The Obscure
Welcome, one and all, to the incongruent ravings of an inferior mind!Saturday, February 26, 2005
I was taking a shower just now and I had an idea for a book. It was sparked by a conversation Ryan and I had a few days ago, about the afterlife. The book would be entitled, "The Posthumous Adventures of a Sick Man", and the idea would be that the main character is dead, but life after death is something very different than what he thought it was. Ryan's idea was that whatever the person believes in, subconsciously or otherwise, will occur when they die, and it would be in their mind, so to speak. If someone firmly believed in a Christian heaven, then their soul would end up in a Christian heaven, if someone firmly believed that they were damned, they would be damned, and so on. I'm going to combine Ryan's idea with my percoset inspired bastard spawn of free will and physics, which is that an entity, once set in motion, must remain in motion, UNLESS acted upon by an outside force (the outside force being, in this case, our free will). In short, an infinite spiritual life is given to us, as long as we want it, and believe in it. If we believe that we will stop when our bodies die, then we do. Makes sense, right? I know, it doesn't really.
The story would be that there was a nameless insane man, who believed that when he died he would become omnipresent. When he did pass away (he was murdered by a sadistic hospital worker, after being brought in off the streets and checked into an asylum) his omnipresence extended to the spiritual, physical, and temporal planes. The book would essentially be a fractured and disjointed look at the actual mentality of mankind through the eyes of a Godlike psychopath. Mind you, he is everywhere, but he is powerless to change anything. Interesting, huh? I thought it was. Imagine, a totally deranged lunatic, unfettered by time and space, peering into the minds and actions of both the living and the dead. What would he think about? How would his newfound knowledge affect him?
Writing that would be so awesome. I've even got an idea for the opening paragraph.
"It's strange to think that out of the countless religious crackpots and zealots who fantasized of a life after death, not one of them got it right. Or would it be more precise to say that all of them got it right? I guess it depends on how you look at it. There is humour in this, though. Billions of us have spent our lives trying to find the religion that made the most sense, mankind's history is littered with great thinkers who devoted their lives to finding out 'the truth' behind our reality, people have died defending their convictions about these things; and all the while, even the wildest raving coke-head on the street corner had it right on the money. Where do you go when you die? Well, that depends. Where do you think?"
I thought it was pretty interesting. Perhaps I shall attempt to write it.
We all know that I won't, who am I foolin'?
My mom finally got me an actual key to the car. Huzah, now I don't have to borrow hers every time I drive! AND! Now there is actually a point to me having a keychain! Till now I have just carried it for the jingles.
Anyway, I'm bored and tired, so I am going to go to bed. Have a good one, ladies and gents!
The story would be that there was a nameless insane man, who believed that when he died he would become omnipresent. When he did pass away (he was murdered by a sadistic hospital worker, after being brought in off the streets and checked into an asylum) his omnipresence extended to the spiritual, physical, and temporal planes. The book would essentially be a fractured and disjointed look at the actual mentality of mankind through the eyes of a Godlike psychopath. Mind you, he is everywhere, but he is powerless to change anything. Interesting, huh? I thought it was. Imagine, a totally deranged lunatic, unfettered by time and space, peering into the minds and actions of both the living and the dead. What would he think about? How would his newfound knowledge affect him?
Writing that would be so awesome. I've even got an idea for the opening paragraph.
"It's strange to think that out of the countless religious crackpots and zealots who fantasized of a life after death, not one of them got it right. Or would it be more precise to say that all of them got it right? I guess it depends on how you look at it. There is humour in this, though. Billions of us have spent our lives trying to find the religion that made the most sense, mankind's history is littered with great thinkers who devoted their lives to finding out 'the truth' behind our reality, people have died defending their convictions about these things; and all the while, even the wildest raving coke-head on the street corner had it right on the money. Where do you go when you die? Well, that depends. Where do you think?"
I thought it was pretty interesting. Perhaps I shall attempt to write it.
We all know that I won't, who am I foolin'?
My mom finally got me an actual key to the car. Huzah, now I don't have to borrow hers every time I drive! AND! Now there is actually a point to me having a keychain! Till now I have just carried it for the jingles.
Anyway, I'm bored and tired, so I am going to go to bed. Have a good one, ladies and gents!
Thursday, February 24, 2005
Yeah, this is shaping up to be a wonderful night.
I put myself in a bad humour a few hours ago and it has caused me to be a pretty big bitch to everyone, and I kind of hate myself for it right now. I don't really have anything else to say about that.
For those of you who aren't informed (which I am pretty sure is Nobody) I have finally gotten an actual job. An actual one-hundred percent legitimate employment, on the payroll and everything. It's a lot easier than what I was doing before, who would have thought that baking is the easier part of a cookie business? My only complaint is that I have burnt my fingers countless times. There is this one bubbly purple burn that is kind of cool. Oh man, the bubbles went away! Now it's just a weird welt, it doesn't hurt anymore though, so I guess that is a plus.
Katie Hakala is coming to town tomorrow, that oughtta be a good time. Unfortunately this necessitates the cleaning of my room. My room was clean for a really long time, but then I got some new computer stuff and the place just exploded. What do you expect, though, really?
Well, I just finished programming the coffee-maker for my coffee tomorrow morning, so I am going to go shower now and get some sleep. We have an order of 800 cookies that has to go out tomorrow afternoon. Huzam.
G'night, ladies and genteels.
I put myself in a bad humour a few hours ago and it has caused me to be a pretty big bitch to everyone, and I kind of hate myself for it right now. I don't really have anything else to say about that.
For those of you who aren't informed (which I am pretty sure is Nobody) I have finally gotten an actual job. An actual one-hundred percent legitimate employment, on the payroll and everything. It's a lot easier than what I was doing before, who would have thought that baking is the easier part of a cookie business? My only complaint is that I have burnt my fingers countless times. There is this one bubbly purple burn that is kind of cool. Oh man, the bubbles went away! Now it's just a weird welt, it doesn't hurt anymore though, so I guess that is a plus.
Katie Hakala is coming to town tomorrow, that oughtta be a good time. Unfortunately this necessitates the cleaning of my room. My room was clean for a really long time, but then I got some new computer stuff and the place just exploded. What do you expect, though, really?
Well, I just finished programming the coffee-maker for my coffee tomorrow morning, so I am going to go shower now and get some sleep. We have an order of 800 cookies that has to go out tomorrow afternoon. Huzam.
G'night, ladies and genteels.
Hey, everyone leave a comment on this post!
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
Damn, man. I feel very ugly right now, aside from this one paragraph, I won't be updating tonight. It feels right now like I won't be updating ever again, but I have said that before. Well, that is all. Have a good night everyone.
Rocking consciousness, and waves upon waves of briny life come crashing down on me. Soaked to the bone, I say, and I can only speak the words of my forgotten mind. What will they do to me? Does anyone know? These vile persons, groping at my form, learning my shape with their fingers. What am I supposed to say? Shackle myself in? Preposterous! Follow a less enlightened path? I could never!
But where to go from here? Nobody knows, nobody cares.
Schooling is an odd thing, I can see myself years from now, sitting complacently on the knee of the Sudan, learning all I can. Could I drink from that forbidden cup? Could my mind truly be filled with the glands of other men?
Then again, there is an easier way. I could wander from street to street, visiting towns and cities, spending days picking through the garbage pails of our great country's most eminent citizens. I could see the world through my own starved and poverty stricken eyes, I could eat the bread of life with a tan mongrel from the Bronx. What of these things? Must I really chain myself to the forefront of intellectual resuscitation? Why do these things come out of my hands tonight? What grim inspiration do I rely on for these incoherent strings of dementia?
Pigshit! That is all I have. Who will come for me when my body gives up the ghost? Who will answer the call and take my blood away? I cannot understand the vile putrid filthy laws that take my hands from my pockets and eat my eyes from their bloody sockets. I am stuck inside the frozen trucks of my sister's brain. Giggling now? But what is the difference between you and I, really?
All these people try to act like they have a thought rolling around in their heads, when in sooth all they have is pretend aspirations and false principles. Who is going to tell them that their beloved world is nothing but a fake? Who is going to answer me when I ask these enormous questions? I dreamt a dream, many years ago, and tonight it came true before my very eyes. How come this cannot be a daily occurrence? What sin did I commit while still in the womb, that doomed my life to retain such a disappointing colour?
How come every night I must snap into this temporary psychosis? Even without the aid of painkillers to still the throbbing taste of death, I still find the foreground of my mind to be a deadly place in the night-time. It is a good thing I have the love-song of Coltrane to ease my pain. But alas, all that does is add confusion to my atmosphere. The world is warming up, my friends, there is an atmosphere of disillusion.
Who is it that turned this house into such an uncomfortable place? Who is it that said for me to empty my skull I must be sad, for me to be stretched mentally thin, I must be insane? Depression? What the hell!
She runs the motor at this time, and the brilliant one will find her out. Who is going to save her? She cannot save herself!
The feathers are calling me to aid them in their gossamer conflict. Do not take offense.
The world is warming up, my friends. The atmosphere is changing, the wildlife is growing calm.
But where to go from here? Nobody knows, nobody cares.
Schooling is an odd thing, I can see myself years from now, sitting complacently on the knee of the Sudan, learning all I can. Could I drink from that forbidden cup? Could my mind truly be filled with the glands of other men?
Then again, there is an easier way. I could wander from street to street, visiting towns and cities, spending days picking through the garbage pails of our great country's most eminent citizens. I could see the world through my own starved and poverty stricken eyes, I could eat the bread of life with a tan mongrel from the Bronx. What of these things? Must I really chain myself to the forefront of intellectual resuscitation? Why do these things come out of my hands tonight? What grim inspiration do I rely on for these incoherent strings of dementia?
Pigshit! That is all I have. Who will come for me when my body gives up the ghost? Who will answer the call and take my blood away? I cannot understand the vile putrid filthy laws that take my hands from my pockets and eat my eyes from their bloody sockets. I am stuck inside the frozen trucks of my sister's brain. Giggling now? But what is the difference between you and I, really?
All these people try to act like they have a thought rolling around in their heads, when in sooth all they have is pretend aspirations and false principles. Who is going to tell them that their beloved world is nothing but a fake? Who is going to answer me when I ask these enormous questions? I dreamt a dream, many years ago, and tonight it came true before my very eyes. How come this cannot be a daily occurrence? What sin did I commit while still in the womb, that doomed my life to retain such a disappointing colour?
