulate poisoning and mutation is flowering in your cells, but none of it was supposed to be and was somehow more real than imagined. I wonder sometimes if I did drop acid would anything change. I'll know someday. Till then, there is work yet to be done.
///Goldfrapp - "Utopia" It's a strange day. No colors or shapes.
In other news, I'm still trying to work in time for Bits. It's daunting because there are more than thirty short stories that are unedited that were at one time fully edited and since I'm left with the unedited versions by redoing the edits I'm essentially going to end up with stories different from the ones I came to love once I edited them. It's like leaving for work and coming home and all the furniture is moved and because so many things are moved and they all existed relative to one another you can't begin to put things back where they go because by placing one thing you are essentially displacing everything no matter what that first thing is so you get comfortable instead in your weirded home and the weirdness becomes acceptable though deeply irritating and depressingly better than the peak fear of resetting the changes, but ultimately you're rushing toward a breaking point where the peak of the fear of completely inverting the reality and order you originally wanted to induce is broken by the critical mass of foreignness settling daily. So I'm going to do it. There is no way I can't. In short, it's a trap. A glorious trap.
I don't know when my days off will fall week to week so I think I may just settle on Wednesday mornings as Saturdays are dedicated to sewing my realities back together after days of cutting sutures and vision bleeds. That's longer term.
Shorter term outlay:
Finish paper robot and mail it to Boulder.
Go get computer in mid-March so I can do design again without cramping my hand on a mouse using crappy windows xp paint programs.
After I get computer, finish novel on the computer (no seriously, it was 2/3s done... I don't like it, but I told myself I would do it so I have to finish it so I can get that monkey off my neck and get the bullshit devices out of my body and then actually do one I want to do).
I guess that's it. Oh wait-
Need to build a target to punch. My knuckles are way too soft.
And need a big ol' scroll of paper to tape to my wall so I can draw on it and write things.
And then the list of bull required by living on my own like a trash can. And chairs. And a desk. And a lamp.
And of course more poetry. But the kid has been absent. I don't know where the whimsy has gone. The climate in the factory has turned a bit gritty and I want more than anything to be able to write and rhyme about the stars in my sky between the leaves of my dreams of the gray sand castles and tide pools on the shores of a warm hell. It's just hard to find sometimes without a guide. I'll keep looking though. It's strange sometimes. With the bridge gone and slipping across into the unreal only to find the city is abandoned and you're alone to wander the concrete blocks turned over to the trod and glass eyed streets and on slipping back you are quarantined for contamination and failing inside for particulate poisoning and mutation is flowering in your cells, but none of it was supposed to be and was somehow more real than imagined. I wonder sometimes if I did drop acid would anything change. I'll know someday. Till then, there is work yet to be done.
///Goldfrapp - "Utopia" It's a strange day. No colors or shapes.
7/21/10
"Weed Is For Slackers..."
...a good friend of mine once said a long time ago. I wasn't arguing. I think the fist she drove into her open palm for good emphasis was directed mainly at the "across the hall" neighbor (who ended up working for Microsoft somehow) and their fragrant escapades.
Not that you would ever doubt me (or that I would ever doubt myself... EVER...) this is where Bits is at right now. I have not been slacking:
I'm ironing out the php and creating page templates from scritcha scratch so that they do exactly what I want them to, every single time I ask them to. It makes it a little bit easier since I plan on doing all of the graphics for it, but also it'll be a nice thing to put on my resume when it's done. The wealth of knowledge I'm gaining from this project is enormous. At first it was like trying to bite into an uncut watermelon straight off of the vine, but through ceaselessly kicking that mother fucker I've broken it up into pieces that sort of fit in my mouth (or at least fit in my hands comfortably enough to chuck them at the birds outside my window when I get really frustrated, which is almost as satisfying, but I digress).
I now know more about sql, php, js, and web hosting than I ever thought I would. The best thing about it is that sitting down at my terminal feels less like walking up to the black mouth of a cave belonging to an agitated dragon, and feels much more like going to visit a somewhat grumpy uncle. I guess I'm trying to say that the thing has finally become doable. I can look at the code and csv and the tables and css and I can see what they're doing between the lines.
It's like if Tony Montana did so much coke that he finally became permanently wired and no longer needed coke to become super Tony. Or like Peter Pan smoking so much pixie dust that... I'm not really sure if this is making sense anymore. I've been up way too late.
