maybe some things i'll say will amount to a post

young baseball pitchers hurt their arms nowadays because they try too hard to be good. what they need to do is stay in the minor leagues so that they can continue to experience success while learning HOW to become a pitcher that can get outs at the major league level. if you throw them in there right away they will try harder the only way they know how. not by thinking more clearly and taking each hitter as an individual with individual strengths and weaknesses but by throwing out his arm even while it throbs with pain. they want to succeed so badly. but it takes time, even for great ones.

so many moods have passed since i last posted. i think i need to carry around one of those old-fashioned tape recorders...

pre-post quick-editor says: you've proven your title wrong, your subject is of little interest to your subject audience, you played your meaning and how it relates to you too subtely, people probably get the humor about the tape recorder what with all the talk lately about the all-appeasing convenience of the internet but how it still isn't a mind recorder and you can't always be around it.

But Bed is Found Unwilling

Unwilling like another round, once the bar has shut off its lights. So I'm left dazed and over-satisfied, but I'm stubbornly going to continue. I'll regret it in the morning, as it were.

I once was faced with a choice: to believe or not. I choose to not. I went every which way thinking that I was in a world without limits. I confused others, and I became confused. I was quick to disagree with agreement, and I agreed, hastily, with all that seemed bewildering. There was no rhyme and there was no reason. However, there was plenty of 'stuff,' and that was where i placed my purpose.

Eventually, it all fizzled itself back into nothingness, and I was forced to believe once again. It was all so clear, and when I looked at my own essence I saw it to be unclear. Clarity used to serve me; now it had become my antithesis. But in the morning there may be a new kind of light, shedding a new hue, and with that may come a new sense of clarity. Maybe I was wrong about being wrong, all along.

Some Bologna, Then Bed

What happens to things you were about to say?

anyway. the first novel i read was Jurrasic Park. at one point, while i was reading it in my bedroom on my stomach, my mom yelled up to me from downstairs. i didn't even notice. then she yelled again, and i jumped to alertness with my heart pounding in my chest. it was the first and last time i ever got so into a book. the t-rex was busting through the electric fence on that stormy night when they were in the off-roaders. it's my best empathy with the term 'thriller.' a few years later, after reading some ten Arthur books, namely, at that point, Mary Stewart's, i tried my hand at writing, for the first time, in an old, retired, sixth grade notebook. you know the kind; i had my name written block-lettered on the front and i had torn out the few Algebra pages that were needed for notes. i only had placed down a few paragraphs when my heart started pounding. i knew i had found my niche. but for some reason that knowledge was enough for me. i never really tried again. i thought i'd give the rest of the world a whirl.

what i'd give to get that feeling back.

If i ever do get it back, i'll know my life is set. i'll be able to handle any criticism and any rejection. i may have to work all kinds of odd jobs and live in all sorts of new places, but i'll be sure and centered and focused.

but why did i let it go. why was i satisfied with that fantastic feeling at that time. why didn't i go on?

please, let it return. i really think it will...

Ruins it all with a Drunken Rant

Four score and you've already lost interest. well, i'm no language einstein now as i JUST said to julie and this would be so much better or maybe just more embarrassing if i had any clue as to how to audio post. i assume i need some recorder or at least one hidden in my computer or something. but. i don't. to my knowledge.

and...to stay in tune with my title, which sadly i never have except this time, i will consider the word rant. after much consideration, i'm not sure that's still how you spell it.

i'm laughing in horror and drunkenness. and for aethesticness ifeel no word should combine two n's. oh, what's that you're thinking? now you're really bored? well, you're just a judging asshole. judge judge judge. haha, verdict's in. you suck. sorry, for real, because i can't afford to lose you, loyal viewer. actually, i'm talking to you. yeah, you've been here like twice but...

what's next. personally i love my variety posts. they'll always be a staple here. like it or not.

bacon, for the mean guys
spaghetti, for them who've stolen it
god, for, well, anyone i suppose
and, have you seen the latest show?

inkpresses, for the stubborn
address stamps, for the greedy
ethics, for, uh, do you know what your's are?
and, oh! oh! i saw that in People magazine

slavery, for all
punishment, we'll recieve it
faith, a pipedream
and, ouch, please, sir, less torture



it's hard to walk these streets iced with whiskey all alone when you know the wolfman's right down the block. but he's all tied up with coaching highschool wrestling and eating in cafeterias to help out a fellow.


title-----come true!

A Crazy Man Points Out the Truth

Apparently this guy was in the store a few days back and he shouted things to my aunt like, "AM I DONE TALKING?!" and pointed his finger. my mom got scared and walked away. he was mad because his wife bought an entertainment center that he didn't want. his wife thinks he is crazy, according to him, and he tried to prove his side by saying, "she never gives a straight answer. it's always half-truths," showing a small distance between his thumb and pointer finger, as if he's ready to imaginatively crush distant people's heads. "i'll ask her where she's been all day," he contined, "and she'll say the mall!" he gave a look like his point was half-proved already. "I say, 'The Mall??" he said, like one would to their daughter coming home at midnight and had said she'd been 'out.' He says, "Which mall??" "The Galleria." she says. "There's hundreds of stores in the Galleria, where exactly have you been" "I don't know, I was at the Gap getting John shoes." "Good!" he says with an exasperated air as if it was finally his turn to buy his tickets at the airport. "Next time i ask you where you've been, tell me where you've been."

