post like contraption
i think this is the first time in a really long time that i have actually had my itunes open while on the internet...i'm afraid of pissing off the internet...i approach it with a cross between the reverence of stepping into the presence of god and inching closer to a spider so i can crush its ectoskeleton with a dictionary...i haven't had aim up in a really long time because it is apparently internet arsenic...
i called the guy who is supposed to fix the internet...he hasn't called back...i called him before i went to wisconsin...and that was a mistake...wisconsin...total mistake...i feel bad because it was the first vacation i ever planned...it might have been the first time i planned more than two days in advanced for anything...and it sucked...because it was wisconsin...everything closed at 5pm...except the supermarket...which closes at 7pm...
there was an irish bar there...i mean the words "irish bar" were on the sign...but it wasn't an irish bar...i've been in irish bars...i have been to irish bars in ireland, and, more authenticaly, i have been to irish bars in new york city...they are dark, they have guinness and ira propeganda all over, they serve malt vinegar with their french fries, and most importantly, they don't have beer on tap that is lighter than my eyes...but this place was well lit, had nothing even vaugly irish in its decor, served ketsup, and had beer that was much lighter on my eyes on tap...worse than this, there were old guys that wouldn't go away...i like to enjoy my beer in peace and low lightening...instead these guys would just keep on talking and leaning close and it was like man get the hell out of my fucking face...so i drink one beer because i am driving and i don't want to pay more money than i already am for blatent stupidity...and this one guy just won't let it drop...asks about twenty time if he can buy me a drink and the answer is always no...then he tries to tell me that the cops would be looking for local plates to pick up for drunk driving...yeah fucking right...i'm driving (read: swerving) down a poorly lit (read: pitch black) state road in wisconsin with bright yellow plates that blaze new jersey (read: i live in a toxic waste dump and probably keep a pair of brass knuckles in my car in case i run into the mob or a mutant from the pine barrens and i have no respect for authority and you should probably pull me over if for no other reason than the interesting religious and political argument that we can have down at the station) and no cop is going to pull me over? and even if i don't run into a cop, i'll run into something else...fucking pissed me off...i was going to go and get my brass knuckles out of the glove compartment...
but the good thing was that i didn't have to work...which is really another way of saying that i could actually say what i thought instead of pretending that it is ok to bitch at me because you are addicted to caffine...that isn't my fault...nor is it my fault that you spend twenty dollars on your addiction...you should have gotten a cheap addiction...like keying other people's cars or spray painting weird messages on abandoned buildings in sussex county...
so school has started again...i like the little half life i'm living cause i'm not undergrad but i'm not really grad cause i'm not going for a masters...i'm post-baccluarate...or something else that i can't spell...i really don't like school...even when i only have four classes...and then i still work, and work refuses to believe me when i say that when i ask for less than twenty hours i'm not asking for more than twenty hours and when i ask for no more than six hours a day, i don't mean eight hours a day...cause when you are making coffee for assholes eight hours a day, it is really hard to do things like practice...you know, the thing i have to do to pass...
now i get to spend tomorrow nervous and depressed because tomorrow they post the cast listing for elmer gantry and i'm sure i'll get some small part...because that is all i ever get...in which case i am going to maine to do something, although what it is i don't know, because quite frankly if i can't get a decent role at montclair, i might as well just give it up and move away so that no one else has to deal with the embarrassment of my poor judgement on a job choice...
but at least before i leave i can tell people off...
the silver lining in my life is getting retribution, which according to most people is unhealthy...and it probably is...but i have a long culteral history of hanging on to past harms and just letting them fester until you feel the need to tackled everyone who wears a kilt just because they are clearly not one of your countrymen, which you can mostly tell from their lack of brass knuckles and clench teeth...there are just some people i want to make cry so hard they forget their names for three days after the incident...some of these people haven't even done anything to me, but i am taking insurence out before the flood...tell your friends, don't mess wtih me...i'll leave my car, phone, ipod...everything but my license, passport, birth certificate, social security card, wallet and a duffle bag full of clothing, including as much medication as i could get without getting in trouble with the government for a meth lab i don't have and all the money that i have squirrelled away somewhere...and then i am going to get onto a bus and go to maine...and i'm not calling...that is my plan...i hope that i won't have to do that because that is a lot of trouble to go through simply because things aren't going my way...but i come from a long culterally tradition of completely overreacting over everything, so i figure that i wouldn't want to embarrass my dead ancestors by thinking about things in a practically, logical, and unmentally unstable way...