Onward to the morning star. Well I wanted to do a drawing for you. It was going to be a self portrait. Then I wanted to make a teddy bear face. In the end this is what came out of my head. I'm not happy with it. But more than unhappiness, I don't want to have nothing to show for the past hour of my life, sorry in advance:
Hopefully next efforts will turn out better in that department.
///The Orb - "Vuja De" "It's the way that you hold me."
Not that you would ever doubt me (or that I would ever doubt myself... EVER...) this is where Bits is at right now. I have not been slacking:
I'm ironing out the php and creating page templates from scritcha scratch so that they do exactly what I want them to, every single time I ask them to. It makes it a little bit easier since I plan on doing all of the graphics for it, but also it'll be a nice thing to put on my resume when it's done. The wealth of knowledge I'm gaining from this project is enormous. At first it was like trying to bite into an uncut watermelon straight off of the vine, but through ceaselessly kicking that mother fucker I've broken it up into pieces that sort of fit in my mouth (or at least fit in my hands comfortably enough to chuck them at the birds outside my window when I get really frustrated, which is almost as satisfying, but I digress).
I now know more about sql, php, js, and web hosting than I ever thought I would. The best thing about it is that sitting down at my terminal feels less like walking up to the black mouth of a cave belonging to an agitated dragon, and feels much more like going to visit a somewhat grumpy uncle. I guess I'm trying to say that the thing has finally become doable. I can look at the code and csv and the tables and css and I can see what they're doing between the lines.
It's like if Tony Montana did so much coke that he finally became permanently wired and no longer needed coke to become super Tony. Or like Peter Pan smoking so much pixie dust that... I'm not really sure if this is making sense anymore. I've been up way too late.
Onward to the morning star. Well I wanted to do a drawing for you. It was going to be a self portrait. Then I wanted to make a teddy bear face. In the end this is what came out of my head. I'm not happy with it. But more than unhappiness, I don't want to have nothing to show for the past hour of my life, sorry in advance:
Hopefully next efforts will turn out better in that department.
///The Orb - "Vuja De" "It's the way that you hold me."
4/19/10
so what now?
this is more or less the new format. why'd it take so long? fuck you. thats why. but seriously... it was hard. lots of going in and tweaking this and that and then previewing/refreshing and seeing what changed.
i worked so hard on it ive had dreams in xhtml css markup for two nights running. can you picture that? i didnt even know it was possible to do that. ive had dreams in spanish when i was taking a 6week crash course in it... but yeah, apparently its possible to dream in xml while simultaneously dreaming in bad spanish. happened yesterday.
it was trippy. stress really does force your brain to ejaculate some pretty awesome chemicals while you're sleeping.
so, in the words of that smart ass from flowers for algernon... "is that it? it is." like the mutherfuckin buddha i have achieved blogger template enlightenment. i can now write my own classic style template or manipulate the new version template with something resembling ease. well easier than you can. is what i am going to continue to tell myself so i feel relevant and valuable to some segment of the population. because i am, thats why.
well, anyway... i hope you like it, cuz ive worked on it so hard that i can't like it. still a lot to fix on here with regard to ... well who cares. when i fix what needs fixing hopefully you'll notice. if not, get bent.
///Beck-"lord only knows" one of the better songs to work to in the small hours of the morning before you remember you were supposed to be in bed 6 hours ago. also a great song to walk home to at 3 am. learn the lyrics. sing the lyrics with a friend on that walk home. you'll be glad you did. or not.
i worked so hard on it ive had dreams in xhtml css markup for two nights running. can you picture that? i didnt even know it was possible to do that. ive had dreams in spanish when i was taking a 6week crash course in it... but yeah, apparently its possible to dream in xml while simultaneously dreaming in bad spanish. happened yesterday.
it was trippy. stress really does force your brain to ejaculate some pretty awesome chemicals while you're sleeping.
so, in the words of that smart ass from flowers for algernon... "is that it? it is." like the mutherfuckin buddha i have achieved blogger template enlightenment. i can now write my own classic style template or manipulate the new version template with something resembling ease. well easier than you can. is what i am going to continue to tell myself so i feel relevant and valuable to some segment of the population. because i am, thats why.
well, anyway... i hope you like it, cuz ive worked on it so hard that i can't like it. still a lot to fix on here with regard to ... well who cares. when i fix what needs fixing hopefully you'll notice. if not, get bent.
///Beck-"lord only knows" one of the better songs to work to in the small hours of the morning before you remember you were supposed to be in bed 6 hours ago. also a great song to walk home to at 3 am. learn the lyrics. sing the lyrics with a friend on that walk home. you'll be glad you did. or not.
