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.
Clean with alcohol only. Do not attempt to replace blown fuses. Do not remove access panels. Return to certified mechanic for regular maintenance. Made in the USA.
Showing posts with label rambling. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rambling. Show all posts
1/10/12
7/20/11
Time Rides Again
My 18th birthday is tomorrow.
I am two months and 28 days into my 26th iteration.
At maximum effort it will take approximately six more months to save $1000.
Eight days off of chemical mediation.
It has been 12 days since I felt genuine happiness.
20 hours since I last fantasized about cutting someone's face off and eating it.
Twelve hours since I last put something in my mouth that was food.
Two days since I had a dream about flying.
Five hours since I heard crying and could not find the source.
Twenty six hours since I crossed the bridge last.
Ten hours and forty minutes since I felt adrenaline course through me, knifing through traffic.
Sixteen hours since I discovered my downstairs neighbors are the only white people in my building.
Thirty hours and sixteen minutes since the upstairs neighbors were evicted into a thunderstorm.
One year and nine months since I last had sex.
Six months and twenty days since I declared I would not be denied a full time job.
110 days and 14 hours since I started a still undelivered gift for a friend.
24 hours since I found out temp labor is essentially a scam for those over 21.
16 days since I dislocated my knee and broke a tooth.
Fifty three days since I found and did not hang card paper to spray paint.
98 minutes since I opened a book and read for fun.
14 minutes since I bruised my knuckles.
4 minutes since I smiled last.
20 seconds since I entertained my dream of life minus all the fucking bullshit that tears time away from us like sickles to sheep bellies and scatters it confetti and demands you collect it all up again before taking another step forward, or die.
5 seconds since I wished I could go back to sleep and wake with no memory of a single thing from my past again.
Too long since I've been back here. It's a broken watch. In the sense that the watch keeper does so in a broken way. Hello world, the computer says. You won't betray me too, I ask. I would never, the computer says. I am only an epitaph in your pen and thus true well beyond the worm food of you. Awww, come here, I say. Hug. Drop lights. And scene.
///The Future Sound of London - "Dirty Shadows" Sometimes the shadows on the walls crawl on your skin and claw their way in and trace the bends and levies to your stem and throttle you cold to the land of neversleep.
I am two months and 28 days into my 26th iteration.
At maximum effort it will take approximately six more months to save $1000.
Eight days off of chemical mediation.
It has been 12 days since I felt genuine happiness.
20 hours since I last fantasized about cutting someone's face off and eating it.
Twelve hours since I last put something in my mouth that was food.
Two days since I had a dream about flying.
Five hours since I heard crying and could not find the source.
Twenty six hours since I crossed the bridge last.
Ten hours and forty minutes since I felt adrenaline course through me, knifing through traffic.
Sixteen hours since I discovered my downstairs neighbors are the only white people in my building.
Thirty hours and sixteen minutes since the upstairs neighbors were evicted into a thunderstorm.
One year and nine months since I last had sex.
Six months and twenty days since I declared I would not be denied a full time job.
110 days and 14 hours since I started a still undelivered gift for a friend.
24 hours since I found out temp labor is essentially a scam for those over 21.
16 days since I dislocated my knee and broke a tooth.
Fifty three days since I found and did not hang card paper to spray paint.
98 minutes since I opened a book and read for fun.
14 minutes since I bruised my knuckles.
4 minutes since I smiled last.
20 seconds since I entertained my dream of life minus all the fucking bullshit that tears time away from us like sickles to sheep bellies and scatters it confetti and demands you collect it all up again before taking another step forward, or die.
5 seconds since I wished I could go back to sleep and wake with no memory of a single thing from my past again.
Too long since I've been back here. It's a broken watch. In the sense that the watch keeper does so in a broken way. Hello world, the computer says. You won't betray me too, I ask. I would never, the computer says. I am only an epitaph in your pen and thus true well beyond the worm food of you. Awww, come here, I say. Hug. Drop lights. And scene.
///The Future Sound of London - "Dirty Shadows" Sometimes the shadows on the walls crawl on your skin and claw their way in and trace the bends and levies to your stem and throttle you cold to the land of neversleep.
10/29/10
Fruits of a Labor and Where We Left the Bodies
I drew some pictures for you. I like the colors. I was in a kind of bloody soil mood and the taste was not to be denied so I didn't.
I don't know what to say today. It happens. I don't really know what I'm thinking tonight either, but I'm doing it with clothes on. Oh there it is. Found what I was asking for. There really is a certain security in sleeping with clothes on. It's a completely different quality of sleep. I feel a real security in the closeness of the clothing that at the same time can grow to be entrapping. Whatever. That's kind of stupid. When I sleep with clothes on I get hotter and hotter and then my dreamworld flies seriously out of whack and scary things happen in there and, not that I've been able to exercise control over the individuals and things that happen, but what security I do feel in the reality of the landscape dissolves into chaos.
Across the bridge of consciousness, the ground is just as firm and even more comforting in its expansiveness and unrestricted isness. Much more so than here. I prefer to be there. So when things get screwed up there by what happens here it becomes particular upsetting. Especially when the solution is as easy as taking off my pajamas and going back to sleep. Because the only limitation on the place is that I can't be there forever, I can't get stuck there like I get stuck here, its particularly aggravating to end up wasting valuable time. Its enraging.
At any rate, the public transportation there is strange. Not really screwy as much as it is that things come and go on the subway system that I sometimes prefer not to meet or see. Usually everyone minds there own business. I never used the trains there by myself because whenever I do I end up getting lost. Just the other day I spent the entire time I was there lost in the subway system. At one point I got so sick of trying to get the right train I climbed down off of the platform and decided to walk it and I don't know if those trains run at the speed of sound or what, but it took me five hours to walk between train stops and then, of course, by the time I got back to the stop I wanted near the apartment complexes I nearly get my legs cut off by the train I was tired of waiting for. I think that's really my only complaint about the place.
