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August 2002 The entire world revolves around me and everyone else is peripheral to my existence. You, gentle reader, are the sum of my many parts. I am the great and powerful Oz!!!Why is the stuff I pointed out on the previous entry so important? Because I see people having good things, i.e. fun, and that automatically makes me feel left out and deficient as a human being. The worst thing any human can feel is not being part of a group or not having something in common with another human being. It's wonderful to be hated. It's wonderful to be loved. It's heartwrenching agony to be inconsequential or have a group be indifferent because then you, monkey boy, are being denied one of your basic necessities. We are apes. We need other people. No man or woman is an island. I'm going to read Kaufman starting tomorrow and maybe I'll read Camus's Myth of Sisyphus later on because I do need some sort of revelation. Some sort of revelation which will be more fulfilling than punching myself or spending an hour a day crushing my empty aluminum cans with my boots. ObRebeka: Now I'm going to cry myself to sleep. Heptadecimal would have the letter G as a number. What bothers me about the word heptapod is the fact that H is not the seventh letter of the alphabet nor is heptapod seven letters long. The letter H is the eighth letter of the alphabet and heptapod is eight letters long. There's a greater math going on behind the scenes with this particular neologism but I am unsure of its exact nature. I've been noting that there are a lot of heptagons in Half Life being used for the pipes and tubes that one finds oneself endlessly crawling through like you're Jean Fucking Luc Picard on Star Trek the Next Fucking Generation. Last night's dream was bizarre. Almost a nightmare but not exactly a nightmare. There was this chick who had a cut in the webbing between the middle toes on both feet. She walked around and I was always aware of the cuts which were relatively small and done with a razor-like object. The wounds apparently went very deep, the only side effect was the fact the girl was inclined to use her feet like a monkey and the incisions aided her in her manipulations. Later in the dream she revealed a more gruesome secret where she had a cut from the top of her clit hood which went up to her belly. The slice would open up showing the raw meat and a splintered pelvis which formed a bizarre mouth. Her snatch didn't eat penises, castrate men or anything. It just opened wide and exulted in its sheer grossness for all to see. It was quite horrible. So. There's not much else to say here. Of course a statement like that would normally lead to a torrent of words but there's really not that much left to say to you, gentle reader. Lately I've been bothered that I am going to die sometime soon. The first thought to enter my mind is that I'm going to die in Jaybird's stead considering the Bird curse for the male Birds from what little has been conveyed to me in the time I have been out here in Colorado. Different omens and portents have been lurking at the periphery of my awareness. The second thought to cross my mind is how welcome that would be to me since I'd be dead. No more emotions. No more love. No more anything. Unfortunately heptapod.org might get snapped up by one of those domain squatters and when people come to visit this domain they'd discover some big listing of various online shops. Nobody cares about this site but me. I miss Devo and it breaks my heart. I feel sad that Siggy isn't around, maybe there'll be Farscape tonight and the Buffy CCG. At least Siggy doesn't seem to have faded into the background like the shopteacher's handful of folks I've met out here in Colorado Springs. I'd really like to see Kinja even though it'd be really awkward and we'd have nothing to talk about. Right now I don't want to do much of anything. The only contact I want with people is to have someone lean their head on me or to let me rest my head in their lap for a few hours. My throat hurts from wanting to break down feeling sad because I hate myself or because I hate myself and the way I have not been fun lately which is unforgiveable. I want to drive my fist against the sidewalk in one thrust watching the meat and bones collapse on themselves. I want to destroy a part of myself. I had finally arrived in California. San Francisco actually which appeared much more oriental rather than American. The dream was claustrophobic even though it took place outside on a dark gray day with heavy skies. I drove my car down a tight, winding path bordered by piers until I reached the shore beneath the Golden Gate Bridge. Bay water lapped lazily and was looked oily and unwholesome but I still felt this feeling of accomplishment that I finally made it to the Pacific even though it wasn't one of those beaches at the base of cliffs that I've seen in movies like Planet of the Apes. The water was repulsive to the point that I refused to get a styrofoam coffee cup full of ocean water to baptise my car like I plan on doing when I finally reach the other end of America. Fog was starting to roll in and the bridge loomed overhead making my little area of shoreline seem even less inviting than it was when I first arrived. I went down into a subway entrance that would get me access to the bridge but everything had collapsed on itself leaving me peering through too-tight crawlways and muttering under my breath. I cleaned up some more around my apartment on Friday night. Siggy would've come over to watch Farscape if I hadn't of cleaned the place up but I thought that I took the edge off that mojo by not showering after doing my chores. I'm just surprised that the bathroom cleaned up so quickly, except for the shower which was a pain in the ass and I need better cleaning chemicals than my piss-colored Lysol and cheap Windex. There doesn't seem to be any mildew in there but something smells a bit off in the bathroom. Siggy is someone I met back in April, we talked for about a week, she was going to meet me over at maribou's bookstore but she never showed up and I never heard from her again. After going to Tulsa I checked the site where I met her and she had contacted me which was a surprise. I cut out of TV with the Birds without any notice that Wednesday to meet up with her after work. We sat around talking for about seven hours until I realized if I didn't get to sleep by midnight I'd be very cranky since sleep hadn't come readily or willingly that week. The next time we caught up with each other went just as well even though her friend came along and Siggy just started her period and she gave me a piece of her menstrual chocolate even though I didn't ask for any or do that long stare at food in hopes of telepathically communicating "Give me some of that." At least she doesn't seem to be fading into the background like most Colorado people I've met out here like this one person who was going to meet up with me but flaked out at the last moment and didn't come around. Also the folks I gamed with the last time contacted me but I think that's because one guy in their gaming group saw me with Siggy, who she knew, and probably passed along that I was still in Colorado Springs. I'd feel weird about gaming with them again because the game was basically PCs stomping through opponents and dungeons plus the GM is allegedly going back into the army this fall and the final thing is the fact they have three kids. The event that bugged me the most was the fact the GM was running a game with his infant in his lap while smoking. Ash fell down and hit the kid's leg which made it start squealing and bawling. One thing I've been wondering lately has been that most of my interactions out here have had cigarette smoke or smoke of some kind involved with the socialization. Jaybird told me that people with brain tumors smell things which aren't there, usually smoke. Maybe I never left New Jersey, I'm in a coma with a brain tumor and that's why smoke might be a recurring motif. Or I'm asleep and the house is burning down. Or Colorado doesn't have the oppressive smoking laws like New Jersey and NYC. This entry is done. I was going to ramble about people who are "friends with everybody" to be really generic and how I hate running across these people in my life because those kinds of folks were going to be friendly in the first place regardless of who I am to them. What's the fucking point? Another day, another entry. I doubt that anyone has noticed but I've ditched the "dramatis personae" from my site because this site is about me and me alone despite the many meandering posts about how other people impact my life. I'm going to stab in the dark and ask the readers to write something about me and their impressions of me regarding who I am in real life. Of course they'll be edited for spelling and egregious grammar errors. Have I mentioned that as of the end of July I've written eight hundred and seventy pages of text? Also my left eye is red and irritated and teary and it's getting somewhat annoying to me. I reckon that it may be an allergic reaction but it may be pink eye or maybe something worse like iritis. I've had lots of things fucking with my eyes but that was more than a decade ago, almost two decades ago so I'm wondering why the hell these maladies are coming back to haunt me. I'd rather wait and see, hah, what it is and maybe get some Visine. So, gentle reader, I'm in a better mood than I was earlier today which prompted me to write something slightly moody and pointless but now I don't feel like posting it and being a god damned broken record. Beloved, Constant Reader, Love, dog blood is like tears If the sex is good, it's 10% of the relationship. If the sex is bad, it's 90% of the relationship. Yesterday's quote is attributed to siggy. quotes, three of seven plus a dream was re: there is no joy in mudville With polyamory there's always someone having more fun than the other person. Under heavy gray skies while a weak rain splattered on the ground at the English countryside. This was a place of genteel shabbiness with the worn, water damaged doors grayed by age but steadfast and eternal stone barn and stable walls. My path was circuitous where I went through the doors until they were locked and I was forced to go upstairs to this tidy apartment in the barn's attic. A young, nude teenaged girl sat on a wicker chair and smiled at me upon my entrance. We started kissing and rubbing against each other to the point that I went down on her not caring if her labia smelled like pee. Between her legs I was met with darkness