i think i'm at the end of my final term

it is probable that i put all of my intelligence towards self-deception. for i am very happy as what i am. it sucks when people tell me i shouldn't be.

actually, i don't see all of this lasting very much longer.

Employ a little self-deception for chrissakes

human beings are not, in nature, a complacent, content species. we are not satisfied by gathering food, then sleeping, like other species. uh-oh! we still have the desire to feel content and peaceful sometimes, dont we. if you are constantly trying to improve, the world will feel like a pretty tough place to live. use all of your favorite tricks to make yourself feel better now and then. and at the same time, allow yourself to believe that you will forget forever that you are deceiving yourself. truth is, you will, inevitably, grow impatient and look to improve yourself again. just be glad that you gave yourself a break, whether it was for 10 minutes or you one week. we don't take enough mental breaks (or mental masterbation as my only enemy would call it). and i don't mean watch tv. i mean, tell yourself you are exceptional, recall all of your best achievements, imagine yourself walking into a crowd confidentely with all of your friends, then, with your eyebrows a little higher and blood pumping close to your temples, engage in conversation with somebody using all of your energy to take what you want out of the encounter and to try to satisfy what the other person desires from it. usually people aren't asking for much and you can please them and yourself with little effort and few mistakes. if succesful, you can walk away with confidence and you may drop the so called self-deception, which has been given a bad rap over the years.

How Video Games are Saving My Life

if i don't have A.D.D. then this post will make sense. if i do have A.D.D. then video games really are saving my life.

oh, ya, this is going to be a convincing essay.

is anyone with me?

From Sidewalk Socrates by James Ryerson, philosophynews.com:

Sidney Morgenbesser, Columbia philosophy professor was considered by many to be one of the greatest minds of the century but he published very little. A prestegious student said that he majored in Sidney Morgenbesser, who was one of his professors. He is a legend amongst his colleagues and in his field. one well known story about him is his encounter with Oxford philosopher J.L. Austin. Austin was giving a speech on the philosophy of language and saying that double negatives amount to a positive but double positives can not amount to a negative. Right here is where, from the audience, Morgenbesser sarcastically uttered "Yeah, yeah."

-Ryerson's words -> "There is a danger, of course, in being too clever...He was exceptional at taking ideas apart, but not at building them up. No argument ever satisfied him, least of all his own...He was an inhibiting kind of genius, not a liberating one...always looking to dissect further...friends and colleagues could always throw up their hands and walk away. Morgenbesser...did not have that option."

in his final days he asked "Why is God making me suffer so much? Just because I don't believe in him?"

i got home at 4 am again yesterday, but i stayed up until 5 or so writing 3 pages on the subject: nothing. it was very informative for me, keeping things overly overt.

6 hours of video games per night is very healthy for me and for others i'm sure. i know most of you people do 'things' all of the time that take your attention. but little i do deserves my attention. paying attention to video games for 6 hours is rubbing off on my personal life leading me to partake in riskier conversation because i'm trusting myself more and more to be able to follow people. but i used to be here, years ago, and i backed down from all of the argument. i wanted to relate to everyone, but many people just weren't worth following. actually that's just an excuse. i stopped paying attention because i wanted to. and by believing this, i am allowing myself to think that i am in charge of my life.

My Favorite Animal

Right now my brain pattern seems to resemble a fly. It zips around forming intricate swirling patterns but keeps banging into walls. It zooms aimlessly trying to get outside by going inside or vice versa. Many times it bounces off the same spot over and over slow to realize that it can't go that way. My brain's constanly buzzing, and I'm scared I'll be in this state when it all ends with one hard, off-hand swat.

I wish my brain pattern could resemble a leopard. It would bask restfully all day in the hot sun. Then as evening approached it would go out in search of the night's prey. It would pick out just the right subject, and approach it slowly with consideration. Then it would pounce with confidence and determination striking the subject in its heart or neck. It would take the subject up a tree, removed from all distractions, where it could digest the subject completely and pick all the meat off its bones.

i don't know anything right now

well, i wrote a lengthy post and then erased because it was a pile of shit, pardon my English curse.

i so easily settle down into a happy spot wherever i am in life and so i hate the freedom i have to get better because i'm always wondering if i'll regret it if i don't. i'm constantly thinking i'm good at something and then later thinking i'm terrible at it. and vice versa.

