OK - In Continuation

So everytime i try to post something when it's just for the sake of posting something, but it isn't about the fact that i'm just posting something, then my post usually fucking sucks. but, surprised at my own use of strong profanity, i may be able to struggle back...to, course, what, no, i'm kidding myself. xsighx

ok, maybe i'll try 10 i feels. that's pretty easy, i'd hope.

i feel excited about the end of the workday, only 15 more minutes
i feel excited about the prospect of halo2 tonight from 9 til 5 (no work tomorrow)
i feel excited about the probable pittsburgh trip (man, it seems like it's been so long, i really want to go and stay in one of my old places for a month. i need to live away from the city sometimes but i really need to live in the city sometimes to. few years here, few years there is a good life strategy so far. but it's time to get back there. i don't know what you guys want to do but it doesn't seem like the coolest thing ever to me to just go out to a bar or two and get wasted. that's stuff i do when i'm trying to avoid living life. i'd much rather have some kind of small house party, does webb still live in that shit hole i love, or something like that, or some party where when i go to grab another beer from the fridge and take a leak i practically run so as to get back to the conversation, parties like when vince lived in that beautiful 3 story home. xoh so apparently i wanted to talk about this weekendx those homes are the same place if someone didn't know. so shawn, the pressure's on, make it a weekend to remember, or you'll be hearing about it next week via internet. hahah, just kidding, no pressure.

i feel like 10 is way too many right now

OK

I just needed a new post. i'm getting sick of the last one.

also, i'm not having enough time to read everyones posts lately. i negotiated that bonus but in return i'm getting to use the internet less. it kind of sucks not staying up to date. i end up making comments on posts two days old and five posts down. will they ever be noticed?

plus i'm running into all kinds of cooler and newer blogs (haha. you guys suck).

it's a whole new world

no thanks, i've already taken one to the gut

maybe we have a little too much will power as human beings. i don't think we are sensitive enough either. if we were more sensitive we would stop eating once we got that terrible pain of fullness in our stomachs. and we would diet if it hurt our backs too much because we were so heavy or because our new boobs were too big. but our will to boost our ego and to fit in can cause us to hurt ourselves. i mean should we really be de-sensitize ourselves so much with all the movies and media and potty-mouthing at recess. we are in such a hurry to experience all that we can because we don't want to fall behind others who we might get jealous of if they've already been to paris and have seen the directors cut of chainsaw massacre. we've experienced it all by 20 and all we have left to do is try to take things more and more to their extremes. peer pressure won't let us slow down and take things at a natural pace and it's such a shame. i might as well drink away my worries eh?

Nature as a Human Being

i was running from altoona's super sheetz back to my van, which i tend to call the saltstick these days, taking a bite of pizza from one hand while holding my italian hoagie in the other when reality bounced off of me quite happily. it was like i was really out and about. i felt it in my whole body and i was reminded of being seven in downtown ebensburg or something. it's like there is so much going on but by ignoring it all and paying attention only to what you are doing you seem to be able to feel or some otherwise experience it all. i've been striving for this feeling for years now. for some reason i thought i could get it by looking at the sky more when i was outside or by keeping my head on a swivel more or trying harder to feel it all, but it turns out that when you forget about it all for a moment it will wash over you on its 0wn accord eager to be noticed. if you lavish all of your attention on reality it becomes aware that it doesn't really need to do much to impress you. you are just another victory in its bag. but if you ignore it for a while it pushes itself a little harder and forces those quick clouds into your vision so that you're not thinking 'keep an eye on those clouds, they look awesome, i just know they do,' but 'whoa...'

for my mind only

my weightlifting muscles are coming out of hibernation all on their own. surging balls of tension demand my attention throughout the day. when i have the patience to give it to them, i find myself slowly taking up my pre-bench position or i'm forced into the back end of a shoulder press. i certainly gave it my all when i was lifting weights in college, but i'm also certain that i was rarely using the right technique. i mean, i wanted to give the effort, but i just didn't have the patience. it was more important for me to increase my weight than to increase my physique or health. i used to run alot in the summers too. but it was more of a mile and a half grind where i'd only use my big muscles. i probably looked pretty stupid running down my road everyday, like half of my body was taking a break while the other half was trying like hell to move me.