How come every night I must snap into this temporary psychosis? Even without the aid of painkillers to still the throbbing taste of death, I still find the foreground of my mind to be a deadly place in the night-time. It is a good thing I have the love-song of Coltrane to ease my pain. But alas, all that does is add confusion to my atmosphere. The world is warming up, my friends, there is an atmosphere of disillusion.
Who is it that turned this house into such an uncomfortable place? Who is it that said for me to empty my skull I must be sad, for me to be stretched mentally thin, I must be insane? Depression? What the hell!
She runs the motor at this time, and the brilliant one will find her out. Who is going to save her? She cannot save herself!
The feathers are calling me to aid them in their gossamer conflict. Do not take offense.
The world is warming up, my friends. The atmosphere is changing, the wildlife is growing calm.
Monday, February 21, 2005
Another morning come, another evening gone.
Welcome, one and all, to the incongruent ravings of the inferior mind. Tomorrow I start training for my new job, and next Monday I start work. That will be rewarding. Financially, of course.
I think I am supposed to go to work later on today, but it is pretty snowy out so I do not want to drive there. I will call later to find out what is up, hopefully it's closed or something. Of course, it most definitely won't be closed, but what's wrong with wishing, wight? Heh, alliteration.
I got some new computer stuff the other day, so once again my room is stuffed full of useless crap. I almost got one of them running, but it turned out that there was a small corruption on ONE of the files I was uploading, so it all fell apart. Now, I have to put together another set of boot-disks. I lose so many disks that way.
I need a car, really badly. As it is, when I go to training at work, on Tuesday, I am going to have to ride a bike there. Unless I sleep over Tim's house.
This coffee tastes really funny, I don't think I'm going to drink anymore of it. Maybe our milk is bad.
I am really cold. We just installed a new thermostat in my house, so I turned it up a bit. Perhaps the heat will make me warmer, but who's to say, really?
I can't find my favorite hat, I lent it to Lena and now it's gone! A man without his hat is like a death without a funeral: Sacriligious.
Gad I'm COLD!
Well, that exhausts my ability to write about things without actually thinking about anything, so I will leave you all now. Sorry I could not post more, I am sure you are all very upset by it.
*Edit*
I guess Hunter S. Thomspon killed himself last night, shot himself in the head. What a terrible thing, too many counter-culture icons have died in these past few years. It's a tragedy.
Welcome, one and all, to the incongruent ravings of the inferior mind. Tomorrow I start training for my new job, and next Monday I start work. That will be rewarding. Financially, of course.
I think I am supposed to go to work later on today, but it is pretty snowy out so I do not want to drive there. I will call later to find out what is up, hopefully it's closed or something. Of course, it most definitely won't be closed, but what's wrong with wishing, wight? Heh, alliteration.
I got some new computer stuff the other day, so once again my room is stuffed full of useless crap. I almost got one of them running, but it turned out that there was a small corruption on ONE of the files I was uploading, so it all fell apart. Now, I have to put together another set of boot-disks. I lose so many disks that way.
I need a car, really badly. As it is, when I go to training at work, on Tuesday, I am going to have to ride a bike there. Unless I sleep over Tim's house.
This coffee tastes really funny, I don't think I'm going to drink anymore of it. Maybe our milk is bad.
I am really cold. We just installed a new thermostat in my house, so I turned it up a bit. Perhaps the heat will make me warmer, but who's to say, really?
I can't find my favorite hat, I lent it to Lena and now it's gone! A man without his hat is like a death without a funeral: Sacriligious.
Gad I'm COLD!
Well, that exhausts my ability to write about things without actually thinking about anything, so I will leave you all now. Sorry I could not post more, I am sure you are all very upset by it.
I guess Hunter S. Thomspon killed himself last night, shot himself in the head. What a terrible thing, too many counter-culture icons have died in these past few years. It's a tragedy.
Saturday, February 19, 2005
Hello, ladies and gents. Tis' a fine night for an evening, as they say; or as they had said, until the utterance of such redundant statements became outlawed under pain of figurative decapitation. I have seen the threat of figurative decapitation bring a strong man to tears. Well, figuratively I have. In actuality it was a tiny newborn mongolian baby--and there is a good chance that baby would have been crying in any case. BUT, the potential for a weeping strong man is there, living inside that miniscule wailing mongol like an outrageously metaphorical eskimo, nestled warm within his fleshy igloo.
There is an enormous itch inside my eardrums. In frustration, I sent a platoon of fire ants into my ear canal to see if they could not pinpoint the trouble, but somehow this only seems to have made matters worse!
I do not want an ear infection! I have had my fill of those!
The pen is a simple invention, really. What is it? A stick, a stick with some ink in it and a tapered end. Good lord, who was the genius that came up with that one?! But it is so enormous, that something as simple as a stick with some ink could be harnessed as a tool; this irritatingly plain device can take the abstract thought of a human and make it tangible. Weird, huh? Also, stunningly obvious!
It's the simple things of the world that catch me off guard, though. Something like a computer or a television, that can be explained to me, and it can make sense based on the principles of our reality. Simpler things though, such as the Wheel or the Wedge, these are the things that those principles are based on. It amazes me that a whole society can be based on technology, and the whole of that technology comes down to such simple fundamental roots that a pre-schooler could comprehend.
That paragraph did not really make any sense. Let's ignore it.
I got paid today, a bit. I was feeling a little down, so I went to the Mall and bought a few Miles Davis albums and a John Coltrane album to cheer myself up. Miles Davis and John Coltrane are really all the FYE Jazz Section has. I contemplated buying a Chick Corea thing but it was too rich for my blood.
I picked up Birth of the Cool, Sketches of Spain, and a third on that shall remain nameless at the present time, by Davis, and A Love Supreme, by Coltrane.
I normally wouldn't have bothered, because I could just ask Tim to burn me those things or borrow them from him or something, but for some reason I felt like buying my own copies tonight. I love jazz so much, you know? It just felt proper.
Don't read into it, it doesn't make any sense! YOU WILL LOSE YOUR MIND!
Anyway, I'm going to go to bed now, because tomorrow morning I have to wake up at the CRACK OF DAWN to help my dad clean the church. By "crack of dawn" I mean Ten. Still, that's pretty earlier for a Saturday--or as I call them "Every Day."
G'night folks.
There is an enormous itch inside my eardrums. In frustration, I sent a platoon of fire ants into my ear canal to see if they could not pinpoint the trouble, but somehow this only seems to have made matters worse!
I do not want an ear infection! I have had my fill of those!
The pen is a simple invention, really. What is it? A stick, a stick with some ink in it and a tapered end. Good lord, who was the genius that came up with that one?! But it is so enormous, that something as simple as a stick with some ink could be harnessed as a tool; this irritatingly plain device can take the abstract thought of a human and make it tangible. Weird, huh? Also, stunningly obvious!
It's the simple things of the world that catch me off guard, though. Something like a computer or a television, that can be explained to me, and it can make sense based on the principles of our reality. Simpler things though, such as the Wheel or the Wedge, these are the things that those principles are based on. It amazes me that a whole society can be based on technology, and the whole of that technology comes down to such simple fundamental roots that a pre-schooler could comprehend.
That paragraph did not really make any sense. Let's ignore it.
I got paid today, a bit. I was feeling a little down, so I went to the Mall and bought a few Miles Davis albums and a John Coltrane album to cheer myself up. Miles Davis and John Coltrane are really all the FYE Jazz Section has. I contemplated buying a Chick Corea thing but it was too rich for my blood.
I picked up Birth of the Cool, Sketches of Spain, and a third on that shall remain nameless at the present time, by Davis, and A Love Supreme, by Coltrane.
I normally wouldn't have bothered, because I could just ask Tim to burn me those things or borrow them from him or something, but for some reason I felt like buying my own copies tonight. I love jazz so much, you know? It just felt proper.
Don't read into it, it doesn't make any sense! YOU WILL LOSE YOUR MIND!
Anyway, I'm going to go to bed now, because tomorrow morning I have to wake up at the CRACK OF DAWN to help my dad clean the church. By "crack of dawn" I mean Ten. Still, that's pretty earlier for a Saturday--or as I call them "Every Day."
G'night folks.
Thursday, February 17, 2005
The Sun also rises, my friends.
I have a very large box of hot tamales, and I am eating them. I know, it is a strange idea to wrap your mind around--but this is reality, people, and you had better get yourselves adjusted to it.
I spent last night lying on the floor of the den, staring at the ceiling and thinking of analogies for the human race. I wish I had a tape recorder to talk into so I could record some of the things that go through my mind in those situations, because at the time it seems like I am uncovering the mysteries of life. If you think something long enough, eventually it will seem like truth to you, regardless of what it is.
At least, that's the way it works for me.
I vaguely remember lying on my side, gripping the bricks of my hearth with all my strength. I was thinking to myself that at any minute the rotation of the world would speed up, and fling me into the air and crush my body against the walls. I was trying to cling to the face of the Earth, ladies and gentlemen, and at the time it seemed like the only natural course of action.
I believe that is what us in the business call a Momentary Lapse in Reason.
What is that phrase from? "Momentary Lapse in Reason"? Anyone know? I certainly don't.
Oh well.
Gad-Dangit, I'm out of clean socks! Gad-DANGIT!
Welp, I guess I am going to go do dishes now. Or... am I?
I have a very large box of hot tamales, and I am eating them. I know, it is a strange idea to wrap your mind around--but this is reality, people, and you had better get yourselves adjusted to it.
I spent last night lying on the floor of the den, staring at the ceiling and thinking of analogies for the human race. I wish I had a tape recorder to talk into so I could record some of the things that go through my mind in those situations, because at the time it seems like I am uncovering the mysteries of life. If you think something long enough, eventually it will seem like truth to you, regardless of what it is.
At least, that's the way it works for me.
I vaguely remember lying on my side, gripping the bricks of my hearth with all my strength. I was thinking to myself that at any minute the rotation of the world would speed up, and fling me into the air and crush my body against the walls. I was trying to cling to the face of the Earth, ladies and gentlemen, and at the time it seemed like the only natural course of action.
I believe that is what us in the business call a Momentary Lapse in Reason.
