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May 2001 To absent friends, lost loves, old gods and the season of mists. In the middle of the night I woke up from being dead asleep and dreaming that Devo had come over. My family had just adopted two gorillas, both girls, a large one named Dimly and the wee baby gorilla named steamy. When Devo came into the house, everything in the foyer was broken because of the jostling between Ben, Kate and Dimly to say hello to whomever is at the door first and their excitement. My parents came downstairs to say hello to Devo while I wrestled Dimly very poorly since she was a strong gorilla. Devo got pretty velvet jewel boxes that could've been considered jewelry themselves except the most precious thing about them were the pieces of metal between each side. We went upstairs to a classroom and sat back-to-back while I tickled Steamy and Devo sorted her booty. I think we held hands. The class around us was more like charades than a science class. "Bright Sunny Day" was a lesson followed by a song about why the sun is blue-green (it's better for our complexions that way). I ended up hiding under a desk because I didn't want to be asked any questions. Around that time I woke up abruptly, grabbed a notebook and paper and scrawled in notes about the dream as best as I could before things evaporated in the light of morning. The night before I had some dreams which were intense and I was so sure that I would remember them once I woke up. No dice. So... This weekend wasn't a particularly nice weekend because I had a 100+ fever until yesterday that left me feeling dizzy, woozy and acting wholly unlike myself. Also my friend from elseMOO, who is also on Lambda, found out that I am spivak a day before I was going to tell her and she was pissed that she had to find out for herself rather than me telling her. She saw that I was going to tell her anyway but that doesn't mean anything because I didn't get a chance to tell. Hi, Kylie. We play scrabble, yahtzee and boggle. I'm going to write about my friends again like last year except there are markedly fewer this time around than there were last year in June. I don't care if it makes people bitch at me thinking I don't consider them a friend or whatever. Just right now I can only be comfortable around a handful of people. An inbred's handful. Well, I'm not going to the game tonight despite what people think is best for me and I'll just try to write up something for all six people. I think it was twelve last year. The nice thing is that I'll only have to roll a six sided die which is easy to find unlike a twelve sider. I am a beast. I have no idea what is up with HBO today. Since waking up they've been showing boring, heavy handed Jew holocaust movies and documentaries. I really don't give a shit because it was part of NJ's curriculum to teach about the Holocaust and from junior high on up through college I just starting rolling my eyes whenever I'd hear about ovens, soap and lampshades to the point that joking about it isn't funny anymore because it is so old like the chicken crossing the road. Gonna be dropping my therapist next week and either I'm going to not look for another therapist for a few weeks or I'll find someone who might work out better for me. Just doing web work, the only big project ahead of me right now is making a shopping area for Project B (yet more procrastination on my behalf) since I'm almost done making these mp3 clips of music and I'm waiting for other multimedia to come in so I can plop it on ProjectB.com. On my mind is wondering about how I always seem to sit back and wait for people to come to me rather than me going to them. Shyness? Laziness? Embarassed because I think I'm putting too much effort for so little in return and therefore I'm more of a schmuck than I was before? When I do get away from New Jersey, or this house, I definitely want to have enough in the bank for a deposit and three months rent. Enough money to live on for a month while looking for work or waiting for the next paycheck and being able to pay for moving costs. Only minor bug would be the feeling of being alone but that should be assuaged by the fact that the places I'd go to would have people I know and would interact with rather than going somewhere that I know no folks. I still have a cough but I reckon it's getting better. Now I'm scraping the bottom of the barrel and there's not much else to write. Bye. Oh yeah, what happened to Rebeka's page? It just vanished without any warning and her man has stopped updating his page (not that I read his page, I figured that he might have information about her whereabouts). I have this idea that either she's swimming across the Pacific, was kidnapped by the ICC or is wearing a very snug fitting garment in a padded cell. Just a small piece of a dream from last night that I had forgotten about until I told Jaybird and maribou about it. I was going through this little house having anal sex with women and at one point I was going into the shower to pour the coal to this redhead who was in the shower. I looked in the bathroom mirror and saw that I was short, fat and black. Oh dear. What did I do? I opened my mouth really wide and started singing, "Mammy's little baby loves shortnin' shortnin'! Mammy's little baby loves shortnin' breeeeaaad!!" And that is my little tale. Damn it. Just damn it. My father pointed out that the web site for a Millburn business association has been abandoned and the folks who run it might be interested in having someone else come in and revamp it. At best I could squeeze them for fifty, at worst thirty, an hour. I just took a look at it and I wasn't impressed with it. The business directory had tiny text and the businesses were just another face in the crowd. Hardly exciting or enough to keep people around on the site and bring business to the community. I decided to look into revamping the site and it turns out that they're contracted with some guy doing the web site (they're not happy with him) until the end of the year. Obviously, it's May. Shitlicking cockfuck. Anyway, I have the little wheels rolling in the back of my head and getting up momentum to come in and do the site right. Go around town, get businesses interested in having a web presence (I figure about four hours of work for each business at the most and that is if they have a menu to go online) and then get their sites listed under a single domain. I can't see e-commerce being something these people would want to have. It would be interesting, for example, to set up sites where people could order pizza online and have it delivered to their house. Keep that site running for six months and after everything's said and done I give my proposal to the Millburn business association and have them buy out the site I started and just slap the new name on the work I already did. Whee, getting paid twice! Gotta think about this. Just got back from a drive with my father where I used my pitch on him. He likes it but I know he's not being that objective. He told me that the guy doing the website was contacted today and said he would be updating the site in the next couple of days and it would involve revamping the site. I'm going to see what he's gonna do before I make my pitch to the organization. I'm sure it's going to suck a lot of cock. From what I was told, this site is supposed to be updated monthly. Rocco's cute. He's lying over to my right on one of the shelves and he looks so overheated and tired on the shelf. Fucking hell it's been oppressive lately, nearly ninety degrees for the past two days and in the high eighties the rest of the time. Where has the lovely cool weather gone off to? Just rambling now. Not that I wasn't rambling before, I was thinking while I was typing. That's about it for tonight. Nite-nite. I'm tired. I'm sick. I'm depressed. What else is there to say?  Oh, might as well write about my friends. I'll do it in one lump sum. I love all these people. Jaybird and maribou They're always on and they always seem to have something to say even if I don't have anything to say but most times I end up saying something. Jaybird is always interesting even though his replies are usually "Cool" or "Smoke break" but that's because he's busy at this thing called "work" but hey it's good to touch base for any reason. Y'know? Devo Devo's really special to me but most times I feel the feeling is unrequieted. Maybe the feelings I have aren't mirrored because she likes me in a different way. I know that I'm someone very dear in her life and one of a shop teacher's handful who have reached a special place in her heart (heh, sounds like scientology) but either she's not in a place where she can open herself up like that to another human or she just doesn't think she can see me that way. Okay, I should shut the fuck up and get out of her mouth and let her speak for herself but it's my diary and I'm posting what goes through my head. I do honestly hope that I'm always in contact with her or someday she'll be visitable on a regular basis. She's one of the few people who I would kill for. Plus she loves animals the way I love animals. That's way important to me.  Brian I love this guy like a brother. God bless him. He deserves better and I hope Deanna turns around someday because his happiness is important to me because I know he truly truly loves Deanna. When I saw how much I was surprised, kind of like the kind of surprise one would feel if they hung around Hitler and he said "Y'know? Those Jews aren't so bad. I love them. I think I'll send them all blintzes and invite them over for passover wine. I even bought one of those beanies." He was a bigger lothario (Jaybird called me a lothario a few weeks ago. It surprised and amused me.) than me and I hold his conquests in high regard. But seeing him express and feel those kinds of emotions for another human being and the pure honesty in it showed a new depth to my best friend. Malyss Things are odd between Malyss and me because she's gotten herself wrapped up in a whole new life that's bounded by happiness and I'd like to reach out and I know that I'm welcome to reach out to her but still she's busy and things. Not work busy. Hehehe. I'll get a beating for that. I have nothing but happy thoughts about her but sometimes I wonder if I'm looking back on things with raisin colored glasses. She is surly but deep down she is a very sweet and kind human being. Tim Must. I like Tim that much because I'm sure once he gets some that he'll become refreshed and face the world with new eyes. Damn it, man! I worry about you! Kylie I've known her since last year from elseMOO playing boggle, yahtzee and scrabble and we mostly talk on Yahoo Messenger. Of course late last month she found out that I was spivak even though I kept the fact from her because being spivak is tedious most times and I can't get away from being spivak except around Devo, Jaybird, maribou and Malyss. She's cool, she's listened to me whine and bitch plus she laughs at my stupid stuff sometimes. I'm going to try and write up something for tomorrow about the people I don't like. I can't use the term hate because that's way too strong to use and hate implies some sort of inclusion in someone's social circle by virtue of exclusion. Definitely going to be harder to do than writing about the people I like. Now I have George Michael's "Faith" going through my head. I want to learn an instrument but none of those mouth instruments because they get all gross with spit and things. Plus I weighed myself today and the scale said I was 288 pounds. For the longest time I've been hovering at 300. Whee! I missed a day and I couldn't care less. I know I was going to write about people I dislike but the thing is that there aren't enough people that I dislike to write about here and even then upon reflection it's merely ambivalence on my part. The only big thought I had all weekend was the fact that I would be elsewhere other than New Jersey for a year or two but I would eventually come back and move someplace where I could be a half hour from the shore. When that island in the Canary Islands chain finally falls into the ocean at least I'll know within two hours I will most certainly be dead, knocked unconscious by the increase of air pressure caused by the tsunami followed by being drowned by the monstrous wall of water which most certainly must be far more terrible than any tidal wave that has haunted my dreams in the past. Today's going to be my last day at therapy with my current therapist. Not quite sure when I'm gonna be going to therapy again. I'm thinking when I break down or after I'm out of this place and on my own and realize that there are issues that being away from this house that still need attention. Lots of my mental bullshit comes from being under this roof. Sunday morning helped reinforce my feeling to get out and get away from everything because the fucking dogs were barking for an hour trying to get my father's attention. Sure, I'll hear them bark and whine and let them outside to do their business but once they're back in they resume their chorus to summon my father. When he's not around or if I pull an all nighter on Saturday into Sunday the dogs are quiet. Here's the result of my one day poll which was the simple question: Which is it? The choices were love me: 5 votes, ambivalent: 4 votes, hate me: 0 votes. Whee, or something. I'm not in a bad mood but I'm not in a good mood. Just pondering the nature of passion. I