Pro Deo et Patria

Check your friend lists for sated buffalo.

Add as desired.

I'm elated.

Shall I explain why?

"Nat" is no longer an active participant in my life. Haha. That guy was like my dentist's brother. What with the jokes and the sliminess. Ah, I'm so pleased to be rid of that man. His advice never went beyond the obvious and he didn't make up for it with character or humor or wit. Sludge. Now, I'm sure there are those who'd appreciate him. They're probably all mini-skirt wearing whores, too. I, thankfully, am not.

Anyway, I wandered into the philosophy department this afternoon, looking to switch my major. I'd been avoiding this for months because I'm petrified of having to ask for explanations or not understanding what information I should have prepared. Luckily, the girl behind hte desk was as clueless as I was. Eventually I found a form, filled it out, and wound up a philosophy major.

But not before talking to the head of the department. Who just happened to be Andrea Tschemplik. Who's now my advisor. And probably the coolest person ever. (She reminds me of the depiction of Diogenes from Reign. Haha. And Ive always loved that guy.) Ah, now I can't wait for academic advising and whatnot. She's my second favorite professor ever. The first being Surjit Mansingh and she only wins because she's slightly crazier and wears saris all the time. And happens to be a sikh. Apparently.

Anyway, this is seriously going to kick ass.

In other news, Escapology is the stupidest album ever. Fucking Robbie Williams.

Pleasantly blue and studious.

It's all about perception, really.

Short, because I tire.

Tschemplik says I should meditate.

I've this thing for enormous animals and adjectives.

The only female vocalists I can tolerate* are Linda Perry, Grace Slick, Nina Simone, and VV (Alison Mosshart). And that Heather Headley chick, but only because Represent Cuba sounds fucking gorgeous. Oh, and Antje Duvekot, Donna and Vickie Simpson, Imogen Heap, and Sierra and Bianca Casady. I love those last two.

It's not even that I don't like high, grating voices. I mean, Denis DeYoung can hit higher notes than anyone and I still like him. I think it's just me not liking whores who happen to sing.

* I'll admit to tolerating

Seriously, I don't care if you think Christia Aguiliarara has a wonderful voice. I saw her on the television and I was pretty sure I was at risk for VD. I'd much rather listen to In Flight than watch some 19 year old prostitue herself.

Well, usually, at least.

Maybe I've just been listening to too much righteous reggae or something, though. Is my stance too 15th century?

Fill me up, let's take a ride from your mouth into my mind.

Seriously, someone go buy my a Cocorosie CD.

The drag queens
The speed freaks
All the homo boys they touch me baby

But I think that's selfish.

This appeals to my sense of awesome. [Haha, and a little heart wrenching, in that wry sort of way I really like.]

Whose Line Is It Anyway is also pretty much awesome. [My grandmother tried to tell me how much she liked Whose Line, once, but I realized she was talking about "What's My Line?" instead. And I thought, "Damn, they're both so entertaining."] BBC America is basically the only decent channel. Well, I do like Cartoon Network. Especially when they show Tom and Jerry cartoons. [Or those radical WWII toons where Bugs Bunny screws with Hitler or something.] And I secretly love Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends. Seriously, that's some entertaining stuff.

I bought sunglasses today. They make my head look like a deformed squash and my ears stick out and I like them a lot. But it struck me as really weird to go to CVS just to impulse buy some cheap sunglasses, even if they have a picture of Panama Jack on them, so I grabbed a box of candy and hid the sunglasses underneath. I guess I could've just used the self checkout, though. Jeez.

I heard a funny thing the other day. This girl was in the hall and she was yelling into her cellphone, "You don't love me! You just idolize me!" Immediately I thought, "Hunh. That was always sort of my conception of romantic love. Wait, didn't Carla say that same line on Scrubs?" Moments later I thought, "Whoa, I watch too much television." Then I ate a grilled cheese sandwich with tomatoes and bacon and spinach and read Anatole France. But I kept thinking about what that girl screamed and that she was a twit. Or, alternatively, that I'm a creep who listens to other people scream.

The problem with idolizing someone, as far as I can tell, is that it inevitably leads to jealousy. So, in examining all the people I manage to shove onto pedestals, I figure I'll get a pretty good picture of which traits I should cultivate. And basically, no matter where you look, it comes down to two or thee things. I'm taken by people with spontaneity and curiosity and creativity. And people with ambition and desire and needs. And people with child-like appreciation for the world around them. Does that mean I'm missing those things? Well, I damn should hope not. [But secretly fear that I do.]