this is very similar to my mental condition in my college situation i bet. it's like, i was more than willing to go halfway. damn, i could go halfway with the best of them. i went into college hoping it would be a break. i wanted a little retirement or something just to see how far i'd come. i wanted to see how i'd do if i just leaned back on my strengths. what happened though was that my strengths started to get a little worse as time passed. it started to be a struggle to go halfway even.

this is all similar in my most, i want to say 'instinctual insights on' or 'vaguest guesses at,' how my most miniscule and most basic living elements work. such as, i find the inability to move my eyes in a smooth sweep. they always jerk. i'm always off balance. but i'm the type of off balance guy that is full of confidence that i'll pull off some improbable highlight reel recovery. in this way i'll surprise people and evoke applause or something, but if i fall i'll have the excuse that i never cared enough to be on balance anyway and so what's the big deal if i fall? No big deal.

wow, i sure had it all worked out perfectly, down to a T i'd say. but i wasn't on top of the world and all that. actually, i was probably down there kinda low. so, like, how do you get it to suck less when you attempt something and fail? it seems like if you fail a whole lot you're sure tempting the devil to make you a murderer. or at least a mean guy or something. i want that less than being a failure... wait a second, i'm all fucked up in my logic here. is it possible to start the sentence with 'i want that less' when it refers to being a mean guy, when what i want the meaning to result in is 'i would rather be a good person than very successful? can someone fix this? theres like double negatives but also switches in subjects and impliance or...what the fuck

anyway, i think that to be a good person you probably need to push yourself to be successful somehow. as my mind numbed more and more, i found that the only way i could maintain a nice guy persona was to involve myself less and less with people. so that sucked. anyway, i certainly came to the conclusion that it was my responsibility to be happy and healthy. because when i wasn't i was always hurting people, albeit it was almost always indirectly.

i'm finally getting into the mood to do things. you do have to be in the right mood to do things you know. i got this tabacco outlet girl to bubble with laughter for about 20 seconds. i glanced at her face towards the end and i noticed she couldn't help herself. she really couldn't. she was probably like 19 or something. all i said was that i had taken the wrong exit and it kinda sucked on account of it was real icy out and i'd have to drive back the way i'd come real slow. but i said it all in half sentences because she'd laugh at the way i acted out being behind the wheel and driving real slow and carefully behind other motorists and so i'd gather that she got my meaning so i'd start into my next thoughts and i'd keep cutting them all short because she kept laughing. i didn't have the greatest exit though. i just kinda said 'you have a good night too. thanks' or something. i sat in my van for a minute before i was ready to go and when i cleared my windshield with my wipers i saw her helping out her next customer. she was beaming. it was just a nice experience where two people didn't necessarily feel better about themselves but they got to take a break from being so proper and got to act like fools. that's why it's been kind of hard for me to be myself real often, i always act like a fool, and if someone isn't amused or when all the laughter dies down i realize that there was certainly nothing i said that was funny it was just that i was manipulating people into enjoying themselves. and as much as everyone likes to enjoy themselves and i don't really mind doing it, i just can't help feeling manipulative, and bad-boned people would love to break me with logic. shit. i'm starting to think i've been on the wrong path the entire time. actually i'm pretty fuckin sure of it. i tried to get good at what i wasn't and i let my natural gifts sitting uselessly and all because i didn't want to represent what i was because of what that would mean i wasn't. and so i'm a traitor, and i've been messing around on the other side. this would explain my careless attitude. and also my eagerness to make all kinds of apologies for everybody. (not specifically)

i guess i'll stop now

What could be called a giant waste of time

i'm in a hilarious mood. what can you say for yourself.

Quotes that rock the casbah, n' at:

various bigots wouldn't recommend world peace, I'd imagine, but forever seems like a long time to hate.

weather related whirlwinds can be much more damaging physically than when a mother rampages, but they could never hold a candle to the emotional pain.

if i strike my keyboard real quick-like i can increase my speed even whilst decreasing mine accuracy, but what i didn't tell you holds the key to why i troubled you with that obviousness.

billions of stars pollute our sky just like words do in a song.