believe that when one is passionate, it's wasted energy. Especially if it's for another human being. Jaybird made this point and it made sense because passion makes people into what they are not and I know from experience that is not a good thing. My belief is just that passion is always wasted because the focus of one's passion is never appreciative and passion's always unrequieted. I have nothing productive to say right now. I just hope some day someone is in love with me. Gentle Reader, I posted recently how I'm fed up with my situation. Out of my father's shadow and out from under my mother's thumb. What I have chosen as my destination, for a year or two, is Colorado for the simple fact that Jaybird and maribou live out there and they're pretty cool. I'd feel strange moving somewhere I didn't know anyone. California seems way too expensive and they have all those blackouts. Dunno about Oklaholma, the only reason I would go there would be obvious but I wouldn't want to stress anyone out or have them think I'm thinking of moving out there to push any issues when it would just be to be closer but moreso to get away from this house. Last night my mother came home and told my sister in no uncertain terms that she wanted her out. My mother went off on my sister with how my sister's a little princess and she has it easy and how my mother has had it up to here with the situation. When my mother spoke with my father, since I wasn't home because of gaming, she went off on how she wants me out of the house and then added how she's thinking of my father getting out of the house. This all stems from a lovely dinner my father was having with my mother a few weeks ago. One of my father's employees gave my father's cell phone number to this girl the employee knows and the girl figured that my father had this employee on a short leash. The girl phoned my father's cell while he was eating out with my mother and somehow that caused friction. I'm really sure my mother thought my father has a woman on the side and she was calling him up for one reason or another. My mother isn't entirely right in the head. I was thinking about this today and it hit my father as making some sort of sense because I figure my mother got the idea my father might be screwing around from the cell phone call because of The Sopranos. The Sopranos? Well, Tony's getting calls on his cell phone and shit like that plus he's cheating left and right on Carmela. My father's an honest businessman who is well respected in Millburn and is going to receive a big award in July in appreciation for all that he's done for the town and the lives he's touched. Sadly he'll be in the Caribbean when it's awarded and he feels bad that he can't change his plans to be around for the pomp and ceremony. Eh, that doesn't read right. My father's not messing around on my mother and I know I would be the first to know if he was doing anything untoward. This is typical of my mother because for as long as I can remember she's always gone off on how she thinks my father's screwing around behind her back. What she bases this on, I have no idea. Okay, I do have an idea. My father's father had a friend Mrs. Monahan who would never come into the business except after hours. Everyone knew my grandfather had something going on with her and she was definitely not welcome at any events or at the funerals for my grandmother and grandfather. Funny thing, the bitch came to the reception after my grandmother's funeral but as soon as she entered the restaurant she flew forward and hit her head hard on the corner of a wall and had to be taken away in an ambulance. Everyone's sure that my grandmother's ghost pushed Monahan from behind. Go grandma! Anyway. My mother won't even watch The Sopranos anymore but she gets all pissed off when my father watches The Sopranos with my sister in my sister's room. Plus if my father was really connected with the mafia why the fuck would the family allow him to marry a polack instead of a nice Italian girl who could trace her ancestry back to God knows when? The point is somehow my mother put two and two together and compares my father with Tony Soprano. She's not rational. My plans are simple. Get about five thousand bucks in my bank account (I figure that will cover the costs for moving, security deposit and three months rent), pack up my shit and get out of the house by December. If I'm not out by December, at least things will be in motion to the point that it will be just weeks until I'm away from New Jersey. This move will also be a half assed way of doing my cross country trip. Standing in the surf of the Pacific ocean and watching the sunset will just have to wait but until then I'll have the long shadow of the Rockies at sunset. My mother's fedupness is probably going to push this issue to the point that it might happen much sooner. I really don't want to stand for that because I want to move out on my own terms and under my own power not because she pushed me out. Since she's proven herself to be exactly like her own mother, my mother will probably say something along the lines of "If it wasn't for me pushing you out, you would've never left and that would've been your father's fault and you should thank me for getting you off your ass." No. I won't stand for it. I am going to leave. Soon. On my own power and of my own volition. I don't want to owe anyone anything at all. This is mine and my gift to myself. Moving out will be for me not for my father's sake or because my mother made so much fucking noise that there was no other option. When I spoke with my father earlier I merely mentioned that there is one person who is shouting for three people to get out of the house. If my mother wants three people out, it'd actually be easier if she got the fuck out and got her own fucking place. Three versus one. He mentioned that once my sister and I are out of the house she'll realize that she is all alone because she's pushed people away. Now my sister's soft on my mother and I can't talk frankly with my sister about my mother because she's always defending her or going off on how I'm no saint. Right, I know that. I'm sure eventually my sister would come around and start communicating with my mother soon afterwards. As for me, I would just ignore her. If she phones me up, I'll hang up on her. If she comes over, open the door just so I can slam it in her face. If my father came around with my mother I would be polite and cordial for his sake. What's next? I dunno. Today I dropped off my proposal to take on Project D and noted that Project D hasn't been updated since November despite the fact the guy doing the site is going off with "I'm almost done with it." I'll see you in church. I just hope that this doesn't make the punk get his ass in gear and put something up out of fear of losing his lucrative contract. I want him to continue making his own rope so he can hang himself. What might be in my way other than the contract with him is that one of the women in the business association thinks this guy is the best thing since sliced milk. I'll change her mind when I show her Project A and Project B. I could show her Project C except it's barely finished and uploaded. Heck, there isn't even a ProjectC.com set up. What I was originally going to write about was the way the light has been really beautiful lately. Daytime has been cartoony with the crisp, dark shadows and night time is just flooded with blue moonlight. Just gorgeous, fucking gorgeous. Finally I changed the background image on my desktop from maribou giving Jaybird a noogie to this one picture Devo took of us where the flash went off and ended up making our faces really white and I call it the ghost pic. I updated my resume, mentioning Projects A through C and emailed the boss in NYC telling him of the situation and asking him for a little consideration and asking for more work so I can get more hours under my belt which means more cash for me. Hopefully that will work out for me and I will be going into town on Thursday to meet with the people in charge of the website (not the guy doing the website but the people paying for the site). Got my fingers crossed. Just means more money for me. Oh yeah, check out my gaming diary. I wrote up something about running a vampire game set in New Jersey. Now to watch some fetish and lesbian porn then talk online for a wee bit but not Lambda. Bah, one last thing. Yeah, I'm planning on being away from New Jersey for a year or two. Working and living elsewhere but I do plan on returning to New Jersey. There's very little that I can think of which would make me think twice about not returning to New Jersey. When I do return, I'm going to live in central New Jersey so I can be within a half hour of where all my friends live and so getting to the shore wouldn't be a two to three hour haul. Why close to the shore? I know someone who likes the shore and misses being near the ocean, also I'd like to have the luxury of going on the beach in autumn after the equinox when nobody is around and fly a kite or get up early to watch the sunrise. Plus I'd have someplace to hang around in the summertime. |
Yesterday I drove all the way to Bloomsbury to an old college friend's house to see if she was still living there but no one was home. I've been trying to get in touch for a year but when I check 411 or go through theultimates.com/white it comes up with the same phone numbers each time but when I call those numbers either the phone has been disconnected or it goes to whomever owns the phone number nowadays. While I was driving up Rt. 78 west I had this feeling that I shouldn't even stop off and find the place but just continue driving out west until I felt like stopping. Someplace far away. But I only had about eighteen bucks in my pocket. I'd run out of gas once I hit the middle of Pennsylvania. Since I was driving in unfamiliar territory I was using my father's car so if I did get pulled over then there wouldn't be all those sticky questions like "Where's your insurance" and "Why isn't your car inspected?" since I don't have either for my car. So if I continued driving out west then I could also get hit with stealing the car. So after I found the house to be dark, I just turned tail and headed back home. My only company being a mix tape Devo sent me a month or two ago. I've had some things bugging me in the head and I'm going to puke them out here because I figure once I have them written down and in the light of day they'll seem more manageable and I'll know how fucking nuts in the head I am for thinking them in the first place. Lately I've been tired of thinking that women are capricious. That their love and companionship can evaporate quickly and completely at the drop of a hat because essentially life is cruel. That kind of thinking makes me an emotional cripple like I lost an arm. With only one good arm I hold on even tighter and doing that only serves to push women away from me. Rereading that, I'm seeing that as me ascribing some sort of power to myself and women are without their own motivations. Anyway. I think the rest of the world is a whole lot more lovable than I am and the world is set up to exclude me from engaging in any fun things. There are things that I want in life because I know I deserve them but the more I think that, the further out of reach they become to me. I reckon I'm too fat, too unattractive and after sex all women feel is complete revulsion that they engaged in such acts with me. The only times I hear otherwise is when I talk with people who like me and I reckon they're just feeding me a line so I shut the fuck up already about myself or shut the fuck up with the god damned whining all the time. What this boils down to is that I judge myself harshly and I can't comprehend that I am so harsh so I project that kind of judgement on other people or groups because it's easier to accept life that way. I remember my therapist telling me that doing therapy with me was much easier than the rest of her patients because I had already intellectualized all my feelings and came across as able to deal with them but I still haven't come to terms with my feelings on an irrational level. My feelings with my feelings. So she didn't give me those stupid little homework assignments to overcome how I feel about myself. Ohwait, she gave me this thing to write out the good I could see in me and then write out the bad I see in me. My sister, on the other hand, said I should write down my fears and face them. I've already done most of those. Going out to find Sarah. Telling Kylie that I'm spivak. Quit therapy. Still got one more and I have thirteen days to deal with it. Whee or something. After I got home from my trip down Rt. 78W I figured that I would get out of here after July 4th because I want to watch the fireworks from the backyard one more time. Even though last year's display went to shit because of strife between me and my mother, I still want to see them from the backyard in peace and relative quiet. Hear the car alarms go off after a huge explosion. Watch the tree shadows dance against the back of the house as the fireworks glare and fade. Marvel and decease. I just don't want to watch them alone. Things will just work out that I will watch them alone. Oh yeah. To end my entry I'm gonna post these two pictures of Jaybird and maribou since I said I was going to post them two days ago but then all that shit came down then it slipped my mind until maribou gently reminded me. 