It's funny that thoughts like that are so easily pushed aside by pomegranate-flavored tea. [Too bad everything tastes like rose hips after taking vitamins.]

I don't know. Old people scare me, I guess. Human beings are really horrible. I wish you could just inhale positivity.

I don't know, I guess I just wish my life was filled with more zombies and stuff.

Am I just another character straight out of Hemingway?

My one delight was to love and to be loved. But in this I did not keep the measure of mind to mind, which is the luminous line of friendship; but from the muddy concupiscence of the flesh and the hot imagination of puberty mists steamed up to becloud and darken my heart so that I could not distinguish the white light of love from the fog of lust. Both love and lust boiled within me, and swept my youthful immaturity over the precipice of evil desires to leave me half drowned in a whirlpool of abominable sins.

Here's the thing, though - everyone has to conform to the same system of measurement or everything gets completely out of whack and no one can communicate. And I'm not talking about a simple conversion from meters to feet or something. I'm talking about totally disparate ways of interpreting the universe.

Motherfucking bitch.






p.s. - I dislike things.

( Xiu Xiu (Shoo-shoo) is fucking great. )

Uh, that's really upsetting. Thanks for letting me know.

Man, am I antisocial or what?

I like the look of my thumbs. They're nicely boned, with just the right emaciated leanness I find attractive. My other fingers aren't quite long enough to match the glamour of my thumbs, but they're getting there. Watching my tendons tends to hypnotize me.

When I was a baby, I crawled backwards. Now I just fall on my ass when I try to walk. I watched some kid twist his ankle this afternoon. For some reason, I didn't bother to help him. I even chuckled. (And there are people who think I'm a good person. Good god, I'm worse than...several fictional characters.) I think I'm becoming a sociopath of my own will, which is a really disturbing thought. Sort of.

My aunt's begun to pick up on my inability to deal with groups/people, I think. She's hinting at it, at least. "Have you ever heard of projection?" Ha. Have I?!

Cream kind of pisses me off. The band, not the condiment dairy product. The songs I like by them are really just bad covers of good songs and the songs I don't are oppressively sucky. Then again, sometimes it's nice to just listen to crap.

I guess in that sense, my life and my music tastes are analogous. Yesterday I took a three hour tour of "cow country", with Rosemary and my grandfather. I admit, I've always had an appreciation for aimless drives in what can be ambiguously described as wilderness. (Not quite undiscovered country, but close enough to suit.) I started hearing contrabass in my head and thinking about Thoreau. I mean, three hours of pastures and horses and majestic vistas'll do that to a man. That's sort of what it's like to listen to a band like Cream. You can't escape it, it's a little horrible, but in the end it's therapeutic. In short doses, at least.

Haha, I guess that's what I mean when I say I have an escapist personality. I suppose it's closer to just avoidance or something along those lines, but I honestly just like the word "escapist". It's so much more juicily disparaging. I always want to find some way to avoid reality, for whatever reason. Not that reality is unpleasant - heck no. I just prefer my little fantasies to anything God or physics thought up. It may be arrogance, but I think I'm much happier in my head than interacting with the masses.

Probably because I'm so good at thinking and so poor at having a conversation. I mean, I know a lot. I'm not a dullard. But I only care about so many things. I don't give a shit about art history. I don't care one lick about another person's business venture or the cost of cattle in Seattle. I'm more amused by the fact that Seattle and cattle happen to rhyme than anything else. Hell, I still don't understand polite greetings. I always get flummoxed. "Hi, how are you?" "Fine, how are you?" "Oh, I'm alright, how are you doing?" "...?" It errs toward the awkward side. Seriously, though, apologies to all those people who love conversation. I mean, wit is the thing. But I've got to admit, I'd much rather read a conversation than hear one, and I'd much rather hear one than participate in one.

Unless, that is, if it's in an isolated location with someone I know relatively well and I actually have something I want to discuss. Then...well, then I'm talkative and witty and everything. But seriously, that whole idea of "group outings" is beyond me. Most mortifying evenings of my life. (And yet people drag me to them because, "I need to be more social.") Fuck people.

Which is really one of the reasons I think I'm going to stick to the campus next year. I don't have the gumption to transfer, my interest in living off campus was fleeting (largely because it would mean spending even more time with more people I don't necessarily care about or find interesting), and the Sophomore dorms are clean and large. I might even get to live in Centennial (I have quite a few credits - more than some juniors). Besides, the convenience of living next to my classes, not having to take the metro every day, and the pseudo-free food is nice. And a house would require so much effort. Effort I'm simply not willing to put forth. Still, that $240 a month efficiency on U st. was really spiffy.