What is that phrase from? "Momentary Lapse in Reason"? Anyone know? I certainly don't.
Oh well.
Gad-Dangit, I'm out of clean socks! Gad-DANGIT!
Welp, I guess I am going to go do dishes now. Or... am I?
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
Another thing about being as ugly as Sin is that conveying emotions doesn't really work right. When your face is as funny looking as mine is, your facial expressions very rarely get the desired response. If I were someone else, and I hurt my feelings, my reaction would make me laugh. That's why the world is so cruel to me, folks. That's it, in a nutshell! I'm like a Clown! My misery brings children joy!
And every girl, gay, and close male friend in the world (except Tim) repeats, "No, John, you aren't ugly at all, tee-hee!"
You'll never convince me.
Our old landlady called the cops on us again. I don't really understand how it worked, we no longer have any tie to her whatsoever, we don't live in her building, we haven't seen or spoken to her in months, we do not even live in her TOWN anymore; she finally got us out of her precious apartment, and now she is going out of her WAY to screw with us! That doesn't make any sense!
Listen, folks, I have been in many a scenario in my day, but this one takes the cake. We are out of her life, there is no legal way she can actually take from us anymore. There have been times when I have used the expression, "Don't beat a dead horse." before, and meant it; but this, my friends, this is in a whole different league. Essentially, she IS beating a dead horse right now. Her actions right now are EXACTLY analogous to beating a dead horse! I live in a family of dead horses! No more work can come from us! We will plow NO MORE! There is no point to beating us!
What does this woman want from us?! We're dead! Rotting, even!
Good LORD! Good.... LORD!
I hope I successfully conveyed to you the sarcastic yelling tone that I was thinking in just then. If only you were here, you'd be able to understand just how humorously irritated I am by all these things.
For some reason I cannot sleep tonight. I bet it has something to do with the large quantity of coffee I had at 6 PM. Yeah, that would probably explain it.
The thing is, when you are up late enough you begin to temporarily lose your sanity. It's really funny to think of doing the things I've been doing for the past couple of hours during the daytime. Real life wouldn't go for this, let me tell you.
My sister has her Hearing tomorrow. Godwilling everything will clear up nicely without "The Big Trouble", as you Americans say. Just so you guys know what is on the table, if this goes badly my Mom could be arrested and my sister expelled and thrown in a foster home.
It probably won't go badly. But still, a prayer or a well-wish for us, if you do those sorts of things.
I am really hungry. Luckily I went grocery shopping earlier today, so I can probably eat some of the food I purchased in exchange for American currency. I think I will go do that now--and then maybe I'll do all the dishes I promised to do tonight. Who knows?
It ain't nuffin but a party, baby!
Goodnight!
And every girl, gay, and close male friend in the world (except Tim) repeats, "No, John, you aren't ugly at all, tee-hee!"
You'll never convince me.
Our old landlady called the cops on us again. I don't really understand how it worked, we no longer have any tie to her whatsoever, we don't live in her building, we haven't seen or spoken to her in months, we do not even live in her TOWN anymore; she finally got us out of her precious apartment, and now she is going out of her WAY to screw with us! That doesn't make any sense!
Listen, folks, I have been in many a scenario in my day, but this one takes the cake. We are out of her life, there is no legal way she can actually take from us anymore. There have been times when I have used the expression, "Don't beat a dead horse." before, and meant it; but this, my friends, this is in a whole different league. Essentially, she IS beating a dead horse right now. Her actions right now are EXACTLY analogous to beating a dead horse! I live in a family of dead horses! No more work can come from us! We will plow NO MORE! There is no point to beating us!
What does this woman want from us?! We're dead! Rotting, even!
Good LORD! Good.... LORD!
I hope I successfully conveyed to you the sarcastic yelling tone that I was thinking in just then. If only you were here, you'd be able to understand just how humorously irritated I am by all these things.
For some reason I cannot sleep tonight. I bet it has something to do with the large quantity of coffee I had at 6 PM. Yeah, that would probably explain it.
The thing is, when you are up late enough you begin to temporarily lose your sanity. It's really funny to think of doing the things I've been doing for the past couple of hours during the daytime. Real life wouldn't go for this, let me tell you.
My sister has her Hearing tomorrow. Godwilling everything will clear up nicely without "The Big Trouble", as you Americans say. Just so you guys know what is on the table, if this goes badly my Mom could be arrested and my sister expelled and thrown in a foster home.
It probably won't go badly. But still, a prayer or a well-wish for us, if you do those sorts of things.
I am really hungry. Luckily I went grocery shopping earlier today, so I can probably eat some of the food I purchased in exchange for American currency. I think I will go do that now--and then maybe I'll do all the dishes I promised to do tonight. Who knows?
It ain't nuffin but a party, baby!
Goodnight!
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
Every time I open this "Edit Blog" page I wonder why I persist in maintaining this site. How much of my words have you sucked out of me, blog?! WHEN WILL IT END?!
Luck be a lady tonight, man. Y'ar!
I had a dream a few nights ago, and for some reason I cannot get it out of my head. Everything I see and think reminds me of it, even though the dream itself was really inane and nonsensical. For some reason it seems to have burned itself into the foreground of my consciousness--and since it seems to be all that is actively existing in my head right now (and yes, things can exist non-actively) I am going to write about it here. Also, Lena wanted me to write this dream down, because I told it to her and she thought it was interesting.
It's like I'm killing no birds with two stones! Ha! Ha! (that line was from a Sam and Fuzzy strip. I recommend Sam and Fuzzy.)
Anyway, this dream was incredibly vivid, it was one of those dreams that felt like I was actually living in it; which is probably why it is so memorable. Therefore, bear in mind that all of these things were as realistic to me as if they were actually happening. Also, none of these events have any bearing on real life. That is to say, My friends and I do not actually do some of the things that I dreamt about. You will probably figure out what I am referring to. That being said, Enjoy!
At this point, my mother woke me up to tell me I had a phone call. I spent the rest of the day in constant fear of hornet stings.
Anyway, that was my dream. I just wanted to write and I couldn't think of anything else to write about. Sorry to waste all of your time! Goodnight, ladies and gents.
Luck be a lady tonight, man. Y'ar!
I had a dream a few nights ago, and for some reason I cannot get it out of my head. Everything I see and think reminds me of it, even though the dream itself was really inane and nonsensical. For some reason it seems to have burned itself into the foreground of my consciousness--and since it seems to be all that is actively existing in my head right now (and yes, things can exist non-actively) I am going to write about it here. Also, Lena wanted me to write this dream down, because I told it to her and she thought it was interesting.
It's like I'm killing no birds with two stones! Ha! Ha! (that line was from a Sam and Fuzzy strip. I recommend Sam and Fuzzy.)
Anyway, this dream was incredibly vivid, it was one of those dreams that felt like I was actually living in it; which is probably why it is so memorable. Therefore, bear in mind that all of these things were as realistic to me as if they were actually happening. Also, none of these events have any bearing on real life. That is to say, My friends and I do not actually do some of the things that I dreamt about. You will probably figure out what I am referring to. That being said, Enjoy!
I suddenly found myself in the backseat of a speeding Jeep, at midnight. Next to me sat my friend Tim Doherty. I noticed with slight surprise that he was not wearing his glasses. The jeep was being driven by a faceless shadow man, in a black hat and a black overcoat. We did not know this man, and we drove on for several miles in silence, observing the speeding night-time world through the Jeep's dusty windows. A restlessness overtook me and I began to fidget. After a thorough search of my seat and the floor beneath it I discovered a small bag containing three joints. I displayed my finds to my companion (Tim), and we made haste to light them up.
It came to my attention, 2 1/2 joints later, that the pot we had found was laced with some extremely powerful hallucinogenic. Suddenly, a herd of tiny ghost-dogs with flaming eyes came hurtling down the road towards us, and attacked the Jeep. I noticed that half of the ghost-dogs had black fur, and half of them had white fur.
Our assailants could only come in physical contact with Tim and I, as we were the only people in currently in existence who could see them. They flew through the walls of the Jeep like shadow-vapor and threw their tiny bodies at us. I decided that my only course of action was to strangle each ghost-dog to death, individually. I took the nearest dog by the throat and began throttling it, I felt it's spinal column snap in my grip.
At that moment our Driver pulled into the parking lot of a local supermarket; it was now 3 in the afternoon. Tim and I climbed out of the vehicle, accompanied by 13 other nameless friends who were apparently in the way-back of the Jeep all along. We were all wearing rollerblades.
Suddenly my mother came running down the road, carrying a tupperware container filled with hornets. The tupperware lid was too large for the container, so she had taped it shut with scotch-tape.
"John!" She said to me, "Here are those hornets you wanted."
I took the tupperware container in my hand and saw 6 enormous hornets buzzing angrily at me. They were trying to peel off the scotch-tape so that they could get out of the container and sting us. My mother told me to go back to the apartment where we used to live, and find my father's duct-tape to close the hornets in properly.
We all headed back to the apartment. A difficult task, considering the fact that we were all wearing rollerblades, and it was snowy out.
We made it to the apartment and I ran in, my companions waited outside. I rooted in my father's old desk for several hours, and eventually found a mostly used up roll of duct-tape, with only 6 or 7 inches of tape left on it. This was not enough tape to hold the hornets in.
I grew very angry and began smashing things in my father's study, overturning bookshelves and filing cabinets, desperately searching for a better roll of duct-tape.
At this point, my mother woke me up to tell me I had a phone call. I spent the rest of the day in constant fear of hornet stings.
Anyway, that was my dream. I just wanted to write and I couldn't think of anything else to write about. Sorry to waste all of your time! Goodnight, ladies and gents.
Welp, now that I've got that out of my system. How is everyone doing today? I'm not doing great, I can't really figure out why. I haven't been feeling very creative over the past couple of days. That is not to say that I usually DO feel excessively creative, but what little creative yearnings I usually have are... diminished... currently.
I am making macaroni and cheese. When I am done making it, I will eat it. Also, I will have to enlist the aid of a fork.
*2 hours later*
My sister was watching "Pretty Woman" and I got distracted, and then I watched it, too. I haven't had any coffee yet, so my head hurts somethin' furce.
Anyway, I hate everybody, most of all myself. So I am going to leave now, and go try to find something better to do with my time.