which could almost be described as oblivion if it weren't for the few points of light which hovered ahead of me. My tongue was still in the real world and I could feel her clit and folds against my tongue but the rest of my consciousness was adrift in the formless void. My point of view drew back letting my eyes take in the rest of the spectacle forming ahead of me. The stars clustered together into a constellation of eyes framed by luminous gases, novae corpses, forming a shape. What immediately came to mind was that picture taken by the Hubble telescope of these majestic pillars of gas light years across where stars are born. The billowing gas and clouds then formed into an outline that was somewhat anthropoid but decidedly alien. The formation was vast and I should have been awed, feeling small and insignificant before it but I merely felt indifference towards this being. It spoke in stars. Siggy asked me if they spoke like the beginning of It's a Wonderful Life with Clarence and the other big Heaven muckity muck were discussing George Bailey's life and times making a case for saving George's life and showing him how he has touched so many other lives for the better. My first answer was no but in a way that was a good analogy because when this entity spoke it twinkled and at times stars erupted and died but there was never a sound. Had there been a sound I'm sure it would've been deafening. Was this a god? If it were a god why didn't it instill me with a feeling of awe? Too much Lovecraft? Perhaps I'm of a lesser intellect where I can not sufficiently comprehend that my existence would be in peril? Or something like where one has so much fear that the last resort is to have true bravery or indifference towards ones continued existence and hoping whatever may menace will also show the same indifference for the better. When the vision ended and I came up for air after cunnilingus I discovered that the teenaged girl was remarkably transformed. Everything above the waist was missing, whatever separated her top from her bottom had healed over remarkably and somehow this girl still continued to exist because she was tapping her foot and twitching her thigh slightly. I woke up with Bob Marley's Jammin' stuck in my head. I was originally going to write an entry that was composed of the words "Damn it" but I've decided to write more about what made me think that phrase. The night before I phoned Siggy to see if she wanted to hang out after I left work and she was up for it. We met up at Perkins and sat around, at first I wondered what happened to her friend because I thought he went to the can and fell in but I wasn't paying that much attention being wrapped up in my thoughts to have heard he went to go pick up his father from work. We talked for a little bit, I did a tarot reading for her after she told me about how this guy Angel is back in town and how she feels about this guy. Sigh. I ordered my dinner and offered to get her something since I had a twenty. I figured that after eating I'd have my thoughts together or the balls to speak up and say something. One thing that annoyed me is I didn't start off with the "I'm sure you're wondering why I asked you here today" cliche. Mostly I was put off because she was talking about Angel and how he asked her to move to Kansas City with him. Hearing that, I already had my answer. See, I was going to ask her if she'd like to see me and me see her but of course she had Angel on the brain and there was just no way. Had she come down to maribou's bookstore that night in April (or was it May?) instead of falling asleep or had I kept up the correspondence instead of just thinking "Oh well, another Colorado person fading away" or Angel not come back to Colorado Springs then things might be different. I can't fault her because she did tell me that she told Angel she would follow him to the ends of the earth. At least when she said she felt really bad about it and bad for me because she really liked me in an honest way I could understand it. Back in my mind I kept sinking lower and lower while trying to keep a stiff upper lip. Eventually it got uncomfortable for both of us, I think I can't speak for her, and I dropped her off at her place and I went home to sit quietly, check my email then I went upstairs to tell Jaybird that I may not be up for Wednesday night TV because something's going on at the Utopia that night before walking downtown singing It Was A Very Good Year to check if maribou's bookstore had any of the Wildcards books. That sentence was awfully long. Also I was going to see when the open mike thing would start because I wanted to go there to hear Siggy read. Not for any of the other pseudohippies or the supposedly "deep" college kids who buy into the corporate culture they denigrate like thirteen year olds and write poetry about smoking pot and their queer for a year agenda. There was some anti-war protest going on in Acacia Park or they were getting themselves set up which only made me grumble "fucking hippies" under my breath. Mostly muttering that under my breath to antagonize them since being anti-war is a noble pursuit but they need to understand that strife on any level is part of human nature and only by embracing it can humanity come to terms with itself. Plus it'd be cool showing the irony of anti-war folks starting up a fight or allowing themselves to be goaded into fisticuffs or some shout-down engagement. The open mike night isn't until the second Wednesday of the month and I got lucky finding the few copies of the Wildcard books that were at maribou's bookstore. Jaybird came to pick up maribou and we sat in the fireplace room where he told me that I have to learn to improvise rather than just make elaborate plans and give up after they fail on their first application. I phoned my father asking him if he could make copies of the White Album, Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band and any Sinatra CDs he could scare up around his business or in his private collection. For most of the night I felt at the very edge of crying and keeping it inside was only going to eat me up and without music as an emotional laxative it just wouldn't come out. Thankfully I found my You've Got To Hide Your Love Away file and played that a few times before going back upstairs to watch Jaybird play Warcraft III and listen to maribou make plans for the Colorado state fair some weekend down the line. Anyway I felt bad because I know Jaybird goes off on me being a high maintenance human being and I don't want to impose just that they're the only people I know in Colorado Springs on more than a first name basis. I think I kept it together pretty well when I spoke briefly with maribou at her store though the air conditioning cutting out making my voice the loudest thing in the store kinda bugged me out. That reminded me of that scene in the muppet movie which takes place in London where everyone's talking at once until being told to shut the fuck up by Kermit or Fozzie or whomever. Everyone does but Janice from Dr. Teeth's band is talking about something really naked and embarassing that happened to her until she realizes everyone just heard what she thought was cloaked in the cacophany of chatter. Still, I feel down. I need a hug. I could really use a day off tomorrow instead of going in and feeling all fumbly processing loans getting lost in the dust with the pending applications. Now it's time to sleep. That's a big entry and I have misgivings about sharing it but I don't give a fuck because if I don't talk about it then I'm just going to be obtuse and dance around subjects or whatever. still more quotes and big news You're the sort of fellow who would believe a street-corner horoscope before he would believe his own heart. C K D O W N WWF Smackdown will be taping in Colorado Springs on September 17th, 2002 at the World Arena. Holy fucking shit is all I have to say about this once in a lifetime event for Colorado Springians. Back in New Jersey this thing would be happen at least twice a year. Sadly, very sadly, Jaybird and maribou will be in Canada during that time. The other big news isn't that big because it's just a daydream that I have myself stuck on the past two days. Long time ago when I was planning my trip across the United States of America everything started getting blown out of proportion. What was a three thousand mile jaunt ended up becoming a trip lasting at least twelve thousand more miles all of which was based on a dream I had quite some time ago. The dream took place on the far western shore of Alaska with me looking out across the Bering Strait. In the distance I could see the Diomede Islands and further west I could see the vague shadow of Siberia's coastline. I had such a feeling of "I'm going there" looking out at the horizon. My car was parked a way back waiting patiently for me and I knew that I had to abandon her. The dream ended with me boarding a ferry and sailing into the unknown. I'm going to plan ahead for travelling up the west coast to Alaska, across the Bering Strait then board the Trans-Siberian railroad towards Moscow. I'm thinking about making a small stop at Tunguska but that all depends on my money situation. From there I'll go through eastern Europe down to Italy to Sicily then back up to Great Britain before hopping a ship to cross the Atlantic back to North America. I'll probably work my way on the ship so I don't have to pay as much for room and board. Maybe it's the Sagittarian in me, maybe it's just wanting to be able to say I circumnavigated the globe, maybe part of me wants to run away from Colorado Springs right now after Tuesday night or it could be simply the fact that one of my father's longtime employees never left New Jersey and I don't want that for me. Screw Asia. Asia is for orientalists, people who eat dog and want to fuck underage girls for a couple of baht because white girls have high standards. Screw the Middle East, that festering boil on the Earth's asshole should be blown into a glassy, radioactive plain and left as a free for all for anyone who still wants to live in the post-nuclear gehenna. Africa? Maybe later. Antarctica is too fucking expensive despite the fact I would like to set foot upon that lonely continent. I really have no desire to travel to South America but if I did then I'd probably want to fly down there instead of drive with all the leftist and rightist guerrillas lurking in their green hell. Besides saving money I'd want to get a basic understanding of Russian and Italian so I don't insult the people of those countries by not speaking their language and if I get lost. Definitely before I'm forty. Definitely. P.S. This has nothing to do with my plans that I'm currently socking away money to do. P.P.S. My parents are supposedly making arrangements to visit Colorado Springs. Too bad it's not just my father but he doesn't want to put up with a divorce. P.P.P.S. I want to go one of those biker rallies one weekend, the kind you see at VoyeurWeb. today we read from the diary of spivak, chapter eight, verse nine, book two You'll always have the poor but you won't always have me. What I forgot to mention is the other night I had a dream which just replayed What's Opera Doc over and over again with it getting stuck in my head for the first part of the morning until work beat that little piece of whimsy from my consciousness. |