spvk hrt jbrd n mrb See you tomorrow. I have a problem with cartoons. The cartoonists never get the outhouses right. Men using outhouses that have a moon carved in the door. If there's a sun carved on the outhouse door, it's for guys. If there's a moon carved on the door, it's for chicks. Today I fleshed out the campaign world that I mentioned in the gaming diary entry, figuring out what the big story behind the game will be, making personalities and factions then working out the various points of interest in Asbury Park. I also recreated Monty Prince for the Tuesday game and I hope I get to play. My father doesn't want me leaving New Jersey and he says that he knows of a decent place over in Union where I could stay for a few months by myself but I'm not going to bite because when I leave this house I want to leave New Jersey behind and be by myself in another state. Oookay, not entirely by myself. Let's say Brian or Devo or I run across someone out there who I like and they'd want to move in that'd be alright. Anyway, fat chance on the last sentence happening. Been thinking about possible dates for my departure so I can plan and get things moving. I think I'll need a month to get my shit together, have to buy storage space, niggling shit like that. Three possible dates are in my head for this. After July 4th because I want to see the fireworks from my backyard one last time. After Hallowe'en or the Weird NJ Hallowe'en Party. I've never been to one but I hear they're quite a hoot. After December. All my mother needs to know is I'm leaving. If she gets a clue of when I am leaving due to shit being moved out of my room or boxed up, fine. I'm not going to tell her where and I'd like to keep it that way. If she does find out, big fucking deal. My father told me something when we went out for lunch on Friday. My sister said to him that the way my mother's acting she's going to end up a lonely old crone. If I heard that first hand I would've said nothing or acted like she always acts when defending my mother but very sarcastically. I figure I'll be back in New Jersey in three to five years. There's only one thing that will keep me from changing that plan. Saying that makes me wonder if I'm going to hear another round of "You're getting the wrong idea" (yeah, that's pretty much boiled down) or folks feeling guilted. Fuck it. Oh yeah, today was the first day in quite a while that I watched Saturday morning cartoons. There's this one cartoon on Fox with a small robot called Rusty and another called Big Guy which was pretty keen. X-Men on WB was much better than the X-Men that was on Fox. Pokemon was just okay, a rather dull Johto Journeys episode about skarmory. I spent Mother's Day playing Baldur's Gate in my room. My gift to her was not telling her to rot in hell. Keeping in the spirit of Mother's Day I sent out a card, an e card, to someone's mother. Now Sopranos then bed. I got stuff to do tomorrow. No entry. Maybe tomorrow or something. Right now I'm in a mood. I hate everyone. I hate Brian. I hate Jaybird. I hate Devo. I hate my father. Hate hate hate. I don't want to write an entry for tonight but I already have stuff for an entry on *stonecutters which I'll recompose for here because it's fairly light and not an angry kind of moody that I have right now. The last part is revealing about my nature and that's from a conversation last night that I had with Kylie on Yahoo Messenger. So before I transcribe this I want to say fuck you all and die screaming. Not like saying that would mean anything since none of you have anything to do with me except for having some sort of patch that says "I befriended Haakon Studebaker" and that's more than enough for all you peckerheads. All of you. No one is singled out. So I start up my laptop today and I look down at the system tray and get the impression there aren't enough icons in there. After I connect and check my email I then realize it looked so sparse because I didn't have the icon for Pegasus Mail in it. Ugh. MORE THAN A WOMAN! I have that stuck in my head. I also had a bit of a dream where I was on a humid, windswept midwest plain and people were parked on the sunset side of the road and across the street on the sunrise side of the road they were building a little restaurant called "Thirty Online Miles". The thing about this place was the fact that they were building a full size replica of the front of the building for their sign as their gimmick to draw in diners. The sign was top heavy and fell down crashing through the facade of the diner but the thing was that they just nailed up the facade to the restaurant and nobody noticed except there wasn't a big gimmicky sign. Also there was a dream about the ocean freezing over and I was on the beach and there were huge waves, the kind of waves that would suck me under and drown me of nightmares past, but the waves were frozen and were more like frozen bubbles of water that would form and go pfffft like a loose fart. The shoreline looked like it was made up of broken concrete but it was just broken up sheets of ice from the ocean trying to break free of its icy bondage. Throughout most of the dream I always had a different girl under my arm. Nobody that I know from irl or online. Just odd. Now I have to take a serious shit and let the dogs out because I promised them I wouldn't Deanna on them. Now to go poop before it creeps back up in my intestines and I have to wait to try to get the poop out of me again. Oh! There was one woman from real life who was under my arm. Diane who runs the Tuesday hack and slash roll-playing game. I had my arm around her and was walking to this beige SUV that was collapsable and she decided to do some roleplaying where she was the Toreador prince of Kansas City getting to know my Nosferatu Monty Prince. She asked if I had an entourage and I said I had my rottweilers who were ghouled. She asked if she could pet them and she did very lightly but I told her to really get into it and rub their big melon heads. I said, as Monty, "Look what I can do. I gotta blindfold them first." and I tore off a piece of my t-shirt and wrapped it around the rottweiler's eyes and started wrestling and explaining if I didn't blindfold the rottie he would freak seeing my ugly Nosferatu face so close to his and bite me then taste my vampire blood and then gorge on my vampire blood to become a powerful ghoul and kill me. Have I mentioned MORE THAN A WOMAN? Fucking seventies with their cocksucking John Travolta. My shit being successful and the dogs took care of business. Their dirty, filthy business on Flanders' front lawn. Who the fuck is on rcn.net? I think I might know who it is. If it is who I think it is (Quinn) then I would be pleasantly surprised because I wouldn't have thought the individual was interested in online diaries. Or it might just be Chuck. Since no one else is around, I shall begin the spamming. It'll commence, that is. I have to eat lunch then go shower. Can I reach 111000 in less than five minutes? Without using mail verbs? I remember that mail verbs were what people felt killed *p7 except for the fact that six figured people were posting and were looked down upon by the folks who now cower behind *ttmi because they think their lives should remain secret but they still have to post about them. Christ, it's not like you're posting your IRL information. I have to set up an email for my father so he can check his email without his wife going through it. Ah, even after I'm gone the secrecy will continue. One moment, a brief respite. Cocks and dongs and bongs and falling down in clear urine and Wellsie getting upset because of emtpy epithets being cast towards people who are all cover and no book. So what if you get talked about on *anon. The thing to remember is that if you don't respond and just ignore it, it'll go away quicker. Kinda like when Archie Bunker decided to let Edith ramble on but her ramblings were concise and to the point much to his surprise. It's when they know they drew blood they will dig in and finish the kill. But people think they're so self important with sheep and drone friends who automagically leap to someone's defense unasked and that just stirs things up. If you stay quiet and ignore it like a fucking adult, it'll go away. If it persists then you can use your brain and figure out which person online seriously has something against you and then take it from there. Hrm. Need more content. And there are only eight more to go. Then the new round of binaries begin. The last round of binaries that anyone will ever see unless I renumber the list. Is GreyDruid on? Not that I would know since everyone ignores him. hhsb won't be a good old lesbian because she won't have a house filled with cats. Let it be, let it be. Speaking words of wisdom, let it be. Thanks for that. I needed to get that BeeGees song out of my head. Binary. A few more. And then there will be more binaries. When I find myself spamming for numbers... Eh, that's not funny. Just stupid. LIKE ME!!!!!!!!!!!!11111 =D Smokey tokey. Go. The world needs more redheads and brunettes. Not brunette brunettes but black haired chicks like the hologrammed Thermians on Galaxy Quest. Black hair and icy eyes. Oooh. Fewer blondes. Especially the Asian and negro blondes. Yeah, that's real natural. Oh yeah, the Latinas who decide to go blonde. Oooh. Just a few more tens and then it'll be the last round of binaries. I'm so