I was thinking about the best way to burn down a house with the people inside it without giving them a way out. It would take a lot of effort. It wouldn't be easy for the logistics of a floor plan and unless they were stone asleep they would probably hear you hoofing around in the grass with your arson kit and caboodle. Definitely low on the list of ways to solve problems.
We're altogether now and I'm happy for that. I hope it lasts forever, but I know it won't. Actually that's not even true. I don't hope it lasts forever. It just felt like the right thing to say to express the glowing feeling in the pit of my stomach. I know things have died up there in my head. But when they die they don't get buried. There's no cemetery up there. I should probably take care of that at some point. I wonder if that's the thing. When you finally die it's because your head is full of bodies and there's no more space for anything else to live. The casualties, relationships, dreams, efforts, ideas, whatever, all the bullshit that mattered to you and no one else that no one, including you, could resurrect with Dr. Frank and a million volts of Earth's pulse pile up and some people bury them one by one and some people have to bury them in mass graves, but they're there. I'm just glad they don't talk too.
The poetry has cut off in a new direction that I'm enjoying. It's stumbled on a rhythm I'm rather liking. Answers are as far away today as they were yesterday, but I'm not really looking for specifics anymore. I'm not sure if I should be. It's not that I want to care about concrete details of living a life, it's that I already care so much about things that so often stand defiant in the face of description and I'm focused on trying anyway because that's what is worthwhile. Maybe it's what I'm here for. That should count as something important. The cats came back. In lesser numbers this time. There was a day I thought I could see individual molecules of air. Turns out it was a whole bunch of blood vessels in my oculars. Is that a word? Things here would probably be so much more important if things across the bridge weren't equally so.
No fruits of the labor yet. Or maybe there is and I just have no idea where it lands. At any rate I'm content to keep doing dream work where the wild things are. Where up is up and down is down and I'm remembered by the people I've seen and I can go anywhere and the only limitation is my body and sometimes not even that.
Still planning the suicide diary. I know right. It is taking forever. I'm not putting it off. I just haven't been here to do it. Promise.
///Unkle feat. Big In Japan - "The Answer" ...perfect weather...
7/12/10
Small Victories
Life is like a fire breathing tiger at an Origami swap meet. All you want to do is trade bits of beautiful things with other people and then, descending from on high with no warning comes life, tearing people in half, exploding fire over everything you value, and using your favorite couch as a really big scratching post. I need more hours in my day. The good news is (did you see it yet? Seriously, look around for a second. Did you see it?) I fixed the footer. Yaaay. A small victory three days after the fact, but the point is I did it and it looks way better than it did. More legible, more sexy, more everything. So while the universe burns hotter than a gay man with gonorrhea inside a green house buying last minute flowers for his parents on their anniversary while figuring out how to explain the answering machine message he accidentally left them while high on lsd at a rave, I managed to accomplish something tangible. Bang. One goal down, 9000 to go.
On a completely unrelated note- no that's not true, it's semi-related- on a completely semi-related note, I'm trying to figure out how to master Wordpress. I was browsing some job listings and a few looked mighty tasty, but the job poster demanded a "mastery of Wordpress." That is about as vague a requirement as I have ever seen. That's like those listings that require a "mastery of Mac machines." Do they want me to be able to write applications for Macs or something? Do they want me to able to turn it on and navigate the interface? Or does mastery mean I must have owned one for several years? I bet it means that I have to dress like that guy who used to be in those Mac commercials when Mac was trying to justify their outrageous prices for marginal differences by making everyone who didn't own a Mac feel like they were being total assholes for not having the money to plunk down for one.
What is there to master in Wordpress? I guess I'm missing something, but I'll look around and see what the big deal is. Maybe there's more to it than using the interface that is essentially the same as blogger. Maybe there isn't and it means that I just have to go into the interview with the posture of someone who knows his shit. Or maybe it means I just have to sprinkle in some Wordpress jargon. Its probably the third thing. Pepper there ears with some sugar sweet tech talk. I should purchase some fake glasses too to make my face more approachable. Not that I look like an idiot, but I do look like I should be out in the wilderness firing a 24 inch chainsaw and smoking Marlboros (which is kind of the job I would like to do, but I don't live anywhere near any logging operations).
At any rate, I lost my train of thought. The thought of deforestation gives me boners. Well, just one boner over multiple time frames. Obviously. But, there was something else.
Oh, I got it. Nabbed it. The story site for my fiction is what I'm working on piecing together. Hopefully that'll be up sooner than later. I've got a story to tell you that I think you might like.
///Yeah Yeah Yeahs - "Phenomena" When the White Stripes came out with their album Icky Thump a lot of critics said, "oh my God this is completely and totally awesome," but in my opinion the YYYs nailed a much ickier harder thumping sound the year before with their album; this track being one of my favorites on the whole thing. If the universe ever does catch fire and we're all going to die, I hope they play this song when the curtain comes up.
On a completely unrelated note- no that's not true, it's semi-related- on a completely semi-related note, I'm trying to figure out how to master Wordpress. I was browsing some job listings and a few looked mighty tasty, but the job poster demanded a "mastery of Wordpress." That is about as vague a requirement as I have ever seen. That's like those listings that require a "mastery of Mac machines." Do they want me to be able to write applications for Macs or something? Do they want me to able to turn it on and navigate the interface? Or does mastery mean I must have owned one for several years? I bet it means that I have to dress like that guy who used to be in those Mac commercials when Mac was trying to justify their outrageous prices for marginal differences by making everyone who didn't own a Mac feel like they were being total assholes for not having the money to plunk down for one.