Talking much about oneself can also be a means to conceal oneself. Stop trying to control everything and just let go.  The main lesson of the Hanged Man is that we "control" by letting go - we "win" by surrendering. The figure on Card 12 has made the ultimate surrender - to die on the cross of his own travails - yet he shines with the glory of divine understanding. He has sacrificed himself, but he emerges the victor. The Hanged Man also tells us that we can "move forward" by standing still. By suspending time, we can have all the time in the world. The clouds at night are really fucking beautiful out here. The other night I went to walk down somewhere to read and drink and up in the sky the clouds were aglow. In the far distance they flashed with lightning but much closer a few patches seemed to be backlit with the moon even though the moon was already close to the western horizon behind the mountains and only a mere sliver. Lately I haven't been that interested in updating my site but it's something I have to do to maintain some sort of routine in my life. Weekends are spent in my apartment with food shopping on Sunday. Weekdays are really rigidly structured with my breaks then weeknights are pretty much my own except I really should be in bed or asleep by ten at night. I've been stressing out about life lately and, gentle reader, I honestly feel this is the only place where I can vent what's going on with me. First and foremost I've been fretting over the loss of my Labor Day plans. Secondly I have to make sure something is done by October and I really don't want to fucking bother with it in the end. I made one attempt to take care of it but the response I got was rude despite the fact I was offering to volunteer my time. Another thing that eats at me is The Underground has their one big night on a Sunday. Where's the fucking logic of having it on a Sunday? The only other place I'd be interested in going out to is three miles away which would be a pain in the ass traversing with a few beers in me plus I get all sullen anyway and unable to talk to anyone. The inability to talk would be mostly pre-judgement of the other people in knowing they'd respond with the trite "whatever" when approached with something that causes them to rub two brain cells together in hopes of keeping the area between the ears warm. It's like when Makonan was out here, she just didn't want to talk and from what she told me over the brief time that I knew her she would say how stuff that interested me bored her to tears. Plus when I tried to see what was going on she'd just give me "I don't want to talk about it" or tell me to shut up but being told to shut up was under different circumstances. To quote her, "It's irrelevant." Actually one of the things which gets me is when people don't want to talk. Yeah, most times what I want to talk about is fairly stupid but damn it fucking start talking and I'll realize it soon enough. One of the things that made me pull away from Malyss was this one night at her place when her mood was really getting to me and I just wanted to talk about things and tell her that it was making me question my choices in life. She told me she didn't want to talk about it and went to her room or to the computer. Farscape was boring because it was a stupid alien culture episode hacked out by some guy trying to make ends meet after Voyager went off the air. Great, strange foreheads and making peace with an unusual culture which is more of a caricature of one of humanity's aspects rather than representing something unique. With D'argo and Chyana and Rygel and the rest I don't give a shit because they're well developed characters it's a story about them as people rather than stereotypes. I just wish I could get myself to a point where I don't care what other people think, looking out for my own emotional well being, and just going balls to the wall socializing even if it is in one place. Maybe I should take one night a week and just go someplace and become a regular. I'm predictable enough anyway. If I have the money and feel like going out for lunch I'll head over to the Subway across from work and get myself a meatball sandwich that they'll make up without asking me what I want or need unless there's someone new behind the counter. This happened after the first week of patronizing that establishment. I get it because I want something hot, or warm, and quick and filling. What I want, no what I need, is to hold someone and be held by someone. Only thing is needing something like that is taken as being way too needy and people, on the whole, are selfish so they decide not to have any interaction with the other person. Or they get too deep into it. That's certainly something that's not going to happen with me. I'm stuck on Devo (or the Idea of Devo per Jaybird) and the only thing which will break it is me. Anyone else in my life would just be convenient to make things really blunt. In my defense I'd put my heart into it but should I hear anything about her I would know where my priorities lie because I know what I want in life and I know what good things I want in my life. Fuck it, I'm going to let that lie even though I'm sure it will bite me in the ass sometime later down the line. Funny how I care more about writing that kind of shit than going off on my bigted diatribes or making broad conclusions about certain stereotypes and people. Spivak's razor in action. What also bothers me is the fact that it would be nice to have a pet except travelling around the world would preclude having pets or waiting forever for quarantine to clear then stressing out in a foreign country thinking the worst should my companion become lost. Get a dog or cat. Stay in the states and don't move around much. On the up side there's company. Don't get a dog or cat and I can live a life where I don't have to have the grass grow under my feet. The down side is being alone. I wouldn't trust anyone else with them except me. Anyway, I'm worried about Devo's physical health, I'm worried about my seclusion, I'm bored with my job, I'm tired and being tired just isn't going away but I have an amazing ability to draw upon some reserve deep inside of me when I do get to work so I can get things done but coming down off that high takes forever. p.s. I keep thinking about cutting the impact of what I wrote about my priorities in life by saying I'm just saying that out of feeling hurt and rejected as a friend and as something else even though it's essentially meaningless but in the end it is meaningless and would involve me being untruthful to you, gentle reader. I've been untruthful to you once and that will be the only time I shall be untruthful to you. The quote about dog blood being like tears was me taking something out of context and putting more meaning behind it than it being a descriptive phrase. When dogs die, people cry usually moreso than when humans die because of the lack of communication. You can always ask a person how they feel or what they're thinking but that's not about to happen anytime soon with dogs. You can infer, and so will dogs, but most times there will be misunderstandings. You know forty percent of statistics are made up. Jaybird's quote makes sense in that whomever is the lamest lay knows the other person, regardless of assurances from the other person, will leave them for someone else even if it is just for the sex. The one about polyamory being more fun for one person than the other seemed to be in synch with Jaybird's quote. Mind you the quotes were chosen more for irritating people than conveying something to you, gentle reader. It's a troll. Whenever I've gone to do something big socially I've always gone to my cards or looked for omens and portents in the world around me. Before going to see Siggy that Tuesday night I had gone through my cards which were telling me "It's worth a shot" which gave me more balls than usual. Unfortunately, for lack of a better name, fate doesn't like being dicked around with or people using hint books or cheat manuals. That night everything turned around with the radio or muzak playing mocking songs which met my mood and feeling of defeat. Radio is a modern oracle, start up the car before a big trip or going to work and most times it'll give a tone for the day. Eh, this is reductive reasoning without any basis in fact or it's simply the fact that people are most impressionable at the outset of those events setting the tone which will eventually resonate throughout the day until everything seems to fit that musical omen. That quote by Jesus is one of my favorites except that I'm taking it out of context, a very funny moment, and making it into something brooding, egotistical with self-destructive overtones. Most times when I interact with people they always seem to have something better to do or better people to hang around with which would seem to contradict what I would hear about how I'm important and a friend or loved but apparently not enough to be included or feel included with their reindeer games. Of course this only leads to "I still want to be friends with you" or "Good God fucking stop I don't know when and I don't know what more I can do for you" or worse. Still that's my pattern of trying to make myself irritating and repugnant enough that people would have a reason which I could understand about why they'd rather have the company of other folks. The Nietzsche quote is appropriate for my page considering the kind of intimacy I try to engender with my alleged audience and make them feel like confidantes rather than spectators. In retrospect most times I doubt if I am truly revealing anything about myself but just repeating myself to conceal what's truly going through my head and heart. At least I endeavor to be as honest as possible to the point that it hurts and the only time I avoid discussing things