1/17/10
the waiting games
of olympic proportions. its been... i dunno. mixed feelings i guess. im just rambling here. sort of. not to say that it doesnt mean anything. ive had a lot of time to get into pretty thick family drama. nothing actual has come of it. nothing has actualized. its all just tlak of change and need but no ones actually done anything to address needs or changes that need to be made.
i kind of view my family as christians i guess view marriage. well the more fundamental christians. we're all sort of stuck together. unfortunately bound by blood an all... but most of us dont really like or even love any of the others. sure we say we do. sure we mean it sometimes. once in a while. but i think by and large its mostly just something we say because we're expected to. because we dont want to hurt feelings. we cant separate from eachother. we cant just say well we're not family anymore. it would be helpful if we could. we can move away from eachother. we can not talk to eachother. we can even pretend other family members simply dont exist but at the end of it all we're still stuck under one roof trying not to incite anyone to emotional or physical violence. we're all in the cage just trying not to eachother.
sometimes i think about how much farther i couldve gone in life up to now with a different set of parents. i honestly think that my generation of my family was not the generation that should have attempted the highest pedigrees of college. i dont know if thats the right word. but my parents definitely only had a budget for community college and even our inteligence, while well beyond their own and most other people in our family (theonly things other people in my family know better than me are things theyve acquired through 40+ years of living so that gap will not soon be closed, but its the only gap left), was definitely not prepared for the intensity of top tier universities. we shouldve gone to community schools.
being self starters its not like we wouldnt have the same or close to the same levels of abilities that we have now. the difference is we would be debt free and able to live and pursue further enrichment instead of having to dig ourselves out of enormous financial craters. i know i was not smart enough to get scholarships or retain grant money and i was not wealthy enough to simply focus on school instead of school and part time work and financial guilt doled out by parents.
but at least now the generation that i create will have the knowledge, the money, the full opportunity. the work will be complete. the generation that that generation creates will have even more. will be even more complete. will hopefully be a real family. since by then the warped and corrupted data that created me will cease to exist. thats the hope.
i think im going to adopt a baby when the time comes to make a family so that the line of corrupted genes ends. itll be me doing my part to end it. that and i want to make sure that financially and mentally i am ready to raise a life into maturity. into its mid 20s or 30s or however long it takes. support that life materially and emotionally without retarding its progress and growth. i want to make sure i dont undermine its future in any way.
sure ill mess some things up, but i hope they end up as small things. things that start with "yeah, the only time my dad ever hit me was pretty ridiculous." and have that be the end of it. if my kid is not in a shrinks office, employed doing something he/she loves, decides for themselves with full knowledge of future ramifications whether or not they want to try college or a trade or the military, and finishes high school, and picks whatever religion or no religion on their own, i will have been a good parent. heres hoping.
///boys from brazil - "the land of make believe" there are songs that are long and obnoxious. there are songs that are long monotonous. there are songs that are long and should not be. then there are songs that are long and perfect that you hear and as they lull through the middle you say to yourself 'man i wish this wasnt over' and then you check your music player and you see youve got a whole nother 4 or 5 minutes. this is one of those songs. its not catchy. its got that swing that makes you wish you were by yourself so you could do that dance you love to do, but just not in front of other people. yeah, that swing.
i kind of view my family as christians i guess view marriage. well the more fundamental christians. we're all sort of stuck together. unfortunately bound by blood an all... but most of us dont really like or even love any of the others. sure we say we do. sure we mean it sometimes. once in a while. but i think by and large its mostly just something we say because we're expected to. because we dont want to hurt feelings. we cant separate from eachother. we cant just say well we're not family anymore. it would be helpful if we could. we can move away from eachother. we can not talk to eachother. we can even pretend other family members simply dont exist but at the end of it all we're still stuck under one roof trying not to incite anyone to emotional or physical violence. we're all in the cage just trying not to eachother.
sometimes i think about how much farther i couldve gone in life up to now with a different set of parents. i honestly think that my generation of my family was not the generation that should have attempted the highest pedigrees of college. i dont know if thats the right word. but my parents definitely only had a budget for community college and even our inteligence, while well beyond their own and most other people in our family (theonly things other people in my family know better than me are things theyve acquired through 40+ years of living so that gap will not soon be closed, but its the only gap left), was definitely not prepared for the intensity of top tier universities. we shouldve gone to community schools.
