New Love, Same Crazy

I went to bed relatively early after a large party in a hot city. No A.A. today was the theme recurrent for the demographic. This morning required coffee. So much to my enjoyment, I was told a story while drinking coffee.

Where I left the evening was after a down to the wire beer purchase to re-amp party mode. An acquaintance and her two week trial boyfriend, bonding over gangsta rap and a mutual love of acrimonious conversation, recounted a moment I am sure will be the greatest how mommy and daddy met story since The Marshall Mathers LP. A couple who both like a jealous streak in a partner, switchblades and provoking the bros.

She was making fun, he was her audience. The clowns were not amused and became hostile, provoking a lame car chase. Boyfriend got punched, girlfriend defended her man, slapped the shotgun rider of the clown car. Boyfriend pulled out switchblade which had been a mere prop and comedic device earlier in the evening. The way this story was told, with such murderous affection, was so entertaining for a Sunday morning.

All this over Alkaline Trio and nascent love. Sometimes, things have a way of working out. I hope it does for them, and I fear for that city with endless vigilantes and no heroes.

So some epic music to emphasize:The new Muse single - United States of Eurasia.
"http://mog.com/blog_posts/1400047/mogbar"
May have to do it manually, html isnt working for me right now.

He is represented in the media, I can't stop thinking about him

I tell you what, if you are looking for the answers to the questions you ask, dont look any further than the answer you want. It seems to make it easier. I know he watches this show too, we talk about it. It seems to be the only thing these days. And there, a very obvious theme he neglected to mention that must have seemed so familiar. Or maybe I am being obsessive.
So I am back for the weekend, in
Gainesville: Burger spot, Bob's River Place, rain, hicks, shower, sweet shower, Netflix, familiar faces, Chocolat, Bfast Pizza, and parties.

We all have a moment when we realize our value systems are different than our parents
Suicide's a joke until you are at the funeral. The landscape is a breath taken away from an empty chest. Traveling south until the ash fills my mouth.

"I just want to make one person happy" Jeff Holway, using Ockam's Razorblade Suitcase to dispense life advice and dieting tips. Still unsure about this.

You can have whatever I have, I don't have alot. Truly the same as me, a worthy adversary I would like to believe.

If Im going to transfer you from nighttime to daytime, (horizontal to vertical you mean), you have to talk about something other than yourself. Someone seems to be adding another dimension, or deciding that shallow insouciance is the most obvious defense mechanism, and some like to keep it simple.

Broad Stroke Off

He doesn't believe in depression. When he comes home from work and the lights are all off, he thinks it is an affectation to synthetically darken my mood. But I suppose in extremes therein lies the greatest of friendships, or bloodiest of victories. There is this face he makes when he is figuring something out, his glasses slip down and he stares at something like he has never seen it before. He is unintentionally funny, much to his own bemusement.
Last night he announced he was a love pauper, whereas his mother was a love millionaire. Ever the savvy investor, he hesitates to make a mistake in something that has never ceased to complicate him, smoothing edges and softening tongues.

Sexodus: Movement of the Money

Basically variations on that joke. That and the repetitive, narrative of 80s cock rock. Would you consider the musician writing himself into his two chord regressions metaphysical?

Somebody something about people who live too far away from water suffer from madness as they are not afforded the ocean breeze of sanity. Does this explain the mid west? Religious movements, poop joke. The intangible currency in a strip club, attention, affection, affluence, ego, the self, the other, a job. A truly interesting place. I heard a guy, roughly 40ish discussing the nature of credit to a stripper. It was like a naked bank. It was the funniest thing I had heard in a while.

Exit music, for a story: I played Hole's Celebrity Skin and Elton John's Tiny Dancer exiting. It just felt right.

Special thanks to the girl who asked if she could put my face in her boobs, and I said no and she said she normally didnt ask, but the glasses thing. I said I guess you dont get a lot of nerds here. She laughed and said something about something. The gorgeous Robin, who told us of her college major of Chorus and how we couldn't touch her cookie.

half remembered nightmare quote

someone recently told me that selfishness in the quest for improved esteem was okay. well i have a hard time with that. so here goes. i feel that wanting to know everybody's weird terrible idiosyncrasies is unrealistic, because the whole idea is that once people already like you, any bomb you drop will be safe. the mutually assured distraction, or discussion. i have no problem with the lasting relationships i have with people. jeffrey eugendies said it is a bad idea to sleep with your fantasy. i agree. i am weird. i like seeing books i gave people, or nicknames that have stuck or this shared experience communication exchange. i dont have ambition, i just want a drinking buddy wherever i am. not in the sense of drinking per se, but in the sense of someone who finds me funny, where the conversation is never as heavy as the food and the jokes are inappropriate. this will change one day and i fear i will be more lost than i have ever been. i dont know if i will ever get back. i am learning to be okay with this. i wish i could tell people i love them before it is too late. i wish i didnt react in a way that attempted to cut people out, because sometimes people take those cues and beat me to the punch. i would like to be a glorious mess or just a mediocre failure but the way people see me will never be the way i see myself.

what a long week. i dont know what the hell is going on anymore. i dont know what the point is of anything anymore and finding things to fill the void just makes the hole deeper. i cant put things into words anymore. ayyyyyyyyyyyy, like a chonga losing an earring as she is going to see the padre of her babinos. an earring hector gave her.

home

be it a bread line or a punch line, i'll cross it with you.