I am making macaroni and cheese. When I am done making it, I will eat it. Also, I will have to enlist the aid of a fork.
My sister was watching "Pretty Woman" and I got distracted, and then I watched it, too. I haven't had any coffee yet, so my head hurts somethin' furce.
Anyway, I hate everybody, most of all myself. So I am going to leave now, and go try to find something better to do with my time.
Monday, February 14, 2005
Hullo there, neglectorinos! How are all of you doing this beautiful morning? I am doing purty durn gud. I got work today, which is great, I love working, it makes me appreciate the days that I don't have to work.
My mom and my little sister are having an argument right now. I don't have anything to say about it, but it appears that Lena is in a whole heap of trouble.
But it's the same ol' story, same ol' song and Daaaaaaaance, my friends.
I had a bottle of ink in my sketchbook bag, and it leaked a bit. Oh no! I don't know how it happened exactly. It got on Rick Lloyd's Gamecube memory card. I don't think it got ruined, though. Ah jeez, hang on a minute.
Nevermind.
I need to clip my fingernails, I can't stand the feeling of having any kind of length to them, it makes me cringe with TERROR!
There is a phantom at my doorstep, he is making my mother nervous.
I need a car. I think I should be getting one pretty soon, that'll be awesome. THen only... two more months or so until I can drive people. That will be the life. Of course, if I get a truck like I am thinking, there won't be a lot of room FOR people. But that's ok, it's Carnival! *accent*
I am not really feeling the Blog-Updatey spirit in my soul right now, folks, to tell you the truth. Maybe it's because I'm a bit pressed for time or something, who knows? I'll add some more to this later on!
My mom and my little sister are having an argument right now. I don't have anything to say about it, but it appears that Lena is in a whole heap of trouble.
But it's the same ol' story, same ol' song and Daaaaaaaance, my friends.
I had a bottle of ink in my sketchbook bag, and it leaked a bit. Oh no! I don't know how it happened exactly. It got on Rick Lloyd's Gamecube memory card. I don't think it got ruined, though. Ah jeez, hang on a minute.
Nevermind.
I need to clip my fingernails, I can't stand the feeling of having any kind of length to them, it makes me cringe with TERROR!
There is a phantom at my doorstep, he is making my mother nervous.
I need a car. I think I should be getting one pretty soon, that'll be awesome. THen only... two more months or so until I can drive people. That will be the life. Of course, if I get a truck like I am thinking, there won't be a lot of room FOR people. But that's ok, it's Carnival! *accent*
I am not really feeling the Blog-Updatey spirit in my soul right now, folks, to tell you the truth. Maybe it's because I'm a bit pressed for time or something, who knows? I'll add some more to this later on!
Friday, February 11, 2005
Man, what a weird night I had. I had a really bad headache, and it had been with me all day, y'know? So I decided to take some Percoset, but... man, I don't know if it was the lack of food over the past few days, or the fact thta I haven't taken any Perk in a week or so, but it made me Nuts! I just sat on the hallway floor with my cat, and Lena was there and I was talking to her about all kinds of things, I don't really remember. But good LORD. MAN ALIVE!
Anyway, that's all I have to say right now. That's my explanation for last night's post, good morning everyone!
Anyway, that's all I have to say right now. That's my explanation for last night's post, good morning everyone!
His father is not aware that he is a homosexual!
Ninety nine lovers, with the sweet tang of retribution screaming into my lungs!
Tonight was spent laying on the floor with my eyes filled with stars, while my sister and her cat performed magic tricks on the brim of an enormous hat with a purple stripe dividing the Communists from the De Janeros. Bolshevik!
I have nothing else to say on these trivial matters! Who is going to stop me from expressing myself as I see fit? Take a Tab, put it on my drink. Answer me, I command you! Only you and you alone can save the day from the my landlady who cannot understand nor see nor feel, and all I can do is sit in this DUST, and learn about things that most men my age are educated in succinctly, in a quick and efficient manner, before dinner but after lunch.
Landing, ankle deep in a rusty quagmire of delusional bicuspids, a tangible lotion pours over me. Why do I follow the footsteps of a young girl who does not know the difference between love and lust? Why do I follow the bootsteps of an old man who wasted his youth before time was young?
My friends are handsome, my hands are strangers, I need a passport to learn a new way to understand bibliographies. A moment to check on my Mother.
It is settled, cloaked in invisibility, she disguised her empty space as a tarantula who enjoys devouring sweet, fresh, and bloody meats at 4 in the morning on a Sunday. Sunday is the day I must awake in time for the Service, or I would be doing a Disservice to those who have before now granted me Services Currently Rendered, punch in, you are late.
On the clock now, I can say what is truly on my mind. It does not have anything to do with truth or fact or actuality, but humanity is a Sin in itself, which is a tongue in cheek way of saying birds have the upper hand. Who can tell, though? If another gay man sticks his neck out for a pair of delinquent Il Ducerinos, who could blame them? Certainly not I, the control of all that moves is in my hand, and in the palm of my very hand go I. I, engorged on the succulent flesh of a large glass of water, have... lost my glass of water. Where, again, go I, I ask? I, being the glass of water, who cannot understand what a day is, have discovered a new way to see the light.
Through sunglasses, the sun appears to be a pleasant shade of green.
I apologize for all of these strange things, head trauma and totally legitimate medications have destroyed my mind temporarily. If I killed someone, I could plead temporary insanity and escape scott free.
Ninety nine lovers, with the sweet tang of retribution screaming into my lungs!
Tonight was spent laying on the floor with my eyes filled with stars, while my sister and her cat performed magic tricks on the brim of an enormous hat with a purple stripe dividing the Communists from the De Janeros. Bolshevik!
I have nothing else to say on these trivial matters! Who is going to stop me from expressing myself as I see fit? Take a Tab, put it on my drink. Answer me, I command you! Only you and you alone can save the day from the my landlady who cannot understand nor see nor feel, and all I can do is sit in this DUST, and learn about things that most men my age are educated in succinctly, in a quick and efficient manner, before dinner but after lunch.
Landing, ankle deep in a rusty quagmire of delusional bicuspids, a tangible lotion pours over me. Why do I follow the footsteps of a young girl who does not know the difference between love and lust? Why do I follow the bootsteps of an old man who wasted his youth before time was young?
My friends are handsome, my hands are strangers, I need a passport to learn a new way to understand bibliographies. A moment to check on my Mother.
It is settled, cloaked in invisibility, she disguised her empty space as a tarantula who enjoys devouring sweet, fresh, and bloody meats at 4 in the morning on a Sunday. Sunday is the day I must awake in time for the Service, or I would be doing a Disservice to those who have before now granted me Services Currently Rendered, punch in, you are late.
On the clock now, I can say what is truly on my mind. It does not have anything to do with truth or fact or actuality, but humanity is a Sin in itself, which is a tongue in cheek way of saying birds have the upper hand. Who can tell, though? If another gay man sticks his neck out for a pair of delinquent Il Ducerinos, who could blame them? Certainly not I, the control of all that moves is in my hand, and in the palm of my very hand go I. I, engorged on the succulent flesh of a large glass of water, have... lost my glass of water. Where, again, go I, I ask? I, being the glass of water, who cannot understand what a day is, have discovered a new way to see the light.
Through sunglasses, the sun appears to be a pleasant shade of green.
I apologize for all of these strange things, head trauma and totally legitimate medications have destroyed my mind temporarily. If I killed someone, I could plead temporary insanity and escape scott free.
Wednesday, February 09, 2005
Shazz, man. I wish that one of these nights I could feel cool with everything. A world of people talking and laughing, and I can't connect to them. I can't think on people's level, I don't know if their level is too high or too low... or... too much to the side, or something. I don't know. The point is, talking to people isn't my strong point. Apparently neither is updating blogs. Who knew?
It feels like I have cobwebs in my eyes. For some reason I cannot submit to the wishes of my loved ones, try as I might. Honestly, I wanted to help out today, I really did. But those dishes loomed up in front of me like a grim food-encrusted mastadon, and my resolve deserted me, so I fled. I barely escaped with my life! Let alone a full dish-drainer's worth of clean eating utensils.
That sink was the harbinger of my doom, I tell you; and it was harbinging more doom than I could handle.
For those of you who could not pick up on the story hidden behind that brilliantly phrased paragraph, my mother asked me to do dishes tonight, and I didn't do them.
Well, to be perfectly precise, I said, "I'll do them later." and then after two hours of watching me sit there she got up and did them in frustration. Aren't I just the sweetest?
Things like that make me want to kill myself--and I sincerely doubt that I am the only one savoring visions of my untimely demise.
Anyway, I guess that is my blog update for tonight, folks. I may get bored and add more to it later, who knows?
It feels like I have cobwebs in my eyes. For some reason I cannot submit to the wishes of my loved ones, try as I might. Honestly, I wanted to help out today, I really did. But those dishes loomed up in front of me like a grim food-encrusted mastadon, and my resolve deserted me, so I fled. I barely escaped with my life! Let alone a full dish-drainer's worth of clean eating utensils.
That sink was the harbinger of my doom, I tell you; and it was harbinging more doom than I could handle.
For those of you who could not pick up on the story hidden behind that brilliantly phrased paragraph, my mother asked me to do dishes tonight, and I didn't do them.
Well, to be perfectly precise, I said, "I'll do them later." and then after two hours of watching me sit there she got up and did them in frustration. Aren't I just the sweetest?
Things like that make me want to kill myself--and I sincerely doubt that I am the only one savoring visions of my untimely demise.
Anyway, I guess that is my blog update for tonight, folks. I may get bored and add more to it later, who knows?
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
Hey everybody. That post I wrote last night didn't make any sense, you shouldn't bother to read it. I barely remember writing it, I was really tired at the time.
Anyway, good morning to all of you. I have work this afternoon, which is cool. I owe my parents money (and Ryan, because he gave me some gas money yesterday), so it's all going to go to them. Still, it's cool to have something to do.
That's all I have to say right now. Thank you for your time!
Anyway, good morning to all of you. I have work this afternoon, which is cool. I owe my parents money (and Ryan, because he gave me some gas money yesterday), so it's all going to go to them. Still, it's cool to have something to do.
That's all I have to say right now. Thank you for your time!