Waiting for Gmail

i can't see the finish line for the hurdle
can't see the success for the interview
can't see the girl for the deception
can't see the glasses for the frame?

then check out this kewl site: http://www.bmezine.com/news/pubring/20041214.html

death serves out icy curves but all i do is yawn

pink and blue winter
dry grey road
a whisk of attention
a wisp of a tune
against hawaiian music
above snowy mountain
here in my van i'm warm
but my thoughts and customs are worn

green frozen grass
Miller Light sign
anxious and late
lost slumbering eyes
bridge may be icy
windy on-ramp, orange fuel light
here in my van i'm born
to another afternoon morning

the most dangerous thing i do every day is drive to work, but i give it the least attention. it's funny (in a confusing and curious way)

A little too much noise came from outside the den of the sleeping dragon

Without self-confidence we are as babes in the cradles. And how can we generate this imponderable quality, which is yet so invaluable most quickly? By thinking that other people are inferior to oneself. - quote from virginia woolf


i used to feel superior in a lot of ways to a lot of people. then something like an ayn rand description of religion got to me. i asked why should i be better than anyone else. even my country said all men are created equal. finally, i'm looking closer at that 'created' part and i'm also influenced by Dogville and its message of 'how could you condone in others what you would never condone in yourself.' so all of this coupled with my life's swampy descent over the past few years is leading me back to an attitude of superiority. no sense sugar coating it by terming it self confidence. shit, i've made mistakes and i've been dealing out punishment roughly on myself for those, yet i curtsy humbly and arrogantly shrug off my successes like 'oh, anywoan code'of dunned it' life was so much more alive and made so much more sense when i was sure of myself. so, where did i ever get off????

Old posts look so dead

this one will too, undoubtedly.

i gotta go

look away

you know theres something totally wrong with this template when it can't fit the day's date on the same line as the month.


you know theres something totally wrong with you when the only thing you planned to type on a blog post was the above line yet you still started typing it before the page was completely loaded.


you know theres something totally wrong with you when you start to think you should continue with the you know theres something totally wrong with you vein yet you continue to do so

Blabbermouth

theres something wrong with either you or your blog when you find yourself posting just to get your most recent posts off of the top of your blog.

in an interesting twist of coincidence, kim peacock just recently sent her son, who got called over for duty in Iraq, a cool poster she bought from Target*