Well, the next day, the guy's at the store again, and he seems nice enough, as i hadn't known about him coming in the day before, but then i hear talk between he and my aunt that could be an argument. so i take over talking with him. he starts out by complimenting my shirt. good move. he goes on to tell me about how men still care about how things look and fashion along with functionality. and after he feels the need to tell me he's not gay, he tells me about the old days when home entertainment systems weren't so big and monstrous. he struck me as a very calm, nice individual but also as a guy that rarely gets to voice his opinion because he isn't very aggressive and because he thinks somewhat deeper than is easily communicative. then he takes me into a more personal subject as we walk to a corner in the store. i'm told that he's worried about his kids and their views on relationships because of how his relationship with his wife is going. his son is 22 and he's worried that his son won't pick the right kind of woman. i'm following him to a degree but then his phone begins ringing and he says something about raymond from everybody loves raymond and how a man can only seem like a moron or insensitive. and then as he walks out of the store he tells me to watch commercials and advertising and that i should look for how 80% of it is centered around male-bashing. i'm thinking, this guy's a little weird, but seems nice enough.

This spunky advertising agent and her friend come in a few minutes later. They begin chatting with my aunt about going to some fundraiser together. i'm right next to them but i'm thinking about whether or not women are beginning to dominate the culture. the guy had told me that they are engineered for an intense atmosphere. i found truth in this when i thought about my aunt and how i can never get my point across because she shoots back something else right away, whether or not it relates, or i force her to listen to me but then she just gets hurt and then pissy and says something personal and critical about me. our relationship isn't really that bad but it was how i was viewing it after talking to that guy. i'm interrupted from my thoughts by the conversation next to me as i'm alluded to as the one possibly responsible for moving the brochure for the fundraiser. i find the brochure and it turns out to have naked men all over it. it features the world famous chippendales from new york city! they're all giddy over it and saying that if you take a friend they will beg you to let them come the next year. i said to them, "how can you women get away with this?" they all have a good laugh and giggle at me and themselves. my aunt takes my question as a hint that her husband might not like her to go. the spunky gal says sarcastically, "Yeah, you better ask your husband!" and then laughs and laughs.

anyway, i got carried away by the conversation moments later and forgot about it all until tonight when my mom spent twenty minutes convincing me that the guy was crazy by telling me stuff in the first paragraph and more. but then i saw the brochure again and thought...





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Twilight...

Especially whenever i think about lain from serial experiments lain. she's so sad and lonely. she's quiet. she's confused but not because of life. she sees the world very clearly, and she sees that it can be rough and heart-breaking. what she's confused about are everyone else's responses to it. then, she goes on to do something amazing but at the same time so alienating. and you see her and she looks so sad and lonely and, for all of you, you just want to give her a hug. but now, it's the last thing in the world she would ever want.

Don't myth this one

i haven't read this but joseph campbell could be called one of my idol's if i had any. do you like him?

hahaha, my title


oh, and about the random funniness, i want to say, hence my title, about the interest rates. but really it's a commercial. and here's how it ends:

'that's the nicest thing that anyone has ever said to me'

I'm waiting for my van to warm up

and I'm capitalizing my "I's."

this morning, you remember?, i was watching a non movie land before time cartoon. a big t-rex was chasing the little devils through the thicket when they all came upon the luckiest of lucks, a dead tree had fallen across a deep canyon in a way that they had to carefully, but hurriedly, scamper across it. one of the biggest pussies of the group got all scared and held up in the middle of the log. this induced the big t-rex to risk chasing after them. his balance held up quite admirably for a big guy and i thought he had a real good chance of muching up some lunch, but the little guy regained whatever courage hadn't leaked out from his bladder (i probably shouldn't have gone there) and nimbly darted off to rejoin his friends on the other side. far from peril, in my opinion, they were within lunging range of the big t-rex still. but apparently the writers had run out of chase scene cliches or maybe they just tired of them because the next bit of action i can honestly say i have never seen before. although, the t-rex had gone out to the middle easily enough, and although he still had a fine chance of catchin' those little guys on the other side, it seemed that he was just so fed up by not eating one of them yet that he roared and took a giant bite out of the log he was standing on and then plummeted into the canyon with his now broken log bridge. and the look on his roaring face as the tv showed him twisting in panic on the way down hahaha. i laughed out loud this morning, you remember? it was bright out still and all that

the end

Easy Enough to Understand

does a beer's quality increase as your surrounding's qualities decrease or would you enjoy your world select more at any of toronto's sleekest dance clubs. all i know is that you, or jeff alex, might immediately puke up a bad shot of whisky no matter where you are. so the hockey season's cancelled and nobody cares. except that i do, a lot. but sportcenter's anchors love to throw up their arms saying 'who cares!' hahaha.

i was going to get to, in my talk about patterns, what i think is funny and it turns out that i like randomness. that's funny. usually. unpredictable. don't see it coming. that's a joke.

sigh, i'm on break, and it's nice.

i want to be somewhere where i carry around a bright colored umbrella and it's not even raining. i want to walk on sharp objects and cigarette butts and dig sand from my toenails. mostly i want to hike through virginia again. tahoe's possible but maybe not likely.