being self starters its not like we wouldnt have the same or close to the same levels of abilities that we have now. the difference is we would be debt free and able to live and pursue further enrichment instead of having to dig ourselves out of enormous financial craters. i know i was not smart enough to get scholarships or retain grant money and i was not wealthy enough to simply focus on school instead of school and part time work and financial guilt doled out by parents.
but at least now the generation that i create will have the knowledge, the money, the full opportunity. the work will be complete. the generation that that generation creates will have even more. will be even more complete. will hopefully be a real family. since by then the warped and corrupted data that created me will cease to exist. thats the hope.
i think im going to adopt a baby when the time comes to make a family so that the line of corrupted genes ends. itll be me doing my part to end it. that and i want to make sure that financially and mentally i am ready to raise a life into maturity. into its mid 20s or 30s or however long it takes. support that life materially and emotionally without retarding its progress and growth. i want to make sure i dont undermine its future in any way.
sure ill mess some things up, but i hope they end up as small things. things that start with "yeah, the only time my dad ever hit me was pretty ridiculous." and have that be the end of it. if my kid is not in a shrinks office, employed doing something he/she loves, decides for themselves with full knowledge of future ramifications whether or not they want to try college or a trade or the military, and finishes high school, and picks whatever religion or no religion on their own, i will have been a good parent. heres hoping.
///boys from brazil - "the land of make believe" there are songs that are long and obnoxious. there are songs that are long monotonous. there are songs that are long and should not be. then there are songs that are long and perfect that you hear and as they lull through the middle you say to yourself 'man i wish this wasnt over' and then you check your music player and you see youve got a whole nother 4 or 5 minutes. this is one of those songs. its not catchy. its got that swing that makes you wish you were by yourself so you could do that dance you love to do, but just not in front of other people. yeah, that swing.
1/9/10
so i dont have to fucking talk to myself
well we're back. again. a lot has changed. a lot has stayed the same. no more girl friend, just friend who does not want to talk to me for the depth of our former relationship. yay. sarcasm. living in a very divisive... divided place. pretty sure this is gonna be the last fracture for the parents. fine. seems life is defined by fractures and scars. its a matter of whether or not we want to call them sentimental or call them scars.
so im back on here. so i dont have to fucking talk to myself in my head. nothing good is ever said in there. there are good ideas but they are formed by me. nothing good ever happens in the other dialog. and i hate having to sit and listen to it. eventually you cant distinguish who is telling who to shut the fuck up.
the hardest part about stabbing is the initial shock of breaking the skin. i mean not slashing but stabbing. once you get past that the rest is gravy. or gory. gory gravy? different tools for different jobs. so what do we want to talk about today. im not sure... well lets kick off with projects. where is the other project standing. suspended indefinitely apparently. how about the other project... still working on it? yes. slowly. the third project? when free time strikes so shall it strike me to work on it. half the time. double promise. which actually only means that both promises are half as strong as a regular promise. too much glue spoils the joint. any model builder worth his oats should know that.
any other goals? saving. money. 4000. settle all person to person debts and move somewhere and pay two months rent and find a job. that is all. thats all? yes. i think. i hate you. anything else new? stop burning bridges. setting a fire and walking away is not necessarily burning a bridge. they dont all rage out into holocausts. but you certainly believe they do. paranoia? hardly. okay. buying cigarettes? dunno yet. maybe later. cya.
///bjork - "i miss you (sunshine mix)" yeah i do. its too often difficult to explain, but this time its simple. i like you better than i like me. just that easy.
so im back on here. so i dont have to fucking talk to myself in my head. nothing good is ever said in there. there are good ideas but they are formed by me. nothing good ever happens in the other dialog. and i hate having to sit and listen to it. eventually you cant distinguish who is telling who to shut the fuck up.
the hardest part about stabbing is the initial shock of breaking the skin. i mean not slashing but stabbing. once you get past that the rest is gravy. or gory. gory gravy? different tools for different jobs. so what do we want to talk about today. im not sure... well lets kick off with projects. where is the other project standing. suspended indefinitely apparently. how about the other project... still working on it? yes. slowly. the third project? when free time strikes so shall it strike me to work on it. half the time. double promise. which actually only means that both promises are half as strong as a regular promise. too much glue spoils the joint. any model builder worth his oats should know that.
any other goals? saving. money. 4000. settle all person to person debts and move somewhere and pay two months rent and find a job. that is all. thats all? yes. i think. i hate you. anything else new? stop burning bridges. setting a fire and walking away is not necessarily burning a bridge. they dont all rage out into holocausts. but you certainly believe they do. paranoia? hardly. okay. buying cigarettes? dunno yet. maybe later. cya.