is when other people are involved. That's only if they specifically request it, like two people who have, or I know the other person's going to have god damned kittens should I write anything judgemental about them and I really don't want to have to put up with that particular shitstorm for however long I will have to put up with them. That's where being obtuse comes into play but most times I forget where I was being obtuse and if I get myself in a mood to fucking come out with it I would have forgotten every snide remark plopped into my entries. A big example of being obtuse was with Kinja back when Malyss didn't know what was going on with my social life. So I've been trying to control less of my life and doing quite poorly lately. Lately my control has been trying to be as repugnant and frustrating to Devo and others in hopes they'll just go away so I can sit in a corner and be sorry for myself until I decide to take another flying leap. Of course this just leads to hating myself for acting in a certain way or doubting other people. At least with Siggy it's easy because she knew me for how long? Two weeks at most? What's someone one knows for two weeks compared to a person one knows for years? Cut your losses and get to the comfortable routine of familiar people and if anyone feels bad then fuck them for thinking they could engender any kind of relationship or friendship. I want control because I'm a pissy little kid who wants what he wants because he knows what he wants he deserves by sheer virtue of drawing breath. Maybe it's just being sick and tired of hearing words and wanting people to just follow through already because I'm not getting any younger. I'm tired of running after people, metaphorically of course since I'm too fat and the air's too thin to go half a block without cardiac arrest, or doing for people with no returns. Do unto others as they would do unto you only means you're going to be a schmuck because people are selfish and only interested in the world as it relates to their navel. I should know because I'm like that as well. I'm tired and frustrated and I feel like I've lost and losing means giving up and walking away without ever looking back at the remains. Give up and throw people away like so much kleenex because they're going to do the same thing to you sooner or later. It's just a matter of time. I'm preoccupied and hoping that by tomorrow night I'll have things in order. The other night I discovered that when the washing machine is run that means warm soapy water will flow out of the bottom of my toilet instead of just getting the usual burps which used to amuse me. My only plans are to get out on the weekend, have a few drinks on Friday and Saturday and seeing what happens. Hopefully my anger won't be just under the surface and put people on edge about interacting with me. I have a serious chip on my shoulder. So here's what set me off. The bullshit from last week, discovering the magical link between the toilet and the washing machine upstairs with minor flooding coupled with learning that my check for car insurance wasn't received and already past due with more due than I had put aside. The toilet's fixed and the shower drain actually drains in a timely fashion. I realized the past due notice was sent out in error and I'm well within my budget. Plus I've gotten over the previous bullshit. I'm still going out this weekend. glory Every time I walk out, even at the end of day, and feel the blind gaze of the sun burning against me I feel the same sort of awe that inspired the Egyptians to ascribe divinity to it. Nothing put pure, unadulterated sunshine without the foul humidity muddying its intensity or beauty. The dark stays cool and the light stays hot. None of this pervasive humidity that becomes an entity unto itself. It is glorious. I'm sure I'd have a different opinion if I was unable to find respite from its blind stare and had to remain in its fierce heat. There was this one guy who recently walked from some godforsaken place in middle America to another godforsaken place in middle America. Sure he hitched rides with truckers now and again but when he finally turned himself in four hundred miles later he was red like a lobster, a week later he had long strips of dead skin hanging off his body. Damn. Here's the story for you to read, gentle reader. maybe I'm thinking of getting into a fight this weekend. Maybe not because that'd involve physical effort. hhsb hhsb sent me videotapes. Now I can watch Fight Club, Seven and Rushmore anytime that I want which is a happy thing. Last week I logged into LambdaMOO and spoke with her for a bit and I felt good because I didn't get what I usually perceive as strange distance and we talked for a bit but eventually she just clammed up and idled because she had to get up early in the morning being an old man like me who has to get up early in the morning as well. dream This one was relatively brief but it had an impact on me. Nothing earthshattering but still the dream lingered at the periphery of conscious life. I was in a big red house with lots of windows that gave me a spectacular view of the Rockies. It was the heart of winter and for the first two months there was only a total of five inches of snow yet the ground was covered South Park style. Over the mountains were clouds filled with gray doom moving like a ceiling to cover where I lived. Feeling a bit weirded out like a chihuahua in a snowstorm I phoned the veterinarian's office to see what was going on with the weather. The veterinary assistant said there was hail coming and I better take cover. "What kind of hail? Like half pieces of aspirin or softballs?" "I can't say. Just stay inside." then she hung up on me. Soon there was the familiar tickity tack of hail smacking against the roof followed by dull thuds which began crashing cartoonlike through the ceiling leaving holes the same shape as the hail bits. Death from above. My father came in from the storm thinking he could find cover in my now ruined home, I was beyond caring and just sat in a corner hoping that it'd give me more cover than sitting elsewhere in the house because now the hail was crashing through the roof then the floor into the basement leaving craters in the gray darkness. Onto a different dream, I had returned to New Jersey and went into my father's shop to say hello to him. I could feel his hug and going "My son, my son" over and over again until he started dancing around with me in circles. Today I made two ants the richest ants in their nest when I took these two brass electrical fittings that were less than a centimeter wide and slightly thicker than pencil lead and put it on the ground in front of these little beings. The first one trundled off into the stones and brush bearing her prize for the nest. I soon lost visual contact much to my dismay because I really want to see where their nest is so I can help them out by putting the goodies nearby rather than six to ten feet away. One thing that made me feel a bit strange was thinking about how ants don't work together when they carry shit. Not even when they're trying to take apart a big piece of food like a wayward pringles chip or a quarter of a day-old doughnut. Should these small beings ever realize that working together in such a fashion is beneficial then humanity would have something to fear. Keep your eyes peeled on the sidewalks and walkways for two ants helping each other carry booty back to their queen because these will be the progenitors of neo-ants who will reign supreme and inherit the earth for their kind and the inferior wasps they shall enslave deep in their sugar mines. I for one would like to welcome our new ant overlords... I'm feeling better than I did yesterday and I'm hoping that Friday will go even better for me. What got me down today was just realizing the severity of baby culture among women, how their eyes glaze over when they hear one crying or laughing as if it is their god given right to aid in the rearing of a kid. Most times I figure that once a woman drops a kid her genetic predisposition towards babies kicks in and they merely become creatures of instinct who seek the company of infants. When I heard that one of the girls over in collections is pregnant, I have no idea if it's "again" or not, I just sighed deeply wondering what the fuck people think when they are going to bear kids. Most times I just diminish people thinking they got knocked up by accident and decided to keep it anyway. The ones who actually plan on getting knocked up are more frightening. Don't litter. Spay. tnx. Something that I've noticed about Colorado Springs is the fact that there are more women with black (or dark) hair and blonde roots than there are women who have blonde hair with black (or dark) roots. What the fuck is up with that? At least I haven't seen any goofy black people who bleach their hair blonde or even worse those of latin descent with blonde hair. Oh yeah, that looks real natural. some humo(u)r Why did the cops confiscate the marijuana candle? Thank you, thank you, I'll be here all week. So I've been searching the web for a particular t-shirt and I can not find any reference to it anywhere online. Back in the mid-eighties there was this one concert shirt that had "ADOLPH HITLER WORLD TOUR" which had various dates for the countries he invaded and when it got down to the USSR and Great Britain it had CANCELLED printed over them. Damn, that was a cool shirt because it was a troll and it had minor historical merit. Even searching through the various aryan nutcase sites I haven't been able to find the shirt nor can I find any photos of this garment. I'm sure it doesn't come in XXXL anyway. Today was funny because some moron faxed over his loan application, I was unable to process it because he didn't have an acceptable checking account and he got all cranky when I told him and then my manager told him he didn't have an acceptable checking account. So he asked my manager to fax the application back to him. She told him that he already had the originals to which he replied, quite frustratedly, "I know I have the originals but I want you to fax it back to me!" I sincerely hope that he heard the laughter in the background during this exchange. Does this doofus think that by faxing his application back that we will no longer have the documents? We shred everything customers send us anyway so there's nothing to fear. No, he wasn't elderly. Anyway I can't go out this weekend because I have to pick up around the place. When the fixit guy came around I figured he was put off by the multitudes of seltzer cans with a few