Oh ok

i'm better now. wow i've been moody, at least in relation to my usual self. i felt like it was the end of days for blogging. haha. saying that i tend to exaggerate is an underexaggeration. my life is so boring that i exaggerate possibilities and then take the outlook that they are true thus really messing with my psyche (i don't know how to spell it but i want it to end in 'ee' as in tree).

just to keep myself honest here's what i wrote earlier. i don't want to delete anything. as a final note i was writing this as a comment on one of liz's posts. ignore if you choose. i felt helpless when writing it and if i write humorously when i'm laughing at what i'm writing then what you see below will seem helpless


-> 'catalog everything as i experience it'

that's what i want to do so bad. maybe because i'm a history major. or maybe i'm a history major because of it. or not because i'm pretty sure i just picked history because it was easy. or maybe because it was interesting. this is a good example of why i can't be clear and become aggravated. anyway, pingo.blogspot.com and i were talking about a mind recorder. but since there isn't one we have to try our best to remember things we think and experience. but we can only remember so much so how do we decide what to remember. i think we are pursuaded by our culture as to what is important or significant and so we end up all remembering the same things. we write about the same things. we like the same plots, usually. but i'm bored with what everyone has been interested in in this country. i want something new. i find what people think about thinking interesting. how they make decisions and how they process their thoughts and how they think they get to their beliefs and what they think when their thoughts conflict and what they do when their thoughts come to a dead end and where their thoughts dead end and what they think about that and how they respond to it and if they can ever get past the dead end some way and all of this kind of stuff. i guess it's pyscology but i don't really think it is. or even if it is i don't like calling it that because i hate to be restricted by what are called facts and proof. this isn't a bad thing because i don't plan on being a doctor, for one. anyway, i think that by writing about everything it might be beneficial to later cultures. what we take for granted is stuff that might be crucial for other cultures to understand us. so i don't mind writing about the 'insignificant' stuff because i'm not so sure it's insignificant except to people who want entertainment maybe.

Let's Fucking Go

everyone's been looking at me with half-closed eyes. literally. i've been looking at them the same way. i'm tired of always tensing my shoulders.

Instead, I'll just do something like get drunk against my will.

My condition, my condition.

Honey, have i ever told you you have great tastes in interest rates

so many things have been going on in my head today. i think i'm in a bad mood. i do feel good, but i always feel good. but i think i'm in a bad mood because all of my theories turn out to have bad ends today.

i was thinking a little about signs. sometimes i feel like i'm overwhelmed with the amount of signs i see throughout a day. i don't really follow them usually. i don't want to seem so naive as to believe in signs. but then, maybe when i get older i'll realize how naive i was to not believe in them. or they might not exist at all. this started (today, while thinking) to seem like the most probable case. i think this because i figured that i don't follow through with what the signs seem to be telling me because i am too scared that if they turn out to be wrong then i'll have to live life without them. life with them is so nice because they make me feel like i'm doing what i'm supposed to. as if i'm following a plan. maybe a benevolent all-powerful made the plan for me or maybe i chose the plan. but if there is no plan then that means i'm in charge of everything. but now (now, while thinking) this doesn't seem most probable because there are things, lines that seem right but i know i didn't effect them. maybe i'm getting in a better mood.

i was thinking about patterns. i see patterns in everything. i get bored watching the same patterns over and over again. i have trouble listening to my mother or aunt talk to me because i know where they are going ten seconds before they get there but they don't care. i let them know i know what they are saying or trying to say but they don't care to go on to the next point. so i don't exactly get along with them that well in that kind of communicating. they had so many sisters and they're a very talkative family. they love to communicate, for hours. they expect you to follow along with them the whole way. but this is impossible when your mind has jumped ahead to what they are saying. it is no fun to give nods and eyebrow raises to people once you know what they are saying. but try doing it for five minutes. i try to compromise and i'm willing to but they will not. they (all the sisters and one brother) have reinforced within each other the way they communicate. all of them have few very close friends or none at all, just spouses. my mother is very good at listening but not very good at keeping other's attention. this leads to some of the patterns i see. she is a very patient listener. she will listen well whether she is interested or not. this is not good in my opinion. one that patiently lets others ramble on without telling them that they are not being interesting is usually doing it because when they talk they don't concern themselves with holding others' attention and are usually themselves boring. ugh, this is so boring.

i could think something, then recognize it as something or know why i thought it, resolve it, then think something about the resolution, recognize why i thought that, then resolve it, and eventually i go insane. just knowing it isn't good enough. human contact has to be involved.

going to a baseball game, for example, isn't the same anymore. i'm not sure if i should still get excited and high-five. i used to and it was much more fun. is it natural as one gets older for them also to become more self-conscious and unsure. it seems like it should be the other way around.

i am so uninterested in most people. so what does the pattern say about me. but, also, i know that things are not definate. many times i am interested in people. so do i chuck it all up to mood?

people want to know what kind of a person you are. i don't have any idea what kind i am and i've been looking for years. then, i don't like things like the blogger profile random questions. if i answer it with a question i'm this kind of person. if i try to be funny i'm this kind of person. if i question its logic i'm this kind of person. i can be clever or serious or sarcastic or weird or honest and no matter what the details of my answer my basic kind of response determines how i'm seen. it's overwhemling what kind of person you can be.