///bjork - "i miss you (sunshine mix)" yeah i do. its too often difficult to explain, but this time its simple. i like you better than i like me. just that easy.
7/12/09
Track List 11 months... 12 days... 12 hours... 31 minutes... 16 seconds 07/12/09
Subject : Track List 11 months... 12 days... 12 hours... 31 minutes... 16 seconds
Posted Date: : Jul 12, 2009 8:21 AM
remember that track list i didnt make last year. i do. ive missed you. so here it is. what better time than right before the sun bakes us back into clay.
hooligan - hear me now
sarah mclachlan - black [william orbit mix]
method man - tical
dj acucrack - asphalt heart sounds
four tet - aphex twin untitled [remix]
amorphous androgynous - marylebone road
four tet - glue of the world
amorphous androgynous - goodbye sky
orb - s.a.l.t.
four tet - unspoken
orb - passing of time
talvin singh - ok
aesop rock - fun for the whole family
orbital - way out
five deez - when the silence is gone
dj acucrack - slowly regaining consciousness
dj acucrack - thalidomide
dj acucrack - wickerman
radiohead - kid a
radiohead - the national anthem
justice - the party
el-p - poisenville kids no wins/reprise
orbital - adnan's
dj acucrack - wickerman
yoko kanno - go DA DA
Ghost In The Shell 2 Innocence - in a new world gods will descend
yeah yeah yeahs - y control
yeah yeah yeah - modern romance
fsol - through your gills i breathe
will johnstone - black spot
orbital - waving not drowning
dntel - dumb luck
dntel - roll on
cleveland lounge - drowning (joshua ryan mix)
frankie valli & the four seasons - beggin' (pilooski 12 inch)
electric skychurch - deus
gus gus - barry
koushik - none in mind
four tet - my angel rocks back and forth
lush - undertow
el-p - dear sirs
kings of leon - closer
devotchka - how it ends
beck - jackass
four tet - slowjam
four tet - [skttrbrain remix]
thom yorke - analyse
aim - fall break
alive & d.d. klein - alive
unkle - rabbit in your headlights
camu tao - plot for a little
aphex twin - xtal
amont tobin ft mc decimal - verbal
kmfdm - down and out
team sleep - ataraxia
evol intent - 530 pm
ashtar command - into dust
collective efforts - growth part 2
portishead - humming
junkie xl - saturday teenage kick
nightmares on wax - the sweetest
school of seven bells - chain
diplo - summer's gonna hurt you
junkie xl - mad pursuit
yeah yeah yeahs - modern romance
el-p - tuned mass damper
mathew herbert - the audience
el-p - tasmanian pain coaster
way out west - the fall
grizzly bear - easier
the cardigans - iron man
orbital - one perfect sunrise
the chemical brothers - chico's groove
kmfdm - anarchy
the notwist - one step inside doesnt mean you understand
rjd2 - true confessions
the black angels - young men dead
juno reactor - pistolero
the chemical brothers - one too many mornings
steve miller - swing town
method man - method man
martina topley-bird - lying
unkle - battle [remix]
luke slater - stars and heroes
led zepplin - when the levee breaks
rjd2 - the horror
psyche origami - dead right
death in vegas - girls [scorpio rising reprise]
the clash - straight to hell
the chemical brothers - pioneer skies
death in vegas - hands around my throat [adult mix]
mylo - drop the pressure
todd terry - let it ride
god lives under water - from your mouth
prodigy - diesel power
psyche origami - the standard
orange range - ambienta
school of seven bells - face to face on high places
the beta band - pure for
tom vek - nothing but green lights
tricky - ponderosa
not necessarily to be consumed in that order. ive been busy... how about you? well i cant really blame you. i finished school... finally... more about that later... in fact.... more about everything later
///bjork - undo when im flat on my face in a gutter, drowning in two inches of rain washed filth at 3am, few things pull me back to reality like the power of her vocal range. there will never be another voice as muscular and serpentine and graceful
Posted Date: : Jul 12, 2009 8:21 AM
remember that track list i didnt make last year. i do. ive missed you. so here it is. what better time than right before the sun bakes us back into clay.
hooligan - hear me now
sarah mclachlan - black [william orbit mix]
method man - tical
dj acucrack - asphalt heart sounds
four tet - aphex twin untitled [remix]
amorphous androgynous - marylebone road
four tet - glue of the world
amorphous androgynous - goodbye sky
orb - s.a.l.t.