What is there to master in Wordpress? I guess I'm missing something, but I'll look around and see what the big deal is. Maybe there's more to it than using the interface that is essentially the same as blogger. Maybe there isn't and it means that I just have to go into the interview with the posture of someone who knows his shit. Or maybe it means I just have to sprinkle in some Wordpress jargon. Its probably the third thing. Pepper there ears with some sugar sweet tech talk. I should purchase some fake glasses too to make my face more approachable. Not that I look like an idiot, but I do look like I should be out in the wilderness firing a 24 inch chainsaw and smoking Marlboros (which is kind of the job I would like to do, but I don't live anywhere near any logging operations).
At any rate, I lost my train of thought. The thought of deforestation gives me boners. Well, just one boner over multiple time frames. Obviously. But, there was something else.
Oh, I got it. Nabbed it. The story site for my fiction is what I'm working on piecing together. Hopefully that'll be up sooner than later. I've got a story to tell you that I think you might like.
///Yeah Yeah Yeahs - "Phenomena" When the White Stripes came out with their album Icky Thump a lot of critics said, "oh my God this is completely and totally awesome," but in my opinion the YYYs nailed a much ickier harder thumping sound the year before with their album; this track being one of my favorites on the whole thing. If the universe ever does catch fire and we're all going to die, I hope they play this song when the curtain comes up.
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.
7/19/07
dear person i snapped at 07/19/07
Subject : dear person i snapped at today
Posted Date: : Jun 19, 2007 12:49 AM
sorry. i know, you probably thought it was the right way to respond to my inane ramblings and i probably shouldnt have taken it so seriously and besides we are coworkers you know? co-workers dont fight. ontop of that we went to get sodas afterward too. it might have been easy for you to fall into a position where the only way to get a word in edgewise was to criticize me directly, and i know it was easy to put you there (if thats what happend at all) because i am very good at carrying on long dialogs with whoever will listen, so im sorry. im sorry because i probably shouldnt have made you feel like a moron for criticizing me and i probably shouldnt have called you a coward and i probably shouldnt have told you to fuck off, so ... my bad.
its not that i dont give a fuck... its just that i have my own short comings when it comes to things like people who use criticism as an in for interaction. i didnt mean to be a jerk, but then again you probably didnt either. you probably just wanted to join in on my never ending monologue... or maybe not... maybe you were just tired of hearing me ramble. i get tired of hearing me ramble sometimes and i know for a fact its not half worth listening to 75% of the time. well maybe fifty percent. what im trying to say is i was wrong to assume you were wrong, but i was also wrong (assuming you were right) by virtue of the way i reacted. sorry again. hope i didnt crush your self esteem by any means. mine is already pretty fragile as it is and would probably implode if i wasnt constantly forcing it outward with my long winded diatribes about how awesome i may or may not be....
anyways... i guess i should say thanks for bringing my longwindedness on the job to my attention. ill try to talk a little bit less while im there. for the rest of the time however i will probably keep on talking. mainly because i like to talk and shutting up is for cowards, introverts, the subjugated and military men/women. i believe that last sentence counts as posturing. performance. but in a good way. call it hyperbole mixed with something along the lines of a lack of self control. i feel compelled to talk so i do and i make it sound like its a great thing. because it is. dont be a communist. bye.
///planetary assaul systems - "gated" wanna know what it sounds like in my brain when my synapses really get my mouth going and i dont talk it out to keep things somewhat organised? it sounds like something going 360 beats per minute with a violin trying to catch every third note while sticking to a 4:4 meter all while an alarm sounds just out of synch enough to make you wish you woke up five hours later in the morning and without having to take a huge dump before you could function. but you still like it because after the first thirty seconds of feeling and hearing that way you start to see how it all fits together better than anything you could have written yourself.
Posted Date: : Jun 19, 2007 12:49 AM
sorry. i know, you probably thought it was the right way to respond to my inane ramblings and i probably shouldnt have taken it so seriously and besides we are coworkers you know? co-workers dont fight. ontop of that we went to get sodas afterward too. it might have been easy for you to fall into a position where the only way to get a word in edgewise was to criticize me directly, and i know it was easy to put you there (if thats what happend at all) because i am very good at carrying on long dialogs with whoever will listen, so im sorry. im sorry because i probably shouldnt have made you feel like a moron for criticizing me and i probably shouldnt have called you a coward and i probably shouldnt have told you to fuck off, so ... my bad.
its not that i dont give a fuck... its just that i have my own short comings when it comes to things like people who use criticism as an in for interaction. i didnt mean to be a jerk, but then again you probably didnt either. you probably just wanted to join in on my never ending monologue... or maybe not... maybe you were just tired of hearing me ramble. i get tired of hearing me ramble sometimes and i know for a fact its not half worth listening to 75% of the time. well maybe fifty percent. what im trying to say is i was wrong to assume you were wrong, but i was also wrong (assuming you were right) by virtue of the way i reacted. sorry again. hope i didnt crush your self esteem by any means. mine is already pretty fragile as it is and would probably implode if i wasnt constantly forcing it outward with my long winded diatribes about how awesome i may or may not be....
anyways... i guess i should say thanks for bringing my longwindedness on the job to my attention. ill try to talk a little bit less while im there. for the rest of the time however i will probably keep on talking. mainly because i like to talk and shutting up is for cowards, introverts, the subjugated and military men/women. i believe that last sentence counts as posturing. performance. but in a good way. call it hyperbole mixed with something along the lines of a lack of self control. i feel compelled to talk so i do and i make it sound like its a great thing. because it is. dont be a communist. bye.