i feel very aggravated right now.

this is good. any feeling is good.

hmm, i just had an interesting conversation with a guy on the phone. actually it was a two way conversation. his weighlifting son was on a different line and we were all connected. nothing exciting was talked about but it felt, i don't know, normal.

i want to be normal again.

i feel like this post was completely useless. ah, well. like we all say, who cares. or like some people say, fuck it

Living Without Dreams

if you come to believe that the future holds a certain future for you, you are dreaming. if you are dreaming you have a lot of control on how the dream turns out. symbols become a major player here. events that effect you can be configured to fit into your 'i'm like this and so it only makes sense' or 'i expected to be confronted with such experience on my way to this' dreams. you are a person that thinks that all things happen for a reason. most of the time everything will seem marvelous to you since everything that seems to happen seems to deal with you. however you are also seeing the world through a slightly to massively altered view. one can know this and still decide to choose to live this way. it's a nice way to live. most of the time things are fine. and you may even become very successful. but there will be times in your life or maybe only one time at which point you'll die, when your dreams fail you and you fail to make connections with the events that are effecting you and reality comes up to look into your wet eyes and grin.

if you are living without dreams you may think that it is just fine that the scientific community has just found a way to get mammals to reproduce cells that have gone dormant in their aural zones. you do not think 'well that guy is deaf for a reason, and if we just fix it up and just fix up all of our problems, then, isn't there something wrong with that. are we not living according to how god would want us to. are we fixing people up who should have died. does it hurt the natural karma that these people repeat actions that are unnatural and then unnaturally fix themselves.' you think 'here's a problem. look! this is how we can fix it.' this isn't just a scientist. many scientists would have a very dreamlike view to what they discover and how they are perceived and how they expect to be perceived. what it is is taking a scientific view of every second of life, confronting the mysteries of life with the appropriate amount of fear and awe and accepting responsibility for that which used to be able to be explained away. dreams can sustain you and keep you from dying. living without dreams really sucks a whole lot.

A Hot Title, Just Don't Look Down

finally, i'll break down and tell you the inside scoop on all the buzz surrounding We Sell Your Furniture. Check www.operationdecoration.com to learn about the status of the city-wide project that was brainchild of Mrs. Lisa Drzal. These students are gaining valuable experience and don't be surprised to find this project lined up to air on Opera soon. Mrs. Drzal has been emailing them. Onto some less encouraging news. it seems sunday sells have been down ever since i, the lone employee, started using the time to blog posts all day. check www.clearlyblue.blogspot.com to learn the status that is the brainchild of Mr. Chad Swope. He is gaining valuable experience and don't be surprised to find this probject lined up to be emptied from the recycling bin anytime soon. well, that's the breaks.

Or just check out the book online

My Description of what Mark Z. Danielewski’s House of Leaves is about after reading 55 ½ pages and the cover flap

Hi, friends,

Generally, what you will be reading is a documentary written by a man known only as Zampano'. His written, very formal documentary [embodied by footnotes and scholarly dissertations as broad in scope as word origin and word comparison breakdowns, to physics formulas that yield the speed of sound, to quotes from Wordsworth and Ovid (mythology)] reveals everything mankind knows about an ambitious and professionally coordinated video documentary entitled The Navidson Record filmed by Pulitzer-Prize winning photojournalist Will Navidson.
We discover from The Navidson Record that Will and his wife and two kids have moved to the country to settle down and strengthen their inter-familial relationships. They appear in an early 18th century house where Navidson hoped to create a peaceful outpost. Fatefully, he wasn’t quite ready to relinquish the ‘lenses’ through which he had been viewing life since his tragic childhood. Therefore, in retrospect, (for those who have viewed the film, not you) it is not surprising that he designed this very project, which after dreadful, uncanny and deadly events, became known as The Navidson Record.

Innocently enough (at least consciously), to capture his family’s every action on tape, Navidson installed motion detecting cameras (the presence of which were known to his family). Intruding though this may seem, Navidson’s intentions were to portray how a family moves in, occupies and settles down in a new house. Eventually, however, the cameras caught (or is it didn’t catch) something else (something else is, paradoxically, a thorough description). A small, diverse group was lucky enough to view a copy of this project, and, as a result of the rapidly improving nature of digital imaging technology, are divided as to whether they believe that The Navidson Record is an elaborate illusory hoax or that the unbelievable really took place on Ash Tree Lane. Zampano' covers the opposing evidence from all aspects and angles in his documentary, which you will be reading.

But hang on—The Navidson Record doesn’t even exist. This, according to Johnny Truant—apprentice tatoo artist (in other words: tatoo artist secretary)/genius—who is the soul responsible for finding Zampano’s ‘documentary’ [I’ll explain the quotes in a paragraph or two (you may take this in both possible ways)]. Furthermore, he says “a good portion” of Zampano’s footnotes cite fictitious works. So, what is going on?! This is confusing? Why would Zampano', a loner old man who, irrelevantly (for the purpose of my description here), turns out to be blind, write a documentary on a non-existent film? Well, this is what keeps you reading. The book is filled with dark undertones and omens, so maybe there’s been a cover up? Hmm? What do you think?…

Regardless, you have now been introduced to the ‘rest’ of what you will be reading. Johnny Truant will, in effect, become your guide/sympathizer during your time in this book. He constantly interjects throughout Zampano’s document via his own footnotes, which often resemble a diary of his life and how it changes as he reads the document. But also they serve as warnings.