fat. Oh well, I won't be getting the amazing 111111 binary. That's up for someone else to get. Of course, people will just skip what I posted. Christ, I used to do that kinda shit on *anon. I should know! I'm sure that's akin to trusting an ex-convict to give you security tips. Doesn't change the fact that I have a tongue like an anteater. I wonder if I'm good at eating cunt because I'm fat and my tongue gets exercise from processing solid food down my fat gullet. Heh, the picture of Alan Greenspan on cnn.com is funny. He looks like "This is the best we can do but we're basically fucked." The article's about how the Fed cut rates again. BLAME THE REPUBLICANS BECAUSE REPUBLICANS ARE EVIL AND RUSH LIMBAUGH IS GAY WITH LAURA SCHLESINGER SINCE CONDOR AND GILMORE SAID SO!!!!!!!!! Bart Simpson on the big screen? Cowabunga! HOLLYWOOD, California -- Fans of Fox's long-running, critically acclaimed sitcom "The Simpsons" soon might see Bart and family on the silver screen. According to Variety, the recent high-priced deal between the studio and the voices of everyone's favorite dysfunctional cartoon family -- Dan Castellaneta, Hank Azaria, Harry Shearer, Yeardley Smith, Julie Kavner and Nancy Cartwright -- included options on two feature films. Variety says the first feature could be worth $500,000 to the voice actors. Apparently, Fox was adamant about putting the feature clauses in the contract. Fox fans will recall that another Fox show -- "The X-Files" -- also went to the big screen in 1998. What's certain is that thanks to the deal, "The Simpsons" -- now in its 13th year -- will keep the TV show on the air for two more seasons. I think Gilmore had his head shaved in one of those old bash pictures, probably from CT bash. Does that mean he's busy beating up niggers and screaming about the Zionist occupational government while his scalp was shorn? I remember Condor's hair was worn particularly short at the bash I attended and he's German. Isn't that ominous enough? I find no shame in using the term "nigger" as long as the negroes use it amongst each other. And then I post all the goodbyes after I do @lurk and @sc to see who is online and reading *stonecutters. (wellsie) But spivak, you don't like it when I sit back and ignore you. I mean, I could sit there and call you troll and get irritated at you, or I could just fade into the mists of time, and you can write in your diary that you used to know people that were nice and blah blah blah. I mean, what's the point anymore? The last time I got irritated at you was *months* ago. And I even explained everything. Why bring it up now? Because you're bored? Because you've exhausted the writing possibilities of holding back a big crap? (benny) BYE MKL! AND THANK YOU FOR VISITING LAMBDAMOO! (greydruid) Fucking 80's with their Steve Guttenberg movies introducing that song to kids like me. (quinn) Got a new word game for y'all. It's not done yet, but you can play one turn in a game that won't end by following these steps: @addfeature #80666 @tm Then make a word out of the tiles shown and type `@tm WORD' to play it. I'm showered and fed. (greydruid) I'm neither. That Wellsie. She's adorable when she's smug and self-important. SMOOCH! mkl hrt pom
When I was talking to Kylie on YM last night she asked me jokingly when I was going off on a tangent "What's your problem?" I switched gears abruptly and gave this answer. My problem is simple. I go after women that I think are unobtainable or that they are disinterested in me so when I do go after them and get snubbed I can cry and get attention. It all stems from my familial relationships. I don't want to please my mother, which would go along with an oedipal complex, but I want that love. Not from her. But from another source where I know the water isn't tainted so to speak. As if that love could fill the hole inside of me even though it really, really can't fill that hole. Now I'm feeling slightly better but there's no way I can interact with people tonight without being abrasive towards them or generally being pissy. I hate when moods like this come up. Bye.  It's one p.m. on Wednesday when I write this entry. Just a few minutes ago I finished writing down last night's dream. I fell asleep with the purple Christmas lights I have strung around my room turned on. How do I feel right now? I'm irritated by my long hair because it's in my face and tangled up and things, feel dirty after taking a poop and I am hoping that my rest was enough to kill the evil feeling I had inside of me last night. Last night was unusual for me. Maybe everything in my life caught up with me in that hour and a half between getting home from the game to finally shoving myself under the covers to force myself to succumb to morpheus' embrace. Enough infinitives in that last sentence? Time will tell today if it's passed. Right now I feel like the mood has passed me. Death isn't the end. Sometimes people die because they just give up. They are the ones who can come back. I learned this in a dream last night. I was driving down this one dead end street in Union during late winter where everything was muddy and melting and looking for a house where some mortician was known to raise the dead back to life and there was this tow truck carrying the body of someone who looked just like me. I thought it would be a gas because I knew that I wasn't dead and I could play a joke on the people dealing with the situation when they saw me and wonder how the dead guy was out there and lying next to them in the tow truck. The tow truck pulled up to the correct house and I was parked across the street. I got out and walked past the tow truck which turned into an old fashioned station wagon that was used by coroner offices and looked inside. The curtains were pulled back and I saw that there were these two women inside. One had wild, muddy hair and the other was this black haired woman. They were both wearing gray overcoats, pumps and little else. They and the driver looked at me as if I was some sort of retard and I figured the deceased didn't look a thing like me. The body was pulled out and carried to the main house, I followed behind the mud haired girl and the brunette. I noticed that the brunette was having some trouble walking over the lawn because her pumps kept sinking into the mud making her wobble. The group was walking behind the house to what seemed to be an abandoned garage since no one was home at the main house. I gave the brunette my arm and helped her along. At the abandoned multi car garage there was no one and the driver figured the coroner might live next door. No dice, the best bet was the garage. Now I was carrying the black haired girl instead of helping her along since the mud was now knee deep. At the garage there was a small, short haired blonde girl lying underneath the doorway who was just waking up and clambering out from underneath. I knew that she was dead but now she was back among the living without any of that zombieness or rotting that might accompany resurrection. Our body was taken into the garage, on the side of the garage was a covered wheelbarrow that had a cold, gray hand hanging out. I pinched the fingertip then pushed it back underneath. The coroner spoke to everyone even though we couldn't see him. He said how there were times that people who are thirty years old just give up on life and they truly die but because of the nature of their death it just takes a brief infusion of ozone among other techniques and chemicals to return them to the land of the living where they have a new outlook on life. The body we had brought him along with the newly alive blonde were under death's thrall in such a fashion. These people are also considered to be demigods because of their journey through death. When he finished I picked up the black haired girl and started walking back to the street but I stopped in the middle of the coroner's backyard and sat down with her lying across my legs. For a long time I looked at her green eyes, avoiding making any Big Trouble in Little China references because I knew this was serious, and got the impression that she would end up giving up on life and succumbing to death. I didn't want her to give up on life. I dream knew that she was only twenty eight. Her eyes were very green like malachite without the veins. I kissed her on the cheek, lifted her up and started back to the street. Once we were back at the street it became an asphalt playground which immediately twisted space and put us in front of two school doors. I let her down where she took off her shoes and we went inside the building. To the left was a classroom and already there were a few people filing in to take their seat. The black haired girl had forgotten me and sat in the middle row rather than in the back of the room where I was sitting. Thing about my seat was the fact I was sitting next to this squat, fat old man who was grandfatherly wrinkled shuffling a bunch of padded manilla envelopes. On each was a piece of white tape and a name scrawled in red ink. He told me that the envelopes were for the recently dead who came back after giving up on life. He offered them to me to examine. Some of the names were decidedly African or the kind of African that is really quite goofy because they're nonsense words made up by American negroes that have African sounding syllables and have no true connection to their heritage. How hard can it be to pick