///planetary assaul systems - "gated" wanna know what it sounds like in my brain when my synapses really get my mouth going and i dont talk it out to keep things somewhat organised? it sounds like something going 360 beats per minute with a violin trying to catch every third note while sticking to a 4:4 meter all while an alarm sounds just out of synch enough to make you wish you woke up five hours later in the morning and without having to take a huge dump before you could function. but you still like it because after the first thirty seconds of feeling and hearing that way you start to see how it all fits together better than anything you could have written yourself.
6/13/07
something to say 06/13/07
Subject : something to say
Posted Date: : Jun 13, 2007 12:13 AM
i had a lot of things to say earlier today and i told myself i would get off of work moving furniture and come home and write. but i couldnt make the time. which also means i forgot everything that i thought would be interesting to say. which sucks because when im at work i devote a significant amount of time to thinking. not really thinking about things that are exceptionally profound, or particularly strange, but things that take me down one path or another to some destination of interest.
sooo in lieu of something interesting to say i will simply share some of my favorite phrases. not really favorite phrases, but more like things i like to hear during the week in no particular order. turn cassette over now.
actually i disagree. instead of that im just going to acknowledge that i have nothing to say today except that i hope you all had great days. i guess the only other thing is that i would like to admit that i have a night light in the shape of a balloon with purple and yellow polka dots over blue tinted glass. i use it every night. =) thats about it. bbye for now.
///the pillows - "one life" if you are a fan of general j rock (alternative rock from japan) you'll love this little anthem of loving life. true story.
Posted Date: : Jun 13, 2007 12:13 AM
i had a lot of things to say earlier today and i told myself i would get off of work moving furniture and come home and write. but i couldnt make the time. which also means i forgot everything that i thought would be interesting to say. which sucks because when im at work i devote a significant amount of time to thinking. not really thinking about things that are exceptionally profound, or particularly strange, but things that take me down one path or another to some destination of interest.
sooo in lieu of something interesting to say i will simply share some of my favorite phrases. not really favorite phrases, but more like things i like to hear during the week in no particular order. turn cassette over now.
actually i disagree. instead of that im just going to acknowledge that i have nothing to say today except that i hope you all had great days. i guess the only other thing is that i would like to admit that i have a night light in the shape of a balloon with purple and yellow polka dots over blue tinted glass. i use it every night. =) thats about it. bbye for now.
///the pillows - "one life" if you are a fan of general j rock (alternative rock from japan) you'll love this little anthem of loving life. true story.
6/4/07
move your pen 06/04/07
Subject : move your pen
Posted Date: : Jun 4, 2007 11:09 PM
tonight... its too warm to sleep easily and i have a boner that refuses to resolve itself. so instead of trying to pleasure myself till the bright hours of the morning and going to work tired im gonna just try to sweat it out. not really sweat it out persay, but more like lay here till i feel sleepy.
while i wait for sleep i will write some stream of concious stuff that may or may not be true. basically im entertaining myself.
i picked apart my sandwich today while considering the things i like to imagine are important. the seeds in the wheat bread. there were seeds in the wheat bread and they reminded me of gothic homes. kitchen floors dusted with flour. flour that falls deeper. pressed by footsteps between the dulled boards. sprinkling down to the cellar where Tigris died. after birthing her litter. of still borns.
it was tuna fish again. not that i have anything against dolphins. or fishermen. theres a show on called deadliest catch featuring the dancing talents of a thing. i forget which talent im supposed to say. the tuna was old. i could taste it. the can. i could taste the can between bites. and i noticed the refrigerator door was still open.
the cool touch of air around my ankles just like the last time. i showered, but left my bedroom window open. i couldnt help thinking how gorgeous i looked. for the first minutes. before i realized there was a man standing beneath the street lights. just to the left of the oak tree that nearly died last winter. knowing the uncertainty. the measured seconds before my fingers shut the window. was the same.
a mouthful of tin shards and dry oats. mixed and mashed together with the smoked guts of some thing i'd never before laid. eyes on and probably never would. i picked that sandwich. for forty minutes. watching the sun and staring it down till it hid behind the big easy hills. and cast its shadows where my hands couldnt interfere. someone should probably. throw it out.
///the dust brothers - "jacks smirking revenge" not much to say here. the dust brothers are the chemical brothers. i think thats good enough if it matters at all. bbye for now.
Posted Date: : Jun 4, 2007 11:09 PM
tonight... its too warm to sleep easily and i have a boner that refuses to resolve itself. so instead of trying to pleasure myself till the bright hours of the morning and going to work tired im gonna just try to sweat it out. not really sweat it out persay, but more like lay here till i feel sleepy.
while i wait for sleep i will write some stream of concious stuff that may or may not be true. basically im entertaining myself.
i picked apart my sandwich today while considering the things i like to imagine are important. the seeds in the wheat bread. there were seeds in the wheat bread and they reminded me of gothic homes. kitchen floors dusted with flour. flour that falls deeper. pressed by footsteps between the dulled boards. sprinkling down to the cellar where Tigris died. after birthing her litter. of still borns.
it was tuna fish again. not that i have anything against dolphins. or fishermen. theres a show on called deadliest catch featuring the dancing talents of a thing. i forget which talent im supposed to say. the tuna was old. i could taste it. the can. i could taste the can between bites. and i noticed the refrigerator door was still open.
the cool touch of air around my ankles just like the last time. i showered, but left my bedroom window open. i couldnt help thinking how gorgeous i looked. for the first minutes. before i realized there was a man standing beneath the street lights. just to the left of the oak tree that nearly died last winter. knowing the uncertainty. the measured seconds before my fingers shut the window. was the same.
a mouthful of tin shards and dry oats. mixed and mashed together with the smoked guts of some thing i'd never before laid. eyes on and probably never would. i picked that sandwich. for forty minutes. watching the sun and staring it down till it hid behind the big easy hills. and cast its shadows where my hands couldnt interfere. someone should probably. throw it out.