*********************************************

I'm beginning to feel quite serious.

JD Salinger Induced

So this amiable kid in Catcher in the Rye accurately describes common human actions with the attention in just the right places, at least for me.

People don't seem to prefer things to be 'out in the open' it seems. If someone walks into a room and says 'hi,' even real phony like, one better be prepared, at least, to grunt back. It would be rude not to, and it could lead to a physical altercation. Especially if the two people don't like each other. I mean, roosters only live to mate and to kill other roosters I heard. We all try to live socially, but we are all still driven to prove our own superiority. Hence money and stuff. I mean, this guy's bigger than you and treats you real bad, you know, in front of girls or something, and physically you can't do anything about it, and socially you can't do anything like shoot him with a gun or something. But, you vow to prove yourself better than him somehow, even if he never knows it, you know, you gotta prove it to yourself at least. Go home to your friends or your mom and talk about your moral supremacy or something. You know, hence religion, perhaps. I can't really see us ever losing this drive to feel superior. Probably we'll just find more and more ways to conceal it better, I guess. But, if we did lose that drive maybe everyone's life would be a pursuit of art or something, for certainly our lives would seem much more meaningless. I don't really know what love is, but if I knew it like real well, like the way it is idealized, then maybe the answer to life would be like religion and God and stuff. And maybe the answer would be something like the Buddhists say, like just being and not even pursuing stuff at all. But I lose my temper and get all mad when people criticise me, telling me in effect, that they could do better in my shoes and stuff, and I feel like I've really been trying, and i just want them to be patient and just see where i end up. It'll be sad when i realize i shoud've listened to them maybe, but it just doesn't make sense to me right now. But I just don't want to force it, you know, nobody does, i guess, but i guess life just isn't perfect yet, and i guess i still have to pay some bills .

I'm usually pretty nice, but if it's a sweet old lady, sometimes i like to practice being mean.

It's nice. I'm able to give my little cousins big, loving hugs again. For a while there I couldn't. It's like I'm accepting the responsibility that comes with appreciating how sweet and impressionable little kids can be. I wouldn't even hold a baby over the last few years. Like I didn't like what I was and I didn't want it to rub off on them. I guess I'm always thinking I'm the center of the universe and all. But it's hard not to. It's hard to get away from yourself.

I'm starting to take things for granted a little bit. What I'm saying is that I'm starting to have a little t4rust in stuff again. Trying to live with an uncompromising principle like 'Never assumme anything' is very hard and sort of seemingly unrewarding. Maybe living the hard life for a few years will reward me somehow. You can control how you feel when you always force yourself to feel a little worse than you should. You are in control then, and you can make yourself feel worse or even, happily, feel better. But it's a lot of work and a lot of pressure. If you let up for just one second you'll see how you really feel and, that, you won't be able to change.

New things are starting to take shape just like everybody else says things are. I see what they mean more, I mean. I'm in it with them and all that. Pretty soon I'll have examples.

I'm not trying to sound like Salinger, exactly, I'm just kind of letting myself. Oh, and Dustin told me Holden becomes or is a madman or something. I don't know what I think about that. I kind of like it. He's crazy and all, but you can relate. That's some good writing, right?

Something about college (or me) just wouldn't let me take part in it. I think it would have been too frustrating somehow. I think they let too many people in.

If I had a million dollars I'd love to hire my own personal tutor. Someone who is real intelligent like as a human being. And he'd spend time getting to know my way of thinking and he'd know how to get through to me. That'd be great. I'd love him, heh. But if he ever got bored of me, I guess my life would go to shit. I'd probably really start drinking and I'd finish up my life real sad and taking advantage of people.

In Tune w/Comments on the Post "The Bones"

ah, but where do we get such belief. ultimately, anything i write is going to lead to a question of what is personality, but here goes.

if confronted with a situation that i have often experienced. a lady, perhaps, feels a little uncomfortable with not knowing the rules of a consignment store. well, i relate, and can easily put here at ease with my attitude and creation of comfortable ambience. she and i will look at each other more directly, for there is ease in our spirits and there is nothing fearful looming. the situation was resolved nicely because i believed that i knew how to act to make her comfortable.

but i also know how to act to get a good response from a crowd when speaking in front of one. this, however, does not mean that i can do it. why don't i believe that i can do it.

