ohgodibabbled
what the fuck, karma. was it you? did you sabotage my friday? or was it me failing to accurately predict the courses others would take? did i believe in false odds or choose faulty priorities? what was i missing? am i just tired and crabby? i know i'm frustrated. i think i want to be frustrated.
i fucking hate people.
and today - which could have gone so well - has been wasted.
Sanctuary, please
****
After that, i think, therefore i am, bored. i have been reduced to inane observartions of my immediate surrounds, i'm pondering the significance of the wax, white, that has pooled over the side of its little red bowl and merged with the fibers of the black bandana it sits upon. i'm marking the sheen of light on individual (or is there only one?) rings of the slinky i use to hold a purple pen, a purple lighter, a thing of pliers and a pen and bottle cap. how bland and wet the air is. by bland i mean familiar. do you see flickering pictures and drabbles of form when you hear a song? what do you feel when you find a moment? a moment where it's more than music it's a drop of your being...have you ever had a caramel apple cider? perhaps my senses are unusual, but that first hot sip is a sort of pain from the intense sweetness, one that almost goes through my tongue, like it licks undersurface of my taste buds and the sensation is immediate, in the way a penny or battery is, then the moment goes past my mouth and the rest of me catches up so the moment is echoed for a small fading eternity. now. now that you have a very specific image, make it a metaphor for the music, only the moment keeps repeating, ebbing with the song, and the sweetness is up here, in the mind.
being zapped by a battery, how suprisingly apt. at least with my minimal of minimal knowledge of the technical details of thought.
you see how long it takes to explain part of an impression i got when that impression took all of less than a second to form? it is better to experience it than explain. part of the problem with that whole social interaction thing, talking you call it.
what else am i doing at the moment....killing time....marking the separateness of shadow and moving object. remembering the smell of skateking, thinking perhaps i should go to a gay skate but wait who of my friends are gay and how is skate king at all worth it when the only thing that brings me is the idea behind it, that determining factor gay. not worth it. now what of other qualities, how about clothing the things you wear are they for function or a method of claiming your place in the jumble of steps the hierarchy, a building with lovecraftian angles but no lovecraftian flare a shame to the engineer, whom happens to be plural. but what a useless gripe, afterall, is clothing really more important than any other factor that distinguishes one human from another. but the senselessness, and those who say i dress this way out of habit, but think of all the little motives for the little changes an added ring an added lace another layer another coat to compliment the rest to move you on to another image but it's how you always dress, it's habit. sometimes i just want to forget people i've known or forget myself a little bit now and then. become a clean slate, see it all for the first time everytime. wouldnt it be nice if others could too? of course within reason, the potential in humanity is its memory. maybe i just want a little less bias, a little less taken on faith. speaking of faith, what do you believe in? can you remember how you decided to believe it? how many pillars uphold your empire and did you build it on a swamp. personally i'd simply live in the swamp, i like them, and there's no reason to obliterate them before you understand them. destroy only knowingly. and what would i do with an empire of cinderblocks and soot? rebar. how useful i'm so very tired but i could be more tired i certainly have been before. do you know what pity is? do you want it? i don't see the point in illustrating my personal ethics but maybe it'll be a slight interest for someone who's having a slow day but i really hope not. deserts are even better than swamps though, aesthetically maybe i mean more but i've always prefered a bit of drama, clean drama at least. clean drama is...not the little chunks of mold and congealed crud in a stagnant pool, like the woes of a couple trailer trash or ghetto brats you'd find on a jerry springfield episode - basically society allows for them to live out their mostly worthless lives (now i feel bad for the mold, i actually like mold it's got some class at least purpose) so they can get fat and live off their welfare but say in the desert it's cleaner. those ones are either cleansed or picked off by the merry swinging scythe of our dearest unbeloved friend. how do you hate a stranger? fear. so struggle for survival in the desert, that's clean drama. love is not drama. maybe the physical parts, so if you want to get really nitpicky you get into chemicals but that's too much for me now. have to generalize somewhere or nothing gets done. so swamps, if it can support a family or a population and maybe it can grow to a significant size, of course it would always fluctuate and you could nevr have the whole population agree on anything i might mean forest not swamp, and there are always strangers. but with desert there's a set limit for the population right? and everyone knows eachother. if somehow there are more mouths than the land can feed, and they all continue to live, it's a sign of innovation and improvement. so back to faith. in the desert or the swamp, build a people or not. neither is better of course, the swamp method kind of blends into a murky brown of ideas, while desert can find itself biased towards any hue. god i'm tired. ha god. i have hemp string. i don't think they should legalize marijuana simply so that fewer people are idiots in public. if you really want it keep it private, it's not hard, it's like your sex life. other drugs are different matter. i've forgotten what that taboo against homosexuals feels like. i'd like to remember it seems important to know how much shock some go through when they see two men kiss. i think i'm done distracting myself from my annoyances of the evening. it's annoyihng to return to the same topic so often. i annoy myself, don't worry, i suffer along with ye. perhaps tomorrow will answer things.
***
my dad is so paranoid. he thinks i look at porn and he says people watch and 'it' keeps track of those things and he doesnt want to have his name attached. like people would look at his stuff and I DON'T LOOK AT PORN WHAT THE FUCK. i dunno. other than that he's behaving tolerably well. a lot of that is that i don't try to have conversations with him any more. my method nowdays is to simply ask questions and walk away when i get the answers i need. it works. i wonder why he's so paranoid. not overtly, but once you get to know him, the person inside him is just twitchier than most. curious.
i want out of here so much, i want my own little shack out in the middle of nowhere. i want i want i want. i want to live with people too. sort of. hm.
k i'm done.
i fucking hate people.
and today - which could have gone so well - has been wasted.