up a history book by some khufi wearing professor and do a little research? I digress. Some of the envelopes had things inside of them, messages to the recently reborn. I didn't dare look at the contents because I felt satisfied enough to go through the first ten envelopes and see if my name might be there somewhere. I didn't see any name that jumped out at me which could've been the black haired woman who I carried for most of the dream. Another part of my dream was centered around my frog Pinky. Dunno if I've written this before in my diary but I think that my frogs have developed psychic powers because they're unable to travel around freely because they depend on being immersed in water so they have developed their mind to such a degree that they can astrally project their bodies and swim through the ether to explore or send out minor thoughts that are more like urges or simply enter dreams. Back to the frog dream. This dream started out at the hotel where Devo stayed when she came up to visit me for that weekend in April. Instead of the room having two double beds there was a king sized bed (wishful thinking, eh) and she was sitting on the far corner when she asked me to get something for her from the bathroom. In the bathroom was Pinky's tank and one side of the tank wasn't glass but a strange ziplock plastic curtain on the right hand side which was partly open but no water was escaping. Filled with dread that somehow the water might give way and flow out all over the floor thus releasing Pinky to a hostile atmosphere I decided to try zipping it up and it was successful the first time. I fetched Devo's soap and toothbrush but she was now asleep in an easy chair. Taking advantage of her unconsciousness I went back into the bathroom and fussed around more with Pinky and the aquarium. The water was extraordinarily murky which isn't a Good Thing tm and I was trying to get Pinky out and into something different with cleaner water so I could refresh his tank. I don't usually do that because Pinky's a slippery fellow with a taste for adventure so I just drain the tank in real life and fill it up immediately with water (poland spring water, nothing but the best for him) but in the dream it made sense to move him into another container. Probably because I was afraid of the ziplock curtain giving way and losing control. I found among Devo's stuff a small pump action bottle which was big enough for Pinky and filled with a water-like substance (i think for makeup removal or something sufficiently girly and mysterious to male minds) and put Pinky in there but he started shedding bits of lint and the surface of the liquid started getting scummy. Damn. I put him back into his old tank and started trying to close the ziplock curtain on the right hand side again. From then on the dream was basically reaching my hand in to get Pinky through the ziplock curtain rather than through the top of the aquarium. Pinky was biting me, grabbing me and trying to climb into my arms which I didn't want him to do. The human / batrachian wrestling continued for a while and then there was Devo pounding on the bathroom door shouting that I had been in there for hours and she was wondering what the heck I was doing in there for so long. Finally the brackish water started flushing out the loose plastic curtain with the ziplock seal and Pinky ended up swimming in the bathtub which was filled with water. I do have a technique for when I try to remember dreams. Don't remember and don't care if I've posted it here before on my site. I wake up without opening my eyes and obsess on remembering the main points of the dream and from there I play connect the dots with the major plotlines and ideas conveyed in my subconscious state. Important thing is to not open my eyes at all because if I open my eyes and sit around for a bit the dream memories will flow out of my eyes and be forever lost and if I do write a dream entry it will be something lame and lacking that dreamlike quality. This afternoon I just reached over blindly and grabbed my laptop and started it up feeling the hum of the CDROM through my pillow and once I heard the Microsoft start up music play I opened WordPad and wrote down everything before it was gone forever. I know if I had beat off, like the few other times where I dreamt and woke up and then beat off, my brain's dream memory cache would've been cleared and it would've been like I hadn't dreamt at all. I'm strange like that. I guess I'm going to see about fucking around with that text counter object I downloaded a while ago but I wasn't able to configure it correctly originally but it'd be nice to use my own counter rather than some free counter from the internet even if the free counter is small and unobtrusive. A pride thing, I guess. Just wish I knew what I was doing wrong. Oh yeah, I have to set up an email account for my father here at heptapod.org so he's able to check his own email privately without my mother knowing about it. It'll be the only email address I'll use to contact him since I don't need to tell my mother where I am after I'm long gone. This is how I see the final day here in New Jersey. She's home and I say I'm going out to the convenience store in town and ask if she wants anything. Say "back in a few", walk down to my car and begin the long journey out west. Of course along the way I'll stop over at Tim's to play chess with him at his house, say goodbye to my father, probably leave a note on my sister's door saying I will be in touch if it matters to her then head down to see Brian for a day or two. Gonna take my sweet ass time doing this and make it like my cross country trip. Drive out, visit aitch aitch ehs bea, see Devo in her home environment and then finish up the trip in Colorado where I settle in for better or for worse. I'll be going through Jersey, Delaware, not Maryland since I won't make it to the Pacific this time around but I might drive through the westernmost area, some of Virginia, West Virginia, Illinois, Missouri, Oklahoma and then Colorado. Gotta think about what I'll need to get myself started. A computer, cheap one from J&R Computer World by the WTC in NYC, silverware, plates, some pots and pans, a new futon mattress and I can't think of anything else right now. I'll already have my terrible bachelor furniture (which I don't think is as bad as Arthur's [Arthur is Ronni's boyfriend who is short, bald and has a big wart on his back with a stick up his ass and a hardon for the military] bachelor furniture which is so out of place at Ronni's which is strange because Ronni's only female for the benefits). Oh I'll need shelves for all my books and magazines. I have a whole lot of stuff that I've read and still needs to be read because I said so. I went out to dinner with my father and then came home to play Baldur's Gate some more. I restarted because I think I screwed up a quest or two and wanted to get my character to level two quicker than I had in the original run of the game dontchaknow. After some thinking I reckon I am feeling better than last night but I still want to hide under my little rock and contemplate my existence and how it seems to exist entirely within my room and this infernal internet. Anyway I didn't get a chance to play chess with Devo but she had a very busy-busy day and shit like that happens and I'm half heartedly online at the moment. Good night. Dunno what to write really. I'm playing Baldur's Gate right now like I have been for most of the week. Minsc is attacking me and I had to disband him because in his eyes I'm not going after his damsel in distress fast enough which is sad because I like hearing his "buttkicking for goodness" and all that. Portions that I remember from last night are sketchy. It had something to do with being near someone who was like Jackie Kennedy except she was wearing a white fur version of the suit worn when JFK got his brains blown out. I knew that she was going to be splattered with blood. Bah. This will be dream number sixty nine and it's not a dirty dream. I haven't had many dirty dreams lately. Right now I'm looking through The New School for a brief course to take to keep me active and socialize with new people. This one writing course is four hundred and sixty five dollars and it's for twelve sessions. Ecch. Just preoccupied and stuff. Nothing that great is going on. I thought I missed a day but apparently I'm still on track. No matter. Played Baldur's Gate and I'm working on my Asbury Park vampire campaign. I'm going to have to fudge the facts and make the pine barrens much closer to Asbury Park. Next week is a busy week for me. The one course I want to take at the New School is three hundred and forty five bucks but it's only four sessions on Tuesdays at ten to two in the afternoon. I still have to flesh out the Sabbat, pun intended what with the Tzimisce and all, but I think I have most of the vampires relations put together well enough and flexibly enough to be part of a game. Bored. Next week I might be going into Millburn to discuss the possible Project D website and reiterate my proposal. I have to get the paperwork to put my car in my name then start the insurance process. Seems that I will be living out west but my driver's license and registration will still be for New Jersey since I'm not going to be out there for long (maybe) and it's cheaper that way. What I won't miss when I'm not in New Jersey anymore.