Monday, February 07, 2005
Man, I feel so weird righ tnow. I've been sitting here for several hours in complete silence, doing nothing but yawn and stare mindlessly at my computer monitor. Say nothing of intelligence, your wisemen cannot know me.
I don't know what is going through my head right now, all of this mental bullshit is getting to me. Why do some people spend their lives thinking so hard? How do they do it? I haven't thought hard in my entire life. Since the genesis of my existence my mind has been empty, as a child they thought me intelligent and "hyperactive". What does that mean?
As I recall, I was hyperactive in the real world because it was the only expression I could find for the abstract thought of my innards. But my innards have been silent for so long now, I feel lonely without the constant prattling of an imagination that does not know universal law, that does not care for physics or logic.
I remember when I was very young, I used to throw things through the air. I would throw them a few feet, walk over, pick them up, and throw them again. I did this because I thought that if I threw it just right, it might, by some mischance, manage to slip into some invisible accidental crack in the fabric of reality and disappear. My father explained the concept of atoms to me when I was in the fourth grade, and for years I was fascinated by it. I thought that, if everything was made up of tiny particles, then there must be a tinier space in between the particles, and if all the particles are constantly in motion, then eventually a few spaces of them should line up and create a crack in reality; and I wondered: What was through the cracks?
Of course, later I learned that things didn't actually work that way, and a whole lot of my childhood fantasies deflated and became nothing but memories of a naive would-be scientist. I never ended up stuudying much science, much to my father's chagrin, and although I still enjoy thinking about strange things nowadays, I don't think science could ever be consistently fantastic enough to hold my interest. I think space voyages, alternate universes, holes in the fabric of reality, and the like are things that I will never have the pleasure of comprehending. Such is life, though, I guess.
That is how it has been with most of the things I have pondered over, for most of my life now. I think about things so much and grow so in love with those ideas, and eventually it turns out that those ideas aren't real, or could never happen, or can't yet be accomplished--and eventually I kind of ran out of steam. How long can you go on contemplating strange notions and being constantly disappointed before you lose your motivation?
But, that's putting whoever is reading this under the wrong impression. I have never, in my life, actually tried to DO anything. I only think about things, obsess over things. Things that don't matter. I'm sure anyone with an imagination does the same thing, but some people with this affliction, some people who spend hours awake at night thinking about confusing questions concerning the physical make-up of the universe, they develope passions for it, they do something with their lives. Me, nah. I just think, and think, and think. And eventually I go to sleep, and when I wake up I have grown bored with that idea before I have had it long enough to "use" it.
This is a very weird blog post, I have just realized. It came from me looking up scholarship stuff online. I got down-hearted, y'know? School, pfft. I gotta go to college, though. Why? Dunno. How? Dunno. When? Dunno.
Even being a minority won't get me in, you need a GPA of at least 3.0. I think I have a .6.
Sometimes I wonder why I continue to keep this blog. Then, nights like this roll along. I am not thinking anything in particular, I am just looking for a place to shove my talkativeness, because there is no one to talk to. I have always had a big mouth, both literally and figuratively. If I don't have someone to talk nonsensically to, then what do I have? Nothing.
So I must turn to the blog, and abuse it with my deadly fingertips.
I remember the days when I would only use this thing for jokes. I still do that, sometimes. I'm not in the mood for it right now, though I probably have inserted a joke or two thus far. Maybe not. That's unusual.
It is still cold in my house. The hair on my legs is standing up. My jeans are so threadbare nowadays, I'm almost afraid the attentive leg-hair will tear holes into my fragile denim.
Years of my mother's "frugal" philosphies have made me reluctant to purchase another pair of jeans. That and the fact that I don't have a job and, consequently, do not have any money with which to procure them.
I have always made run-on sentences. It truly is my achille's heel. My achille's heel of paragraph formation.
I'm too sleepy now, I guess I am just going to go to bed or something. Maybe I will eat some food.
Thank you for your time, Govorov.
I don't know what is going through my head right now, all of this mental bullshit is getting to me. Why do some people spend their lives thinking so hard? How do they do it? I haven't thought hard in my entire life. Since the genesis of my existence my mind has been empty, as a child they thought me intelligent and "hyperactive". What does that mean?
As I recall, I was hyperactive in the real world because it was the only expression I could find for the abstract thought of my innards. But my innards have been silent for so long now, I feel lonely without the constant prattling of an imagination that does not know universal law, that does not care for physics or logic.
I remember when I was very young, I used to throw things through the air. I would throw them a few feet, walk over, pick them up, and throw them again. I did this because I thought that if I threw it just right, it might, by some mischance, manage to slip into some invisible accidental crack in the fabric of reality and disappear. My father explained the concept of atoms to me when I was in the fourth grade, and for years I was fascinated by it. I thought that, if everything was made up of tiny particles, then there must be a tinier space in between the particles, and if all the particles are constantly in motion, then eventually a few spaces of them should line up and create a crack in reality; and I wondered: What was through the cracks?
Of course, later I learned that things didn't actually work that way, and a whole lot of my childhood fantasies deflated and became nothing but memories of a naive would-be scientist. I never ended up stuudying much science, much to my father's chagrin, and although I still enjoy thinking about strange things nowadays, I don't think science could ever be consistently fantastic enough to hold my interest. I think space voyages, alternate universes, holes in the fabric of reality, and the like are things that I will never have the pleasure of comprehending. Such is life, though, I guess.
That is how it has been with most of the things I have pondered over, for most of my life now. I think about things so much and grow so in love with those ideas, and eventually it turns out that those ideas aren't real, or could never happen, or can't yet be accomplished--and eventually I kind of ran out of steam. How long can you go on contemplating strange notions and being constantly disappointed before you lose your motivation?
But, that's putting whoever is reading this under the wrong impression. I have never, in my life, actually tried to DO anything. I only think about things, obsess over things. Things that don't matter. I'm sure anyone with an imagination does the same thing, but some people with this affliction, some people who spend hours awake at night thinking about confusing questions concerning the physical make-up of the universe, they develope passions for it, they do something with their lives. Me, nah. I just think, and think, and think. And eventually I go to sleep, and when I wake up I have grown bored with that idea before I have had it long enough to "use" it.
This is a very weird blog post, I have just realized. It came from me looking up scholarship stuff online. I got down-hearted, y'know? School, pfft. I gotta go to college, though. Why? Dunno. How? Dunno. When? Dunno.
Even being a minority won't get me in, you need a GPA of at least 3.0. I think I have a .6.
Sometimes I wonder why I continue to keep this blog. Then, nights like this roll along. I am not thinking anything in particular, I am just looking for a place to shove my talkativeness, because there is no one to talk to. I have always had a big mouth, both literally and figuratively. If I don't have someone to talk nonsensically to, then what do I have? Nothing.
So I must turn to the blog, and abuse it with my deadly fingertips.
I remember the days when I would only use this thing for jokes. I still do that, sometimes. I'm not in the mood for it right now, though I probably have inserted a joke or two thus far. Maybe not. That's unusual.
It is still cold in my house. The hair on my legs is standing up. My jeans are so threadbare nowadays, I'm almost afraid the attentive leg-hair will tear holes into my fragile denim.
Years of my mother's "frugal" philosphies have made me reluctant to purchase another pair of jeans. That and the fact that I don't have a job and, consequently, do not have any money with which to procure them.
I have always made run-on sentences. It truly is my achille's heel. My achille's heel of paragraph formation.
I'm too sleepy now, I guess I am just going to go to bed or something. Maybe I will eat some food.
Thank you for your time, Govorov.
It's a weird thing, living your life by choice instead of by command.
How is everyone doing today? I am doing pretty well, though a little chilly. It's usually really warm in this house, but my dad is turning into a miserly home-owner now so he is trying to keep it cold in here to conserve oil. I don't know why we can't just be warm, I was perfectly happy being warm.
It is a far hungrier thing I do now, than I have ever done before. Or something. I'm hungry.
Jeez, it's actually like 69 degrees in here, I don't know why I'm so cold! I'm going to put on a second sweatshirt or something. My dad was getting rid of some of his old clothes, so now I have a couple new dress shirts. Well, they are new to me. In reality they are quite old.
I just found a bin of my old toys from childhood. I was the weirdest kid, man, I would play with some strange stuff.
How is everyone doing today? I am doing pretty well, though a little chilly. It's usually really warm in this house, but my dad is turning into a miserly home-owner now so he is trying to keep it cold in here to conserve oil. I don't know why we can't just be warm, I was perfectly happy being warm.
It is a far hungrier thing I do now, than I have ever done before. Or something. I'm hungry.
Jeez, it's actually like 69 degrees in here, I don't know why I'm so cold! I'm going to put on a second sweatshirt or something. My dad was getting rid of some of his old clothes, so now I have a couple new dress shirts. Well, they are new to me. In reality they are quite old.
I just found a bin of my old toys from childhood. I was the weirdest kid, man, I would play with some strange stuff.
Saturday, February 05, 2005
In every day of my life that I can now recall, I have never been able to speak with any kind of conviction about anything. In my earlier youth, I had developed something like convictions through argument, I would argue with people or imagine arguments with people and sharpen my mind that way, trying to defend a position I had adopted so that I could have a position to defend.
One of the things I used to argue about with myself or occasionally with others was the use of anti-depressants/anti-anxiety medications. Despite my constant crippling social anxiety I have always felt an aversion to the pills, on a personal level. On the grand scale I've always thought that somebody with issues who needs them should take them, but I myself have avoided them because I did not like the idea of altering my brain.
Lately I have come to think of that notion as idiotic. I am now on Lexapro. As to whether or not it will change my feelings, I am not sure.
Another thing I have always felt an aversion to is Education. Again, not on a grand scale; on a grand scale I believe that public education is a great thing, and it has brought humanity a long way considering the short time it has been set up, and that other stuff. But I have never been able to work in school, because I considered it an authority that I did not give my rights to. In any true Government, the Government would rule only with the people's consent, and I, as a human being, should not have had to go to school in my childhood because I did not give school my consent. Make sense? No? Oh well.
The point is, now that I am on the brink of leaving the public school system after years of trying to somehow spark an intellectual revolution against them by finding my education elsewhere, I've figured out that that really was not the best plan for attaining the level of knowledge and all around intelligent living that I have been craving. Despite myself, I have begun formulating plans to cut my losses and go to college. Given my SAT and MCAS scores, my family's current financial status, and, of course, my %50 Hispanic blood, I might be able to land some scholarships. As to where I would go, or what I would study, that remains to be seen, but at least it would be going somewhere, and doing something.