Hansen's cans mingled with them thinking the place was a mess. Yes, it's a mess but no worse than what I've seen back in New Jersey or the few times I have gone out. Still I spent the lion's share of the evening picking up around the place starting upstairs putting my laundry stuff there where I used to have mailboxes and books piled high. The busy room was cluttered with boxes, from searching for books I JUST HAD TO HAVE IN MY HAND OH DEAR GOD MY LIFE IS UNFULFILLED and general picking up around the house kinda shit. Still it's funny that the last time I really cleaned the place up was when Makonan had come around to visit but still she found fault by referring to my "questionable concepts of hygiene" or whatever it was but I know questionable was woven into that snide remark. I would've figured that a friend would see the forest rather than the trees. Tuesday the apartment's going to be inspected after the fixit guy saw everything in addition to the fact that last winter when he came around to see what needed fixing I told him everything's fine because I was in my underwear, the place was a mess and everything was fine enough back in the day. So when these folks come around I'm sure they'll say it's pretty damned clean, I'm using my mother's standards, and drop the subject entirely though I am planning they'll do something sneaky like come around to make sure that it's not just a show. Of course it became plainly clear that someone wasn't my friend. So this weekend is kinda shot to shit but maybe it isn't because next weekend will end up being better though I can't think of how it will end up being better waking up at six in the god damned morning to sit in line outside the World Arena for Sm*ckd*wn tickets. I use shift-eight encryption because Jaybird would be upset if I wrote Smackdown. Whoops. This Saturday will be positively scintillating with action dishwashing, thrilling bathroom cleaning (it's the cleanest place in the apartment actually) and the sheer terror of shampooing a carpet. Here's hoping that twenty bucks, photo id and a credit card will get me carpet shampoo in addition to the device. If I can get time in for a nap later on Saturday night then I'll go out and sit quietly or mingle or whatever. I was living on the moon under a dome that protected the inhabitants from the unforgiving vacuum that surrounded all of creation. The lunar city that I was living in was much like Colorado Springs in that there were wooden houses, deep blue skies at dusk when the stars began winking into existence and something like mountains along the horizon. The only difference was the fact I was wearing a spacesuit. I trundled along the street with both the gold and glass visors lifted up so I could breathe the pure air which was maintained by six strategically placed vents around the colony aeons ago by a long forgotten and dead race. As I neared the edge where a dome should be I realized that the dome, both layers, had been pulled back and the air everyone breathed was just a gossamer bubble clinging to the lunar surface and should anyone move it'd pop and everything would end right then and there. Good thing I'm wearing a space suit. Beyond the barrier was the typical moon, magnificent desolation as Buzz Aldrin called it, and there were still some wisps of air that I could breathe letting other viewers who didn't know think that I was the ultimate badass walking around in hard vacuum with the helmet visor up. A few minutes later I got paranoid and pulled both visors down. Far above me, much larger than it would appear from the moon's surface, was the Earth filling half the sky like Jupiter would appear from the face of Io. I leapt and kept on going up and up and up towards the blue green globe. Re-entry wasn't difficult or dangerous, I had a feeling of being able to control my descent in where I wanted to land on Earth. There was a purple patch of foliage over North Carolina which drew me towards that location to finally land and once I was back on Earth the foliage wasn't purple but a wholesome and natural green. Looking back up at the moon I thought, "If man can return to Earth on his own power then I will be the first man to go to the moon under his own power" with visions of Jules Verne bicycle devices dancing through my heads for escaping Earth for her companion. The dream seemed to reset because after landing in northwestern South Carolina I was walking down the street in my spacesuit and discovered that I was back on the moon. This time around my re-entry was less eventful and ended with darkness becoming the only thing I could perceive with all my senses. Watching Rushmore makes me feel nostalgic for autumn in New Jersey. Dark, cloudy skies over a layer of fiery autumn leaves over a damp, brown world filled with damper people. A time when fire is something wondrous and to be embraced, the silence of midafternoon watching the clouds roll by in nimbal constellations teasing glimpses of the blue sky far above them that was taken for granted and now hidden away like a spoiled kid's toy. Anyway I'm in a mood and not even watching Fight Club could raise my spirits a notch. Maybe I'm overtired from my marathon cleaning session or my mind has finally resettled in my head after the trance state I was in while cleaning and vacuuming and all that kind of happy stuff. This happened to me last month when I drove to Oklahoma and I just couldn't sleep nor was I hungry or thirsty in the least. I finished everything except the kitchen around five in the afternoon, spoke briefly with my father, showered and pondered my plans for the evening. I'm going to go out. It's ten p.m.. yeah yeah I went out... to drop off the carpet shampooer so I had one less responsibility to deal with on Sunday. I reckon I feel down because my imagination is running away and the cartoon demon spivak on my left shoulder is whispering, "You know it's true, you know it's true." One thing that made me feel good about not going out tonight was the fact that I almost shit my pants coming back in after dropping off the machine at Safeway. Christ, I walked like Frankenstein and took each step carefully but that didn't save my underwear from receiving a foul rosebud. Had I gone out to drink I'm sure that the first time I would've ended up turning around and coming back to take a shit or that I would've gotten into a zone where I wouldn't have to take a shit until I was around Acacia Park when all of a sudden the urgency would overwhelm me and a pair of brown trousers later I'm in no shape to be out socializing if it could be called socializing reading a book with some alcohol watching people out of the corner of my eye and playing every brush off and turn down and annoyed stare before it happens to me. a kinja parable, a dream and my cleaning project I tried to get Kinja into playing L5R with me way back when because I do think one of the most important things to have between two people is to have fun doing something together. My fun was gaming and it still is gaming except that there aren't many opportunities for gaming around here simply because I'm not looking around right now due to apathy. So we went over to this Japanese fandom store in Livingston to get some L5R cards and a starter deck for her. I went off to look around at odds and ends while she went through the cards and experienced what made up my world. About ten minutes later she was pressing up against me while being talked at by some guy. He was asking her if she liked Seven Seas or whatever that pirate card game is called. Kinja eventually put me between her and the annoying guy making like she was going to pay and leave. Out in the car she told me how annoyed she was that I wasn't getting the clue she didn't want to be bothered by some random gaming geek and I should've stepped in and done something. Nothing drastic, just hijacking the conversation or saying something inappropriate to kill the situation. She asked me why I wasn't jealous or angry and I told her that I didn't because I didn't have any reason to be jealous or angry. I knew precisely where I stood with her and that I didn't have to fear her running off with some hung black stud or Dorky Dickface Living in Mom's Basement because I knew she wouldn't do that. Either it was because of her actions or her doing little things for me. Same thing with Malyss. My arrogant half is saying that I knew that because I knew they weren't about to do any better than me because I was the best person for them at their respective times. This doesn't change the fact that I feel so weary lately. So I had another dream which took place at a movie theater situated at a shopping mall. I wandered around the lobby eventually finding myself crawling through air ducts, creeping around backstage and between curtains for no real reason except for the fact that it was fun. Stepping out from my boltholes, ducts and secret passages I found myself in the middle of a red velvet corridor filled with people heading towards the theater. Among the thronging crowd was one latina chick I recognized from work. She was wearing a little black top with her boobs hanging out from under the shirt and what could be considered a minidress but it was more like a sweatband around her waist showing her ass off in all its primate glory with puffy lips peeking from between the legs so I went up behind her and started feeling up her tits despite the fact that my conscious self was screaming bloody murder and I was going to get in so much trouble. Eventually I stopped and just walked away to sit outside and watch the ships take off and fly to the moon. The spacecraft looked like airplanes but some were flat, disc shaped kind of like the Enterprise and they sped up to the stars and from my sight. One of the ships stalled on the runway and I reached out to help it discovering that perspective wasn't at work here and the ship was really a handful. When I cracked the ship tiny little people the size of an ant fell out and started trying to gain purchase in my palm. Their tiny feet and hands felt so strange that I jerked my hand back and they fell down to the ground and scattered to the four winds. Back in the theater I saw the girl again leaning against a wall and her face brightened when she saw me coming her way. "Hey, were you smoking pot before when you felt me up?" she grinned at me and shifted herself so her goodies were more revealed. I just backed away from her with my eyes fixed on the floor, partly ashamed and partly afraid of any unwanted attention from her yelling. The dream wasn't fun anymore and I woke up until my brain had a chance to reboot its dream