Of course, if The Navidson Record never existed, then Zampano’s ‘documentary’ is little more than a brilliantly creative fiction. But when you think of a documentary you naturally suppose that it would be a clear, meticulously organized piece of work, perhaps found on a 3 ½ in. floppy disk or as neat, labeled stacks of typewriter paper in a roll-top desk. This is not what Johnny Truant found.

The only thing that Johnny Truant knew about Zampano was that he was the man who had just died, and in so doing, had relinquished his rights to the small apartment Johnny had decided on moving into.

3:00 AM. Phone Rings.

Who the fuck is that?

Johnny hears his friend Lude’s voice. Lude is always up for parties, girls and drugs. Is this the motivation behind the call? No.

Johnny finds himself at Zampano’s apartment complex climbing stairs to his future room. Lude wanted to show Johnny something about this old dead man’s place. When you think of a death scene you naturally suppose that it would be bloody, or gruesome or nothing of the sort at all if the death was of natural causes. This is not what Johnny Truant found.

What Truant found was a dead blind man, some obsessively insane notes written on scraps of anything and everything and a claw mark gouge in the floor of an airtight, light restricted, choking, cloying, threatening, imminent, now!, watch out, look behind you and scream while gargling on your very own blood, apartment. Johnny Truant is warned not to read Zampano’s work. He is warned by Zampano’s written words and by something else—maybe that feeling of despair in the apartment. But that feeling faded and Truant ignored Zampano’s words. You are warned. You are warned by Zampano' and by Truant. You are warned: “This is not for you.” the sole words on page two of the book. You are unsettled by the appearance of German words on page three: “Muss es sein?” (Must it be?). But you’ll jump in anyway. Just remember that what you read is no more than that. There is absolutely nothing else there. Beware…

The house would generally be considered the main subject of Mark Z. Danielewski’s House of Leaves, but Zampano's intellectual meanderings and sentimental inclusions of lengthy dialogue between Will Navidson and his wife Karen, along with interruptions by Johnny Truant’s diary-style footnotes, suggest a different subject: How human beings react when that black darkness of vacant nothingness abandoned even of echos surrounds you like wormless dirt packs in a coffin. “You’ll suddenly realize things are not how you perceived them to be at all. For some reason, you will no longer be the person you believed you once were. You’ll detect slow and subtle shifts going on all around you, more importantly shifts in you. Worse you’ll realize its always been shifting” “Old shelters—television, magazines, movies—wont protect you anymore.” “Then no matter where you are, in a crowded restaurant or on some desolate street or even in the comforts of your own home, you’ll watch yourself dismantle every assurance you ever lived by…And then for better or worse you’ll turn, unable to resist, though try to resist you still will, fighting with everything you’ve got not to face the thing you most dread, what is now, what will be, what has always come before, the creature you truly are, the creature we all are, buried in the nameless black of a name.
And then the nightmares will begin."

--Johnny Truant, Hollywood, CA

_________________________________

all quotes from House of Leaves by the above author, you know

to sustain he who hath little

Pay no attention to the man behind the picture over there. what with the new (and improved) comment system i won't be left out by not showing up.

so now that nathan is sucking off of me i suppose i have complete control of him. shall i starve him or ingest poison. maybe just make him real fat and slothenly. or maybe in a scientifically fictional twist aka clive barker and i guess king, stephen, we can join together in one body but with two minds.

oh, hey i think i'll post something on house of leaves. nathan in particular might like it. the book not the post. i'll apologize in advance for the crude writing. i wrote back when i tried to write like i thought i was supposed to. now let's see if it's in word here

Study of Self

i really think that the only subject that i have authority to comment on is my self. and i really think that i don't know what to say most of the time. i'm finding that anything i like it's because somehow i can relate to it.


i just decided to post whatever i had saved as draft. it's not like i was going to get back to them. this was post 3 of 3. the two below, you know

Quickly, thanks blogger

i'm actually going to have to stay after work to keep up with this. at last january's over and so everyone's got their energy back? everywhere i look there's 5 comments, hmm, here's 10 comments, oh there's 10 more. good. it's so enjoyable to be able to communicate with people that are kind of your own choosing. we're lucky to have started with friends we know, it's really helped gather people. it'll be fun to see how it all evolves. or if everyone just all moves to portland, right? but without this blogger arena my days would be very much less fun. and not just like, well, i can play minesweeper to pass the time fun, but more like, i'll be a little late for halo tonight. actually i haven't played for more than two weeks. you can check my stats at bungie.net. it's very comprehensive. VERY. aosdkgbj;albhjoi

good, it's nice out, and it's raining

i awoke smiling as if under berries and willows. yet i still want to challenge everyone to be cynical. i felt a peace this morning that used to be reserved for 6th grade saturdays where bird chirps and cars splashing outside my window held me captive to by bed for all their beauty. but i remember yesterday i wanted everyone to expel all of their cynicisms on me. don't fear going on tangents. please go as deep as you like. or berate things on the surface. all cynics are welcome to comment. think of it as a challenge. think of it as a way to better perceive what it means to be cynical. what does it do and where does it get you.