four tet - unspoken
orb - passing of time
talvin singh - ok
aesop rock - fun for the whole family
orbital - way out
five deez - when the silence is gone
dj acucrack - slowly regaining consciousness
dj acucrack - thalidomide
dj acucrack - wickerman
radiohead - kid a
radiohead - the national anthem
justice - the party
el-p - poisenville kids no wins/reprise
orbital - adnan's
dj acucrack - wickerman
yoko kanno - go DA DA
Ghost In The Shell 2 Innocence - in a new world gods will descend
yeah yeah yeahs - y control
yeah yeah yeah - modern romance
fsol - through your gills i breathe
will johnstone - black spot
orbital - waving not drowning
dntel - dumb luck
dntel - roll on
cleveland lounge - drowning (joshua ryan mix)
frankie valli & the four seasons - beggin' (pilooski 12 inch)
electric skychurch - deus
gus gus - barry
koushik - none in mind
four tet - my angel rocks back and forth
lush - undertow
el-p - dear sirs
kings of leon - closer
devotchka - how it ends
beck - jackass
four tet - slowjam
four tet - [skttrbrain remix]
thom yorke - analyse
aim - fall break
alive & d.d. klein - alive
unkle - rabbit in your headlights
camu tao - plot for a little
aphex twin - xtal
amont tobin ft mc decimal - verbal
kmfdm - down and out
team sleep - ataraxia
evol intent - 530 pm
ashtar command - into dust
collective efforts - growth part 2
portishead - humming
junkie xl - saturday teenage kick
nightmares on wax - the sweetest
school of seven bells - chain
diplo - summer's gonna hurt you
junkie xl - mad pursuit
yeah yeah yeahs - modern romance
el-p - tuned mass damper
mathew herbert - the audience
el-p - tasmanian pain coaster
way out west - the fall
grizzly bear - easier
the cardigans - iron man
orbital - one perfect sunrise
the chemical brothers - chico's groove
kmfdm - anarchy
the notwist - one step inside doesnt mean you understand
rjd2 - true confessions
the black angels - young men dead
juno reactor - pistolero
the chemical brothers - one too many mornings
steve miller - swing town
method man - method man
martina topley-bird - lying
unkle - battle [remix]
luke slater - stars and heroes
led zepplin - when the levee breaks
rjd2 - the horror
psyche origami - dead right
death in vegas - girls [scorpio rising reprise]
the clash - straight to hell
the chemical brothers - pioneer skies
death in vegas - hands around my throat [adult mix]
mylo - drop the pressure
todd terry - let it ride
god lives under water - from your mouth
prodigy - diesel power
psyche origami - the standard
orange range - ambienta
school of seven bells - face to face on high places
the beta band - pure for
tom vek - nothing but green lights
tricky - ponderosa
not necessarily to be consumed in that order. ive been busy... how about you? well i cant really blame you. i finished school... finally... more about that later... in fact.... more about everything later
///bjork - undo when im flat on my face in a gutter, drowning in two inches of rain washed filth at 3am, few things pull me back to reality like the power of her vocal range. there will never be another voice as muscular and serpentine and graceful
10/17/07
1976 10/17/07
Subject : 1976
Posted Date: : Oct 17, 2007 11:22 AM
1976 views. been gone for a while. dealing with depression and odd issues hither and thither. at the moment i feel like im biding my time in college. waiting for another year to end so i can finally get on with living my "real" life after graduation. but i mean, except for a handful of things that i know i am desparately wanting to do to advance my personal life to a new stage of stability, love, excitement, and rest what i am essentially looking forward to is going to be another time out session. just another pause along the road. i have to get a masters degree to command the pay i will need to live the kind of life i want to, and in order to do that im going to have to take a year off to study for gre's and find a school and all the rest. so its basically just time out part two.
im exhausted with school. i hate homework. i hate forced reading. i hate a lot of things but i love even more so im okay with that sensation i think. i started smoking again. im not really sure why. maybe its because my football team lost so i dont really have to be in peak condition. why the hell would anyone really need to be able to run five miles? so i dont really care about that. and if i have to hold my breath for a minute i guess ill be ass out in the cold on that count. and if i have to do thirty pull ups to save my life, well, same deal. too bad. its a nice pass time, i think. maybe ill get some pipe tobacco and smoke pipes in my white robe every saturday afternoon. make it a pleasant ritual of aromas and scotch. speaking of which i need to get a more plush robe. for my ass mostly. ill admit it. i like having really furry soft things to sit on and rub myself against. its fun. its relaxing. its flippin awesome is what it is.
stealing. i havent stolen anything aside from digital properties in a long time. im trying to keep it that way. im also making minimum credit card payments. i know i shouldnt, but i dont have the money to pay it down so its better than nothing. and furthermore! nope.... thats it i guess. sorry ive been away so long. ive thought about you everyday and i missed your milestones (1666 view). but im back again. and i tentatively wager i will be writing in you more often than i have. <3
///boards of canada-"constants are changing" this song has helped me end more rough days than i can count. nothing like melting into blankets with blustery old man winter giving you chills and a delicate weave of synth fades and tonal scales washing over you like the tiniest, ever unique, crystals of ice.