Happiness is a conscious decision, my friends. I told my little sister that once and I do not think she believed it, I do not think I even believed it, at the time. Lately, though, I have come to realize that it is true. If you sit around belly-aching about how sad you are, not doing anything with your time, reading Russian literature (or whatever it is you do), without any plans for anything, you will never feel, "Ok". That is really the only conclusion I have come to, over the past year of constant violent pondering.
Do not misinterpret this. This does not change how I feel, I am still sad and angry, and I still do not see any point to any of the trivial crap that we are supposed to do.
It is just that now I am going to DO some of the pointless trivial crap that I hate so very much; and I can't really explain why.
I apologize for the nature of this post, sometimes I cannot gather my thoughts unless I have a place to actually put them, and this is one of those occasions.
Good Morning, boyos and goils, I'm going to go get another cup of coffee.
One of the things I used to argue about with myself or occasionally with others was the use of anti-depressants/anti-anxiety medications. Despite my constant crippling social anxiety I have always felt an aversion to the pills, on a personal level. On the grand scale I've always thought that somebody with issues who needs them should take them, but I myself have avoided them because I did not like the idea of altering my brain.
Lately I have come to think of that notion as idiotic. I am now on Lexapro. As to whether or not it will change my feelings, I am not sure.
Another thing I have always felt an aversion to is Education. Again, not on a grand scale; on a grand scale I believe that public education is a great thing, and it has brought humanity a long way considering the short time it has been set up, and that other stuff. But I have never been able to work in school, because I considered it an authority that I did not give my rights to. In any true Government, the Government would rule only with the people's consent, and I, as a human being, should not have had to go to school in my childhood because I did not give school my consent. Make sense? No? Oh well.
The point is, now that I am on the brink of leaving the public school system after years of trying to somehow spark an intellectual revolution against them by finding my education elsewhere, I've figured out that that really was not the best plan for attaining the level of knowledge and all around intelligent living that I have been craving. Despite myself, I have begun formulating plans to cut my losses and go to college. Given my SAT and MCAS scores, my family's current financial status, and, of course, my %50 Hispanic blood, I might be able to land some scholarships. As to where I would go, or what I would study, that remains to be seen, but at least it would be going somewhere, and doing something.
Happiness is a conscious decision, my friends. I told my little sister that once and I do not think she believed it, I do not think I even believed it, at the time. Lately, though, I have come to realize that it is true. If you sit around belly-aching about how sad you are, not doing anything with your time, reading Russian literature (or whatever it is you do), without any plans for anything, you will never feel, "Ok". That is really the only conclusion I have come to, over the past year of constant violent pondering.
Do not misinterpret this. This does not change how I feel, I am still sad and angry, and I still do not see any point to any of the trivial crap that we are supposed to do.
It is just that now I am going to DO some of the pointless trivial crap that I hate so very much; and I can't really explain why.
I apologize for the nature of this post, sometimes I cannot gather my thoughts unless I have a place to actually put them, and this is one of those occasions.
Good Morning, boyos and goils, I'm going to go get another cup of coffee.
In every day of my life that I can now recall, I have never been able to speak with any kind of conviction about anything. In my earlier youth, I had developed something like convictions through argument, I would argue with people or imagine arguments with people and sharpen my mind that way, trying to defend a position I had adopted so that I could have a position to defend.
One of the things I used to argue about with myself or occasionally with others was the use of anti-depressants/anti-anxiety medications. Despite my constant crippling social anxiety I have always felt an aversion to the pills, on a personal level. On the grand scale I've always thought that somebody with issues who needs them should take them, but I myself have avoided them because I did not like the idea of altering my brain.
Lately I have come to think of that notion as idiotic. I am now on Lexapro. As to whether or not it will change my feelings, I am not sure.
Another thing I have always felt an aversion to is Education. Again, not on a grand scale; on a grand scale I believe that public education is a great thing, and it has brought humanity a long way considering the short time it has been set up, and that other stuff. But I have never been able to work in school, because I considered it an authority that I did not give my rights to. In any true Government, the Government would rule only with the people's consent, and I, as a human being, should not have had to go to school in my childhood because I did not give school my consent. Make sense? No? Oh well.
The point is, now that I am on the brink of leaving the public school system after years of trying to somehow spark an intellectual revolution against them by finding my education elsewhere, I've figured out that that really was not the best plan for attaining the level of knowledge and all around intelligent living that I have been craving. Despite myself, I have begun formulating plans to cut my losses and go to college. Given my SAT and MCAS scores, my family's current financial status, and, of course, my %50 Hispanic blood, I might be able to land some scholarships. As to where I would go, or what I would study, that remains to be seen, but at least it would be going somewhere, and doing something.
Happiness is a conscious decision, my friends. I told my little sister that once and I do not think she believed it, I do not think I even believed it, at the time. Lately, though, I have come to realize that it is true. If you sit around belly-aching about how sad you are, not doing anything with your time, reading Russian literature (or whatever it is you do), without any plans for anything, you will never feel, "Ok". That is really the only conclusion I have come to, over the past year of constant violent pondering.
Do not misinterpret this. This does not change how I feel, I am still sad and angry, and I still do not see any point to any of the trivial crap that we are supposed to do.
It is just that now I am going to DO some of the pointless trivial crap that I hate so very much; and I can't really explain why.
I apologize for the nature of this post, sometimes I cannot gather my thoughts unless I have a place to actually put them, and this is one of those occasions.
Good Morning, boyos and goils, I'm going to go get another cup of coffee.
One of the things I used to argue about with myself or occasionally with others was the use of anti-depressants/anti-anxiety medications. Despite my constant crippling social anxiety I have always felt an aversion to the pills, on a personal level. On the grand scale I've always thought that somebody with issues who needs them should take them, but I myself have avoided them because I did not like the idea of altering my brain.
Lately I have come to think of that notion as idiotic. I am now on Lexapro. As to whether or not it will change my feelings, I am not sure.
Another thing I have always felt an aversion to is Education. Again, not on a grand scale; on a grand scale I believe that public education is a great thing, and it has brought humanity a long way considering the short time it has been set up, and that other stuff. But I have never been able to work in school, because I considered it an authority that I did not give my rights to. In any true Government, the Government would rule only with the people's consent, and I, as a human being, should not have had to go to school in my childhood because I did not give school my consent. Make sense? No? Oh well.
The point is, now that I am on the brink of leaving the public school system after years of trying to somehow spark an intellectual revolution against them by finding my education elsewhere, I've figured out that that really was not the best plan for attaining the level of knowledge and all around intelligent living that I have been craving. Despite myself, I have begun formulating plans to cut my losses and go to college. Given my SAT and MCAS scores, my family's current financial status, and, of course, my %50 Hispanic blood, I might be able to land some scholarships. As to where I would go, or what I would study, that remains to be seen, but at least it would be going somewhere, and doing something.
Happiness is a conscious decision, my friends. I told my little sister that once and I do not think she believed it, I do not think I even believed it, at the time. Lately, though, I have come to realize that it is true. If you sit around belly-aching about how sad you are, not doing anything with your time, reading Russian literature (or whatever it is you do), without any plans for anything, you will never feel, "Ok". That is really the only conclusion I have come to, over the past year of constant violent pondering.
Do not misinterpret this. This does not change how I feel, I am still sad and angry, and I still do not see any point to any of the trivial crap that we are supposed to do.
It is just that now I am going to DO some of the pointless trivial crap that I hate so very much; and I can't really explain why.
I apologize for the nature of this post, sometimes I cannot gather my thoughts unless I have a place to actually put them, and this is one of those occasions.
Good Morning, boyos and goils, I'm going to go get another cup of coffee.
In every day of my life that I can now recall, I have never been able to speak with any kind of conviction about anything. In my earlier youth, I had developed something like convictions through argument, I would argue with people or imagine arguments with people and sharpen my mind that way, trying to defend a position I had adopted so that I could have a position to defend.
One of the things I used to argue about with myself or occasionally with others was the use of anti-depressants/anti-anxiety medications. Despite my constant crippling social anxiety I have always felt an aversion to the pills, on a personal level. On the grand scale I've always thought that somebody with issues who needs them should take them, but I myself have avoided them because I did not like the idea of altering my brain.
Lately I have come to think of that notion as idiotic. I am now on Lexapro. As to whether or not it will change my feelings, I am not sure.
Another thing I have always felt an aversion to is Education. Again, not on a grand scale; on a grand scale I believe that public education is a great thing, and it has brought humanity a long way considering the short time it has been set up, and that other stuff. But I have never been able to work in school, because I considered it an authority that I did not give my rights to. In any true Government, the Government would rule only with the people's consent, and I, as a human being, should not have had to go to school in my childhood because I did not give school my consent. Make sense? No? Oh well.
The point is, now that I am on the brink of leaving the public school system after years of trying to somehow spark an intellectual revolution against them by finding my education elsewhere, I've figured out that that really was not the best plan for attaining the level of knowledge and all around intelligent living that I have been craving. Despite myself, I have begun formulating plans to cut my losses and go to college. Given my SAT and MCAS scores, my family's current financial status, and, of course, my %50 Hispanic blood, I might be able to land some scholarships. As to where I would go, or what I would study, that remains to be seen, but at least it would be going somewhere, and doing something.
Happiness is a conscious decision, my friends. I told my little sister that once and I do not think she believed it, I do not think I even believed it, at the time. Lately, though, I have come to realize that it is true. If you sit around belly-aching about how sad you are, not doing anything with your time, reading Russian literature (or whatever it is you do), without any plans for anything, you will never feel, "Ok". That is really the only conclusion I have come to, over the past year of constant violent pondering.
Do not misinterpret this. This does not change how I feel, I am still sad and angry, and I still do not see any point to any of the trivial crap that we are supposed to do.
It is just that now I am going to DO some of the pointless trivial crap that I hate so very much; and I can't really explain why.
I apologize for the nature of this post, sometimes I cannot gather my thoughts unless I have a place to actually put them, and this is one of those occasions.
Good Morning, boyos and goils, I'm going to go get another cup of coffee.