My Uncle-in-law showed me his wedding photo. (You may be wondering why in hell anyone that cool would marry into our family, and I have no good answer for you. The guy's a total loon, but in a nice, amiable way. And he cooks. And he's a blacksmith. And a roofer. And a security analyst for the government. And 900 other things. He's my Napoleon.) I was thirteen when they got married, and I think I'm still the youngest in the family (though some random relative has probably had a litter of children by now), so, of course, I look entirely 13. And at first glance, it's so disgusting. I'm the only one not smiling. In fact, I'm glaring at the guy taking the photo. But after a moment you realize that I'm cool as all get out. I've got a lock of hair covering one eye, my hands shoved into my pockets, and the greatest death stare I've ever witnessed. I only wish Stuart had been there. He really would've appreciated/complimented me.

Haha, I swear, it's like we're the weird relatives no one likes or understands. Which is pretty cool, because I actually feel superior to everyone but Bruce and Tim, who aren't even really my relatives. So, maybe I'll wind up marrying some brilliant roofer lady or a theology major. Probably not. I'm actually probably going to wind up as some kind of immoral bastard with interchangeable girlfriends who all look vaguely the same and have no personality who I just use for sex and to impress work associates. Or a hermit.

It's funny, now that I've gotten over that whole, "Morality is fun!" mentality (okay, gotten over is a bad term...try "temporarily justified ignoring it") I'm beginning to understand many of the James arguments. You could even go so far as to label them Beloin arguments, but that sort of paints man as too much of an animal for my taste. I prefer lascivious sex demon, myself.

Just to clear this up for everyone who doesn't know me so well - I'm actually joking. I felt I needed to point out that I'm, in fact, not a lascivious sex demon, or even an aspiring one.

It's funny. Once you make up your mind to do something, just to simply do something, it's very easy to do it. And keep doing it. And never stop doing it. The power of the rational mind is beyond commpare. Every day I feel more virtuous. Thank god for the atmoists, eh?

My mother says all families are insane. Does anyone have relatives they honestly like, and would spend time with regardless of filial piety? I figure someone's got to have nice cousins or something. (Mine remind me of characters from Willy Wonka & The chocolate Factory.)

Man. I suddenly want to read that book about poaching and raisins and sleeping pills. Actually, I just want to be thirteen again. I might have been a mess, but I had fun dong it.

EDIT: Danny, The Champion of the World. And yes, he did.

You can leave me
On the corner
Where you found me
I'm not for sale anymore

When I tie my shoes really tight, I suddenly become insane.

I've been jumping things for about an hour.

I think that's a pretty cool phenomenon.







Oh god, I am so out of shape.

( Surveyed )

(17:06:15) Carl: So, I was taking an oral practice test with my japanese professor
(17:06:27) Carl: And we're talking about things I like
(17:06:32) Carl: And she asks me if I like pizza
(17:06:43) Carl: And I don't really care either way, so I ask her, what kind of pizza in particular
(17:06:50) Carl: And she says goat cheese and lobster tail
(17:06:59) Peter Yakovlev: haha damn
(17:07:00) Carl: And I say whoa, that sounds really good, I'd love that.
(17:07:07) Carl: And she says I used to make it when I was in japan
(17:07:11) Carl: And I say man, that's cool
(17:07:16) Carl: And she says, I'll make you some sometime.
(17:07:20) Carl: And I say, what, really?
(17:07:24) Carl: And she says, Of course! I have a sepcial recipie!
(17:07:26) Carl: And now
(17:07:27) Carl: I get
(17:07:31) Carl: lobster and goat cheese pizza
(17:07:35) Carl: I'm so exciteddd
(17:07:41) Peter Yakovlev: lucky bastard
(17:07:42) Peter Yakovlev: :P

My life is perfect, now.

People mistake me for a graduate student because I'm less insane than my peers. (And I have a creepy beard.)


Oh, I like Kurdistan. A lot.

I just got home.

I saw a deer today.

I feel like a ghost.

...

Someone just compared Che Guevara to Martin Luther King Jr.

That is so fucked up.

Cowardly Mass Murderer versus Leader of Civil Disobedience Movement. Yeah. Totally the same.

Oh, and Benjamin Franklin was never the fucking president.

And, just for your information, Lincoln was a schmuck.

Some twelve year old just offered me a condom. What the hell.

And someone threw up in the bathroom again.

Oh, and people who are rude to service workers just piss me off. "You may serve me." What the fuck? Who says that?




Eh, at least Lewis Black is still kind of funny.

Weird dreams. Social nightmares, hah.