program to start up something new. Sadly it was about ten in the morning, I still had the kitchen to finish and the weight of the day ahead got me out of bed and into cleaning mode. The kitchen was tough with cleaning off the stovetop, doing all the dishes, washing down the dish drainer, mopping the floor, wiping down the floor with paper towels followed by windexing trouble spots and scrubbing them until my arm hurt. These Catholic mass-like exercises got me light in the head a couple of times. Sit. Stand. Kneel. Stand. Kneel. Stand. Sit. Ut oh! You lost! I didn't say "Jesus says"!!! Thank goodness for my black, mad scientist gloves which saved my hands from the chemicals and hot water. Jaybird and maribou came down separately to inspect the apartment since I was working too intensely on the project to see the niggling details someone less involved would pick out right away. Jaybird didn't see anything except where I was half-assed finished, maribou pointed out little things like my toilet seat looking stained, having to spray lysol in my bedroom since I've been sleeping and sweating and all that for the past couple of days without the window being open. She thinks there shouldn't be a problem on Tuesday because since in their estimation I'm the only resident since they moved here from the ghetto who has stayed more than two months. Other tenants had problems with the law, smoking weed (one of the reasons why I got twenty bucks off my rent is that I don't smoke pot) and generally being college students. From maribou's description it sounded more like this place was inhabited by park rats. My weekend is shot, another work week is upon me and after Tuesday my stress level will go down to something manageable. The only things I have planned are to camp out on Saturday morning for Sm*ckd*wn tickets, the rest is just working, sleeping and hopefully being able to see the Birds on Wednesday and Thursday. Actually one thing that I've been trying to do is to put people out of my mind because I know thinking about them or trying to fill the voids between their presence just drives me insane. Unfortunately it's not working as effectively as I would hope because going online I just run across stuff like The Legendary Pink Dots or a site about dogs or Snoopy or even orange juice will get me back in a rut. Of course this all goes back to what I was attempting to convey with my Kinja parable at the beginning of this entry. |
Well today is a big day because the rental company's coming over to check out my place and make sure that it's clean and I'm all paranoid about them finding fault in what I've done or what I haven't done. santa clausing: The act of going from house to house dropping off bags of trash into empty cans so your trash cans don't look overfilled and draw attention (or flies). Tonight's Raw finalized the fact that Sm*ckd*wn is going to be taped. Oh yeah nigga. I learned something tonight about relativity. Time moves slower the deeper you are in a gravity well. I'm in the basement, that means that I'm closer to the earth's core which means that my time is moving nanoseconds slower than the time that Jaybird and maribou are experiencing which means that as long as I'm down here I'll be living longer and getting more sleep. Anyway, I really wish I didn't blow things out of proportion and make this inspection into something where I fear coming home and seeing an eviction notice taped to my door or having to go to a meeting downtown sometime later so I could be told what a slovenly apartment I keep and all the cleaning I did the other day isn't going to fool them one iota, no sir. Or the worst thing running through my head is after hearing from maribou how there were musical tenants for the first year that they lived in the Birdhouse because of all the pot smoking and police activity. Shit they're going to plant a bag of weed down here and say I'm a big fucking pothead (or dealer because I'll come up clean on a piss or blood test and I had one about a month ago) and enough is enough and this only gave them an opportunity to actually see what was up with their mysterious tenant formerly of New Jersey and hey maybe Olympics guy thinks I'm too loud listening to my mp3s or singing in the shower or banging against the wall behind my bed when he's watching TV at midnight with the volume fucking cranked or maybe what happened to that one girl who came around to visit in March no one ever saw her again. Maybe my expecting the absolute worst is my way of making the best happen or just being so relieved when it ends up being nothing. The southwest family is a very interesting family. There's the crazy sibling called Utah who found God and believes that everyone should find God. Utah's big sibling, Colorado, is a law and order type who doesn't put up with much and doesn't look askance upon Utah's evangelism. Kansas is the dirty, homeless one who keeps bugging the other states for money. Oklahoma is the younger, looking up to Colorado but its fervor is more law and order rather than the born-again zealotry of Utah. Nevada on the other hand is the second oldest and can't stand Colorado or Utah going down its own path with gambling, whores and marijuana. Nobody really talks about California who has experimented with homosexuality, show business and always messing around with the skeevy girl next door Mexico. Arizona and New Mexico are the twins who keep to themselves and don't seem to talk to each other much in the first place, kinda like the daughters in The Shining. Did you hear about the pervert who went to fishing school? I'm watching Zelig before going to bed and it's appropriate. Things that please me:
Things that bug me:
I still need to get a copy of the Art of War because I lost my little, overthumbed copy of the Art of War and I always kept it in my magic box and get a copy of The Portable Nietzsche. My father made me really happy today sending me that Mad Magazine and that was the best part of his package. Tonight's entry would've been a real pill except getting the Mad Magazine, which I am saving for lunchtime, took the entire edge off everything despite the fact that it has a glossy interior and a few full page ads. amused This amuses me, winamp went from playing Time of Your Life to Wish You Were Here. It knows me. No, I guess I don't know you and I reckon I really don't want to know who you are either because I'm being a pissy little child or that I'm being realistic for once. Get involved or get the fuck out. tnx Nobody talks like me out here and it makes me feel lonely. I have tickets for Smackdown. I'm in the forty dollar seats but not on the floor. My seat is on the left of the wrestlers as they come down the ramp towards the ring. It would be third row if this was an ice event. I waited four hours and this was the best I could do for seats. Rumors on the line were the folks who were at the front when the box office opened were camping out since four in the afternoon the other day. Shit. I have my ticket and it's pinned to the wall in anticipation of September 17th. My sister appears to be more religious than I thought she was because she emailed me about how this couple having sex in St. Patrick's cathedral for the Opie and Anthony show is a sin. She followed that up with something she heard about God turning Medusa into the monster she was because she'd have sex with men in church. Oh dear. I'm eating right now and it's good. I ordered from Mexico Way and they got the order right this time which is a good thing because way back in June or July they were fucking things up and being rude about it which is why on Wednesdays and Thursdays they no longer have two-thirds of the patronage of this particular house. A recent dream that kept being forgotten involved standing outside in the driveway looking up in the sky. The building next door, not the methadone clinic, didn't block the sky and afforded a great view of the heavens. There were orange yellow streaks going through the sky followed by a slowly rotating, glowing meteor that crashed about half a mile east of here. The meteor was very cartoony with craters poking out of the sides. I climbed up on the roof of the house and looked out at the crash site which wasn't on fire but merely glowing with the same orange yellow luminesence. On Thursday night I wasn't feeling that good and I ended up calling every phone number I could remember or had written down that would've connected me to New Jersey. Unfortunately no one was home or they had changed their phone numbers. It was good despite the failure and it drove home how I feel out of place in Colorado simply because nobody tawks like me. Forget the whole thing of "fuck" being an extraordinarily bad word akin to the name of God when spoken can undo all of creation. After I got my ticket I slept all day on Saturday and read about transhumanism which introduced me to a cute word except I can't find any references to it, its etymology and the context in which it was first used which is intriguing me. Atheosis: The process of recovering from belief in God. Which reminds me of standing in line for Sm*ckd*wn tickets. There was some sort of religious shindig taking place at the World Arena while everyone was standing in line and about an hour before the box office opened some drone came around handing out Jack Chick comics. It had a green cover and I think it was a tract about evolution vs. creation but I wasn't handed one for some reason. I think it was the fact I was sitting on the cement playing my game and ignoring the rest of the people. What would really irritate me were the folks chattering about sell-outs they've heard about or how they felt all the good seats were taken. I wanted to just shout shut the fuck up at these imbeciles. John Crichton has it easy. He cracks a bug or a pod, snorts it and he's able to forget about Aeryn or at least the pain of longing for her is diminished for a time. I wish I had something like that drug. Speaking of Farscape I had a dream that took place in the Farscape universe where there were two sets of the main characters, one set had their own minds and the other set had shuffled their brains between their bodies willingly or unwillingly. Beyond that I can not remember what else happened in this dream which irritates the fuck out of me.  