One of the things I used to argue about with myself or occasionally with others was the use of anti-depressants/anti-anxiety medications. Despite my constant crippling social anxiety I have always felt an aversion to the pills, on a personal level. On the grand scale I've always thought that somebody with issues who needs them should take them, but I myself have avoided them because I did not like the idea of altering my brain.
Lately I have come to think of that notion as idiotic. I am now on Lexapro. As to whether or not it will change my feelings, I am not sure.
Another thing I have always felt an aversion to is Education. Again, not on a grand scale; on a grand scale I believe that public education is a great thing, and it has brought humanity a long way considering the short time it has been set up, and that other stuff. But I have never been able to work in school, because I considered it an authority that I did not give my rights to. In any true Government, the Government would rule only with the people's consent, and I, as a human being, should not have had to go to school in my childhood because I did not give school my consent. Make sense? No? Oh well.
The point is, now that I am on the brink of leaving the public school system after years of trying to somehow spark an intellectual revolution against them by finding my education elsewhere, I've figured out that that really was not the best plan for attaining the level of knowledge and all around intelligent living that I have been craving. Despite myself, I have begun formulating plans to cut my losses and go to college. Given my SAT and MCAS scores, my family's current financial status, and, of course, my %50 Hispanic blood, I might be able to land some scholarships. As to where I would go, or what I would study, that remains to be seen, but at least it would be going somewhere, and doing something.
Happiness is a conscious decision, my friends. I told my little sister that once and I do not think she believed it, I do not think I even believed it, at the time. Lately, though, I have come to realize that it is true. If you sit around belly-aching about how sad you are, not doing anything with your time, reading Russian literature (or whatever it is you do), without any plans for anything, you will never feel, "Ok". That is really the only conclusion I have come to, over the past year of constant violent pondering.
Do not misinterpret this. This does not change how I feel, I am still sad and angry, and I still do not see any point to any of the trivial crap that we are supposed to do.
It is just that now I am going to DO some of the pointless trivial crap that I hate so very much; and I can't really explain why.
I apologize for the nature of this post, sometimes I cannot gather my thoughts unless I have a place to actually put them, and this is one of those occasions.
Good Morning, boyos and goils, I'm going to go get another cup of coffee.
Thursday, February 03, 2005
We interrupt this broadcast to bring you this important announcement: Today's Qwantz is my favorite of all time, read it, now!
I'm gonna be honest with you guys, I wasn't interrupting anything with that important announcement. To be perfectly frank, I read Qwantz, laughed a lot, and suddenly the phrase, "We interrupt this broadcast to bring you this important announcement" leapt into my mind, and it would not leave me be until I gave it life via this blogitorium.
Thus is solved, the mystery of the missing endoplasmic reticulum; the ROUGH endoplasmic reticulum, that is. Can you DIG IT?!
My body hurts, I can feel the ache in my VERY BONES!
How is that exuberance? Insubstantial!
No, I am not even kidding, I am feeling foot-loose and fancy free this evening.
My neice is brushing her hair, it's the most incredible thing I have ever seen. Her hair comes down past her waist, I think she got it trimmed once when she was like 5, but that is all. It's so thick and curly, it's the coolest thing ever. I wish I had hair like hers. She inspired me, I am going to grow my hair back out.
I think I was going to anyway, because getting it cut is always a hassle. So, that's all I got. Maybe I'll try to get a job within the next couple of weeks so I still look respectable when they hire me.
I don't really have a whole lot a-brewin' in my mind right now, so I think I am going to go take a quick walk down Memory Avenue, make a stop by Longdrive Way. I don't know exactly where I'm headed, maybe I'll run into you again some day in this crazy old world.
*Several Days Later*
Did you know that saber-tooth tigers live in the jungles of British Columbia? Of course, around there they call them Sabre-Toothe Tigroures. Don't mention it to the Limeys, though, it's a tender subject.
I don't know where British Columbia is, or if it even exists. All I know is, Sabre-Toothe Tigroures live there, and they are vicious.
Doesn't this LEATHER CHICKEN have SEATBELTS?!
"I was born a scrumblin' man." Said Samuel to the White King.
Man, I am not going to lie to you, I feel totally out of my head right now. Out of my gourd, that is to say.
If my body were torn to a million pieces, and buried three inches under the ground individually all around the world, each one a mile apart from any others; how long would it take for the cycles of the earth to bring all of the pieces of my matter to come together again? Through circumstance, decomposition, erosion, and so on, all the elements and particles of my body would break down to their purest forms, yes; but eventually would the exact molecules that made up my body all come back together?
I certainly hope so.
By the way, I have an appointment to have my body torn into a thousand pieces tomorrow. Wish me luck!
I'm gonna be honest with you guys, I wasn't interrupting anything with that important announcement. To be perfectly frank, I read Qwantz, laughed a lot, and suddenly the phrase, "We interrupt this broadcast to bring you this important announcement" leapt into my mind, and it would not leave me be until I gave it life via this blogitorium.
Thus is solved, the mystery of the missing endoplasmic reticulum; the ROUGH endoplasmic reticulum, that is. Can you DIG IT?!
My body hurts, I can feel the ache in my VERY BONES!
How is that exuberance? Insubstantial!
No, I am not even kidding, I am feeling foot-loose and fancy free this evening.
My neice is brushing her hair, it's the most incredible thing I have ever seen. Her hair comes down past her waist, I think she got it trimmed once when she was like 5, but that is all. It's so thick and curly, it's the coolest thing ever. I wish I had hair like hers. She inspired me, I am going to grow my hair back out.
I think I was going to anyway, because getting it cut is always a hassle. So, that's all I got. Maybe I'll try to get a job within the next couple of weeks so I still look respectable when they hire me.
I don't really have a whole lot a-brewin' in my mind right now, so I think I am going to go take a quick walk down Memory Avenue, make a stop by Longdrive Way. I don't know exactly where I'm headed, maybe I'll run into you again some day in this crazy old world.
*Several Days Later*
Did you know that saber-tooth tigers live in the jungles of British Columbia? Of course, around there they call them Sabre-Toothe Tigroures. Don't mention it to the Limeys, though, it's a tender subject.
I don't know where British Columbia is, or if it even exists. All I know is, Sabre-Toothe Tigroures live there, and they are vicious.
Doesn't this LEATHER CHICKEN have SEATBELTS?!
"I was born a scrumblin' man." Said Samuel to the White King.
Man, I am not going to lie to you, I feel totally out of my head right now. Out of my gourd, that is to say.
If my body were torn to a million pieces, and buried three inches under the ground individually all around the world, each one a mile apart from any others; how long would it take for the cycles of the earth to bring all of the pieces of my matter to come together again? Through circumstance, decomposition, erosion, and so on, all the elements and particles of my body would break down to their purest forms, yes; but eventually would the exact molecules that made up my body all come back together?
I certainly hope so.
By the way, I have an appointment to have my body torn into a thousand pieces tomorrow. Wish me luck!
So it's late at night (or early in the morning) and I am being kept awake once again. I am imprisoned in my consciousness, of course, by my love of grumpy auto-mechanics and their grease-stained cozy overalls. It is not an easy love to be stifled, unfortunately, and I find myself going nightly to my automobile and performing acts of easily repairable subterfuge upon it, warranting repeated visits to the average, every day, nine-to-five schlub of my affection.
I am a man of many strange and unusual addictions. Foremost among them is an addiction to the written word. Reading, collecting, comprehending, yes, I am dependant on all these; but there is a larger habit among them. I am addicted to putting words together, to trying to turn the thoughts I think into something more tangible. Isn't it fascinating? Language and thought, every little idea that roams around in your mind can be harnessed and shoved onto a page, and it (if preserved) it will stay there for a practical eternity. Immortalization of your thoughts. It's a powerful and completely obvious thing, but it is mind-blowing for me right now.
What if, say, someone decided to catalogue every single thought they had onto pages? Imagine, for a moment, that this person invented a way for that to actually be possible (which would be difficult, to say the least), then the person's mind would live on, long after "He" (or "She" *PC*) was physically gone. Then the person would live on not only in name, but in Idea. Even the greatest heroes of the past did not do that.
Imagine the advances that could be made if such a thing were possible! If a carbon copy of the minds of every human being were made before their deaths, all the genius and intelligence of today could be picked up right where it was left off, tomorrow.
Just like "The Giver". I think. I never actually read that book, so I am not sure it is the one I am talking about.
Man. I am wacked out of my gourd. Perked out, y'know? Also, I am doing laundry.
AGH! I cannot think!
Why do I even bother writing this God Damn Son-of-a-bitch?
Many liars whisper words, and all I hear is shouting.
The White King's law is scratched in glass, it's only there for flouting.
And nearby a vile shadow man, whose lips are curled in scorn,
Takes our words, and sets a flame to the pages that he's torn.
And all the while, laughing, mocking
A group of girls comes wildly flocking
All wearing matching knee-high stockings
To watch the dead clock, ticking, tocking;
They shall find Hell a pretty prison.
The carpet was littered with bones last night,
They were taken in the morning flight.
And then the children all ran away,
To gather more bones for today.
I am a man of many strange and unusual addictions. Foremost among them is an addiction to the written word. Reading, collecting, comprehending, yes, I am dependant on all these; but there is a larger habit among them. I am addicted to putting words together, to trying to turn the thoughts I think into something more tangible. Isn't it fascinating? Language and thought, every little idea that roams around in your mind can be harnessed and shoved onto a page, and it (if preserved) it will stay there for a practical eternity. Immortalization of your thoughts. It's a powerful and completely obvious thing, but it is mind-blowing for me right now.
What if, say, someone decided to catalogue every single thought they had onto pages? Imagine, for a moment, that this person invented a way for that to actually be possible (which would be difficult, to say the least), then the person's mind would live on, long after "He" (or "She" *PC*) was physically gone. Then the person would live on not only in name, but in Idea. Even the greatest heroes of the past did not do that.
Imagine the advances that could be made if such a thing were possible! If a carbon copy of the minds of every human being were made before their deaths, all the genius and intelligence of today could be picked up right where it was left off, tomorrow.
Just like "The Giver". I think. I never actually read that book, so I am not sure it is the one I am talking about.
Man. I am wacked out of my gourd. Perked out, y'know? Also, I am doing laundry.
AGH! I cannot think!