Le style est ceci: ajouter a une pensee donnee toues les circonstances propres a produire tout l'effet que doit produire cette pensee.


Mmn, Stendhal appeals to my sense of things like no one else.

I guess it must be strange to walk into your dorm room at 4:52 in the a.m. to find your roommate sprawled out in boxers and a t-shirt on the carpet, wearing headphones pumping Atmosphere, buried in a shiny copy of Francis Scott, surrounded by eight empty boxes of cereal and an empty milk jug, with Gigantor muted on the television.

Ah well.

I think I'm going to go eat some Special K and read about epilepsy.

P.S. - drunk people. oh my god. i despise them. they relieve themselves in the most unlikely and least convenient locations. seriously, could we keep ourselves sober enough to remain continent?

P.P.S. - booklists are horrible. or wonderful. i can't quite decide. it's one or the other, though. on one hand, i have the overwhelming need to read faster, more, better! on the other, i do this constantly, and usually at the detriment of more important(?) pursuits. ah me. my addictive personality (though a fickle one) has fucked me once again. i'm rather happy about that, though. weird.

It is a tale
Told by an idiot,
Full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

"My principal objection wasn't the vanity involved in writing one's autobiography. Such books are like all others: quickly forgotten if boring. What I was frightened of was de-flowering the happy moments I've experienced by describing and dissecting them. Now that's what I certainly will not do - I'll skip them instead."

"That for which we find words is something already dead in our hearts. There is always a kind of contempt in the act of speaking."

It is a strange thing to find comfort in Nietzche.

I'm the poetic version of the guys in wifebeaters on COPS. The landlord said don't be late - he may have to litigate.

Well, finally something good.

I popped a bag of popcorn yesterday and completely forgot about it. I went to lie down and fell asleep, I guess. I mean, I was only expecting to take a short nap, not a thirteen hour sleep marathon. (Okay, I take it back, that wasn't much of a marathon, comparatively. I remember sleeping for thirty six hours straight. That was probably the best day of my life. I say probably, because I don't remember a thing.) Anyhow, I just found the bag of popcorn not in my microwave, but on my bedroom floor, on the other side of the bed. I don't really understadn how it could've gotten there, unless someone took it out of the microwave and threw it across my room. Or, the cats opened the microwave and dragged it over there. Both possibilities strike me as a little far-fetched, though.

Regardless, I get to munch on some popcorn.

So, here's the final layout of my mythology project. Actually, this is only transitory - a third draft. It'll likely change.

Alright, so as an honors level student, I've got to do something additional for the class. Now, for the other students, that means reading Antigone or something. 'Course, I'm too good for that. I mean, sure, I've got 6 APs, MUN, social engagements, some weird things for Mr. Gabriel, and 90 other things to do this month, but that doesn't phase me. (Hey, I saw phase spelled 'faze' the other day to mean what I mean in this context. Anyone know the proper spelling/meaning combination? Or was the television jsut wrong and faze isn't a word at all? I don't want to look it up, but if you guys already know, I don't mind learning. Faze just looks dumb.) (Oh, and spelt? *shrug* Curious.) So, instead of reading a fifty page play, I'm going to read about 4,000 pages and then write an incredibly lengthy, bullshit-filled paper comparing various and diverse world cultures, based on their mythology and uses of it in society. Sounds pretty cool, huh? Yeah, I thought so too, when I came up with it.

Here's what I'm planning on reading: (by June 1st, mind you)

• The Tale of Genji by Shikubi Murasaki (Seidensticker Translation); Library
  
• The Tale of Genji: Lengends and Pictures by Shikibu Murasaki; Library
  
• The Tale of Genji: A Reader's Guide by William J. Puette; Paperback; $9.97
  
• Tales of Moonlight and Rain by Ueda Akinari; I have no idea where to find this. Help?
  
• The Electric Geisha: Exploring Japan's Popular Culture by Atushi Ueda; Library
  
• Underground: The Tokyo Gas Attacks and The Japanese Psyche by Haruki Murakami; Paperback; $9.72 (admittedly, a bit of a guilty indulgence, but worth the $10)
  
• Haruki Murakami and the Music of Words by Jay Rubin; Paperback; $10.74 (Haha, guilty indulgence? More like meaningless purchase designed only to make me chortle with glee.)
  
• The Prose Edda of Snorri Sturlson by Snorri Sturlson; Library
  
• Beowulf: A New Verse Translation by Seames Heaney; Library
  
• The Arabian Nights : Tales from a Thousand and One Nights (Modern Library Classics) by A.S. Byatt; Paperback; $10.74
  
• The Illiad - She's probably got a copy kicking around somewhere I can steal for quotes.
  