Posted Date: : Oct 17, 2007 11:22 AM
1976 views. been gone for a while. dealing with depression and odd issues hither and thither. at the moment i feel like im biding my time in college. waiting for another year to end so i can finally get on with living my "real" life after graduation. but i mean, except for a handful of things that i know i am desparately wanting to do to advance my personal life to a new stage of stability, love, excitement, and rest what i am essentially looking forward to is going to be another time out session. just another pause along the road. i have to get a masters degree to command the pay i will need to live the kind of life i want to, and in order to do that im going to have to take a year off to study for gre's and find a school and all the rest. so its basically just time out part two.
im exhausted with school. i hate homework. i hate forced reading. i hate a lot of things but i love even more so im okay with that sensation i think. i started smoking again. im not really sure why. maybe its because my football team lost so i dont really have to be in peak condition. why the hell would anyone really need to be able to run five miles? so i dont really care about that. and if i have to hold my breath for a minute i guess ill be ass out in the cold on that count. and if i have to do thirty pull ups to save my life, well, same deal. too bad. its a nice pass time, i think. maybe ill get some pipe tobacco and smoke pipes in my white robe every saturday afternoon. make it a pleasant ritual of aromas and scotch. speaking of which i need to get a more plush robe. for my ass mostly. ill admit it. i like having really furry soft things to sit on and rub myself against. its fun. its relaxing. its flippin awesome is what it is.
stealing. i havent stolen anything aside from digital properties in a long time. im trying to keep it that way. im also making minimum credit card payments. i know i shouldnt, but i dont have the money to pay it down so its better than nothing. and furthermore! nope.... thats it i guess. sorry ive been away so long. ive thought about you everyday and i missed your milestones (1666 view). but im back again. and i tentatively wager i will be writing in you more often than i have. <3
///boards of canada-"constants are changing" this song has helped me end more rough days than i can count. nothing like melting into blankets with blustery old man winter giving you chills and a delicate weave of synth fades and tonal scales washing over you like the tiniest, ever unique, crystals of ice.
3/11/07
starside 03/11/07
Subject : starside
Posted Date: : Mar 11, 2007 4:04 PM
heading out to the maryland colony to visit my little sister and make some cash.
the only thing that makes riding the greyhound interesting is just thinking about it as a space shuttle. a really crappy, really square, really smelly, but moderately inexpensive, space shuttle, and you are the intrepid... uhm... business man being sent out to the stars to double check some standards and regulations issue for your company that didnt have the loose change to send you first class. now thats interesting. like that jetsons movie.
so here's the plan. disembark monday morning. cut down some trees. chill out.... play some games... maybe watch a movie.... eat... sleep... and repeat until friday afternoon.
embarassing moment of the week: i had so much trouble having an orgasm today that i ended up masterbating from around 4 am till like 7.30. either i really suck at masterbating or something is wrong. i probably just need to give the nerve endings a break.
happy/sad moment of the week: anne's spiraling success. its getting out of control. the only way for things to continue at this pace is if she just started finding thousand dollar bills laying around on the sidewalk. its happy because she's worked hard and is already getting to see some benefits... but its also sad... because im not seeing any returns on my efforts yet... and probably wont for another year. ah well. i can wait. im a patient person. and if it takes too long i can at least learn how to cheat the game a little from watching it so long from the sidelines. hopefully cheating wont end up meaning acquiring a drug problem.
funny moment of the week: i was typing some drunken text messages and i dont know how many of them even got sent... but the thing was that i've been missing anne while shes in florida and at the time i was typing the messages i couldnt think of the words i was trying to say. i knew how i felt but there was a tangle of non responsive brain matter between feelings and typing fingertips. so i eventually just admitted i couldnt find the words... and for some reason i felt ashamed. but god damn it, did i try. there are six or seven saved messages that look like a two year old got their hands on refrigerator magnet letters and spilled the box... on a jigsaw puzzle.