///the dust brothers - "jacks smirking revenge" not much to say here. the dust brothers are the chemical brothers. i think thats good enough if it matters at all. bbye for now.
5/31/07
the starvation diet 05/31/07
Subject : the starvation diet continues
Posted Date: : May 31, 2007 3:39 PM
more and more i ask myself "is it worth it" less and less. kind of a disjoint sentence, but there are worse things, like having your tongue fall out. in the grand mother fucking scheme of things a few months is like a few months. in a decade there are 120 months. three months. one hundred. and twenty. months. three months. 3 months not so big. in lieu of the beautacious anne to bounce my lunacy off of ive taken up reading. you would think that a writer would read a lot, but a writer, namely me, dont necessasarily do that.
dont get me wrong, i read a lot. just not a lot of the things i would prefer to be reading at any given moment in time. im thinking once i finish my american beauty | donnie darko parody i'll post it here.... and then start on a 14 page poem to my lover. yeah thats right. romantic, i know. whats that? not what you were thinking? you put another word in front of the "i know?" well good for you. you should probably congratulate yourself if you haven't already. you have? well, fine job. anyway, i want to do this because i want to mail her something. i've never mailed anything to spain before so this is somewhat of an exhillirating idea for me. probably not so much, you. i also want to get started writing a poem everyday. just because its healthy. in a very healthful way. to be in a very healthful way.
i really reallllly want to go to spain to be with her. i would potentially ride in a crate with a single airhole on a cut rate airline and assuming i didnt get there dead it would all have been worth it. but since i would probably not survive the trip ill just wait for her to come back, possibly twiddle my thumbs, and also possibly get a tatoo and another ear piercing. a tatoo of what is the question. i really wanted a snowflake, but now i feel like there are better symbols to describe myself to people who dont know me who might see me shirtless at the beach or something. im still leaning toward a snowflake but i could also go for animals (real or imagined), other elemental/weather symbols, and possibly man made objects, excluding crosses. i could also go for names... maybe. i should probably wait on names till knots have been tied... which may or may not happen. you never know how things will go when you're just 22. im trying not to over run myself to the point of being delusional about love. im pretty sure my results are mixed.
ive taken to shouting at my guinea pig. he doesnt understand anyway. more on our relationship next time. ill try to include more illegally copied internet pictures too. no one likes a dry martini unless theyre pretending to.
///mum - "there is a number of small things" a classic builder song. elements are added and added as what i would call the chorus... maybe just the chore chords cycle round and round... until the song reaches its peak 4 and a half minutes in. from there it begins to slowly unravel into a number of small things, each one precious and vital as a gem stone in a black velvet pouch. give it a listen on a tuesday night. yes. a tuesday night.
Posted Date: : May 31, 2007 3:39 PM
more and more i ask myself "is it worth it" less and less. kind of a disjoint sentence, but there are worse things, like having your tongue fall out. in the grand mother fucking scheme of things a few months is like a few months. in a decade there are 120 months. three months. one hundred. and twenty. months. three months. 3 months not so big. in lieu of the beautacious anne to bounce my lunacy off of ive taken up reading. you would think that a writer would read a lot, but a writer, namely me, dont necessasarily do that.
dont get me wrong, i read a lot. just not a lot of the things i would prefer to be reading at any given moment in time. im thinking once i finish my american beauty | donnie darko parody i'll post it here.... and then start on a 14 page poem to my lover. yeah thats right. romantic, i know. whats that? not what you were thinking? you put another word in front of the "i know?" well good for you. you should probably congratulate yourself if you haven't already. you have? well, fine job. anyway, i want to do this because i want to mail her something. i've never mailed anything to spain before so this is somewhat of an exhillirating idea for me. probably not so much, you. i also want to get started writing a poem everyday. just because its healthy. in a very healthful way. to be in a very healthful way.
i really reallllly want to go to spain to be with her. i would potentially ride in a crate with a single airhole on a cut rate airline and assuming i didnt get there dead it would all have been worth it. but since i would probably not survive the trip ill just wait for her to come back, possibly twiddle my thumbs, and also possibly get a tatoo and another ear piercing. a tatoo of what is the question. i really wanted a snowflake, but now i feel like there are better symbols to describe myself to people who dont know me who might see me shirtless at the beach or something. im still leaning toward a snowflake but i could also go for animals (real or imagined), other elemental/weather symbols, and possibly man made objects, excluding crosses. i could also go for names... maybe. i should probably wait on names till knots have been tied... which may or may not happen. you never know how things will go when you're just 22. im trying not to over run myself to the point of being delusional about love. im pretty sure my results are mixed.
ive taken to shouting at my guinea pig. he doesnt understand anyway. more on our relationship next time. ill try to include more illegally copied internet pictures too. no one likes a dry martini unless theyre pretending to.
///mum - "there is a number of small things" a classic builder song. elements are added and added as what i would call the chorus... maybe just the chore chords cycle round and round... until the song reaches its peak 4 and a half minutes in. from there it begins to slowly unravel into a number of small things, each one precious and vital as a gem stone in a black velvet pouch. give it a listen on a tuesday night. yes. a tuesday night.