Jocular Comments to Mr Sun!

i think it was Descartes that called 'things' extensions of space. i am extended, therefore i take up more space than just a single point.

i really hope that when we die, we can become ghosts, feelingless and purposeless, but with access to all our life's memory. it's either that or we totally disappear, and that's not so bad either, but i would like to stick around for a while to see how it all ends, you know. but feelingless and purposeless nonetheless, as a ghost, i suppose, there would still be a time when being a ghost would have to end, and so we'd be stuck again for the answer to what the hell is nothing. i'm pretty sure i'm not going to worry about it though; i'm pretty sure it's impossible for my thinker,* which derives everything it is from something, to ever be able to contemplate what it would be like to not be. this is so obvious that thinking about it any more would make me laugh.

i'll try to make up a joke:

hmm, a bicep said to a bicycle, did you see tbs last night
the bicycle didn't respond,
so the bicep said, umm, yeah, i watched that seinfeld, heh, was a pretty funny one, (the bicep added a little laughter to his voice and raised his eyebrows twice)
the bicycle didn't respond,
bicep preceded his next comment with a little more laughter (presumably, he was remembering something funny about the seinfeld episode), but the bicep said, oh, yeah, i forgot that bicycles are fucking humorless assholes! and he stormed off.


*does this make me sound like an old man?

Going Out on a Limb

is an excellent place to go. it shocks me back into reality a little, not to mention the excitment it brings. things could go right, or things could go wrong, and it's all because I, myself, climbed out on a limb. why would i do that, an older (meaning more previous) me would have asked.*

i've been having dreams that deal with what i'd call my new age emotions. dreams where i experience moments of conscious realization of added reality. And i think to myself in these moments (without realizing that i'm dreaming) 'yeah, this is better; look around a little and see the buildings, your setting.' sometimes i do this in real life, and just recently it's been showing up in my dreams.

lately, i've been waking up thinking 'come on, let's have at it,' but as 'it' has not been very present in much of a form that would prenecessitate having at it's obvious tone of screaming from a cliff top 'ok, i'm gonna do it!' 'it' being leaping into the water.** but then, it seems, i am perhaps not on top of a cliff, for when i look around i see such mundane things as chilly pennsylvania woods and reams of paper and buckets of pens. so obviously (when noting my sarcastic tone) it is only i that restricts myself from 'having at it' for 'it' is there, in some form, i just have not within me the 'have at it' part (quite yet). so i'll settle in patiently, allow things to revert back to habit, and enjoy my day off in clothing strewn room with component-supplied color and brilliant sound.***

*i read in a johnny depp interview (actually he was the one interviewing some other famous actor) that he and this other guy both agreed that 'teetering' is a great place to be, haha, yeah
**i can't help but think i should have put here(where the above double-astericks reside) something grandly funnier
***it's either supertroopers or once upon a time in mexico

me talking about starsky and hutch

so amazingly unlooked for and extremely over the top and certainly original OR slyly and cleverly and naturally slipped in and barely caught.

starsky and hutch. wow did i find it hilarious when ben stiller launched his car from the below ground parking garage and out into the busy street (and into the movie for the first time). i have to give credit to ben stiller (who i find the most enjoyable and entertaining actor to watch)* because describing the scene couldn't do it any justice. the humor must come from the idea of his character (who turns out to be very anal about his car - tells owen wilson 'this isn't a camper apartment. (in reference to wilson's pickup/camper) There are rules. Such as: 'you certainly will not put your coffee mug on the roof, in fact, (he reconsiders) there is no coffee in the car, coffee goes on the ground, You, get in the car.' And, he is the only one allowed to drive which becomes funny (in an ironic sense - he's a by the book cop) when he, hung over and woozy from coke, declines Wilson's attempt to be a DD, by saying, "If I'm alive, I drive," and by the way he says it, rhythmically, sing-song, (his acting skills portrayed) you just know he's said it before, probably every time someone tells him he's too drunk to drive.