• The Odyssey - Shoved in my backpack.
  

So, here's my plan: I'm going to spend the majority of my time comparing Japanese mythology and culture to that of the Greeks. But, I'm going to use the scandinavian sagas and the Arab/Hindu (whooo, controversyyyy...) stuff to counter-balance everything and give myself more work. I'll skip the Arabian Nights and Snorri if it looks like I'm running out of time (I'm doing more work than is expected, anyway) but I'll come back to them afterward.

I think the only reason I'm doing this is because I'm utterly disgusted with her analysis of everything Greek, so much so that I can barely pick up Sophicles anymore. "Nipples? Why's everyone getting stabbed in the nipple?!?! I'll bet Homer had some sort of fetish..." God damn it. I just want ot shoot myself in that class.

This paper better get a better response than my Joe McCarthy one. God, she wouldn't even read it. What a jerk. And, I mean, that was an awful paper, admittedly, written in less than 20 minutes, but still. It was funny. Just because you forgot about the 50s doesn't mean Communism isn't still funny. Geez. It's the punchline ot jsut about every joke I tell. (I've got a new pun.)

Oh, and I bought this, too. I want to wear it into Starbucks and make people angry. Unobtrusively. Ha, I'll bet its mere proximity to the hipsters wearing the Guevara shirts will make theirs ignite. Or maybe mine will. (Metaphysical) Battle of the Ideologies? Oh, sweet Christ, let's put that on the show. I've got other shirts we can burn. Hahaha, this'll be great. Oh man, oh man. (P.S. buy this for me. As a present. For being such an amazing friend/brother/son/mentor/protege/debator/companion/love/kid-who-stares-at-me-and-makes-me-feel-nervous/student/teacher/philosopher/inspiration/whatever.)

Shit, do I have to study for Econ or what? I'm so screwed. Not that there's anything specific I don't know. I think I'm just psyching myself out. I got a 55/60 on the multiple choice I took last night. And the essays make sense to me, now. But, every time I try to think about it, my mind goes blank and I sort of get this vacant look on my face like, "They went to the moon?! When???" And then my jaw sort of drops and I start drueling everywhere. Plus, I'll be taking it after a battery of three tests. It's going ot be awful, really. But I'll do fine, I think. I mean, I know I will. Probably.

I'm thinking about taking Japanese next year. Oh, Nina...

Oh, and dear mock trial team, some words of advice from a dead guy who drank too much, "If you can't dazzle them with brilliance, baffle them with bull." Go to it.

I just ate three cucumbers. In a row.

Oscar Wilde - "Everything popular is wrong."

I knew someone cool'd said it first.

1. Reply with your name and I'll write a random thought about you.
2. I'll say what song/movie reminds me of you (or vice versa).
3. I'll sing a song about you.
4. I'll describe you in a single word.
5. I'll tell you the first memory I have of you.
6. I'll tell you the most memorable moment I have of you.
6. I'll write you a haiku.
7. I'll ask you something that I've always wondered about you.
8. I'll give you a job title.
9. I'll recommend a band that you'll probably like.
10. omgz lyk put this in ur journal lol

When a member of the House moves over to the Senate, he raises the IQ of both bodies.

Mao II and Armance.

The first one's supposedly about how the world society interprets words, icons, and symbols - that sort of thing. Should be interesting, unless the entire book is like the first chapter. It was written in this weird semi-inner monologue, partially omniscient, choppy, brisk, and difficult to read manner. It's like the guy [Don DeLillo] was trying out literary techniques, but couldn't find one that suited him. Either it'll stay like this, and I'll gain little or no understanding of his message, or he'll quickly change things up to something more legible. [I'll say this, though: cults is creepeh.]

The second's Stendhal's first novel. Now, I dug The Red & The Black, but I fear this might have an entirely different subject. It's supposed to be a psychological work about impotence. Interesting, but not too high up on my scale of things to read. However, I'm hoping the fact that it was written by Stednhal will override the less-than-awesome nature of the subject. Besides, that description is just one line off the backcover, so we can probably safely ignore it.

Actually, if you were to combine the two, I think you'd have a damn good novel. I mean, if you took Stendhal's ability actually...write. And combined it with DeLillo's awesome ideas. Combine in a centerfuge and you're all set. Man, I wish you could combine books like that. In a certerfuge, I mean. There are so many novels I'd like to combine. So many with characteristics I loved, but were sorely lacking in other areas. And you could definitely come up with the best 'zombie' novel. Mmmn...