5/27/07
stop putting tae diggs in movies 05/27/07
Subject : stop putting tae diggs in movies
Posted Date: : May 27, 2007 3:50 AM
i dont even know if his name actually is tae diggs. all i know is he's been the token black anti-hero on more tent-pole pics than i can count on one hand. the other problem is that i know he's been in more movies that i just cant remember in their entireity because they were too shitty to stick. all i have are commercial clips with indistinct hip hop and that ominous movie dude voice going.
he's a terrible actor. he's worse than jamie foxx was when he did his first movie. worse than snoop dogg in the movie about black vampires. worse than the voice acting in american anime. worse than a grilled cheese sandwich made with powdered parmesian and olive oil.... worse than the fucking godzilla versus king kong dvd i bought for 2.50 a couple weeks ago. if anyone is paying this person anything it should be dirty kleenexes with sad faces on it used to wipe the asses of people in retirement homes. he should be paying the industry... or at least be forced to do a thousand hours of community service for every half million a movie makes that he even shows his face in. i hate his acting.
on another note. i just stopped being sick today. it was pretty strange. it started off almost a week ago with a sore throat that turned into a completely raw throat featuring spitting up blood and other unmentionable etceteras (bastardised i know, but i dont care that much). then a fever kicked in a few days ago that kept rising until this morning, ending at the wonderfully heady peak of 102 degrees centaheit. and then i coughed up a pair of jagged grape sized wads of blood and my raw throat suddenly downgraded to a sore throat. a lot less blood in the spit. which is nice. i still wonder what those jagged things were but i havent developed the stomach to go poking around my wastebasket for them... let alone disecting them. i just hope they dont hatch into something. that would be gross as ... something really stomach turning. im probably going to have nightmares about that. ah well.
Posted Date: : May 27, 2007 3:50 AM
i dont even know if his name actually is tae diggs. all i know is he's been the token black anti-hero on more tent-pole pics than i can count on one hand. the other problem is that i know he's been in more movies that i just cant remember in their entireity because they were too shitty to stick. all i have are commercial clips with indistinct hip hop and that ominous movie dude voice going.
he's a terrible actor. he's worse than jamie foxx was when he did his first movie. worse than snoop dogg in the movie about black vampires. worse than the voice acting in american anime. worse than a grilled cheese sandwich made with powdered parmesian and olive oil.... worse than the fucking godzilla versus king kong dvd i bought for 2.50 a couple weeks ago. if anyone is paying this person anything it should be dirty kleenexes with sad faces on it used to wipe the asses of people in retirement homes. he should be paying the industry... or at least be forced to do a thousand hours of community service for every half million a movie makes that he even shows his face in. i hate his acting.
on another note. i just stopped being sick today. it was pretty strange. it started off almost a week ago with a sore throat that turned into a completely raw throat featuring spitting up blood and other unmentionable etceteras (bastardised i know, but i dont care that much). then a fever kicked in a few days ago that kept rising until this morning, ending at the wonderfully heady peak of 102 degrees centaheit. and then i coughed up a pair of jagged grape sized wads of blood and my raw throat suddenly downgraded to a sore throat. a lot less blood in the spit. which is nice. i still wonder what those jagged things were but i havent developed the stomach to go poking around my wastebasket for them... let alone disecting them. i just hope they dont hatch into something. that would be gross as ... something really stomach turning. im probably going to have nightmares about that. ah well.
4/5/07
make good 04/05/07
Subject : make good ::: destroyer goodness
Posted Date: : Apr 5, 2007 6:59 PM
i cant really fault anyone for not being able to trust me. i spend a lot of time thinking to myself about things external to me before acting in ways that i myself have trouble predicting. im bipolar with shades of schizophrenia and a control freak streak a few hectares wide. i have anger management problems and i digest personal loss as easily as i shit bricks. i like to make people happy to my own detriment, and entertain quiet thoughts of bdsm when no ones looking. the one thing people seem to be able to catch on to is that i make good.
your damn fucking right i make good. LOLERZ. but seriously... when i put my mind to something i will try to carry it out till the treads fall off, and yes its my upbringing. i dont enjoy being this way sometimes. sometimes it sucks. sometimes it makes it impossible for people to trust my authenticity and sometimes the people that are close to me can see there's something else behind my eyes i dont want to talk about. sometimes it makes life unmanageable, unenjoyable, and downright sickening. i've tried to change. i still do try to change. soemtimes i succeed. sometimes i dont. sometimes i dance. seriously.
this is the last time ill talk about love this month. promise. love is where trust is important, obviously. my ability to committ to a course should not be confused with, interchanged with, or held above my ability to love without condition. i just want that in writing. so there. im gonna be 22 soon... past the one third mark... so i dont have time to fuck around when it comes to love. fucking around is done with, was done with, has been done with for almost five years, and will continue to be done with. one of my hobbies is not seeing how many people i can fuck before i wake up in a coffee shop, having dozed off in the afternoon after a weekend bender, having missed slept throught the morning, to find im 39-still hitting the clubs for 19 year olds-unable to remember the name of the second to last person i banged-and feeling sorry for myself.
i love. i make good.
the road is winding onward... friends are getting jobs... degrees... cars... lives... world travel... etc. i am not. but if there's one thing i remember (aside from repeating the that phrase as much as possible) its that you cant let the parade outside your window ruin your perfectly good day and your perfectly good can of beer and your perfectly good creative mind and your perfectly good herb. watch the world go by? hah! i've got better things to do (which may or may not be true, but what the hell do you care). i am a reasonable person. i dont destroy yer goodness (at least not actively i hope) so dont feel bad if you think youre treading on mine. if that makes sense. in retrospect i dont think it does. but im not going to explain it. i dont have to.
the phrase is good enough on its own.
///the pillows! - "hybrid rainbow" probably the best song to listen to when the rain is just starting to let up and the last drops are catching the sunlight and firing it off in orange and amber and sorbet rays of milk and you look to the sky to see a rainbow and there's nothing there but towers and towers of clouds that look like you could climb them if you only had a rope long enough to lasso the filaments of rain still falling and dreams big enough to believe in yourself.
yes, its a very hopeful outlook. yes, i manufactured it. yes, i believe in it. yes, i will refuse to acknowledge your criticism of my opinion in this matter.