also, i wanted to look up, at w-m.com, the meaning of the word episodes. i particularly like 1.b. i call the posts my situation and the narrative my life. or something. obviously 1.c. works too. and 2. plus who can resist it if it's new. plus you can process it all passively if you wish so there's no pressure. just entertainment

Main Entry: ep·i·sode Pronunciation: 'e-p&-"sOd also -"zOdFunction: nounEtymology: Greek epeisodion, from neuter of epeisodios coming in besides, from epi- + eisodios coming in, from eis into (akin to Greek en in) + hodos road, journey -- more at IN1 : a usually brief unit of action in a dramatic or literary work: as a : the part of an ancient Greek tragedy between two choric songs b : a developed situation that is integral to but separable from a continuous narrative : INCIDENT c : one of a series of loosely connected stories or scenes d : the part of a serial presented at one performance2 : an event that is distinctive and separate although part of a larger series3 : a digressive subdivision in a musical composition

again, trapped

i used to daydream through most of church. i can't really do that anymore for whatever reason. so, culture shock at church? i know, but, where else do you act like you do when in a congregation? a movie theater or a play or a company presentation? in all these circumstances you are permitted, almost expected, to either have fun or make fun of the proceedings. it's getting hard for me to take church or religion lightly. well, at least when i'm attending. i don't believe in jesus to the extent that i'm supposed to you know. so when i look around i have to think 'what are we all doing here.' now going to church was fine with me when i was to do as i was told. but what now. i don't know. i should probably join the choir.

well, change in tone. i was just taken away from the computer ten minutes ago. i used that time to talk to marie. well, marie is a sometime customer here at wsyf. she's black and has a quasi-jamaican accent. she's young and has two adorable kids. she definately hasn't been in america for more than ten years. i haven't asked but i'd guess she only been here a few. i think she came over with her husband who was a doctor in the us military. i think they met overseas. anyway, she's a complete riot, as it were. you might think she was berating me for trying to steal her purse if you walked into the store. instead, she's telling me that she loves these certain glass end tables but that they'd only last two days in her house. i know she's right. her 3 something boy has been to the store many times. i always have a good time walking around behind him catching valuables he tips over. anyway, she's so energetic, so easygoing and so herself. i want to be with someone like that who gets excited, who makes friends easy, who doesn't care if someone thinks she's crazy, who always is expressive and has a good time. i want to live somewhere where people are that open. i want one of every few people i run into to act like that. if i ever do find one here it is 99.99 percent likely to be a girl. but i wouldn't mind acting like that. i like to.

but, at least half of my life is concerned with totally different desires. a woman like that, while i'd admire her and love her, would always be like that. i couldn't handle that all of the time. sometimes i want a quiet, contemplative girl. one that shared my sometimes overwhelming search for the unknown. maybe if my parents were dead I'd have two wives.

what will i regret

hopefully i will fall into a line of thought that is entertaining. well, church had another negative effect on me. it's always the same. i feel like i'm going to pass out. it's like culture shock. i would like church if i felt comfortable. i don't mind listening to sermons and singing hymns. and once church is over i enjoy saying hi and shaking hands. so what is it? i'm not sure. it has something to do with feeling trapped. and it has something to do with considering 'what if the worst happened.' i get a feeling like you might have at the worst part of an interview, and i imagine how it would it would feel if the interview was not going well. but you can run out of an interview and go drink some beer and pray you never see that company executive or his secretary again. you can pray with some good deal of hope actually, and then laugh it off. but you can't go running out of church; you can't faint at the altar, drinking your wine. but this is what i seem close to doing. and considering the setting i can't help but think it's life or death or even saved or damned. then, i can't talk to my parents about it or anything. 'mom, i get light-headed at church and feel like everything's all wrong.' wouldn't she freak. well i kindof did bring it up today, but i sort of just got laughed at, haha. i just feel trapped. i feel like i need to lie down and stretch. i feel overwhelmed by an energy. it seems like it might be a good energy. but it is too much. like if i gave into it i'd start screaming out 'halelujah' or something. it also feels like an energy that threatens to change me. and if i give in to it i might open my eyes and realize that most of the people in the congregation are devils. and they'd all turn their eyes my way. most likely it all just represents my reluctance to grow up and to do my best and to accept the responsibility of becoming successful. as example, i am a very fine singer when it comes to church songs, but i don't want to stand out or i'll feel pressured to always sing well and to be perfect. instead i like to do it when i feel like it. when there are many people singing like at easter or something it's great because i can sing good and loud and no one will notice. now i know that i'm usually singing good, just in case you're thinking that maybe i suck, but i do think that my voice is a little too unique or might sound pretentious, like maybe i'm trying to sound too good, or putting on an act, or making fun of the deep-voiced choir member. anyway, once i got some food in me i felt a lot better and started acting without apprehension. but, i, at first, declined to order any food. instead, i wanted to go home and lie down. but, i thought that that would be just too eccentric for me to act so i got a little food. i realized, again, how we are such creatures of habit. and it's not because we just tend to do things we are used to doing, which would be easier than coming up with some new activities or pathways. i realized that my body depended on the morning act of digesting such fatty foods as cheese and ham, bacon and bagels. if i don't eat them...it seems i get all light-headed and the desire to lie back down.