*all true**

**a total lie

Her friend, Denise, was coming over for tea. It was times like these that she most dreaded. Sipping, sitting at her kitchen table, chatting about William and Bill Jr. and their Tire Company or about Diane and her three young boys. It was times like these that she became most aware of her old age, the scarcity of time that remained. It was ever more troubling because she knew why it made her so aware. Hadn’t she talked with Denise over tea hundreds of times, hadn’t she mentioned Diane each day this week. Her whole life had become habit. She knew what she would do at every moment of the day and she knew exactly how she would respond when Denise inevitable brought up Bill Jr.’s expensive new car. This, once she finished her bit of gossip about her new neighbor who had just rooted new, young evergreens into the earth that would inevitably stretch their bristling arms out into uncharted, previously unknown space. The sapling would grow into this world bravely, yet not without confrontation or rejection, for its arms were already intruding over Denise’s property line, or so she said. It was at these times that she felt a lack of free will, a death of her creativity. There were limits to what she could say, to what she could bring up, and not just with Denise. She hadn’t conversed about anything meaningful since her husband died ten years ago. Denise had wanted to talk to her then, but she just didn’t feel comfortable with the idea of talking and getting excited about life and trying to make it better when she considered herself so near to death as well. So she stuck to agreeing with her friends, saying what they wanted to hear, bringing up topics that she despised talking about just because she felt obligated to do so. She even stuck a smile on her face, no sense letting her friends in on her misery. She felt trapped within herself, and for this she blamed her choices throughout life and the ways she had shaped her personality. She didn’t have the energy or the motivation to see anything in a new light anymore. She had been growing weaker; getting a shower had become exhausting. She had been skipping them lately and since then she began to detect all the more a sour scent of decay.
Denise would knock on the door soon, three light taps. Until then she would continue to sit at her table and clip the Sunday morning coupons. She was not looking forward to Denise’s arrival, but she allowed herself, as she had been doing more and more, to imagine how her life would proceed over the next hour or so. She wished that she wouldn’t do this because it made her feel somewhat sickly, like she was messing with God’s business, or throwing a wrench in Nature’s intricate design, but she couldn’t restrain herself. It was the only thing left in her life that made her feel something even if it wasn’t a particularly good feeling. She imagined Denise sitting across from her, dunking her tea bag and clanging her cup with her spoon. The image came into her mind so clearly she was startled. It felt so realistic that she was unsure if she hadn’t really just seen her friend or glimpsed the future. At the same time, however, it felt so fake and dreamlike that she wondered if she had drifted off. Her body had continued to cut and sort out the coupons on its own. Maybe she had gone too far this time, pushed her mind over the edge. She began to feel nauseated and considered resting in her bed. But she didn’t want to call Denise to cancel their tea because it would cause her to become curious, concerned and all the more eager to chat than ever. So she struggled up out of her creaking chair and began to wash a dirty plate, a glass and a bit of silverware.
****************************************************************************
Denise was talking about Bill Jr.’s rude demeanor when he was on the telephone. Denise asked her if she had ever noticed. She answered with only a neutral look and raised her eyebrows. Denise continued her talking. The tea with Denise was as she knew it would be. There was nothing new to see or hear. This was what she dreaded. She began to become as aware of her own presence, sitting in her chair, blowing on her hot tea, as she was of Denise across from her. The painted white walls seemed to close in on her and she felt muggy. But in the next moment they spread far away creating a cold, quiet atmosphere. The air seemed to gain substance and gravity pulled at the skin on her face. While Denise talked, she had ample time to look around and observe her kitchen, her white and black stove, her glass fruit and even the outside through her glass sliding door.
She had reached her final point of view or mood or whatever you want to call it, she didn’t know. But she did know that she was done changing, her self had finally settled. She wasn’t sure if she had given in, given up, in some way failed or if she had finally accepted life for what it always had been and always had to be. She was struck with a question and in this final condition she was in it seemed that only one question and only one set of opposing answers could occupy her attention. The questions could change and of course with them the answers but there were only ever the three things in her mind. There was no conflict, no frustration. Her mind no longer harbored the sense of fear. She truly was living at each moment.
She looked at Denise who was still talking about Bill Jr. and his future in the Tire Company, his benefits package, some prospective new business. Every facial expression Denise made appeared to her as absurd, full of contortion, rejection, denial. Every time she looked at Denise she found herself surprised to see her move like seeing a person dead in a casket suddenly open his eyes and roll them at you, as if he found you silly for standing over him with your hands locked. And so she stood up and left the table and without saying a word to Denise went outside through the glass sliding door and took a walk under the summer sky and the bird-song green trees.

If I could only resemble a human personified

just for the record i'm not drunk today. ya, i probably shouldn't have said that.

A Surge of Meaninglessness

but with an air of excitement


i just put an address on an envelope for one Kim Peacock
isn't it weird that that is her name
weird in the sense that - yes it is a little weird but not worth commenting on

i hope you were living when reading this as much as i was when writing it!

i just realized my title says this about me: whoa, don't take me seriously just because i said it* with such conviction. i wouldn't go out on a limb

yaah, pretty accurate.

(why do i always wan't to write the equivalent of yelling BAM!)**


*"it" means anything i may have said
**does not refer to anything written above. i didn't mean those above sentences should give the feeling of BAM! more or less i was lamenting the fact that i couldn't write words that would express my current attitude of BAMNESS!)

instead of astericks should i just be more clear??

Encouragement Road

I feel very pleased with the radio station today: NPR
Of course this in lieu of christmas music

it always feels great when you get to pick between the best of two goods
like watching a late night steelers game when you don't have work the next day

ok, is everyone ready for today's THOUGHT OF THE DAY!!!!! (deep, echoing voice)

will my brave struggle through boredom lead to a life more fulfilled. or will it just seem that way to me. hmm, cast away fame for happiness. i'd do that anyday.


Note from the Editor: Chad would very much like to apologize to all who have been subjected to his, in his words, "drunken shit talk" most of which took place approximately dec. 3

don't take his apology too seriously though, he was seen earlier today arguing with his friend saying that he stood by his remarks. When approached by this network he declined to comment but his friend remarked "sometimes he can be such an asshole"

serial experiments lain came in the mail for me today. all 13 episodes. i hope i like it.

I should sleep

I need help in adjusting my blog templates etc.

one day i may master it

then green will show its truest color and i will be the one to unleash it

no reason forthcometh

on the topic of topics*:

wouldn't i wonder deeply about how subjects form. so therefore, how bout it.