I need to go on a crazy-long walk sometime. I think I'll walk downtown or to the movies or something. Yeah, I feel like blowing some money. [As if I have any. Pffft.]

Anyhow, I've got a psychology exam tomorrow. I don't really think I'm going to study. I don't exactly do that, ever. I find that whenever I try, I end up wasting my time. Besides, it's psychology. It all akes perfect sense. The only difficult part is the terminology, and I already know that. ANd, yeah, there's absolutely no way I'm going to study for Intro to Electronics. But I still have to take the final, which is complete bullshit. I mean, I've had an A+ in that class every single marking period. I've never gotten lower than a 95 on anything. But, no, a week before the end of class, he gives us a sheet of basic circuits that we have to complete. Each one counts as a quiz. There were thirty freaking things in there, and after the first 10, they get freaking complicated. I mean, I got 20 done, but that's ten 0s. And I did more than anyone. I don't see how anyone else is passing that class. Not that they would've, anyway. But seriously, that's totally unfair. I could've had Monday off.

Maybe I'll go in an finish the packet instead of doing my exam. That'll be better for my average, anyway.

Oh, and get the crap away from me.

A dating site for people who agree with Ayn Rand. That's the funniest thing I've seen in a while.



Why? Whywhywhy?

Squirrels chewed through the outer plastic layer of the wire for my cable internet. Then it rained and short circuited it. This is why my internet connection has been a) shit-faced and b) nonexistant.




RacismPrejudice pissses me off. [I always want to spell prujudice: p-r-e-j-u-s-t-i-c-e. I makes more sense, if you look at it. I mean, it's obviously a perversion of that. At least, that's what I thought in 3rd grade. And yes, they made me write the word prejudice (over and over) in third grade.]

And, hey! What the hell?! I didn't even talk to you, you jerk. You're basing everything off of two experiences years ago, and have no interest in correcting yourself. I have scruples, man. I am excessively concerned with appearing to be proper and modest. Things disgust me. And easily. Your comment shows your utter lack of understanding. You are a jerk. Nice going, jerkface. [Also: how many times have I given you food? Ass.]

Also: ( Prude? ) See, it's all because everyone likes whores more.

Oh, and everyone dance for joy. It's the end of socialized medicine. Maybe Canadians will stop dropping like flies. And selling us cheap drugs. And undermining the domestic black market. [because we really need the revenue from that]

No one would write this novel. There's no climax, there's no resloution.

There's just endless story.

Even if you killed off the main characters, nothing would be resolved.

Stupid novel.

I want to play tag in the plaza. Or just, everywhere. Like, a constant game of tag for a week.



I've seen better days...

How am I such a bad person?

Someone tell me. Someone explain to me why I should be hated and feared and despised. I don't get it. I don't understand how I could possibly change.

What do you people want from me?

God damn it.

I guess my best wasn't good enough for you. Or maybe it was too good? Would you like me to suck more? I can do that. Would oyu like me to be nicer? I can do that. Would you like me to be smarter? I can do that. Would you like me to be faster, stronger, fatter, cooler, funnier, or happier? I can do that.


Would you just fucking tell me?

I hate this ambiguity. It makes me feel awful. And powerless. Give me something concrete to work with. Give me a goal, a task, anything. Give me something.


Screw this, I'm me and I like it that way. [I just wish you did.]


*deep breathes*

Being a teenager is stupid. I want to cheat past this level.

Anyone have a copy of 'Asshole' by Tom Petty?

Nevermind. Thank you, Mitz.

( It's got appropriate lyrics... )

I'm just a liar with nothing left to lie about.

( Bysie-Bitch )

New CD:

1. "Who The Fuck Is Alice" by Dr. Hook
   
2. "Lollipop" by Ben Kweller
   
3. "Blown It Again" by Daniel Beddingfield
   
4. "El Salvador" by Athlete
   
5. "Short Skirt, Long Jacket" by Cake
   
6. "Lemon Tree" by Blind Melon
   
7. "Older Than You" by Eskimo Joe
   
8. "Judas" by Antje Duvekot
   
9. "History of Lovers" by Iron & Wine with Calexico
   
10. "Ballad of Serenity" [Firefly Theme]
    
11. "All The Pretty Horses" by Calexico
    
12. "Mary Mac" by Great Big Sea
    
13. "One Four Five" by The Cat Empire
    
14. "Cells" by The Servants
    
15. "Guns and Cigarettes" by Atmosphere
    
16. "Good Morning Judge" by 10cc
    
17. "Hey Man (Now You're Really Living)" by The Eels
    
18. "Born Under a Bad Sign" by BB King & John Lee Hooker
    
19. "Far Away From Near" by Minus Vince
    
20. "Tricky Nicky" by Mike Pinto
    
21. "Scolding Wife" by Great Big Sea
    

Aye. S'nice.