The other part of my diary will be under the gaming diary column. |
Lots of mixed feelings in me. I went into the kitchen to get myself something to drink and it reeked of alcohol. There were four bottles of booze on the counter and a full twelve pack of beer in the fridge. Is my father drowning his sorrows? Is he trying to keep my mother drunk because she's happier when she's drunk? Are they celebrating the fact that my sister and I will not be here much longer? Is it just a booze kinda weekend? The only time I remember them drinking and it wasn't a holiday like Christmas or Thanksgiving was when my grandma and grandpa passed away two and four years ago (respectively). Haven't been out of my room much but that's just me avoiding the reality of the situation. I realize it's late and things oughta get moving but I'm getting that feeling of sitting down and doing the passive resistance thing once again. Maybe it's fear about leaving. What I will miss about New Jersey
I have boxes to box up my books. Come over and help me pack them. We'll pack them in silence and once there are at least five or seven boxes are filled to the brim then we'll sit and stare at the boxes for about two hours. Maybe another day we'll go out and find a kitchen table and a sofa because it's not something that I want to do alone. Gotta look for an apartment. Jaybird and maribou sent me a scan of apartments for rent and one of them was in the basement of their building. I don't think this is going to be especially rough though I may ask them to give me a hand by taking a look at the places for me so I don't get stuck with some rathole. Oh yeah, I gotta make up pages for other people who weren't mentioned when I did those dramatis personae pages for the people who are important to me in my life. I have a few folks to add to that collection. Stuff I gotta do
Right now I'm just thinking about what might be different in alternate universes in regards to my life. What's going on with my parents who took the timeline where I was aborted or never born? Are they happy? Did they get divorced? Do they think something is missing? How am I doing in the timeline where I am still seeing Malyss? Did I marry her? Am I happy? Am I living at Raisin Acres because I have no place to go? Still in therapy because of depression and my inability to communicate? What's up with the timeline where I ended up with Kinja? Did I tear out my eyes? Did I receive a mail bomb from Malyss? Am I happy and content? Am I successful? A timeline where I didn't have my grandma. Did I become a thug or beast like I fear I would've become without her gentle guidance and advice? Would I be the same? Then there's the timeline where my mother died in childbirth, either while having me or my sister. Are things different and we're both leading relatively normal lives where we leave the house at eighteen like society expects? Is there happiness? Sadness? Longing? Fuck the timeline where my father's not around anymore. That must be hell. Anyway I'd like to take a peek in on that stuff either to count my blessings or strive to do something better with what I have right now. I don't think that I would go back in time and change things because then I would not be me. Where would I be without the incident where I mooned kids for quarters? Sure I'd end up being ostracized for a few years but I was still a part of that social group. Nor would I go back in time to finish the job I started with Chris Jenkins that day in the back of the sweet shop with the video games where I beat his little rat redneck head against the pinball machine for lighting a match on my ass then gouge out his eyes and have them delivered to his mother? Dunno if I would've kept better records and kept in touch with my very first girlfriend from first grade. She lived up the road from my old house and there was this one time where she came over on a Sunday and that stupid Jerry Lewis movie about him being an alien visiting the earth was on channel five and she caught me while I was in the bathtub and I finished up quickly so we could talk in the front room at the rickety table about heaven knows what until her father rode past my house on his bike and told her that it was time to go home. Have I mentioned before that I miss that house? The great big porch we had facing the backyard, sleeping on the hammock in the summertime, watching Sunny leap eight feet from the porch to the yard, the little bluebirds that always set up their nest in the eaves on the west side of the house, the great big brick fireplace that took up an entire wall, all the books in the great big bookcases, my bedroom with the moon mural on one wall that I would look at late at night and stare at the earth hanging in the black sky and trying to see things in the cloud shapes. How there was a loose cinderblock in the driveway that we used to hide stuff in and being oh so close to a branch of the Rahway river where we'd fish and I'd get all squeamish about putting worms on the hook and end up hooking myself by accident then lighting fires in the woods and speeding my bike down the hill in the woods. I've written enough. My father is a pain in my ass. Yes, he is a good man and kind but he has his faults that have really been fucking grating on me for the past year. On Wednesday we went to the diner for dinner which was awfully nice of him (only thing about the food which bothered me were the buffalo wings, they could've been done better but nothing is perfect) but in the last ten minutes where he was waiting for the fucking check he started putting on this air of "I gotta be somewhere". I called him on it and he just said he always gets antsy when it comes to waiting for the check. Didn't buy it one iota because the entire time we were talking about my moving out, my mother and how crazy things have been the last two weeks. The check comes and I give a good tip because I like going there and don't want my father ruining it for me by being an impatient asshole. He pulls out onto Rt. 22 and then when taking one of the exits to the right he fucking speeds up on the turn. I tell him that I'm opening the door to throw myself out because I'm not going to put up with his goddamn temper tantrums from tension because he's too much of a fucking pussy to be fucking straight with me. He says that the car has better handling when he's accelerating on a curve. Riiight. I felt like I did back when I was a little kid and I hated being in the car with him because he drove like he was fucking insane. Back when I was a little kid there was shit going on where my mother was bearing down on me emotionally and physically and he wasn't there nor did he have the balls to tell her to fucking stop because he loves her. His fucking problem is that he loves my mother but that's really simple to figure out why he does love her so much because she acts just like his father acted. Anyway I draw an inference that he's driving like that again because he feels powerless and I reckon he's either trying to scare me or show that he's a good driver by doing eighty around a turn. During dinner he pulled this fucking line on me that he used three times before when discussing my move that he lost his mother two years ago and his father four years ago and he doesn't want to lose me. Right. Fucking use guilt. What rubs my rhubarb is getting out so quick from the house is going to force me to rely on some help from my father (and my mother surprisingly enough) and my plans for moving out in December of my own volition wouldn't have needed any money from anyone because I would've been completely self sufficient. I think he secretly likes this because if I don't talk to him again I'll still have to communicate with him because I owe him money. Fucking pecker. I'd tell you if I wasn't going to talk to you ever again and leave it at that. Don't fucking try to guilt me into keeping contact with you because it makes me fucking resent you and not want to talk to you whatsoever. Fucking Kinja would pull that kinda shit on me. I'll continue communication with people when and how I want not because someone wants me a certain way. Sigh. I do find joy in the fact that after therapy (therapy did help me a lot otherwise I wouldn't have been there for two years) I realized that my father was stuck in a situation like I would've been stuck in if I had stayed with Kinja. Henpecked by a shrew. You deserve her because you chose her, dad. I reckon that's just your mistake in your life and everyone's entitled to one. Or two. I am happy that I'm having more feelings of "I need to get away from here and never look back" rather than feelings of "Awww, I'm gonna miss everything and my life is over". How was my day? I got some shit done like checking my email (none), sending out invoices to get wonderful money, showering, doing laundry, going to the DMV for paperwork (er... I kinda forgot to do that on Thursday and then had a fuckoff attitude for the weekend and I haven't done it yet actually I just mention it here hoping that I remember to do it tomorrow when I will be running all over creation) and cleaning my room. As I write this entry I have this Huey Lewis and the News song stuck in my head. "Yes it's true, I'm so happy to be stuck with you." I think it's stuck in my head because I was talking last night about how sometimes I'd have daydreams (I could use fantasies but to me the word fantasy just has disgusting connotations and fantasies are usually negative unlike daydreams) about being captured by aliens and being put into the cell and discovering that Someone I Liked Very Much (tm) (this is a generic title because I've had this one about a bunch of folks and I don't want people feeling weird even if I did have this one about them) was already captured by the aliens and how while the aliens were pulled over at some interstellar truck stop for interstellar trucker gay sex or interstellar egg salad sandwiches we break out and hijack the spaceship. Not knowing how the contraption works the button for a hyperjump or going FTL is hit and get blasted into some distant part of the galaxy or universe. From then on it's just the feeling of "Wow, we're stuck with each other" but also a lot of the adventure and the discovery of outer space being shared with Someone Special (tm). We wouldn't be able to get back because Earth radio signals haven't travelled out that far and all the maps are unreadable since someone spilled interstellar coffee all over them. It was happy to hear that I wasn't alone in having those kinds of daydreams but when other folks have had them they were more like being stuck on a desert island or someplace in the mountains with no hope of escape. Makes me think that I'm less of a freak which is a Good Thing (tm). Oh yeah, I still haven't heard back from anyone I emailed about me running a brief vampire campaign but that's alright since I know folks have their own lives to lead and usually not saying anything is better than outright saying "no". Whee, I'm Mister Pessimist (tm). I can be a pessimist about some things. Being a pessimist about everything just leads to insanity. Why? Because I said so and if you fucking backtalk me again I'm going to send you to the dentist, ah tell you whut. Have I used (tm) enough already? Last evening my father passed me this note, pretty fucking interesting to read! Haak, I assume the fact my sister hasn't spoken to my mother has nothing to do with my sister being angry about my mother throwing me out but moreso that my sister's thrown out. Still the fact that my sister hasn't spoken to my mother is fascinating. Today I spoke with my sister and asked her how she was doing in her life. She said that her boss still won't let her wear gloves when coloring people's hair at work and her fingers are swollen, wrinkled, purple knobs so tomorrow she's going to say "Let me wear gloves or fire me." Good for her. I touched briefly upon the subject of being thrown out but she was as guarded as I was guarded since I didn't want to provoke one of those "Haakon, you're always demonizing mom! You don't know the full story!" arguments which end up being pointless. I have no idea what her plans but I asked her three times if she could keep something secret, simply because in my experience she's a conduit to mom, just for the sake of being secret. She was like yeah and I told her that I was going to Colorado because the economy's good out there and I have two friends living there. My sister said that it's supposed to be beautiful out there and it's God's Country and asked if she came out there if she could visit me. Why not? This doesn't seem to fit into the context of dreaming, more like auditory hallucinations, but it happened while I slept so I'll call it a dream. There's this strange half-awake state I know and I'm