Sanctuary, please
****
After that, i think, therefore i am, bored. i have been reduced to inane observartions of my immediate surrounds, i'm pondering the significance of the wax, white, that has pooled over the side of its little red bowl and merged with the fibers of the black bandana it sits upon. i'm marking the sheen of light on individual (or is there only one?) rings of the slinky i use to hold a purple pen, a purple lighter, a thing of pliers and a pen and bottle cap. how bland and wet the air is. by bland i mean familiar. do you see flickering pictures and drabbles of form when you hear a song? what do you feel when you find a moment? a moment where it's more than music it's a drop of your being...have you ever had a caramel apple cider? perhaps my senses are unusual, but that first hot sip is a sort of pain from the intense sweetness, one that almost goes through my tongue, like it licks undersurface of my taste buds and the sensation is immediate, in the way a penny or battery is, then the moment goes past my mouth and the rest of me catches up so the moment is echoed for a small fading eternity. now. now that you have a very specific image, make it a metaphor for the music, only the moment keeps repeating, ebbing with the song, and the sweetness is up here, in the mind.
being zapped by a battery, how suprisingly apt. at least with my minimal of minimal knowledge of the technical details of thought.
you see how long it takes to explain part of an impression i got when that impression took all of less than a second to form? it is better to experience it than explain. part of the problem with that whole social interaction thing, talking you call it.
what else am i doing at the moment....killing time....marking the separateness of shadow and moving object. remembering the smell of skateking, thinking perhaps i should go to a gay skate but wait who of my friends are gay and how is skate king at all worth it when the only thing that brings me is the idea behind it, that determining factor gay. not worth it. now what of other qualities, how about clothing the things you wear are they for function or a method of claiming your place in the jumble of steps the hierarchy, a building with lovecraftian angles but no lovecraftian flare a shame to the engineer, whom happens to be plural. but what a useless gripe, afterall, is clothing really more important than any other factor that distinguishes one human from another. but the senselessness, and those who say i dress this way out of habit, but think of all the little motives for the little changes an added ring an added lace another layer another coat to compliment the rest to move you on to another image but it's how you always dress, it's habit. sometimes i just want to forget people i've known or forget myself a little bit now and then. become a clean slate, see it all for the first time everytime. wouldnt it be nice if others could too? of course within reason, the potential in humanity is its memory. maybe i just want a little less bias, a little less taken on faith. speaking of faith, what do you believe in? can you remember how you decided to believe it? how many pillars uphold your empire and did you build it on a swamp. personally i'd simply live in the swamp, i like them, and there's no reason to obliterate them before you understand them. destroy only knowingly. and what would i do with an empire of cinderblocks and soot? rebar. how useful i'm so very tired but i could be more tired i certainly have been before. do you know what pity is? do you want it? i don't see the point in illustrating my personal ethics but maybe it'll be a slight interest for someone who's having a slow day but i really hope not. deserts are even better than swamps though, aesthetically maybe i mean more but i've always prefered a bit of drama, clean drama at least. clean drama is...not the little chunks of mold and congealed crud in a stagnant pool, like the woes of a couple trailer trash or ghetto brats you'd find on a jerry springfield episode - basically society allows for them to live out their mostly worthless lives (now i feel bad for the mold, i actually like mold it's got some class at least purpose) so they can get fat and live off their welfare but say in the desert it's cleaner. those ones are either cleansed or picked off by the merry swinging scythe of our dearest unbeloved friend. how do you hate a stranger? fear. so struggle for survival in the desert, that's clean drama. love is not drama. maybe the physical parts, so if you want to get really nitpicky you get into chemicals but that's too much for me now. have to generalize somewhere or nothing gets done. so swamps, if it can support a family or a population and maybe it can grow to a significant size, of course it would always fluctuate and you could nevr have the whole population agree on anything i might mean forest not swamp, and there are always strangers. but with desert there's a set limit for the population right? and everyone knows eachother. if somehow there are more mouths than the land can feed, and they all continue to live, it's a sign of innovation and improvement. so back to faith. in the desert or the swamp, build a people or not. neither is better of course, the swamp method kind of blends into a murky brown of ideas, while desert can find itself biased towards any hue. god i'm tired. ha god. i have hemp string. i don't think they should legalize marijuana simply so that fewer people are idiots in public. if you really want it keep it private, it's not hard, it's like your sex life. other drugs are different matter. i've forgotten what that taboo against homosexuals feels like. i'd like to remember it seems important to know how much shock some go through when they see two men kiss. i think i'm done distracting myself from my annoyances of the evening. it's annoyihng to return to the same topic so often. i annoy myself, don't worry, i suffer along with ye. perhaps tomorrow will answer things.
***
my dad is so paranoid. he thinks i look at porn and he says people watch and 'it' keeps track of those things and he doesnt want to have his name attached. like people would look at his stuff and I DON'T LOOK AT PORN WHAT THE FUCK. i dunno. other than that he's behaving tolerably well. a lot of that is that i don't try to have conversations with him any more. my method nowdays is to simply ask questions and walk away when i get the answers i need. it works. i wonder why he's so paranoid. not overtly, but once you get to know him, the person inside him is just twitchier than most. curious.
i want out of here so much, i want my own little shack out in the middle of nowhere. i want i want i want. i want to live with people too. sort of. hm.
k i'm done.