here is stand up from my sit down job

LOL-ocaust. I can has a diary. The SS are coming, ROFL-Copter. When
people talk about the internet. Did you see this website ... Well no,
but while we are interacting, face to face, please tell me about this
website or this Youtube video. That way we still dont have to talk
about ourselves, or our boring 3D lives. There is no abortion for
reality, though alcohol helps take the edge off hour by hour.

Why is it always feminists who are the first to drop their ideologies
with their pants? Objectification is in the eye of the degree holder,
I suppose. I think they hate whores so much because they lack
subtlety in the validation aspect. If I had a penis, I would call
those ladies, "boner graveyards". And if I was more into The Cure and
Tim Burton, that would be a turn on for me.

People who hate public speaking, it is a common fear for most people.
I dont think it is the speaking, I think it is the the fear of
rejection, in front of a large group of people. Like being on a group
date with your family. Not only do you have rejection, but a "helpful
commentary" the whole time, on how and why you are such a failure,
which could never in any way be construed as constructive criticism.
Which is why sex Olympics will never take off in this country. The
ironic nature of technology and isolation. Being unreachable, but
always available. Here is where I would interject a hearty
conspiritorial chuckle with an analogy to an ex, but then I would hate
myself.

The worst thing about talking to yourself is when you inevitably get
into an argument. The best way to end the argument is to say, "Well,
that's easy for you to say". That way both of you are confused and it
effectively ends the argument.

The best part of college is finding people who use the DSM-IV as a sex
manual. It seems that daddy issues were only the tip of the iceberg,
and you know what they say about icebergs. Wait, what do they say
about icebergs ?!! When did I start liking scat dressed as a dead
dictator? Oh, that's still an unrealized fantasy. Good, I thought I
was a little forward on that E-Harmony profile.

Activities and events for children and the elderly. Birthday parties,
bingo, suicide counseling. Waiting for life to be interesting, when
not inconveniencing all around you.

The thing I hate about my job, if we could narrow it down to one
specific infliction, would be calling people when they are at work. I
feel like saying, although thank god for my untreated alcoholism and
shred of impulse control, that i dont respond to people by shouting :
"I'm at work too!" Nobody wants to do this, you are bothering me by
the virtue I have to call you to bother you. This is not good. One
of us just needs to use the language barrier as a step ladder and hang
ourselves.

my spank bank is not in a recession

So as I have been saying/thinking lately, awareness and action are divided by a Grand Canyon of self doubt and selfishness. The leap doesnt seem worth the certain death sometimes. As an aside, I feel like people often tell me that they dont know what the hell I am talking about. Well, I will work on the linear but not the Linnaeus. That stays. It is on the fucking internet, google something if you feel like my nonsense might have a bibliography.

I dont know when or why, but I like being on the side. I dont want to be a hero. I dont mind being the supporting cast, even in my own life. I feel like this detachment may cause problems in the future but when ever I feel things are getting to intense, in whatever sense, it is easier to disengage. Well, maybe I dont like it, but it is something that I have adapted to myself.

I keep having the strangest dreams and erratic sleep schedule. It is only in the guest bedroom though.

"He will never get the girl".
"The girl is dead".

I have been in such a weird mood lately. I have read several books and I am writing different genres of things. This might prove to be a good thing.

too much for the micro-blog

so i woke up thinking in terms of aphorisms and dubious song lyrics. "victim of another violence, in search of the mid day miracle". you own a part of me that the flesh forgot. i cant get over how i imagine you, like interaction is a template for ideological circumstance. the part of you that belongs to everyone is sometimes the only one.

its too easy sometimes, sundays.

So I was thinking I dont know how to fucking get there. I dont know where I am half the time, as you tell me as frequently as I am called to give directions, which you call instructions. Those differences between us seem to widen with the times.

Last night the rain made it feel like a production, intense, loud music, subtext beneath the subtext. I hate the word epic, and every time you use it, it makes me think of failed bohemian revolutionaries, Barnes and Noble parking lots and the misnomer rebellion.

I suppose intense is the best word. There wasnt a time to express it last night, but I am constantly surprised by our interactions. I thought complicated was the best possible word, and I meant it with the best of intentions. Someone called me fascinating once, with the condition that they would stray away from the oft-mentioned "unique". They were right on with that one. They should have said, contrary, moody, above all RUDE. But these were better times and the memory is more forgiving than the characters we have killed off.

I had no idea I meant so much to you, or you feel that you can share so much of yourself. I feel like I hardly know you at all. And that dichotomy in a relationship seems so indicative of my future. I miss so much most of the time. I suppose it is all those walls I am constructing. You would think with all the time I spend inside myself I could make myself a better person. But now I think I am the best possible version of myself. Whatever that means, I will continue to be this person regardless of the changes I feel are necessary.

half remembered and probably unimportant

thinking about how we met by chance, with some shared interests and a love of dance. how far we've come. how far i've gone. but back to destroy my disposable brilliance and my primitive internet left on scraps that you saved for me. i love that you never threw away what other would rightly call trash. expectation and integrity making their way in the distorted pathways of an early morning drunk brain chemistry. we mentioned the take-offs and landings and the blessed in-between that comprise our decisions and our smiles for miles. now stuck in a moment i am torn between all kinds of adjectives and the urge to wallow. you remind my so much of mother sometimes my affection for you seems ironic. but i love you more than i ever loved her it seems although that probably isn't accurate. this day will get me through the years. and that is good enough.

too much has happened in too short a time. i worry about the arrangement of the lines, instead of the theme sometimes. but c'est la vie and on and on.

the path of discovery is littered with cigarette butts and beer bottles

the minerals in your body
that comprise your jewelry
an interesting propostion
when i brought you home
i think you felt alone
when you took me to your house
i didnt know
what to do with my hands
or that taste in my mouth
bodies-under the covers
under the bed
the words-out of my mouth
leaving my head
plan on disappointment, mark it on your calendar
coffee and beer
waking up
passing out
next to you
dinner and cable television, an empty bottle of wine
passes for a good time

i dont think this is codependency but victims never do
the chemicals...
in your body
that comprise your personality


why dont you find out for yourself- i dont understand human relationships. the bridge between hemispheres, the bering strait of the brain as it were(corpus collosum) has sutured this innate sense of self, the I, causing all kinds of reactionary thought processes based on the stimulus and interest of others beings, similarly plagued. those who "read" these blogs often why the vocabulary or obscure quasi scientific metaphors. i am this boring, even more so but right now i dont feel like journal entry year of 1992 with incomplete sentences sometimes lacking in verbs or subjects. i cant just say names, dates yield experience. last night i learned alot my life and lives of those who want to be in my life, and it was awe inspiring. perhaps exercise, lack of sleep and complete honesty in myself has yielded this radical shift in my perception of what i want and more/most importantly, how to get it. i figured out that any place i dont use my cellphone because everyone and everything i require is already present is a good indicator. i dont know about happiness, but i am beginning to understand satisfaction. it isnt sex drugs or MTV but rock n roll is integral part of it.

just sitting thinking, about what people are like at work when they are at a restaurant having a good time, what the staff will do when they get off, what the loud mouthed red necks really think and believe rather than bottom shelf tequila and sugar coming out of their pores. trusting the (in)sincerity of the things people tell me, what full disclosure is and mainly what a nice night it was to sit, distance observe life rather than be just another player with bad dialouge and a worse wardrobe.

a rhinestone bible belt

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