sure other humans know where one is much more aware of things going on rather than when they're fully conscious with their eyes opened. My feeling of it is being suspended in a completely black room. When I first entered that state I heard this beautiful violin piece being played that was light, joyful and bouncy eventually joined by violins doing a more demure version in the background in harmony. Once I started getting too awake the music vanished and I kept moving my eyes behind my eyelids trying to get them in just the right position so I could hear the music again. The music was beautiful but not break your heart beautiful. Still it was original to my eyes considering my tin ear. I think I got the music playing again but soon fell back into the depths of sleep. Second time around there was a small concert piece being played by an unseen quartet. No wood wind instruments. Finally I'm sick of not hearing from people or hearing via a mass email. Yes, it makes me feel like I'm not special but in the end that kind of thinking is me saying that I'm not special but I still feel it. I got a lovely postcard from maribou today. I brought up my idea for running a brief campaign and let everyone know what I want which will be posted and I'll talk with Diane about if and when I'll be able to run this little campaign. Not feeling too good but after transcribing the following story I feel kinda better. Read any kinda meaning into it, the story has meaning to me. Haïta the Shepherd In the heart of Haïta the illusions of youth had not been supplanted by those of age and experience. His thoughts were pure and pleasant, for his life was simple and his soul devoid of ambition. He rose with the sun and went forth to pray at the shrine of Hastur, the god of shepherds, who heard and was pleased. After performance of this pious rite Haïta unbarred the gate of the fold and with a cheerful mind drove his flock afield, eating his morning meal of curds and oat cake as he went, occasionally pausing to add a few berries, cold with dew, or to drink the waters that came away from the hills to join the stream in the middle of the valley and be borne along with it, he knew not whither. During the long summer day, as his sheep cropped the good grass which the gods had made to grow for them, or lay with their forelegs doubled under their breasts and chewed the cud, Haïta, reclining in the shadow of a tree, or sitting upon a rock, played so sweet music upon his reed pipe that sometimes from the corner of his eye he got accidental glimpses of the minor sylvan deities, leaning forward out of the copse to hear; but if he look at them directly they vanished. From this -- for he must be thinking if he would not turn into one of his own sheep -- he drew the solemn inference that happiness may come if not sought, but if looked for will never be seen; for next to the favor of Hastur, who never disclosed himself, Haïta most valued the friendly interest of his neighbors, the shy immortals of the wood and stream. At nightfall he drove his flock back to the fold, saw that the gate was secure, and retired to his cave for refreshment and for dreams. So passed his life, one day like another, save when the storms uttered the wrath of an offended god. Then Haïta cowered in his cave, his face hidden in his hands, and prayed that he alone might be punished for his sins and the world saved from destruction. Sometimes when there was a great rain, and the stream came out of its banks, compelling him to urge his terrified flock to the uplands, he interceded for the people in the cities which he had been told lay in the plain beyond the two blue hills forming the gateway of his valley. "It is kind of thee, O Hastur," so he prayed, "to give me mountains so near my dwelling and my fold that I and my sheep can escape the angry torrents; but the rest of the world thou must thyself deliver in some way that I know not of, or I will no longer worship thee." And Hastur, knowing that Haïta was a youth who kept his word, spared the cities and turned the waters into the sea. So he had lived since he could remember. He could not rightly conceive any other mode of existence. The holy hermit who dwelt at the head of the valley, a full hour's journey away, from whom he had heard the tale of the great cities where dwelt people -- poor souls! -- who had no sheep, gave him no knowledge of that early time, when, so he reasoned, he must have been small and helpless like a lamb. It was through thinking on these mysteries and marvels, and on that horrible change to silence and decay which he felt sure must sometime come to him, as he had seen it come to so many of his flock -- as it came to all living things except the birds -- that Haïta first became conscious how miserable and hopeless was his lot. "It is necessary," he said, "that I know whence and how I came; for how can one perform his duties unless able to judge what they are by the way in which he was entrusted with them? And what contentment can I have when I know not how long it is going to last? Perhaps before another sun I may be changed, and then what will become of the sheep? What, indeed, will have become of me?" Pondering these things Haïta became melancholy and morose. He no longer spoke cheerfully to his flock, nor ran with alacrity to the shrine of Hastur. In every breeze he heard whispers of malign deities whose existence he now first observed. Every cloud was a portent signifying disaster, and the darkness was full of terrors. His reed pipe when applied to his lips gave out no melody, but a dismal wail; the sylvan and riparian intelligences no longer thronged the thicketside to listen, but fled from the sound, as he knew by the stirred leaves and bent flowers. He relaxed his vigilance, and many of his sheep strayed away into the hills and were lost. Those that remained became lean and ill for lack of good pasturage, for he would seek it for them, but conducted them day after day to the same spot, through mere abstraction, while puzzling about life and death -- of immortality he knew not. One day while indulging in the gloomiest reflections he suddenly sprang from the rock upon which he sat and with a determined gesture of the right hand he exclaimed, "I will no longer be a suppliant for knowledge which the gods withhold. Let them look to it that they do me no wrong. I will do my duty as best I can and if I err upon their own heads be it!" Suddenly, as he spoke, a great brightness fell about him, causing him to look upward, thinking the sun had burst through a rift in the clouds; but there were no clouds. No more than an arm's length away stood a beautiful maiden. So beautiful she was that the flowers about her feet folded their petals in despair and bent their heads in token of submission; so sweet her look that the hummingbirds thronged her eyes, thrusting their thirsty bills almost into them, and the wild bees were about her lips. And such was her brightness that the shadows of all objects lay divergent from her feet, turning as she moved. Haïta was entranced. Rising, he knelt before her in adoration and she laid her hand upon his head. "Come," she said in a voice that had the music of all the bells of his flock, "come, thou art not to worship me, who am no goddess, but if thou art truthful and dutiful I will abide with thee." Haïta seized her hand, and stammering his joy and gratitude arose, and hand in hand they stood and smiled into each other's eyes. He gazed on her with reverence and rapture. He said, "I pray thee, lovely maid, tell me thy name and whence and why thou comest." At this she laid a warning finger on her lip and began to withdraw. Her beauty underwent a visible alteration that made him shudder, he knew not why, for still she was beautiful. The landscape was darkened by a giant shadow sweeping across the valley with the speed of a vulture. In the obscurity the maiden's figure grew dim and indistinct and her voice seemed to come from a distance, as she said, in the tone of sorrowful reproach, "Presumptuous and ungrateful youth! Must I then so soon leave thee? Would nothing do but thou must at once break the eternal compact?" Inexpressibly grieved, Haïta fell upon his knees and implored her to remain -- rose and sought her in the deepening darkness -- ran in circles, calling to her aloud, but all in vain. She was no longer visible, but out of the gloom he heard her voice saying, "Nay, thou shalt not have me by seeking. Go to thy duty, faithless shepherd, or we shall never meet again." Night had fallen; the wolves were howling in the hills and the terrified sheep crowding around Haïta's feet. In the demands of the hour he forgot his disappointment, drove his sheep to the fold and repairing to the place of worship poured out his heart to Hastur for permitting him to save his flock, then retired to his cave and slept. When Haïta awoke the sun was high and shone in at the cave, illuminating it with a great glory. And there, beside him, sat the maiden. She smiled upon him with a smile that seemed the visible music of his pipe of reeds. He dared not speak, fearing to offend her as before, for he knew not what he could venture to say. "Because," she said, "thou didst thy duty by the flock, and didst not forget to thank Hastur for staying the wolves of the night, I am come to thee again. Wilt thou have me for a companion?" "Who would not have thee forever?" replied Haïta. "Oh! never again leave me until -- until I -- change and become silent and motionless." Haïta had no word for death. At these words the maiden arose and passed out of the cave, and Haïta, springing from his couch of fragrant boughs to overtake and detain her, observed to this astonishment that the rain was falling and the stream in the middle of the valley had come out of its banks. The sheep were bleating in terror, for the rising waters had invaded their fold. And there was danger for the unknown cities of the distant plain. It was many days before Haïta saw the maiden again. One day he was returning from the head of the valley, where he had gone with ewe's milk and oat cake and berries for the holy hermit who was too old and feeble to provide himself with food. "Poor old man!" he said aloud, as he trudged along homeward, "I will return tomorrow and bear him on my back to my own dwelling where I can care for him. Doubtless it is for this that Hastur has reared me all these many years, and gives me health and strength." As he spoke, the maiden, clad in glittering garments, met him in the path with a smile that took away his breath. "I am come again," she said, "to dwell with thee if thou wilt now have me, for none else will. Thou mayest have learned wisdom and art willing to take me as I am, nor care to know." Haïta threw himself at her feet. "Beautiful being," he cried, "if thou wilt but deign to accept all the devotion of my heart and soul -- after Hastur be served -- it is thine forever. But, alas! thou art capricious and wayward. Before tomorrow's sun I may lose thee again. Promise, I beseech thee, that however in my ignorance I may offend, thou wilt forgive and remain always with me." Scarcely had he finished speaking when a troop of bears came out of the hills, racing toward him with crimson mouths and fiery eyes. The maiden again vanished, and he turned and fled for his life. Nor did he stop until he was in the cot of the holy hermit, whence he had set out. Hastily barring the door against the bears he cast himself upon the ground and wept. "My son," said the hermit from his couch of straw, freshly gathered that morning by Haïta's hands, "it is not like thee to weep for bears -- tell me what sorrow hath befallen thee, that age may minister to the hurts of youth which such balms as it hath of its wisdom." Haïta told him all: how thrice he had met the radiant maid, and thrice she had left him forlorn. He related minutely all that had passed between them, omitting no word of what had been said. When he had ended, the holy hermit was a moment silent, then said, "My son, I have attended to thy story, and I know the maiden. I have myself seen her, as have many. Know, then, that her name, which she would not even permit thee to inquire, is Happiness. Thou saidst the truth to her, that she is capricious, for she imposeth conditions that man cannot fulfill, and delinquency is punished by desertion. She cometh only when unsought, and will not be questioned. One manifestation of curiosity, one sign of doubt, one expression of misgiving, and she is away! How long dist thou have her at any time before she fled?" "Only a single instant," answered Haïta, blushing with shame at the confession. "Each time I drove away in one moment." "Unfortunate youth!" said the holy hermit, "but for thine indescretion thou mightest have had her for two." Got the paperwork to put the