i'm reading heroditus' "histories"...appartently it is telling the story of the battle of themopholy...and it takes him forever to get to anything...i think he was talking about how cambrysus became king of persia, but before he could get to the end of that story, he had to go through all the history of egypt and how the people of india get stuff like gold dust...apparently they steal it from giant ants....another exciting example of how everything in india can kill you...
i went to an irish festival the other day...or as they call it a feis...and seriously, the entire thing was step dancers...now first off, i don't like the fact that my long culteral tradition of hitting everything that comes three feet within your island with a large stick is represented by some chick jumping up and down like she has hot coals under her feet...but what really bothers me are the dresses they wear...because they are creepy...and i wouldn't wear one of those things even if you offered me a sandwich...and i'm a musician, i will steak through the whole island of manhatten for a sandwich...but i'm looking at these girls and i'm thinking to myself...my family have the last name o'sullivan...my grandmother's gym class was learning to dance from nuns in new york city...my cousins are manual laborers, except the one who is a firefighter...i'm related to a couple of new york city cops who have the last names o'sullivan or flannigan...i have the amazing ability to believe anything you tell me unless you prove it to me...i can trace my linage back to the iberian celts who kicked the other people's asses who lived there before just so that they could get bitchy when the british tried to do the same thing...and most of my family are short, dark haired and dark eyed, and usually not refered to by adjectives such as "long leg", "athletic", "graceful", or "etheral"...yet some how these tall, blond chicks became the sterotype of the irish...i have no idea why this is, but i do know that if someone asks me how i can be irish without red hair and green eyes, i will probably deck them one with the stick i keep in my trunk...i don't know why it is there...it was there when i inherited the car, along with jumper cables and some financial book...i kept the stick and the jumper cables in case of the apocalypse and get rid of the financial book because i didn't want to be caught by my dead ancestors with it...it would just be kind of embarrassing...
thats enough...this post is dead to me...
i called the guy who is supposed to fix the internet...he hasn't called back...i called him before i went to wisconsin...and that was a mistake...wisconsin...total mistake...i feel bad because it was the first vacation i ever planned...it might have been the first time i planned more than two days in advanced for anything...and it sucked...because it was wisconsin...everything closed at 5pm...except the supermarket...which closes at 7pm...
there was an irish bar there...i mean the words "irish bar" were on the sign...but it wasn't an irish bar...i've been in irish bars...i have been to irish bars in ireland, and, more authenticaly, i have been to irish bars in new york city...they are dark, they have guinness and ira propeganda all over, they serve malt vinegar with their french fries, and most importantly, they don't have beer on tap that is lighter than my eyes...but this place was well lit, had nothing even vaugly irish in its decor, served ketsup, and had beer that was much lighter on my eyes on tap...worse than this, there were old guys that wouldn't go away...i like to enjoy my beer in peace and low lightening...instead these guys would just keep on talking and leaning close and it was like man get the hell out of my fucking face...so i drink one beer because i am driving and i don't want to pay more money than i already am for blatent stupidity...and this one guy just won't let it drop...asks about twenty time if he can buy me a drink and the answer is always no...then he tries to tell me that the cops would be looking for local plates to pick up for drunk driving...yeah fucking right...i'm driving (read: swerving) down a poorly lit (read: pitch black) state road in wisconsin with bright yellow plates that blaze new jersey (read: i live in a toxic waste dump and probably keep a pair of brass knuckles in my car in case i run into the mob or a mutant from the pine barrens and i have no respect for authority and you should probably pull me over if for no other reason than the interesting religious and political argument that we can have down at the station) and no cop is going to pull me over? and even if i don't run into a cop, i'll run into something else...fucking pissed me off...i was going to go and get my brass knuckles out of the glove compartment...