I am really very hungry. I do not eat enough.

Hi. I've got something to say. I'm not looking for comments, really.

You're too immature for your own good and you think it's cool. Well, I can't take it anymore. I can't take your shit no more. Well, I don't need to know you. I've got other friends. They don't act like stupid dicks. Let it go. You're not that cool anymore and I didn't like you much before.

Thank you.

Which would you choose?

1. Iron & Wine
2. Calexico
3. Great Big Sea
4. The Decemberists
5. Interpol

Damn it, so many other bands I want to put on here.

I wish I had more pictures, but it doesn't really matter.








Hush-a-bye, don't you cry
Go to sleep you little baby
When you wake, you shall have cake
And all the pretty little horses
Blacks and bays, dapple and greys
All the pretty little horses
Hmm, and mama loves, daddy loves
Oh they love their little baby

When you wake, you shall have cake
And all the pretty little horses
Blacks and bays, dapple and greys
All the pretty little horses
Blacks and bays, dapple and greys
Coach and six white horses

Way down yonder, down in the meadow
Lies a poor little child
The bees and the flies are pickin' out its eyes
The poor little child crying for its mother
Oh, crying for its mother
Hush-a-bye, don't you cry
Go to sleep you little baby

When you wake, you shall have cake
And all the pretty little horses
Blacks and bays, dapple and greys
Coach and six white horses
Blacks and bays, dapple and greys
All the pretty little horses
Blacks and bays, dapple and greys
All the pretty little horses



"The way people in democracies think of the government as something different from themselves is a real handicap. And, of course, sometimes the government confirms their opinion."

I've received a complaint. Disciplinary action will be taken.

Reduced by 1/2.

( This just won't stop offending me )

I wasted so many CDs before I got Daemontools. Damn it.

We were born to fuck each other.

So, he lied in the 80s. So did everyone else.

At least he's not an overt bigot.


That expansion of presidential powers thing, though. That's scary.

( I don't know what this is, but it's interesting. )

Oh, crap. I guess I listen to mainstream music. Who knew? I mean, when Petr, Petr's sister, that girl I kind of know, that other girl, and twelve people who post on the blogs I read listen to a band, it's mainstream. And when they're pretty high up on my list of favorites, I guess I can't really call myself a connosieur of the odder end of the spectrum, anymore.

I hate the populist movement. I always have. Really, what's life without a little elitist prejudice? Music isn't the only place it's useful though. It's just as necessary with any other form of media. Books, for example. The classics might be classic, but they're boring. {And who in their right mind can read Balzac, anyway? Soooo many commasss...fuck your page-long sentences, sir.} Grocery store novels might be entertaining, but they're dumb. [Case in point: Harry Potter (aka Wizards don't ride brooms, but I don't care) and Dan Brown (aka Hey, I've got a great idea for a novel...but I'm such a crappy writer, I think I'll blow chunks instead of typing words) and Tolkein (aka I'm not half the writer people think I am. In fact, I'm really just a stuck up British guy with too much time on my hands. Let's rip off norse sagas instead of being original, shall we?)] Hidden little jewels in the library - that's where the cool shit is at. Fo' serious. (Plus amazon.com: you can check to see how many people've bought a book. Definitely a good indicator. Plus the reviews are helpful. I always look for books on amazon and steal them from the library. It's the best way to go. Seriously) I mean, have you ever spent an hour just searching, looking for that hidden, forgotten little novel? I'll bet not. Because I live a cooler life than ye. Too bad, though. You'd enjoy it.

It's the same with movies. (There are too many movies that never even make it to the box office. I'm not saying Star Wars IV wasn't awesome, just that the Hulk was...uh...dumb) Or art. (Screw abstract bullcrap, aight? Seriously, romanticism, all the way.) Comics. (Calvin & hobbes or bust. Well, unless it's Bloom County. The old ones.) Computer games. (Prior to 1998, computer games had plots, characters, and actually made sense. And computers were too slow for them to demand decent reflexes of me.) Newpapers. (The NYT is crap. And liberal up the ass. Washington Post, bitches) You get the picture, here. Fuck the people. They don't know what's good for them.