Well I think I have some good news even though it'll involve spending money I really oughtn't spend but I'll see what I'm going to do. It turns out that this painting is most likely still kicking around the artist's studio which means I'll be able to get it for myself which is something very happy because I really like this painting. I have no idea what the guy would want for it and I know I'm saving my money at the moment but I would like to be able to get this piece. After PPV I was wired and when I came in the only thing I could think was "Shit, something bad happened" and my head was full of shit like some park rats broke in or something happened back in New Jersey or maybe Devo had a relapse of what happened in July except they weren't able to do anything this time or that something is so very imminent that I'm catching future echoes. I seriously doubt it's from the two sodas I had over at Hooters. The only thing that keeps me thinking something bad is about to happen is that I'm getting that metallic bloody nose smell deep in my sinuses which I'd always get when I interact with police. Police as a whole represent bad things in my paradigm. So. I'm going to sleep and see what the next day brings me. Kylie says that I might be on edge because my apartment is clean and that most of my life is falling into place with no loose ends. I believe that this is beyond reductive reasoning in regards to my premonitions. My kneejerk reaction was "Shit, someone did something in my apartment and stole something or broke something." When I went through my place and everything was a-ok then I played out other scenarios and when those didn't play out then I talked with (at) Kylie for a bit then went to bed. Today when I got home I discovered that I no longer had good TV. Wah. Depending on how things go come October I'll see if I can get it back or if somehow it'll magically reappear on my TV. In the meantime I reckon I'll just rent videos. Tomorrow I'm going to call the rental office and make sure that I'm still a tenant in good standing and I'm sure that I am but having this happen and the recent inspection has put me on edge. I think that I can smell bad things but most likely this is from my current cold or allergy. Whenever I'd get pulled over by cops, back in the day, I'd get this metallic, bloody nose smell in my nostrils. Towards the end of yesterday and through most of today I had that smell that only I can sense which has put me on edge more than usual which is why I spazzed out last night. The only thing that I haven't heard back from to make sure everything is in its order and place is from Devo but I left a message on her answering machine and that was that. Apparently everything in New Jersey is okay and the Birds are alright and nothing has been stolen from my apartment. When this cold runs its course I'm sure that I'll be better or back to obsessing over the same old shit that I would usually obsess over and fret about which will either be a good thing because of the familiarity or a bad thing because it'd just be the same old shit. I do believe if I ever choose an animal to be my emblem I would choose the grasshopper. Much like the grasshopper of Aesop's Fables I procrastinate when I know I really should be doing something useful in preparation for What Is To Come which is usually a Bad Thing. Hi, I'm A.A. Milne. In another sense I figure I'm always learning so I'll never really consider myself a teacher and like in Kung Fu I will always be grasshopper. Let us not forget that grasshoppers are nothing more than locusts with a happy name which means eating all the fucking food in sight and considering my girth that would be strikingly appropriate. Plus the grasshopper, on average, tends to be green and if this site means anything I do like the color green except on that mick holiday about driving the snakes out of Eire. At lunch I wrote out something long and rambly about breeders who smoke but I wasn't that happy with it (actually I'm too lazy to go upstairs and fetch the backpack which holds my notebook) but I'll transcribe it sometime later this week for your entertainment. Kylie was insistent that I join her in Beelzebus while I guested and I did but it wasn't that interesting or fun especially after Kylie went to sleep because the big moose has a COLD and LARYNGITIS and hhsb vanished to do something like drink or masturbate but it wasn't that tiresome as a recent time where I logged in, joined Jaybird and talked with him briefly while he was chatting with the folks in the bus. Tuesday was a beautiful day that started out with amazingly dark and gloomy clouds pregnant with rain which delivered in almost a New Jersey fashion by being limp but constant giving the roads just enough that if the windows were open you'd hear the familiar whooooosh of car tires driving over wet asphalt. Sadly come quitting time the sun had burned away all the clouds and Colorado became Colorado again. It was another work day, nothing interesting or surprising and it went by at a decent pace. I know that I push myself like a stereotypical Japanese employee in order to meet unrealistic goals which is typical spivak. Why? I dunno. This is just a job, not a career or something I'd really want to be doing five years down the line. There's something bigger and better out there. After work I stopped at the supermarket for bread, seltzer and a treat and when I was leaving there was this one chick coming in who was wearing this see-through orange top and underneath that was the smallest black bra that I had ever seen. Sure the whole visual combination made her look like a five year old's drawing of a jack o'lantern but Jesus H. Christ don't even ask me her eye color because I was hypnotized by her vast boobs. Sixty seconds and a blaring car horn later I had come out of my daze and dashed to my car embarassed that I had held up traffic. Once I was halfway down Uintah (pronounced you inta) I realized that I'm not after fat chicks I'm just hypnotized by their enormous breasts. On the whole they tend to have larger breasts than average sized women even though it's all twinkies, fried butter and ho-hos. Please note that I have nothing against small boobs and I've had quite a rollicking time with two women who weren't tit queens. Kinja had the biggest set and I had fun with and there was a young woman who has Cs and maybe Ds depending on her mood which were a great set to cum between. I believe that I've only known one disappointing set of boobies in my life. When I told Jaybird he was all "DID YOU GET HER NUMBER!??!?!?!" but I told him my dilemma and he briefly commiserated with me. Don't let the title put you off because this isn't some weepy, suicidal entry. Once upon a time in New Jersey my group of friends included this thirtysomething guy who never held a job, lived with his parents and refused to get a driver's license because he was scared of the concept of driving not because of any deeply held political beliefs. One day his parents said they were moving to New Mexico and they weren't going to take him when they moved out of state. Eric had to straighten up and fly right really fast and he had a girlfriend for about three months, acquired a license and held a job for a while in addition to paying rent somewhere. Unfortunately he couldn't hack it and he finagled his way into living with his elderly parents in New Mexico. Brian ended up driving with Eric to New Mexico and coming back to New Jersey. No one really heard from Eric again. I decided that I would move to Colorado Springs and Brian said he would help me out in any way that he could help me in my choice. Most folks back in New Jersey haven't heard from me. Brian is Death. Thanatos. When Brian takes someone to the American southwest he's really clocking them over their heads and stuffing them into a chippershredder to destroy the evidence then he goes out to have a little fun while pretending to be driving across country. Thankfully the illusion of an afterlife lets his victims believe they're actually in the southwest. I certainly hope that Tim doesn't decide to move to Arizona anytime soon because it's been quite some time since Brian's had blood on his hands. Yet each man kills the thing he loves, My life is boring, I'm going to bed early. There was a woman in my apartment for about two minutes tonight. I ordered out and the delivery woman said she was interested in the apartment next door and wanted to know what places were running around here and told her I was paying about a hundred bucks less than the Birds and Olympics guy is paying out the nose and that next door it's pretty much the same with a few lofts and a few apartments which I'd assume would go for the same price as the ones in this building. I invited her down to see my place and the size of it then she left because she left her car running out in the road. So I had a bad moment when I came home from lunch today. I went from my bedroom to the kitchen for a seltzer and on the way back I said hello to my photo of Malyss sitting on Pinky's old table. Two steps later I had a vision of Malyss' corpse lying on the floor beneath the table and the photo was gone and I was talking to her earthly remains just oh so nonchalantly because it might as well be something as benign as a photo of Malyss under a tree in her backyard with the leaf shadows and light patterns playing so nicely on her face. Just really strange. So here's what's disappointing in my life right now. The baseball strike has been averted much to my chagrin. I was really psyched about the death knell of this boring game played by overpaid, steroid freaks who care nothing about the game. Yeah they'll drone on and on like Triple H about "Nobody eats, shits, sleeps or pisses %sport like me!!!" but that's all just hot air. If Triple H was that passionate about wrestling then he wouldn't have an ego and would job clean to someone like Chris Jericho or some of the newer talent. Baseball guys are just the same except they get paid more than wrestlers. Once baseball dies it will be relegated to American popular culture as something nostalgic once it lives only in the minds of people rather than being about high salaries and doing racehorse drugs to get the furthest hit or fastest pitch. It would be cool to see McGuire running the bases with bitch tits. The Colorado State Fair was quite lovely and I was disappointed that maribou got quality time with the little calf named Norman who nuzzled against her hand in his sleep and by the time I got around to him he was already awake and groggy from the people giving him attention. I did see the bunnies and roosters and the geese but not many animals. There were a bunch of helicopters flying around, twenty bucks a pop to fly around the fairgrounds and outlying areas of Pueblo but I figured I'm too fat and tired to even try plus it would've cut my money in half. My only regrets from tonight are seeming to bitch at Jaybird with stuff