but the good thing was that i didn't have to work...which is really another way of saying that i could actually say what i thought instead of pretending that it is ok to bitch at me because you are addicted to caffine...that isn't my fault...nor is it my fault that you spend twenty dollars on your addiction...you should have gotten a cheap addiction...like keying other people's cars or spray painting weird messages on abandoned buildings in sussex county...
so school has started again...i like the little half life i'm living cause i'm not undergrad but i'm not really grad cause i'm not going for a masters...i'm post-baccluarate...or something else that i can't spell...i really don't like school...even when i only have four classes...and then i still work, and work refuses to believe me when i say that when i ask for less than twenty hours i'm not asking for more than twenty hours and when i ask for no more than six hours a day, i don't mean eight hours a day...cause when you are making coffee for assholes eight hours a day, it is really hard to do things like practice...you know, the thing i have to do to pass...
now i get to spend tomorrow nervous and depressed because tomorrow they post the cast listing for elmer gantry and i'm sure i'll get some small part...because that is all i ever get...in which case i am going to maine to do something, although what it is i don't know, because quite frankly if i can't get a decent role at montclair, i might as well just give it up and move away so that no one else has to deal with the embarrassment of my poor judgement on a job choice...
but at least before i leave i can tell people off...
the silver lining in my life is getting retribution, which according to most people is unhealthy...and it probably is...but i have a long culteral history of hanging on to past harms and just letting them fester until you feel the need to tackled everyone who wears a kilt just because they are clearly not one of your countrymen, which you can mostly tell from their lack of brass knuckles and clench teeth...there are just some people i want to make cry so hard they forget their names for three days after the incident...some of these people haven't even done anything to me, but i am taking insurence out before the flood...tell your friends, don't mess wtih me...i'll leave my car, phone, ipod...everything but my license, passport, birth certificate, social security card, wallet and a duffle bag full of clothing, including as much medication as i could get without getting in trouble with the government for a meth lab i don't have and all the money that i have squirrelled away somewhere...and then i am going to get onto a bus and go to maine...and i'm not calling...that is my plan...i hope that i won't have to do that because that is a lot of trouble to go through simply because things aren't going my way...but i come from a long culterally tradition of completely overreacting over everything, so i figure that i wouldn't want to embarrass my dead ancestors by thinking about things in a practically, logical, and unmentally unstable way...
i'm reading heroditus' "histories"...appartently it is telling the story of the battle of themopholy...and it takes him forever to get to anything...i think he was talking about how cambrysus became king of persia, but before he could get to the end of that story, he had to go through all the history of egypt and how the people of india get stuff like gold dust...apparently they steal it from giant ants....another exciting example of how everything in india can kill you...
i went to an irish festival the other day...or as they call it a feis...and seriously, the entire thing was step dancers...now first off, i don't like the fact that my long culteral tradition of hitting everything that comes three feet within your island with a large stick is represented by some chick jumping up and down like she has hot coals under her feet...but what really bothers me are the dresses they wear...because they are creepy...and i wouldn't wear one of those things even if you offered me a sandwich...and i'm a musician, i will steak through the whole island of manhatten for a sandwich...but i'm looking at these girls and i'm thinking to myself...my family have the last name o'sullivan...my grandmother's gym class was learning to dance from nuns in new york city...my cousins are manual laborers, except the one who is a firefighter...i'm related to a couple of new york city cops who have the last names o'sullivan or flannigan...i have the amazing ability to believe anything you tell me unless you prove it to me...i can trace my linage back to the iberian celts who kicked the other people's asses who lived there before just so that they could get bitchy when the british tried to do the same thing...and most of my family are short, dark haired and dark eyed, and usually not refered to by adjectives such as "long leg", "athletic", "graceful", or "etheral"...yet some how these tall, blond chicks became the sterotype of the irish...i have no idea why this is, but i do know that if someone asks me how i can be irish without red hair and green eyes, i will probably deck them one with the stick i keep in my trunk...i don't know why it is there...it was there when i inherited the car, along with jumper cables and some financial book...i kept the stick and the jumper cables in case of the apocalypse and get rid of the financial book because i didn't want to be caught by my dead ancestors with it...it would just be kind of embarrassing...
thats enough...this post is dead to me...