!encontada senor mucha nada

when you try to narrow in on one thing, you often forget (lose sight of) what you were narrowing in on.

i'm thinking about (totally unrelated to the above sentence) why i choose to write certain thoughts while others i don't. certain thoughts spark some kind of energy, and i'm typing before i know it. i curious about the nature of those thoughts.

if those thoughts were self-aware in the sense that i am, they would be asking the same question i ask. why me?

i suppose this is a question that only those who believe in destiny ask. well, come to think of it, everyone believes in destiny at their core. it is a concept. it is like the concept 'justice.' everyone knows the idea of justice, even if they don't care to enforce it. so, jesus asked 'why me,' right? and so did the homeless guy. boy, that doesn't seem fair. one wonders, why so lucky and vice versa. oh, whoops; it's funny, for some reason, i had the idea that jesus was lucky.

those thoughts seem to be chosen because they somehow connect some point to some other point. but what was the point?

so, either because i'm giving up in the search of, or because there is no such thing as a definate (if there was, i would argue it to my death) i will only write to explain my mood and personality, my 'started here and went there.' and for what reason, you may dare to ask? ...........oh, i felt like it, sorry.

[my laziness] politians/win/charisma/points that are 'perceived' as important
[hmm, that may have been as lazy in thought as it was in explanation]

i'll take style for the moment/substance later?ever?

The Bones

He would win for the moment, forcing her to wait for her victory. But her victory would always come; it seemed. Eventually she viewed him with silliness and contempt when he stormed. She, knowing she would win when, later, he would acknowledge his own foolishness. So she waited out his storm, his demand of victory in the moment, knowing she would win the war, or so she thought. He would always apologize, relinquish. But she, she would never apologize, for didn’t he always admit that he was wrong. So although she thought she won, it was she that was made to suffer the most. She suffered his demand for victory in the moment. But also she suffered all the while that she awaited his submission. They were young and everything was fresh.

At the beginning she relished waiting for him. Him squirming, him forcing himself to come to terms with his irrational demands for the moment; she watching him struggle to address her; she, in control, empowered over him, in charge of determining where and when she would accept his admission of defeat. It was a common pattern that worked well. She could accept this. Besides, he had such energy, such vigor; those were exiting times. As time wore on, however, this expanse of time (for it was certainly longer than the moment of submission he demanded of her) wore on her. She suffered because he continued to demand that moment despite his eventual apologies and self-acknowledged irrationalities (or so he called them). She suffered because he continued to demand that moment. Therefore she was forced to always accept his apology. It was expected of her; it was necessary of her; she bore the weight of upholding the relationship. Eventually she no longer relished the expanse of time in which he nervously skittered about, timidly looked for her attention, as if naïve to the common pattern – as if he was still unsure that she would take him back, say all was forgiven, all was well. She grew impatient with his irrational (her description) anxiety. Whey was he so unsure? So, she began to suspect him. He knew something she did not. It must be! All the while, after his victorious moments, while she sat waiting with pride and scorn and other sinful emotions, he had been questioning his own mind and motivations. While she sat idly, he conducted his energies. She began to see this. Was this why he was so unsure of her forgiveness; was this his cause for his fresh-seeming guilt and obvious relief when she forgave him. Before she had found it so very charming, even adorable. But, was there more to forgive him than she had thought?

They grew older together, and she began to question this further. Now she had had her eyes on him with more purpose. She suspected him and she no longer sat idly waiting. She began to suspect that the relief that washed over him, when she forgave him his triumph of the moment, was not for her forgiveness but more for something else. She was missing something. She had not caught on. It was something about that moment. He always took it And didn’t he admit that he was wrong to take it. Didn’t he! But he took it and took it and took it. And she forgave him for it every time. So then she saw. It wasn’t that moment that mattered. He had won every moment. He won when he stormed - she submitted; he won when he apologized - she accepted. He won even when she thought she was winning. In those expanses of time when she had waited for him, when she thought she was getting her revenge, equaling things out in the relationship, here too, in fact, he won. For in these moments she was waiting for him, thinking of him, and he was thinking of himself too. All of this thought glorified him, and she was forced to sustain the relationship on her own. And while she had relished, waiting for him to apologize, she had become more dependent on him, for what if he never sought her out for forgiveness? She would be left in defeat, she realized.