First a classification is made.
Groupings are formed and no one's the wiser.
This thing and this thing and even this thing go with this thing.
And now those who don't know won't know.

Now these are commonalities and these are not uniformalities.
But the colors and foods match up so well.
Let's call them all Killer Whales?
But we can't be so specific or who would join us?
Not that commonwealth, I can assure you.

So why not say three and no more than five.
Or blue and white but not green for sure.
And then 'isms' and 'ings' can be one in the same
for who could say otherwise?

Shouldn't God be included or would it then be polluted
and airplanes and arguments and stars in the sky?
Why not TV's and cotton and fruit that is rotten,
or would all just deny our conjunctions of pie?

Numbers are equal or are they so different,
cut your hair and i'll agree to your fashion
yet punch out his face and chug down your beer
and i will succumb to all you revere

Definition and Confusion and none that I love
Can eat up existence and digest it at once
so love and enjoyment will linger in reach
and some will hog up a whole bunch

therefore and squared
my mind is impaired
so i'll leave you with a country twist
just give me my woman, my dog and some puddin
and allow me to catch my own fish



*this should have been the title

for the sake of it

it is 4:17 am, disregard any time disputes my blog may try to confirm, although this is steve's computer, and so the time may be correct, unlike mine at WeSell...

blah, blah, blah, is approaching you, en guard!

dooty doo, I see you, and you are not something red, bumblebee. Plus, I couldn't see you from my carseat anyway. But I could read that Nevada liscense plate.

High rises, mountain side
Dirt, brick, the feeling's mutual
Aloha, Oahu, an obvious absence of beach boys
end of an era, tectonic plates, Europa

envious, out of this world
horrific, censorship et al.
dichotomy of dates and one night stands
forget the meaning, follow your toes

computer, it's ok, with a capital K
Martin, he's the man
sluggish snails wont wait for my coming
a hammer won't ease up on those nails

for the end, you won't be appearing
this stage has dragons and robot tanks
for this life, you won't be sharing
your thoughts with fellow man

the sky burns with blueness and stars
earth, with soil and bones
garbage, it softens the blow
of God and this toilsome tow

this poem, aware of its self
has taken a turn for the worse
but tomorrow won't be effected
by doubt or Hitler's remorse

Ouch*

unstoppable may have been an awful name for this movie, but anyway...

Wesley Snipes was tied up to a chair, arms behind his back. His best friend, last name Scott, was blindfolded, noose around his neck, perched on a stool in Bosnia, prisoners. The enemy had covered him, Scott, with gasoline; a lighter was held close by, toying with him. Snipes wouldn't let this happen. "Step forward Scott," he urged. Scott said, "I can't." "They aren't going to burn you," said Snipes. "Step forward." Scott declined. "Step forward, it's the only way I can help you," he pleaded. Scott wouldn't, couldn't. "Step forward soldier!" Scott stepped forward, and fell into the clutch of the noose. He hung, dead. Snipes smiled; he hadn't let them burn him alive.

*yeah, a pretty blunt/juvenile title

Blind Melon pushes for some recognition

and if you feel life aint worth livin, you got to stand up and take a look around, and look up way to the sky, and if your deepest hearts are broken, that's ok, cause when you stop dreamin it's time to die
so i'm gonna write my words on the face of today
god damn that bible pushin man
don't got no fingertips, i burned em off from too many stoned trips, aint got no fingernails, ate em off cause i was hungry as hell
but is it just the pains in your head, that are thrillin me, another life, fallen down onto its knees
i'll never smile like i did that day
life aint so shitty, there's a lot that you can be, and aint it a pity, but it's ok to smile back at me
there's such a thing as self-opinion...(if you don't like yourself or some such lyrics) then you better watch out for you
all that i need is the air that i breath, and all i that i need are things i don't need
everything that is paranoid is getting old
and i can't believe i ever laid my head against this wall again
now as i open my eyes to start another day, i'm in a pile of puke and a bag of excuses, i love my friends and family, you know i need them
mouthful of cavities, your soul's a bowl of jokes, and everyday you remind me how i'm desperately in need
oh God, you gotta help me a little bit
start to complain that there's no rain, read a book to stay awake
where men like me can let the day get out of control
and they say, i'd never live that way, that's ok, their just afraid of change

these lyrics could be coagulated with sublime's

I Don't Want to Sleep.

I don't wanna do a bong load. (well actually I do). I don't even want to go to bed today. I don't wanna, I don't wanna go to bed today.