///meat beat manifesto - "what does it all mean" a pretty cool song to listen to when youre gettin 'r done. you know moves are never fake. society is a drag so why not drop it?
Posted Date: : Mar 11, 2007 4:04 PM
heading out to the maryland colony to visit my little sister and make some cash.
the only thing that makes riding the greyhound interesting is just thinking about it as a space shuttle. a really crappy, really square, really smelly, but moderately inexpensive, space shuttle, and you are the intrepid... uhm... business man being sent out to the stars to double check some standards and regulations issue for your company that didnt have the loose change to send you first class. now thats interesting. like that jetsons movie.
so here's the plan. disembark monday morning. cut down some trees. chill out.... play some games... maybe watch a movie.... eat... sleep... and repeat until friday afternoon.
embarassing moment of the week: i had so much trouble having an orgasm today that i ended up masterbating from around 4 am till like 7.30. either i really suck at masterbating or something is wrong. i probably just need to give the nerve endings a break.
happy/sad moment of the week: anne's spiraling success. its getting out of control. the only way for things to continue at this pace is if she just started finding thousand dollar bills laying around on the sidewalk. its happy because she's worked hard and is already getting to see some benefits... but its also sad... because im not seeing any returns on my efforts yet... and probably wont for another year. ah well. i can wait. im a patient person. and if it takes too long i can at least learn how to cheat the game a little from watching it so long from the sidelines. hopefully cheating wont end up meaning acquiring a drug problem.
funny moment of the week: i was typing some drunken text messages and i dont know how many of them even got sent... but the thing was that i've been missing anne while shes in florida and at the time i was typing the messages i couldnt think of the words i was trying to say. i knew how i felt but there was a tangle of non responsive brain matter between feelings and typing fingertips. so i eventually just admitted i couldnt find the words... and for some reason i felt ashamed. but god damn it, did i try. there are six or seven saved messages that look like a two year old got their hands on refrigerator magnet letters and spilled the box... on a jigsaw puzzle.
///meat beat manifesto - "what does it all mean" a pretty cool song to listen to when youre gettin 'r done. you know moves are never fake. society is a drag so why not drop it?
12/2/05
i am not anna nicole smith 12/02/05
Subject : I am not anna nicole smith
Posted Date: : Dec 2, 2005 6:37 PM
She is white. I am black. Our similarities pretty much end there. She attempted to make a living with her acting and endless breast enhancements (to the point where she could literally use her tits for extra shelving or a convenient t.v. dinner tray holder or even a nice crevase for catching stray crumbs when eating crunch n munch popcorn while jetting through the l.a. freeways), and only ended up alieniating every living person on the face of the earth except maybe david hasselhoff and a few perverted little kids who had no concept of what a beautiful woman really is anyway. then again david hasselhoff isnt really a person so that leaves like .000000001 percent of the population who could look at her and have thoughts other than murder/divine punishment/"retribution-for-womens-rights-though-i-am-a-die-hard-chauvanist" come to mind.
when she realized she couldnt act and no one was interested in seeing her, naked or clothed, she went gold digging with some dude 63 years her senior who died a year or so after they got hitched. I on the other hand am not banking on anything else except my ability to land that hottie who may or may not happen to be 63 years my senior and even if she did die in the year after i got us hitched and my name in the will it would still be the best damn year she ever had, god damn it! yes, i plan on becoming filthy rich through essentially servicing an older woman, but at least its not a dude, and at least i have her pleasure in mind. when you break it down its like any other job: you put in your time until theyre gone and bam! its time to retire to mutha fuckin rio forever and shag all day and drink all night with a view of one of the most beautiful landscapes on earth.
i mean, consider the alternative: i could work in a nursing home and shag the patients and get nothing out of it but a tiny pay check and union security. now you tell me you wouldnt pick the able bodied old lady with a fat wallet and a horny sand box over that poor bed ridden shmoe who will probably get you fired after your night of illicit passion. hmmmm... tabloid super star > washed up nurses assistant any day if you ask me. anna nicole isnt even a tabloid superstar. She's a pathetic example of excess gone awry and, sadly, very well documented through small distribution media that happens to be tabloidal in nature. she is a failure at life, where as i will be a resounding success because i will set out to do what i have always intended to do instead of pretending to be good at something im not by running around with two extra bald heads grafted to my chest.
$$$$ its all about the benjamins. plus i dont need any enhancing. that shits just shallow in that kind of extreme!
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