try again

sometimes i feel trapped by my parent's love. i feel like if they were dead or didn't care about me that i would be free to explore the world and all of the ideas in it. it's not that i want to do anything crazy like become a murderer once they're gone, i just don't want to end up looking down on them in any way. i feel like i'm holding back to spare myself the trouble of criticizing them and then it would follow - myself. i know they would still care for me just as much. i don't know how i would feel though. i can't see my mistakes because i turn a blind eye to theirs.

this isn't my thought process, this is writing sentences that i'm choosing out of my thought process.

abort abort abort abort

Clock Games

i'm quite aware that i haven't been able to have nightmares for many years now. i am certain that this fact correlates with my state of mind which i believe to have been controlled and forced by my will over those years. my will has let up a bit recently, as i've been saying over, basically, my entire blogging career. my 'will' my 'depression' whatever you want to call it; what it is and was is a change. but it was not just a change. a change might be harder, or easier, i don't know. what it was was a reversion back to what i was, back to how i used to feel, in general. it was weird and felt pretty unnatural and all during the last few years. i was aware that certain 'normal' things were missing in my life. i found i was missing nightmares, for one. i was pretty sure i wouldn't let myself have one. even when unconscious i think you have to let yourself go to have a nightmare. i couldn't let myself do that. i suffocated myself with restraint, with self-questioning, with doubt, with criticism, and instead of acknowledging that these things were unhealthy to my life, i, instead, tried to even them out by judging everything with criticism, with questioning, with doubt. and all of this was pretty passive. i took care to veil my fusty outlook which was so out of character with my time and place. i didn't act like i felt. i concealed my beleagered enthusiasm with just enough beers and just enough pop phrases so that no one asked what was wrong. i didn't want someone to ask that because i knew the answer. i knew i could change it. but i knew it would take time and opportunity and i knew i had to ride it out. funny, i'm not one to bear out a headache in silence if it is hurting my performance in some way. i think it's only fair to explain why i'm not so cheerful or as accurate at sniping. i don't want whoever's with me to think that it might be their fault. but in this case i knew that i couldn't really explain why i was struggling because i was struggling because, in a way, i felt like it.

sorry, i always get tangented away. anyway, all of those characteristics made it impossible for me to have a nightmare. my heart couldn't've handled one, even of the lightest nature, and for all of the nightmarish things i thought during the day for all i knew i was in for a huge one.

ahh(sigh)

but now the nightmares are starting to return. i couldn't be any happier. they aren't up to their normal caliber just yet, but they're creeping back in. i still won't relax enough to let them get my heart beating rapidly or wake me up in sweat or anything, but they're them. after one of those extreme kinds of nightmares one is content to feel exhilerated at the realization that it was just a dream, and one could drop back to their pillows in relief. but the kind i'm having aren't so dramatic. in fact, when they're over i tend to cling to the spooky feeling they left me. it doesn't feel good but i haven't felt it for so long. i want to be frightened by a bear chase or a fall from the clouds. instead i'm getting mental fears about unnatural life forms or intelligence hidden in a vague space. the climax is something like my friend and i have just realized that it wasn't coincidence, it's some kind of implied fear. we realized that the something was to be feared but it didn't realize that we just found out we should fear it. we feel trapped and hopeless but nothing scary has happened you know. so i awake to this feeling and i cling to it even while i'm haunted by it and can't fall back to sleep. it's like i know it to be true but i also really want to forget about it. and i don't know what to do.

but in retrospect, i don't mind that nightly struggle. at least it's new.

Time, the magazine

actually that article was pretty interesting. (you know the one alluded to in my comment on one of my earlier posts.) i really don't have time to write right now but i wanted to re-emphasize the article

in keeping with and all that that i've done

What is the key to an idea? I'm sure it's pre-existing human energy. (is that kinetic, or the other kind) What is the key to a smile? A gay heart? When is a heart gay? An environmentally determined moment? Why can sadness be so delicious? Why do I care?

Why is blogging? Why is 'it matters?' Why is 'it mattered?' Why does something help? Why do you care? I'm serious.

Oh, has everyone already asked these questions? So will you tell me I don't have to? Oh, how silly I'm asking them? 'Oh, how silly!' I noted in embarrassment from the future. What scorn!

But it matters right here. at the end of that period. and with that second sentence it ceased to matter. for the moment.

ouch, isn't bad. and yay faded. what now?

OH. so, it's over? that's gone? that was all?

Begin again? I could only hope. there's nothing else that i can see. it just goes back again. with a new point of view at least? please?

wait, what this? i can't see it? what do you mean? but, i can't see it! WHAT DO YOU MEAN?