Here comes, via the internet, my most sure statement: Sublime

it's an institution and it's in decay
if i was the king of rock i would get stupid dumb
screaming that second gear was such a turn on
wake up in the morning and it's hard to live
'to repeat a song:' and if rhymes were valiums I'd be comfort-bly numb
'also:' i want a lover but i can't find the time, i want a reason but i can't find the rhyme
'etc.:' 40oz to freedom is the only chance i have, to feel good even though i feel bad
and now you reach for his cock, you know it will turn you on
take away your privacy, take your guitar, then, take your woman and impound your car
now i got the needle, but i can't shake...but i want more and more, one day i'm gonna lose the war
i say it's black but you don't believe me, and if i say it's white you say you're tryin to deceive me
time to end those rumors, sensations, and things that just are not true
i'm a steppin razor, won't you watch my sides, i'm dangerous, so dangerous
where do you think i got this guitar that you're hearin today
i planted my seed...i hope her parent love her so
doesn't become my 22 years, you took my shame and you took my pride, and now you're gonna take me for a slow ride
my place is not a home, don't make no difference
all my friends drink alcohol, i'll be president someday
we'll all die for our arrogance

A Tribute - though lacking

I'm off tomorrow

Wesley Snipes is your brother's best friend. He strokes your hair in the shower. But he snuck in; he needed a flashlight. The feds are on his tail, and the cops are in the dark in this one. He's acting crazy, psycotic. Was he really crazy, or did someone drug him? Do you trust him? You have to, there's no choice. Follow him; he's carrying a gun, and he leads you outside into the woods. Trust him. Have faith in him. He loved your brother, the one he watched die in Bosnia. You have to trust him. Life wouldn't make sense otherwise. But what will happen? That's what I will find out, once I take the movie off of pause - the movie "Unstoppable."

Shit, Maddie just stole my seat.

Later

A Good Mood

He said, "Have a good night." smiling, to the man who was younger than the creases in his face made him appear. But that man's poor hearing suggested otherwise, as he was late to notice the other man's cordiality. He tried to recover. "Good, how about you?" The man walking past him hesitated, but he turned around just before he got to the door and said, "Good. Thanks." They both smiled, and their faces met.

good night.

You don't matter, he said

Phone rings.

"Hey, I've been dying to hear from you, what's up?"
"You know (what), the phrase "communication is breaking down" is being greatly overused by our pop culture."

Covert Operations by Moonlight

Rational thought's a rip off. Everytime I shut out the lights at night in this furniture store building, tucked up a little off the main road, my mood starts to change and I start to look at things in a more cautious way, more questioning way. But then comes big old rational thought, telling me that nothing has changed, effectively wiping out my once sacred emotions, and filling my head with boring questions like "why would I have felt any different now than before when customers had been pulling from the parking lot, Crosby was singing White Christmas and all of the lights had been on." Rational thought was filling my head with garbage like a jealous middle child interferes with his mother and younger sibling, desparate for attention. Rational thought wants to be number one in my head; he won't share. Well, he better be careful because I'm catching on to his games. He must be growing tired like our Sun once will, and emotion has been sneaking me letters from the outside while he nods off lightly, holding his double-bladed axe outside my door. Oh yes, it is time to have a little fun.

HALO2

I'll kill you.