Why do I even bother writing this God Damn Son-of-a-bitch?
Many liars whisper words, and all I hear is shouting.
The White King's law is scratched in glass, it's only there for flouting.
And nearby a vile shadow man, whose lips are curled in scorn,
Takes our words, and sets a flame to the pages that he's torn.
And all the while, laughing, mocking
A group of girls comes wildly flocking
All wearing matching knee-high stockings
To watch the dead clock, ticking, tocking;
They shall find Hell a pretty prison.
The carpet was littered with bones last night,
They were taken in the morning flight.
And then the children all ran away,
To gather more bones for today.
Wednesday, February 02, 2005
The bad thing about being as ugly as sin is that it isn't the kind of thing you can fix. I could work out for hours every day, and I would buy all the expensive facial care in the world, and I could get a good haircut and dress nicely, and at the end of all this, I would still be the funny looking ugly lil' greaseball you have all come to know so well.
The good thing about this is that I don't have to put effort into my looks, since I am going to look like hell anyway, which affords more time for, oh, say: Hot dogs, or sleeping, or some dramatic combination of the two. Possibly sleeping in a hot dog bun, I'm not sure yet.
And every girl, gay guy, and close male friend in the world goes, "John, you AREN'T ugly, tee-hee!"
Liars!
I don't have anything to do anymore. Like, I have no reason for getting up in the morning except for being bored with lying down. It's a weird feeling, y'know?
But, it's More than a feelin'! (More than a feeliiiin'!)
When I hear that old song they used to play (More than a feeliiin!)
I begin dreamin'! (More than a feeliiiin'!)
TILL I SEE MY MARIANNE WALKIN' AWAAAAAAAAAY
Anyway. I guess this blog post is done. The only thing funny I was thinking about was how ugly as sin people are ugly as sin, no matter how you truss 'em up.
Toodle-oo buckaroos. I leave you with these, once again:
The good thing about this is that I don't have to put effort into my looks, since I am going to look like hell anyway, which affords more time for, oh, say: Hot dogs, or sleeping, or some dramatic combination of the two. Possibly sleeping in a hot dog bun, I'm not sure yet.
And every girl, gay guy, and close male friend in the world goes, "John, you AREN'T ugly, tee-hee!"
Liars!
I don't have anything to do anymore. Like, I have no reason for getting up in the morning except for being bored with lying down. It's a weird feeling, y'know?
But, it's More than a feelin'! (More than a feeliiiin'!)
When I hear that old song they used to play (More than a feeliiin!)
I begin dreamin'! (More than a feeliiiin'!)
TILL I SEE MY MARIANNE WALKIN' AWAAAAAAAAAY
Anyway. I guess this blog post is done. The only thing funny I was thinking about was how ugly as sin people are ugly as sin, no matter how you truss 'em up.
Toodle-oo buckaroos. I leave you with these, once again:
More Than a Feeling
I looked out this morning and the sun was gone
Turned on some music to start my day
I lost myself in a familiar song
I closed my eyes and I slipped away
It's more than a feeling (more than a feeling)
when I hear that old song they used to play (more than a feeling)
I begin dreaming (more than a feeling)
'till I see Marianne walk away
I see my Marianne walkin' away
So many people have come and gone
Their faces fade as the years go by
Yet I still recall as I wander on
as clear as the sun in the summer sky
It's more than a feeling (more than a feeling)
when I hear that old song they used to play (more than a feeling)
I begin dreaming (more than a feeling)
'till I see Marianne walk away
I see my Marianne walkin' away
When I'm tired and thinking cold
I hide in my music, forget the day
and dream of a girl I used to know
I closed my eyes and she slipped away
She slipped awa y. She slipped away.
It's more than a feeling (more than a feeling)
when I hear that old song they used to play (more than a feeling)
I begin dreaming (more than a feeling)
'till I see Marianne walk away
I see my Marianne walkin' away
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
Guess who's coming to dinner? Natty Dreadlocks.
Tonight is one of those nights where my mind is filled with an unspeakable rage at people who undoubtedly do not deserve it; and also do not actually exist, in a literal sense. The cure for the murderous-disgust-with-humanity-blues is of course: Cinnamon Life! What a delicious cereal, let me tell you.
I appreciate the herb you've brought for me, Natty Dreadlocks.
Uh... I wrote all kinds of groovy things, but now I have taken them off of here and put them elsewhere. I will leave you with this piece about Crime and Punishment that is very intelligent, I found it online.
*Edit*
Man, AIM totally went hurjigger earlier, I guess all kinds of people got kicked off-line. Wacky, huh? I guess it makes sense, millions of people access it all night long.
Anyway, I am going to bed, this addition is only to say goodnight to those who I was unable to bid goodnight to personally.
Tonight is one of those nights where my mind is filled with an unspeakable rage at people who undoubtedly do not deserve it; and also do not actually exist, in a literal sense. The cure for the murderous-disgust-with-humanity-blues is of course: Cinnamon Life! What a delicious cereal, let me tell you.
I appreciate the herb you've brought for me, Natty Dreadlocks.
Uh... I wrote all kinds of groovy things, but now I have taken them off of here and put them elsewhere. I will leave you with this piece about Crime and Punishment that is very intelligent, I found it online.
Jacques Madaule relates the following in his essay on Raskolnikov: "boredom is an affirmation of a man's solitude"(80). Raskolnikov, faced with the monotonous banality of every day existence with the masses, seeks a means to detach himself from an insipid society by rising above it. From this desire, his concept of the ordinary and extraordinary man is produced. Raskolnikov uses Napoleon, Lycurus, Solon, Mahomet, as a points of reference for his theory, stating that, "they were without exception criminals, from the very fact that, making a new law, they transgressed the ancient one, handed down from their ancestors and held sacred by the people, and they did not stop short of bloodshed either...."(Dostoevsky 242). While propriety dictates average men, Raskolnikov sees morality as a human construct that is relative to the society that man is part of. Like Mahomet, Lycurus, Solon, and Napoleon, Raskolnikov feels that he has the right to transgress moral law. Moreover, Raskolnikov concludes that he can exert his will over others, for he believes that he, as a benefactor of society, is a capable of "giving a new word" to humanity(Dostoevsky 242). Following the Machiavellian idea of "the ends justify the means," Raskolnikov murders Aloyna Ivanovna because he sees her as part of the corruption in Russia. She is "a kind of female minotaur devouring the prey of society until a white knight is able to destroy her"(Wasiolek 107) Raskolnikov believes that he is exemplifying altruism in its purest form through committing a deplorable sin, however, there can be no sin in the absence of God. Because Raskolnikov is a self-determinist, he believes that he has become divine by denying the divinity of God. With no deity there is no fear of divine retribution, therefore, Raskolnikov believes that he has only to concern himself with staying out of the clutches of authorities who enforce the laws of mankind.
Although Raskolnikov evinces qualities that clearly place him above the rank and file, he falls short of being extraordinary. Raskolnikov's very essence trembles out of fear of being ordinary. Just what is an individual? Society would lead its members to believe that an individual is "a multitude of one million divided by one million." Mankind, with its anthill mentality, attempts to assimilate and mold humans to fit society's agenda. Down to the quick of his soul, Raskolnikov feels the tether being drawn into an unbreakable knot. Backed into a corner, without hope or means of escape, Raskolnikov becomes chattel and sustenance for the societal beast. Emerson extols the idea that, "imitation is suicide." Raskolnikov is truly a sympathetic figure, for he attempts to embrace originality and is run over by the societal juggernaut for his efforts. Orwell puts it succinctly in his novel 1984 when he states, "the future of an individual is a boot stomping a human face for eternity."
Man, AIM totally went hurjigger earlier, I guess all kinds of people got kicked off-line. Wacky, huh? I guess it makes sense, millions of people access it all night long.
Anyway, I am going to bed, this addition is only to say goodnight to those who I was unable to bid goodnight to personally.
Archives
02/01/2002 - 03/01/2002 04/01/2002 - 05/01/2002 05/01/2002 - 06/01/2002 06/01/2002 - 07/01/2002 07/01/2002 - 08/01/2002 08/01/2002 - 09/01/2002 09/01/2002 - 10/01/2002 10/01/2002 - 11/01/2002 11/01/2002 - 12/01/2002 12/01/2002 - 01/01/2003 01/01/2003 - 02/01/2003 02/01/2003 - 03/01/2003 03/01/2003 - 04/01/2003 04/01/2003 - 05/01/2003 05/01/2003 - 06/01/2003 06/01/2003 - 07/01/2003 07/01/2003 - 08/01/2003 08/01/2003 - 09/01/2003 09/01/2003 - 10/01/2003 10/01/2003 - 11/01/2003 11/01/2003 - 12/01/2003 12/01/2003 - 01/01/2004 01/01/2004 - 02/01/2004 02/01/2004 - 03/01/2004 03/01/2004 - 04/01/2004 04/01/2004 - 05/01/2004 05/01/2004 - 06/01/2004 06/01/2004 - 07/01/2004 07/01/2004 - 08/01/2004 08/01/2004 - 09/01/2004 09/01/2004 - 10/01/2004 10/01/2004 - 11/01/2004 11/01/2004 - 12/01/2004 12/01/2004 - 01/01/2005 01/01/2005 - 02/01/2005 02/01/2005 - 03/01/2005 03/01/2005 - 04/01/2005 04/01/2005 - 05/01/2005 05/01/2005 - 06/01/2005 06/01/2005 - 07/01/2005 07/01/2005 - 08/01/2005 08/01/2005 - 09/01/2005 09/01/2005 - 10/01/2005 10/01/2005 - 11/01/2005 11/01/2005 - 12/01/2005 12/01/2005 - 01/01/2006 01/01/2006 - 02/01/2006 02/01/2006 - 03/01/2006 03/01/2006 - 04/01/2006 04/01/2006 - 05/01/2006 05/01/2006 - 06/01/2006 06/01/2006 - 07/01/2006 07/01/2006 - 08/01/2006 08/01/2006 - 09/01/2006 09/01/2006 - 10/01/2006 10/01/2006 - 11/01/2006 11/01/2006 - 12/01/2006 12/01/2006 - 01/01/2007 06/01/2007 - 07/01/2007 09/01/2007 - 10/01/2007 10/01/2007 - 11/01/2007