car in my name. Next week I'm going to get insurance and sit in the DMV all day doing paperwork and waiting for it to be processed. Tomorrow I'm going to see about talking with the head guy in charge of Project D to show him what I can do so I can get more work. I reckon I'll charge thirty an hour. Not much else is going on unless you count my head which is a tempest of thoughts. Mostly it comes from thinking too much, digging up a single dinosaur thigh bone and trying to figure out what the rest of the missing dinosaur looked like in life. Right now I don't know if I will visit anyone while I drive across country because I'd be inviting myself and people who invite themselves are already unwelcome. Rereading that line makes it seem like a pussy way of guilting people into inviting me and saying "Oh it's not that way". I'm going to stop this entry before it gets started. The Viking Rede, by Jaybird Bide the Viking Laws we should Hard of eye and fierce of touch, Heed ye Flower, Bush and Tree, Didn't sleep well or much last night. Mostly tossing and turning in the dark while thoughts ran through my head. Around five in the morning I decided to get the laptop and wrote down midnight.txt which I may or may not share with anyone. Basically it's full of shit that bothers me from the past year. Most of it I wrote with my eyes closed because I didn't want to see the words I was typing onscreen. They were self-defeating and my brain kept going over and over telling me that they are true even though I could only agree with one statement and that was a tough one. Either way it wasn't a good night and it made me feel lonely and defeated. I know there are a few people who aren't on LambdaMOO and I know someone who can't get to LambdaMOO who doesn't know about a recent post I made which is why I'm going to write about it here. First of all it beats writing about my whining and coming to terms with the sensitive side of me which I hate very much. Second it's important that this is put down for the ages rather than something which will last less than four days on *stonecutters (#213). When I went food shopping I bought food that would expire long after I left New Jersey. This is beyond stuff like seltzer or canned goods with a shelf life of the next ice age. Liverwurst. Good until July 10th. Independence Day is a Wednesday, my folks are going to be away that week. I'm bound to be gone before the next Tuesday which will be a gaming night. Gone from New Jersey. The park up the street where I'd be sent on summer mornings to get out and socialize. The woods around the Rahway river branch where I'd light fires and hang out late at night by myself or walk through it to the highway for hijinx. The center of town. Being three minutes away from a 24 hour supermarket where during my early college years I would go there and walk around with a cart and get to someplace secluded and start eating food and walk out paying only for batteries. Route 22 and the horrors therein. Seeing the NYC skyline from Summit, Millburn, Union and other places if the haze isn't too bad. Sigh. I'm going to Colorado because it is my choice even though the choice of when I would leave (December) has been wrested from my hands and left me with resentment. Right now this doesn't seem entirely real like something might happen, my mother dying, and I remain in New Jersey. That's definitely not going to happen. Just like the criteria I have in my head for me never living in New Jersey again won't happen. Both are long shots. Shots in the dark. Crap shoots. This weekend ought to be somewhat peaceful despite the packing which I hope will give me a good feeling of accomplishment and allow me to rest upon my meager laurels for yet another day avoiding the inevitable. A land of unfamiliar radio stations, different climates, strangers, a shaky possibility of employment and me for company. Small afterthought written dozens of hours after the previous paragraphs, I wish that there wasn't that line where people can say "I love you but I'm not IN love with you" because that just makes me dread ever expressing any emotion because to me that's tantamount to being told "Screw off I'm not interested". Just my mind wandering. I've been awake since Thursday 1 p.m. and I only had four hours of sleep between then and now (Saturday 1:30 a.m.). B y e . I bought Fallout Tactics and all 1.6 gigabytes is on my laptop because I'm a bad boy. Lemme see, I really want to have fucking buffalo wings and french fries but I can't find any place around here that has it for take out. My parents left at 2:30 p.m. on Saturday and they'll return on Monday around 11:00 p.m.. I packed two boxes of books already and I'm going to try and sort everything according to sci-fi, fiction, Lovecraft and comics. Not much else is going on other than the fact that Devo sent me a lovely postcard today and it made me smile and no it wasn't gas. The prettiest thing I've heard is the birds singing while it's raining outside and thunder grumbling in the distance. I'm lucky to hear it right now. Do they have thunderstorms out in Colorado? I know the plains states have them but Colorado is more of a plateau (the terrible plateau of leng?) or a highland, desertlike because it used to be underwater but not as bad as Wyoming. Nothing to do this weekend except pack and I've got a comic book box started and I have seven boxes of books packed up in my bedroom. They just need to be placed somewhere out of the way so I can live before the exodus without tripping over myself. Inbetween I'm playing Fallout Tactics. I don't think Quinn's up for playing multiplayer. Phoo. I'm trying to interest my friends in Fallout Tactics (FT), like Tim who plays Diablo every day, but his hard drive is already eaten up by Diablo. Hurr. The character I'm using in FT single player is a redheaded male named Dexter, named after one of my characters from the old Champions game and a story going around in my head, who will get the Tag! perk when he's level twelve and give him Repair as a tag skill. Right now he only has small guns, stealth and lockpicking for tags. Only thing I don't like about FT so far is the choice of character portraits. I'd rather make my own or have a greater selection to choose from but that's minor. The game is beautiful and it's fun even though when I played the first mission it went slowly because I kept creeping around, sneaking and then firing. Lastly I have an idea in my head for redesigning this site. Over the next few months when I have the time I'll tinker around with it and see if it looks like ass or not and by September the site will have a new look. The layout will remain the same except for a redesign of the navigation which isn't the best at the moment. A do nothing kinda holiday day. Didn't hear from anyone and didn't bother talking to anyone. Thought it was much earlier when I started writing this entry but it's much later than I would have figured. This week I'm taking care of car stuff (honest) and packing up more comics (most likely tomorrow with the comics). The upside of packing is that the boxes are as tall as my futon which means I have a little night stand of cardboard boxes where I can place my laptop just in case I wake up and dream. Last night's dreams weren't too good. The only thing that sticks out in my mind was the fact that at a point in my dream I was in this warehouse that was also an art gallery. When I got to the center of the room there was a wire bin full of women's heads covered in semen. Behind me, rolling out from unseen cubbyholes in the wall underneath Jackson Pollack paintings, were long drawers filled with the chopped up remains of those women. Someone told me that they willingly gave up their bodies. It was horrible. Other parts of my dreams faded from my mind and I'm glad that I can't remember them because I think they were nightmares that dealt with my mother being a nightmare figure. Maybe she ran the warehouse slash museum. Thing is that I did wake up after I saw all the drawers but it wasn't that struggling to wake up kinda feeling with the desperation of a drowning person clawing their way to the surface. It was more like walking through a door. Oh yeah and a later part of the dream was about how these Russian immigrants had bought the house next door to my previous residence (I moved to my current residence in eighth grade) and they were turning that house into a slummy food court. For some reason they were menacing and I think it came from the fact that I had a feeling they weren't opening these businesses so they could feed people but I don't think they were going to cook people. Forcing myself to stay awake for as long as possible so I can get my body back on a normal schedule. By normal I mean waking up at a reasonable hour (ten in the morning) and being able to hack waking up at eight in the morning without crashing before one in the afternoon. This will include being in bed before one in the evening. I know that I only need nine hours of sleep. Funny thing is that I just saw this news item about some DJ over at WFMU going for the world record for being on the air. What I don't understand is why he was standing up the entire time the camera was on him. This seems to be some convention in the radio business that the on air talent can't sit while doing their show. The morning guy on 101.5 is simulcasted on a cable channel and he's standing throughout the program and I remember from the eighties when morning zoos were all the rage that whenever local news stations would do a story about them the talent would be standing. Is this supposed to make them look like they're not fat slobs? The DJ made the world's record by the way and he certainly had a face for radio. One of his eyes was bugged out and seemed to want to look at something different from what his other eye was looking at. The meeting with the main guy who will help me get a contract with Project D went well enough even though he doesn't know the first thing about computers and the internet. I did my best to involve him with my awkward presentation and show him my flashiest stuff in hopes of impressing him with my work. I need to get an idea of how much to charge these people to do their website and then I have to make another presentation to the rest of the committee and hope that they'll take me on. What bothers me is the fact that I think my moving to Colorado, with the short timeframe, will work against me no matter how well I showcase myself since I have an idea they'd want to meet with me on a regular basis in person. I have my fingers crossed. Something very nice to see are high school girls caught in a thunderstorm and they're all dressed up thinking it would be sunny all day. Very nice. Too bad they were practical and were wearing dark colors rather than white. Someone get me a net and some ether because I'm a dirty old man!!! This is very cool. I left to pick up my father at 6:25 this evening and on the way back home we saw a tree that exploded when lightning hit during a very intense and brief thunderstorm. After I dropped him off at home I stopped over at the tree and took pictures of the arboreal carnage. There was bark everywhere and the tree was naked from the crown down to the middle of the trunk. The exposed wood felt really freaky like touching someone who was sweating all day out in the sunlight but now they were inside with the air conditioning. I could feel that the tree was alive, not alive in the abstract sense that I think about plants being alive but once a living being that exchanged carbon dioxide for oxygen. It's eerie, sad and cool. Check out the pictures!  Yikes!
Now for no real reason I feel really strange and things and it's a Bad Thing (tm). Sorta like knowing someone walked over your grave and went weewee on it. This was followed by thoughts of "Why love someone if you can't have them?" and "Why desire something if you can't have it?" I wrote this last paragraph a few minutes before gaming and the second sentence during the last hour of gaming but I'm feeling better. I think waiting through those fucking extra celerity actions bored me coupled with staying up late to get my body back in gear for something normal is screwing with my head. The picture below I took while driving and I was hoping to capture the essence of loneliness in an image. Dunno if I succeeded in the task.   So anyway. One thing that stinks about leaving New Jersey right now is the fact that I got in touch with a friend from gaming who I hadn't spoken with in quite a while. Foo. Last night sucked ass because it was a god damned gaming night and it happened to be one of the rare nights that Devo was online and I barely got to see her. I'm gonna go sulk now because it beats growling epithets and throwing rocks in the pond. Motherfucker. |