When's the last time you read a good book? Recently, right? (I hope) Was it critcally acclaimed? Was it assigned by your English teacher? Was it on a summer reading list? Is it the top-selling book on Amazon? Case in point: I doubt Ms. Taylor, Macdonal, or Canalori have heard of half the books I read. Probably haven't even considered giving kids something 'new' to read. Something cool. Something whose plot hasn't been rehashed in every 'major novel of the twentieth century' ever. Something whose cahracters resemble people someone could actually understand or find compassion for.

No, it's freaking Shakespeare, Homer, and J.D. fucking Salinger. If I hear about another poor Sophmore reading 'Rat Saw God', I'll punch some faces. Seriously.

I'm not saying we shouldn't like the things English teachers assign. I enjoyed Billy Budd, I really did. (Though I only remember it vaguely - Pneumonia, and all) I thought it was cool shit. Did I think that because some old guy with a beard gave it an award? Pfff, no. I liked it because I like the ideas it presented. I liked it because it was simplistic and easy to understand, with intriguing characters and a penchant for challenging the values of society. That's why I liked it. When people tell me something's good because their brother, mother, cousin, friend, or roommate likes it, I just get so angry.

Society doesn't and shouldn't dictate what is good. If you like something other people like, fine. But don't let that be your guiding light when choosing literature, or a blog to read, or a newspaper to stumble over, or a movie to watch, or a band to become ravenous after. My God, man, what is that? It doesn't make sense. And, even if you find a particular thing you enjoy, even if you find that perfect niche, don't shout to the heavens to because other people happen to like it too. No one cares, and I find it offensive. And fan clubs are the worst.

Anyhow, I've been looking forward to this weekend so much, and now it looks like it's going to suck. Everyone's home and all my plans have been dashed against the rocks of logistics and asinine parents. Blast it all. Well, Monday should be good.

I'm still totally wiped from this afternoon, though. Ow. Seriously, God damn, I hate this. My head is like...empty. I think I'll go read soem vapid, stupid shit no one's ever heard of or will ever care about and fall asleep.


Damn, I keep going ot bed so early. 8,9, 10 pm. S'crazy. Since when do I get a good night's sleep? Damn.

---

Oh, and I need to increase my knowledge of drugs. The only reason I had any idea what was going on during that psych test was because the answers were on the board. God, I don't know what kind of effects cocaine actually has. I don't care, either. God. It's like he's trying to turn me into an alcohol chugging, hippie-ass druggie who's scared of the beatles. Or something.

That might just be me, though.

I love Deerhoof. Omg, they're the best. Like, whoa. (I have absolutely no idea of the lyrics, though. High-pitched Asian bassists aren't really that comprehensible.)



In other news: I am enamored. Crud.

"Stand down red alert, men. The Klingon bird of prey has gone to warp."
"But, Cap'n, there's still the Romulans."
"They won't interfere now. They daren't risk an intergalatic incident. No, Scotty, you can give those engines a rest, now."
"They 'preciate it, Cap'n."
"That they do. That they do."

I just realized that I ruined my life freshman year.

But I can totally blame Mr. Lerner for that one.





God damn it.

I wish I was pretty photogenic.

I've developed a bad habit of getting bored with things too easily. Books, games, people, ideas...it's all too transient.

There are actually novels I can't bring myself to finish, games whose plots hae so little interest for that I just give up half-way through, and people who I can't bear to talk to for more than a few seconds without talking to myself.

God, I'm disgusting.


Why is life boring?






I need excitement. I think I missed that part, before.

I'm such a chauvanist.

Or, as Yoda would say, "Sexist pig am I."

Damn you, Gutenberg. That is all.

I tried my best to be the person I wanted to be. But everything looks perfect from so far away. One day in the afternoon, I stopped to see how high and how far we'd gone, and the ground fell from under my feet. Frail, pleasing everyone, there I was, drifting, way out into the sunshine, expecting to crash. I guess I’m lookin’ for a brand new place; is there a better life for me? A subtle wind can blow me down; let me rest. So I thought, who would bear to feel sorry for me? And then she said, "When your fear turns to faith, you'll find that you won't feel so alone. When your weakness turns to strength, you'll find that your suddenly back home."

Colbert had John Stossel on this afternoon. I didn't know he was a Libertarian. And he's probably the least raving one I've seen in a while. Good grief, though. 'Freedomtarian'? The invisible hand of market forces! Hurray!

Also: The Pope is an apostate. <_< Mr. Oneto is literally killing the Beatles for me. Ugh. They're not humans, okay? They're not allowed to be. Gods, man, Gods. Gods with drug addictions. Took a shot of cocaine and away I run. Had a good run but I run too slow. They took me down in Juarez, Mexico.