like "Well shit, you can't even see Mercury on the western horizon you gotta wake up early or stay up all night to see Mercury" and the fact that one can't get good french fries around here. Of course this is after marvelling at the firmament riding back home with maribou going on about how it's better in PEI and this is old hat to her because she grew up out in Bumblefuck though she really didn't put it that eloquently. While I was driving home from work I was marvelling at the mountains and the way the light played upon them because it's that fucking beautiful. Insert appropriate punctuation in order to convey my emphasis and seriousness about the sheer beauty of the mountains. Most times the mountains are just big natural billboards that block out everything to the west but there are the magical times where the light hits it just right and everything is so fucking three dimensional and every tree and every ridge and ever fold and every structure stands out and you can experience its majesty. Majesty, there is no other word. On the ride back I did realize that Colorado Springs is like a landlocked Mediterranean island where the little houses are inching up the face of the mountains. Tomorrow night I'll post pictures and stuff for you to see. I'm old, I get excited when I sit on a bench and I didn't have enough fair food. Good night. Since last March or April, probably before that, I've had a broken tooth. In mid April it started bothering me something fierce but a week's application of oragel seemed to make life liveable and the pain went away until now. The past week I've started having a dull ache go through the right side of my head, I spent an hour in front of the mirror with the little light from the paper moon lamp I have shoved in my mouth to see what's going on inside there like green, necrotic flesh, pieces of bone or tooth jutting through gums or just a hole going straight up into my skull. Unfortunately it's situated in a way that I can't see what's going on inside the broken area, the rest looks relatively fine, the gums are pink with no outward signs of infection to a layman. So I called a few dentists because by the time I returned from the fair the pain was starting to become unbearable but I wasn't about to start whining about it. The dentists I contacted won't see anyone who isn't a patient, I called the Colorado Springs Dental Society but they're closed but I conveyed my dilemma of not knowing anyone in Colorado Springs and being turned away like Baby Jesus and maybe I'll hear something back. Of course by the time I hear something the pain most likely will be gone and I would have moved on with everything and forgotten why I need to have the remains of this tooth taken out. So it's funny. The time when I had the time to take care of this was back when I didn't have any money available to get my tooth extracted from my head. Now that I have the money, and I'm not looking forward to it since it'll probably take away from what I have saved up, I don't have the time. Actually the dentists don't have the time since none of them will see a non-patient after hours and well I work seven to four which leaves little office time that doesn't edge into after hours. This week and the week after I'm sure that I will be entirely unable to take any time off because two managers are on vacation. Get this, I'm also pissed off. Had there been a snowballs chance in hell to visit Devo in Tulsa I would not have been able to take a personal day to visit her in Tulsa because two managers are on vacation. Of course I asked to see if I could take the Friday before Labor Day weekend off in lieu of the Tuesday after Labor Day off and got a firm no. Friday I found out that this woman who is related to one of the managers was able to take the day off before Labor Day. If I had, laugh riot, been able to go to Tulsa I would have been infuriated except that infuriation would've worn off on my triple digit juggernaut through Kansas still it would've kept me on edge through the weekend. Maybe. Of course the trip didn't happen, surprise surprise, and I'm here in Colorado Springs with what may turn out to be the Father of All Headaches. Regardless I'm going to make a half-hearted attempt to look for work on Sunday. This reminds me of how it's been described how I am able to handle pain. The only time I complain about pain is when I'm very sure that I'm going to be in Serious Trouble or when it's so unbearable that I just want it over so I can sleep so I complain about the pain. Just like when I cut open my ankle in 4th grade kicking in a window to steal Monday's test so I could avoid the inevitable and turning it around into a bad bike accident after I realized my sock and sneaker were soaked in blood then limping over to the church because churchy people are suckers. I had iritis for a month and turns out that by the time I had the amazingly brilliant, white hot pain shooting through my eyes whenever I looked at a light source brighter than a candle fifty feet away that I would've gone blind. I would've walked home after being thrown over the handlebars of my bike filling my palm with asphalt (and the subsequent "You're a guy you can't be a nurse, that's what girls do" followed by a painful scrubbing of the palm) but I was just too damned tired from a day of shoplifting with Leo and riding my bike all over creation to shoplift in Faraway Towns. When I twisted my ankle back in January or February it was kinda sad because I only called out because I knew I was alone and had the twist been any worse then I wouldn't have anyone to call upon for help but still I went to work the next day with my foot wrapped in an ace bandage, my boot tied tightly around the ankle for support and not moving any faster than my grandfather, rest his soul. Or the time that I had shingles and it wasn't much worse than being itchy but the doctors wondered why I wasn't doubled over in pain or unable to move considering the severity of infection. Physical pain is nothing unless it's an insane woman going "MISTER NIPPLE OH HELLO MISTER NIPPLE" just keep the fuck away from them and my ass is exit only. Okaythanks. I'm sure that the fact that I really don't like this will only serve for whatever woman, since I've been declined or pushed aside by the retarded shopteachers handful (much less than a shopteachers handful), to go elsewhere because she'd want to be able to do this to someone else and I'm just a stupid fucking prude who isn't open to things. Yeah, I'll blame my pessimism and being cranky on my tooth hurting and making my skull hurt. Right now I can feel the pain right above my right ear and oh my god whatever's causing this is eating into my skull and soon it'll give me a brain tumor and I'll start smelling smoke and barbeque and skunk when there's nothing of that sort around here or within smelling distance. later on saturday This is kind of sad to consider regarding interpersonal relationships. The worst thing someone can do is fall in love with the idea of a person rather than who that person truly is in objective reality warts and all. Of course once one falls in love with the idea and comes to realize the horror of that person's reality which would be antithetical to one's vision which is all soft light and Martha Stewart cinematographical trickery. That is the crucible where relationships are made or broken depending on the will of one or both participants. Does one embody the virtuous integrity to stand firm and accept the reality with the ideal creating a mutt of some sort which is much hardier like its biological counterpart than a purebred or would one simply forsake one, the other or both in order to pursue the ideal? After this singular moment everything continues, changed but without the bitter aftertaste of having undergone a radical shift in perception. All relationships end with death and after death then the person is left with only the idea of the person, going back old ground which was cordoned off with "POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS" tape despite the implied dire consequences of treading that ground all over again but after a loved one's death there is only that land of memory. Sure it can be peppered with real life situations that give the illusion of continuing with the physical, not in the sexual sense, relationship but in the end it all resides in the imagination of the widower. Is the reality of a person inherently superior than the fantasy of who someone is or could be to an individual? Are they simply compliments to each other with no particular value beyond what they represent? Does it matter that they can not juggle? Does it matter that they will love other people in an intense way one would reserve for that special person? the fair The fair was lovely. In a nutshell we ate, went to the crafts pavillion before splitting up so maribou could see her crafty arty-farty stuff and Jaybird and I would walk around talking at each other while taking in the sights. There were rabbits the size of dogs and roosters and geese. We ended up walking around talking about how old we are and the best thing about the fair was finding a decent bench after touring the excitement. The sky was filled with helicopters rising and setting behind fences for folks bearing twenty dollar tickets, the smell of fair food was everywhere and I just couldn't get myself to find someplace to sit down and just eat fair food which is the best part of a fair. Inside I was thinking going to a fair like this was really something where one would go with someone. Maybe The Someone, maybe someone who's special 'just for now' to share the experience and not feel like one's standing out as a sore thumb being alone. I did get a good picture of the Birds in addition to other pictures but I can't find the connecting cable for my digital camera to download them. A shame since I found this 1953 Oldsmobile 88 about a block away from my job which allegedly still has its original engine, transmission and the only thing new is the #00FF00 paintjob. It looks great but I wonder if it would run. Plus my father's probably all caught up restoring his Packard and wouldn't want to bother with Yet Another Car until his project is finished to his satisfaction. Around the time we rendezvoused with maribou the right side of my head started to ache something fierce but I kept it to myself. The one time where I mentioned what was going on was thankfully unheard or ignored lest I come across as a whiner yet again. It's late at night, I really want to watch Turner Classic Movies because I'm sure there'll be something very watchable on there. |
