'trivialities' -- belleiseult
The past week, some things came into focus. Sorts of things I'd known for awhile, but hadn't realized. Like, I used to be afraid of people sometimes, then last weekend, my housemate heard of a house party celebrating the acquittal of an accused campus sex offender.
Of course, I then became slightly infatuated with the idea of being able to say I'd walked on 'the rape porch' and shook 'the rapist's hand, so I did. The third girl with us is a bite-sized angel who goes to church, approves of Ron Burgundy and is taking the year off to SAVE THE CHILDREN in Honduras, and the whites of her eyes went all the way around when she realized I wasn't just going to walk on the rape porch -- though, prude jokes aside, I think she was just freaked out because we didn't know one damn soul in the place. Anyway, after we delivered her back home, my housemate and I went back. Hogged the rapist's beer, couches, club mixes, and congratulated said rapist, and ignored better-looking young men who wanted to talk to me. We discussed why I can't date people whom I consider friends and the general consensus is, I'm an aesthetic and asexual jerk: without mystery, there's no tension. It was packed. Fun. Questionable-smelling. HONG KONG REBELS, ALL RIGHT.
Yes, it was silly, but I figure rape houses are something you should get over with in college for a few hours, before the campus police bust in the way they did this weekend, just so you can say you did. And uh, you have to do something to earn my fear, and you have to do something to lose my respect. I think that's a better way for me to think of people, though I'm sure some would say my default settings are a little too optimistic.
I also discovered I actually do have time-management and study skills, not that I choose to use them.
I lost my webmaster job to someone who works cheaper, which is to say, he's work-study. I vaguely considered vandalizing the Asian American Center website, maybe leave a big slashy B in the wallpaper (where 'slashy B' may or may not entail butt-porn) but I used up my skills on time-management and studying, so. I need a new job. AWA has made me poor and I'm only getting poorer.
Another revelation: I now own a playlist full of songs containing fire symbolism and a 12-foot banner with Chad Michael Murray's face for about 5 feet of it. This can't be healthy.
I forgot the data transfer wire for my camera back in Hong Kong.
The LJ Friend o' the Day Meme
plasticchimera is AWESOME because he is physically beautiful and romps around in leather pants and is clever and calls me 'tea-sniffer' because of stories that have long been effaced by the sands of Internet-time, which move even faster than real time. That being said, we have known each other for at least seven real years. We should probably know each other better.
I like him also because he do what my dad does when he grows up, and I have always found the vanity of building monuments to oneself both amusing and genuinely sentimental -- but such are most things about plasticchimera, including his obsessions with shock-value, long hair, and industrial Goth artists including VNV Nation and Assemblage 23. When it's given, his affection feels luxurious and slightly adhesive, like a seal pup after the clubbing but before the processing.
He has a fun sense of humor: he can tell the difference between a backhanded compliment and a forehanded insult.
Finch -- "What It Is To Burn" ~6.8 MB, 192Kbps. The lyrics aren't anything special, but the juxtaposition of cellos and electric guitars is what gets me about this one.
Of course, I then became slightly infatuated with the idea of being able to say I'd walked on 'the rape porch' and shook 'the rapist's hand, so I did. The third girl with us is a bite-sized angel who goes to church, approves of Ron Burgundy and is taking the year off to SAVE THE CHILDREN in Honduras, and the whites of her eyes went all the way around when she realized I wasn't just going to walk on the rape porch -- though, prude jokes aside, I think she was just freaked out because we didn't know one damn soul in the place. Anyway, after we delivered her back home, my housemate and I went back. Hogged the rapist's beer, couches, club mixes, and congratulated said rapist, and ignored better-looking young men who wanted to talk to me. We discussed why I can't date people whom I consider friends and the general consensus is, I'm an aesthetic and asexual jerk: without mystery, there's no tension. It was packed. Fun. Questionable-smelling. HONG KONG REBELS, ALL RIGHT.
Yes, it was silly, but I figure rape houses are something you should get over with in college for a few hours, before the campus police bust in the way they did this weekend, just so you can say you did. And uh, you have to do something to earn my fear, and you have to do something to lose my respect. I think that's a better way for me to think of people, though I'm sure some would say my default settings are a little too optimistic.
I also discovered I actually do have time-management and study skills, not that I choose to use them.
I lost my webmaster job to someone who works cheaper, which is to say, he's work-study. I vaguely considered vandalizing the Asian American Center website, maybe leave a big slashy B in the wallpaper (where 'slashy B' may or may not entail butt-porn) but I used up my skills on time-management and studying, so. I need a new job. AWA has made me poor and I'm only getting poorer.
Another revelation: I now own a playlist full of songs containing fire symbolism and a 12-foot banner with Chad Michael Murray's face for about 5 feet of it. This can't be healthy.
I forgot the data transfer wire for my camera back in Hong Kong.
The LJ Friend o' the Day Meme
plasticchimera is AWESOME because he is physically beautiful and romps around in leather pants and is clever and calls me 'tea-sniffer' because of stories that have long been effaced by the sands of Internet-time, which move even faster than real time. That being said, we have known each other for at least seven real years. We should probably know each other better.
I like him also because he do what my dad does when he grows up, and I have always found the vanity of building monuments to oneself both amusing and genuinely sentimental -- but such are most things about plasticchimera, including his obsessions with shock-value, long hair, and industrial Goth artists including VNV Nation and Assemblage 23. When it's given, his affection feels luxurious and slightly adhesive, like a seal pup after the clubbing but before the processing.
He has a fun sense of humor: he can tell the difference between a backhanded compliment and a forehanded insult.
Finch -- "What It Is To Burn" ~6.8 MB, 192Kbps. The lyrics aren't anything special, but the juxtaposition of cellos and electric guitars is what gets me about this one.
- She burns.
Today's on fire,
The sky is bleeding above me and I am blistered
I walk these lines of blasphemy every day, and still:
Like a bad star, I'm falling faster down to her
She's the only one who knows what it is to burn.
I feel diseased
Is there no sympathy from the sun?
The sky's still fire
But I am safe in here, from the world outside.
So tell me
What's the price to pay
For glory?