Eventually I realized the road began to climb. I looked ahead past the buildings and saw looming under the speeding clouds some kind of veiled essence that suggested life and change. I ran to it. As I approached closer the buildings began to fade, blinking in and out, sometimes into a bluish/purplish fuzz. The humming sound began to distinguish itself more. It was like a human voice, a Buddhist monk looking for enlightment, or someone I loved whispering in my ear - 'wake up'. For the first time my mind began to swirl. I kept running. The buildings had completely vanished. I looked all around me but everything had turned dark and damp and cool. I still heard the sound but I could also make out other seperate noises: splashing water, shreiking insects, wind breezing through branches. My bare feet were caked in fresh mud and wet brown leaves. I began to climb up a slippy hill, sometimes on all fours. The trees began distancing themselves making me feel more vulnerable. The sounds of water and wind faded away. I yearned for the comfort that nature had given me, but I was driven forward by some unknown power. Something inside of me that I didn't know existed or couldn't understand and maybe never even wanted stopped me from turning back. I was shuffling out of control through the grass that had begun sprouting under my feet, when I was thrown to the ground just short of the sky, the clouds, a cliff. A whistling wind rushed through my hair, chilling my body. I crawled on my stomach and tried to peer over the deep drop. I could barely open my eyes because of the wind that was in no way similar to the wind back in the forest that had had a somewhat peaceful effect on my. This wind was threatening. I stretched my neck out fearing I would topple over and dared to open my eyes. I couldn't see anything. It was pitch black. Had I fallen? I could hear voices screaming, shouting, arguing. I realized that these voices had been the humming. Thousands and thousands of voices. Not just screaming, shouting and arguing and singing and laughing and crying. Also, I realized I could hear them all inside my mind, no one was talking out loud. I tried to move and fell. I screamed. A light flashed on or something because all of the sudden I could see. I could tell now that I had been lying on some sort of bed and that I was in a room that reminded me of childhood, sunlight pouring in through the window, I heard young children laughing, shouting in fun. I felt a smile on my face. I got up from the floor confidently. I opened the door to my room and walked out into a kitchen. I sat down at the table and looked out the window. I saw the yard from my first home. I remembered playing out there with my sister, running in the dirt and resting in the grass. I heard a sound and was startled. Someone was coming up from downstairs. The footsteps echoed in my mind filling the house. A door creaked and two figures rounded the corner and approached me. They were humans but not like any I had ever seen. They filled me with anxiety. It was their faces that was the most upsetting. Their expressions never changed. They seemed to be filled with constant energy. Their teeth were bared, not exactly in a smile. Their eyes gleamed and shone. They resembled death so closely that I knew that they were more alive than anything I had ever witnessed. They moved effortlessly so that I couldn't tell if all of their muscles were tensed or relaxed. They brushed by me and walked outside. I began to relax, feeling the worst was over but then I realized, rather slowly, that one of them had made me a proposition. The question lingered in the air after they had whished past like ghosts. Did I want to join them? was what the one had asked me. He hadn't spoken, but he had asked me. I stood up to walk outside and to see where that would lead me.

I got up and walked around the corner. I could see nothing but the yellow lampshade colored buildings, each about five stories high. They were the only objects along the perfectly flat road that stretched miles upon miles until it all seemed to form a point just beyond my sight. Had there been a sun in the sky the place would have had all the makings of a Western or a ghost town. I could almost hear guitar strings being plucked, a man walking slowly out of one of the tall bland masses, cowboy hat, trenchcoat, revolvers in each hand, shotgun strapped to back, reed in mouth, eyes in shadow. No, I knew this wasn't possible. There was no life in this city, nothing at all, except that provocative humming. Many times I felt myself drifting off into that sound as if it were a beam from a spaceship that was drawing my consciousness away from its natural place. I didn't fear it though. I almost wanted to follow it and the longer I walked through the endless, empty city the louder it seemed to grow.

'I'm in my dream,' is the only thing i can keep thinking, cowering, my arms hugging my shins, pressing my back into the corner of this alien white wall. I'm confused, excited and scared, of course, but I feel real, like me. I can see everything around me clearly, but..., how could it all be real? There's a humming sound. I feel like it must be a constant part of this world, always this hum; sounds like middle C. There's a breeze too, but there is no temperature change and so I feel like I'm inside, but I can see the blue sky above me. At first, that comforted me, made me feel less trapped. Then white puffy clouds swept in. I gazed at them. They must have been moving 200 miles per hour. Blue still occupied most of the sky. I kept looking around, amazed that I was so under control. Then the clouds stopped appearing from above the building type thing that was my visual horizon. The buildings had no windows or doors. They were just square and tall, like from a cheap video game that maybe the creator never decided to finish, and so everything stood in stasis, a bare template

now it's gone

Most of my blogs start off with a phrase in my head and after deciding to start my blog with that phrase i end it in some way that works. it's like i give myself a problem and then solve for 'me' or something that pertains to something i would write about. for example, before i started this blog, i thought up the phrase: 'it feels like forever since...' and then i started thinking of a way to end it. but this time i decided it was more interesting to think about how i do that than to go right into it.

it feels like forever since i had my old blog. i can't remember all of the good times on it but what can i remember? well one time i was really drunk and at steve's and i wrote this post about his tunnel refridgerator. yaah, that was a good time. oh ya, jackie graham posted on that one. cool. hmm. actually i can't remeber any more right now

-updated 12/02/04
-corrected misspelled word in title
-1 minute - $25 charge
-due - 1/1/05 baby