She knew that it would be the end of the relationship if she took a stand against him. He would never give up any moment. And that, in fact, was the common pattern. She was too old now anyway. Now, in knowledge of the truth, she would just have to continue the pattern. But she no longer had the energy to conceal her suspicions of him. So, at the end, they both knew everything. He knew that she had found him out, but he also knew she wasn’t going to do anything about it. Years later, as she prepared to die, murmurs of thought moved into her mind. She had no more energy to hide from them. She had always known they whispered. She had always known.

Why doesn't everyone just say what they think

it would really help me out.

The powerful sound waves roaring from my new Onkyo 600 watt home theater system cannot save me from anxiety, surprisingly.

And His Happiness Shouted "Exist!"

Many years haven't passed since I was 23. In fact, I used to be youthful, with an eye towards completeness. Eventualism should be my motto, nowadays. I am very content with watching everything unfold. There have been stereos bought and friends illucidated, but I still wish to be 53 with golden eyes in the presence of thick woods and weeping willows and Louisiana mugginess. A friend could appear, one or two years tardy, but with a powerful gun and a dog or two full of anticipation. Maybe we'd find a sweaty beast to conquer or just a few powerful phrases to utter, laughter to its fullest. Our kids all grown up, trying their best to be what we inadvertedly seemed to. Then we'd know our deceptions and we'd be forgiven and given our lives again renewed. Ahh, to relax in that heat. Our perspiration would cleanse us! We'd find relatives in backyard football youths, or skateboarding punkasses. Sleep would come without acknowledgement, as would conversation. And in each moment we'd exist, as if we'd never have a last. Our novels would lie - under staircases in the darkness. And the sun would heat only the back of our necks, upturned to take a refreshing glass of cold. Then, we'd bask. Then, we'd succumb. Then, we'd delight.

"Them's Rocks're Like Teewins"

I read, and then i was asked if i was watching Seinfeld.*

How unobservant I just was here at work. A man came up with a lid. I pulled my eyes from the computer and rung up the price on the tag. Later the man came up and asked for some more bags. I gave him some, politely, but became a little curious. Then I looked over and saw him packing up items into his bags. For a hilarious moment I imagined he wasn't a very stealthy thief. Or maybe he was trying that - do the most obvious thing and no one will think you are stealing - thing: like stuffing a candy bar into your pocket in full view of the register lady giving you your change or like the Wolfman holding his unpaid-for six-pack above his head and shouting drunken departures as he rocked out through the swinging gates of the Back Room. Any way it finally dawned on me - the only employee today- that the lid he had bought for ten dollars must have gone to something. But I still called him out just to be certain. It wasn't that awkward.

A lengthy contemplation on the use of italics
But with a very short written description

they change the reader's word of emphasis in a sentence, thus changing the meaning or tone of the sentence.

NOW, let's compare with my ally/nemesis m-w.com:

apparently they are slacking off.

Italics can also make someone sound like they have an accent:
Imagine: my name is Rashard. but my aunt down south calls me Rashard. Rashard pass 'em potatas.

(As breasty cheerleeding beauties bounce in my head, I think to myself 'I'm becoming a variety show.')

weirdly short old guy with black-rimmed glasses points his cane at you from your computer screen "don't touch that mouse. New Episodes will be right back, dude!" i suppose he could then do a jig. (aack i hate unabashedful humor)

But we all need the money
And we want it right now
But we don't got the skills
And we don't got the right relatives

But we all want the eyes
And we want them right now
But we don't got the looks
And we don't got the right anecdotes

But we all want the truth
And we want it right now
But we don't got the guts
And we don't got the right brain patterns

But we all want our wants
And we want them right now
But we don't got the will
And we don't got the omniscient powers of the Lord God Almighty on this blessed second day of the new calender year.

As a matter of fact, no one can ever know nothing. Nothing only exists when one's consciousness does not. One only knows (or can profess to know) what one's consciousness knows. So how did one ever come up with the concept of nothingness. How did we come to know that there should be not. It is hard to believe in nothing. There's very little evidence.


*because I was laughing