Posted Date: : Apr 5, 2007 6:59 PM
i cant really fault anyone for not being able to trust me. i spend a lot of time thinking to myself about things external to me before acting in ways that i myself have trouble predicting. im bipolar with shades of schizophrenia and a control freak streak a few hectares wide. i have anger management problems and i digest personal loss as easily as i shit bricks. i like to make people happy to my own detriment, and entertain quiet thoughts of bdsm when no ones looking. the one thing people seem to be able to catch on to is that i make good.
your damn fucking right i make good. LOLERZ. but seriously... when i put my mind to something i will try to carry it out till the treads fall off, and yes its my upbringing. i dont enjoy being this way sometimes. sometimes it sucks. sometimes it makes it impossible for people to trust my authenticity and sometimes the people that are close to me can see there's something else behind my eyes i dont want to talk about. sometimes it makes life unmanageable, unenjoyable, and downright sickening. i've tried to change. i still do try to change. soemtimes i succeed. sometimes i dont. sometimes i dance. seriously.
this is the last time ill talk about love this month. promise. love is where trust is important, obviously. my ability to committ to a course should not be confused with, interchanged with, or held above my ability to love without condition. i just want that in writing. so there. im gonna be 22 soon... past the one third mark... so i dont have time to fuck around when it comes to love. fucking around is done with, was done with, has been done with for almost five years, and will continue to be done with. one of my hobbies is not seeing how many people i can fuck before i wake up in a coffee shop, having dozed off in the afternoon after a weekend bender, having missed slept throught the morning, to find im 39-still hitting the clubs for 19 year olds-unable to remember the name of the second to last person i banged-and feeling sorry for myself.
i love. i make good.
the road is winding onward... friends are getting jobs... degrees... cars... lives... world travel... etc. i am not. but if there's one thing i remember (aside from repeating the that phrase as much as possible) its that you cant let the parade outside your window ruin your perfectly good day and your perfectly good can of beer and your perfectly good creative mind and your perfectly good herb. watch the world go by? hah! i've got better things to do (which may or may not be true, but what the hell do you care). i am a reasonable person. i dont destroy yer goodness (at least not actively i hope) so dont feel bad if you think youre treading on mine. if that makes sense. in retrospect i dont think it does. but im not going to explain it. i dont have to.
the phrase is good enough on its own.
///the pillows! - "hybrid rainbow" probably the best song to listen to when the rain is just starting to let up and the last drops are catching the sunlight and firing it off in orange and amber and sorbet rays of milk and you look to the sky to see a rainbow and there's nothing there but towers and towers of clouds that look like you could climb them if you only had a rope long enough to lasso the filaments of rain still falling and dreams big enough to believe in yourself.
yes, its a very hopeful outlook. yes, i manufactured it. yes, i believe in it. yes, i will refuse to acknowledge your criticism of my opinion in this matter.
2/15/07
teh never ending story 02/15/07
Subject : teh never ending story
Posted Date: : Feb 15, 2007 7:36 PM
so. ive recently become acutely aware of the difficulty in ending aim conversations and im pretty sure its just me (so no experiments are planned). Aim conversations continue on and on and when you stop talking its not like you can walk away from the person. they're still 'there' in a metaphysical sort of way. its like having a table for two and you simply decide not to say anything to this person who is sitting two feet from you because there is nothing more to say. not that its a bad thing, but still its pretty awkard. i've literally spent fifteen minutes at a time wondering if i should close the little instant message box or leave it open in case they say something else.
i mean nothing is more rude than getting up in the middle of someone's thoughts and saying 'well, its been fun. bye.' no one wants to be rude. i think im just taking it all too seirously. like body language. i take body language way too seriously. i think its because my dad always comented on my body language as though it were some ultra secret window into what i was actually thinking. not true. body language is just like words. sometimes people gesture what they dont mean and sometimes people mean what they are not gesturing. the whole system is unreliable.
elizabeth is back. my life with her is like an aim conversation that wont quit for the right reasons. its kind of strange, i suppose. i never thought i would be in this position. i never thought this position would be a good one, but it is. the burden of proof is on me this time around and im okay with that. we are still as fiery as ever. we still fight sometimes. argue. yell. all that. but its good. i like it. i love her. she's the kind of opinionated, sometimes petty, sometimes wrong, always beautiful, sometimes moody, better than me at "things that matter" person that i want to be with. red aura and all. i feel kind of weird about the idea that i may marry her (being that i still havent managed to resolve the task of graduating, still do not have a functional resume', and still have absolutely no idea where im going to end up working or how much money i will even have a chance of making) but its a dream that refuses to quit and i like it.
speaking of dreams, i dreamt i killed a fat little boy with a hammer because he was weak willed. more on that later.
///hooverphonic - "pink fluffy dinosaurs" because when you meet someone that makes you do things you never thought you would you know that person means something more to you than your heart may have let on. also because its finally snowing like its supposed to and this song makes waking up to a winter wonderland of ice covered trees magical. as gay as that sounds.