But, wait, if that's it then...

so i guess i was wrong. but that means, if this is always how it's been, then next time it will even be harder to see. i probably won't be able to do it again. but WHAT THEN? if i can't do it next time? if i get caught up even more? the pattern's already set. the habit WON'T be broken!!

so the best for me is that i'll end up searching for the grail. will i at least have hope? i'll settle for that...i suppose.

thanks for the chance. i suppose i just made a few mistakes. i guess it's not so bad, what happened to me. it wasn't my worst fears or anything. just - this

in keeping with posting anything, and obviously this was never intended for posting

so from the Ayn Rand Institute, "Racism is the lowest, most crudely primitive form of collectivism. It is the notion of ascribing moral, social or political significance to a man's genetic lineage—the notion that a man's intellectual and characterological traits are produced and transmitted by his internal body chemistry. Which means, in practice, that a man is to be judged, not by his own character and actions, but by the characters and actions of a collective of ancestors."

that doesn't really make it sound like stereotyping a group of people would be racist. stereotypes exist because groups of people act similarly, in general. my family acts in quite a similar fashion. now, a stereotype usually seems to have a negative quality. but it is not really racist. i mean, there are intellectuals who are doctors in sociology. i'm sure everything they profess could be prefaced with the words 'in general.' in general this group of people act like this and in general this group of people acts like that. now, why the word 'group.' groups are characterized by being contained in a similar environment, i believe. this environment affects how people behave. unless one is to be shunned or ignored in these groups one will take part in some of the common activities like talking to others or watching particular entertainments together and then talking of those things. if one didn't what would one be able to talk about? not much. so one begins to display stereotypes common to the group. it's human nature.

growing as a culture.

changing ideals in white men in europe and early america and as a result one's being, one's desires and one's needs socially.

white women's lack of participation in art and philosophy in europe and early america and resulting decrease in association with white men.

differing desires to communicate and socialize with a group.

social characteristics of religions.

women's roles in differing societies and how they are regarded.

how well can one live outside of one's childhood culture, what can one learn, can one feel comfortable.

how does our melting pot deal with all the commotion. i think the formation of america necessitated the development of the internet. we need to exchange information quickly . globalization. globalization.globalization.globalization.

wow this is an amazing time in history. all nations are aware of each other. people are spreading. people aren't comfortable so we aren't complacent. differing cultures are becoming more integrated with each other. stereotypes are becoming less general. knowledge and tolerance increases. we've had things like politically correctness and save the animals and pay the workers more and the little guys are getting listened to more and oppression is being attacked in every way. i think we strive to better ourselves individually more than ever and more of us are doing it than ever because we are all allowed to and even expected to not like when a woman would be laughed at for trying to paint or a black man to speak his mind politically. we're competing with other nations. we are communicating together. all of this great stuff is facilitated by 'tools' like economy and internet and vacation. economy helps us strive for progress. what we can't do is allow fighting over the tools. the end goal isn't to be the most powerful nation china over usa or russia/france over england but to all work together. this will take a little time for our economies to get us there but if we avoid a devastating war we will end up there.

so what would be our goals if we were all working together. would it be spiritual or exploration or extreme proficiency or increases in all of them. or would we grow tired of the peace and the unstimulated challenges and enough people would make a go for power. yeah, that sure seems likely. but it's not heaven so...

maybe i'll use the silent treatment

and i'm even getting into arguments lately. sure, that seems like it would be something that is counter-productive but that's only if i'm looking at it as if i'm above them. really, lately, i haven't been good enough for arguments. of course, what i mean by all this is that i'm allowing my feelings and more human aspects back into my life. i'm making a little room for them next to the improbable ideals that are


it's nice to get picked up by someone. it's very nice. to be down and to not care if the person coming up to you dislikes you for it, but then when you least expect it they cheer you up perfectly. it's amazing because i think there are so few out there that can do it. or it was just that i would never allow them to. scared of growing dependent on it or something.


so yeah, i thought arguments were so irrational and therefore unnecessary. i vowed to never let my emotions rouse. people agreed with my plan. hmm. ...sorry


so i was trying to get ahead but now i'm behindat least it will all seem real now

I'm obviously missing something

well the title was created earlier in the day. at that time i had a long post about summer/spring things already typed up in my head. but now at the end of the day i'm very much tired and not going to type about warm concrete and dirty twigs.

oh, and so the title would have meant that i was missing summer you know. yeah, pretty cool.

a new fantastic point of view? .....!

will they ever change the word writer to typer. like, typer's block, and 'i just felt like typing something up today' ha, thing is, you could write things down, but you have to type things up.

who in the world would name their kid Harrison?

I'm so out of the zone.

the only way to get back into the zone is to pretend you are in it even when results tell you otherwise. but one, as the power holder over blogger, does have the power to delete. but, alas, i would have deleted each and everyone if i deleted each time i got the urge ta.

back in the zone, hmmm, hmmm, haha. type dammit. damn nit.

and all the while, the radio goes, ohwhoawhoaaa, listen to the music.

now i feel like kevin mcdonald, in his KitH skit, write what you know write what you know. or even better, gareth, when he yells out 'dog eats bone' or something and then tim says 'say what you see gareth'

ah, a new paragraph. i think i need to lose some of my following before i can concentrate again. that's not true, but i wanted to say it. ...wouldn't it be a shame if i posted this. wouldn't it be a shame if you read it? this far i mean? i'm laughing at you, right in your face, and there's probably a little bit of spit spraying on you...

i have so many untestable theories in my head. they make common sense, but it can't be that simple. so maybe this is just me taking a break from so much seeking.

hmmm, a new look at the title makes me wonder if i was portent to mine own miserably-on-and-on-ingness