Posted Date: : Feb 15, 2007 7:36 PM
so. ive recently become acutely aware of the difficulty in ending aim conversations and im pretty sure its just me (so no experiments are planned). Aim conversations continue on and on and when you stop talking its not like you can walk away from the person. they're still 'there' in a metaphysical sort of way. its like having a table for two and you simply decide not to say anything to this person who is sitting two feet from you because there is nothing more to say. not that its a bad thing, but still its pretty awkard. i've literally spent fifteen minutes at a time wondering if i should close the little instant message box or leave it open in case they say something else.
i mean nothing is more rude than getting up in the middle of someone's thoughts and saying 'well, its been fun. bye.' no one wants to be rude. i think im just taking it all too seirously. like body language. i take body language way too seriously. i think its because my dad always comented on my body language as though it were some ultra secret window into what i was actually thinking. not true. body language is just like words. sometimes people gesture what they dont mean and sometimes people mean what they are not gesturing. the whole system is unreliable.
elizabeth is back. my life with her is like an aim conversation that wont quit for the right reasons. its kind of strange, i suppose. i never thought i would be in this position. i never thought this position would be a good one, but it is. the burden of proof is on me this time around and im okay with that. we are still as fiery as ever. we still fight sometimes. argue. yell. all that. but its good. i like it. i love her. she's the kind of opinionated, sometimes petty, sometimes wrong, always beautiful, sometimes moody, better than me at "things that matter" person that i want to be with. red aura and all. i feel kind of weird about the idea that i may marry her (being that i still havent managed to resolve the task of graduating, still do not have a functional resume', and still have absolutely no idea where im going to end up working or how much money i will even have a chance of making) but its a dream that refuses to quit and i like it.
speaking of dreams, i dreamt i killed a fat little boy with a hammer because he was weak willed. more on that later.
///hooverphonic - "pink fluffy dinosaurs" because when you meet someone that makes you do things you never thought you would you know that person means something more to you than your heart may have let on. also because its finally snowing like its supposed to and this song makes waking up to a winter wonderland of ice covered trees magical. as gay as that sounds.
11/17/06
close the deal 11/17/06
Subject : close the deal
Posted Date: : Nov 17, 2006 6:12 PM
ill admit it. i dont know how to "close the deal." I am just not a closer. i cant tell when its time to stop hitting on a girl and whip it out. i have no idea how thats supposed to even work, and whats more is that sometimes im not even sure if im hitting on them or if my advances are registering as something else. i know im a charismatic guy, but so was satan and im pretty sure hes not getting laid that often.
using lines like, "do you wanna go upstairs," just seem to me like bullshit. utter bullshit. why cant i just say "lets fuck". how come honesty isnt appreciated. well maybe it is. i guess i just have to find that girl that appreciates honesty. i dont want to date in college... i dont want to put in weeks of work on something that will only last a couple of nights... and i dont want to have my fucking hands tied up all day for a wet hole to put my penis in at night. i want my cake and i want to eat it. all of it.
okay... rant over. on another note... i went to get beer today and the beer garage wouldnt take my license. this is the second god damn time they've done this and i have no idea why. im pretty sure its not because im black. i just got the id a few days ago. brand fucking new. why does maryland make non-scannable licenses! what the fuck is going on with the world!
to hit yet another note... i read the most widely circulated coloumn in america yesterday. it was a coloumn written the day after 9-11 and it was terrible. it read like an over blown steroid shooting coaches speech to his team after they were down 28 points at the half. it was clearly a bunch of emotional crap that people would eat up like margarine rolled in powdered sugar and it was totally bullshit. to sum up the coloumn i will say one phrase because this was essentially the only point the coloumnist made: "we're gonna mess you guys up for this, man." that was it. the language he used was so broad and so sweeping it made me want to wretch right there in the middle of class. just yak all over my desk. it was awful, it was presumptuous, it was horribly biased, it was hateful, and it ignored the scope of the event in the longer run. it was as though bush paid the guy to whip it up and help get everyone here riled up and saber rattling. lame.
its times like these that i wish i could go back in time and assassinate people. fuck going back in time to make money. i just want to go back and adjust the gene pool of America cuz she is getting mighty retarded these days.
Posted Date: : Nov 17, 2006 6:12 PM
ill admit it. i dont know how to "close the deal." I am just not a closer. i cant tell when its time to stop hitting on a girl and whip it out. i have no idea how thats supposed to even work, and whats more is that sometimes im not even sure if im hitting on them or if my advances are registering as something else. i know im a charismatic guy, but so was satan and im pretty sure hes not getting laid that often.
using lines like, "do you wanna go upstairs," just seem to me like bullshit. utter bullshit. why cant i just say "lets fuck". how come honesty isnt appreciated. well maybe it is. i guess i just have to find that girl that appreciates honesty. i dont want to date in college... i dont want to put in weeks of work on something that will only last a couple of nights... and i dont want to have my fucking hands tied up all day for a wet hole to put my penis in at night. i want my cake and i want to eat it. all of it.
okay... rant over. on another note... i went to get beer today and the beer garage wouldnt take my license. this is the second god damn time they've done this and i have no idea why. im pretty sure its not because im black. i just got the id a few days ago. brand fucking new. why does maryland make non-scannable licenses! what the fuck is going on with the world!
to hit yet another note... i read the most widely circulated coloumn in america yesterday. it was a coloumn written the day after 9-11 and it was terrible. it read like an over blown steroid shooting coaches speech to his team after they were down 28 points at the half. it was clearly a bunch of emotional crap that people would eat up like margarine rolled in powdered sugar and it was totally bullshit. to sum up the coloumn i will say one phrase because this was essentially the only point the coloumnist made: "we're gonna mess you guys up for this, man." that was it. the language he used was so broad and so sweeping it made me want to wretch right there in the middle of class. just yak all over my desk. it was awful, it was presumptuous, it was horribly biased, it was hateful, and it ignored the scope of the event in the longer run. it was as though bush paid the guy to whip it up and help get everyone here riled up and saber rattling. lame.
its times like these that i wish i could go back in time and assassinate people. fuck going back in time to make money. i just want to go back and adjust the gene pool of America cuz she is getting mighty retarded these days.
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