(no subject)
I am trying to read 15 books by the end of the summer. So far I have read Rumblefish (which I am reluctant to consider as one of the books) and Vurt, which was an older book I owned that I never recalled finishing.
I recently started Hunter S' Hell's Angels and bought Trevanian's The Crazy Ladies of Pearl Street, which I am all too excited to read. I love Trevanian. Ever since Shibumi I have been obsessed. Hopefully by the end of summer I will have also read his Summer of Katya and The Main, both purchased online for less than a dollar.
Perhaps somewhere down the line I will pick up a Tom Collins book and actually finish it. Also I plan on reading The Da Vinci Code for the glamour and rereading The Catcher in the Rye for hipster value.
I am a loser and this is the only thing I have to write about. Last night, Cadavy and I drank entirely too much and tried to watch the extended cut of The Return of the King. I love italics.
Today I will play volleyball and hopefully avoid scary men. I will eat a Boca Burger, a food I have learned to enjoy despite my deep roots in animal murder and venison-loving.
In a week's time I will leave New York and go home to the Valley. I will visit my sister at the beach if she is still living there. I will go to Philadelphia to visit Amy because she is jobless, bored, and honing her culinary skills just as I am. I will get out of New York because I simply do not like it anymore. Overwhelming and big.
I will get drunk with Kevin and Tj, the latter having never visited me in New York. He will feel my wrath. I will play golf at Newberry because I like it there and have been playing NES Open Tournament Golf for several days now. I am proud to say I shot a hole-in-one.
I miss video games so much. Each time I look at a video game site I get completely nostalgic. Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children will hopefully be available to me soon, even though it is not a video game. Still, it is a catalyst of memory recollection: the countless hours spent hunting down every last item, breeding the golden chocobo, defeating the weapons, and, of course, doing this all while on the telephone with Mike.
I saw Wild ARMS: Alter Code F, a remake of the original PS game, which I must say was astounding. Especially the intro movie. Anyone that has played Wild ARMS knows exactly what I'm talking about it. Still, the tune ignites in my mind and I find myself unconsciously whistling along.
Oh, the gool ol' days when I could trap myself in my bedroom, praying day and night to the God of Interactive Video Game Entertainment. Spending sixty hours on a game was child's play. Sometimes, I would play for so long that the in-game timer would max out: 99:99:99. I think I broke the step counter in FF3 because I was positive that by walking around aimlessly in some random dungeon, I would be rewarded with some secret that nobody else knew about.
Its so sad the way that video game worlds are so much more wonderful than real life. Being able to escape reality into something you love is a great feeling, but so contradictory. Reality is so vast, endless, and mysterious, while a video game is simply finite. But, I suppose the difference is in the risk. Exploring video games and failing miserably results only in a game over screen with the opportunity to continue. Exploring life results in bodily harm, mental illness, illegalities, prison time, and death sentences.
Well, in an exaggerated way.
I wish I could fly away.
Reading Hell's Angels is probably not good for me right now, at this very moment. Those grizzly, unkempt men lived in a world of their own inside of another world. The system within the system. Hunter lived it with them, although vicariously. I live it vicariously through his writing. Plato would say I am twice removed from the truth. But aside from that.
These guys are the modern cowboys. They had no rules. They didn't adhere to the structure of society. They had it made.
"...and then, sweet Jesus, it dawned on me that I was right in the middle of it, with a gaggle of righteous dudes that no man could deny... weird flotsam on the rising ride... I had a feeling that at any moment a director would appear... The scene was too strange to be real."
I often talk about how I want to live in the woods, build a cabin out of logs and dirt, grow my own food and kill animals and eat them. I usually say this in jest when someone asks me in one way or another to predict what my life will be like in several years. Surely, I don't think I'd ever drop my life the way it is now and move out into the wilderness, but damn, I would love to.
There's just something about that sort of unadulterated freedom. Being in charge of everything you do, not having some omnipotent intangible hanging above you, telling you which way to go and what you should do. I would have to abstract my conscience; a conscience that has been raised by society's rights and wrongs, society's dos and don'ts. I guess I never had a choice because, since day one, I've been under the influence of something more dangerous than any substance: society.
What a disappointing personal revelation.
I think I need a job, or at least something to do when I'm not doing anything.
I recently started Hunter S' Hell's Angels and bought Trevanian's The Crazy Ladies of Pearl Street, which I am all too excited to read. I love Trevanian. Ever since Shibumi I have been obsessed. Hopefully by the end of summer I will have also read his Summer of Katya and The Main, both purchased online for less than a dollar.
Perhaps somewhere down the line I will pick up a Tom Collins book and actually finish it. Also I plan on reading The Da Vinci Code for the glamour and rereading The Catcher in the Rye for hipster value.
I am a loser and this is the only thing I have to write about. Last night, Cadavy and I drank entirely too much and tried to watch the extended cut of The Return of the King. I love italics.
Today I will play volleyball and hopefully avoid scary men. I will eat a Boca Burger, a food I have learned to enjoy despite my deep roots in animal murder and venison-loving.
In a week's time I will leave New York and go home to the Valley. I will visit my sister at the beach if she is still living there. I will go to Philadelphia to visit Amy because she is jobless, bored, and honing her culinary skills just as I am. I will get out of New York because I simply do not like it anymore. Overwhelming and big.
I will get drunk with Kevin and Tj, the latter having never visited me in New York. He will feel my wrath. I will play golf at Newberry because I like it there and have been playing NES Open Tournament Golf for several days now. I am proud to say I shot a hole-in-one.
I miss video games so much. Each time I look at a video game site I get completely nostalgic. Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children will hopefully be available to me soon, even though it is not a video game. Still, it is a catalyst of memory recollection: the countless hours spent hunting down every last item, breeding the golden chocobo, defeating the weapons, and, of course, doing this all while on the telephone with Mike.
I saw Wild ARMS: Alter Code F, a remake of the original PS game, which I must say was astounding. Especially the intro movie. Anyone that has played Wild ARMS knows exactly what I'm talking about it. Still, the tune ignites in my mind and I find myself unconsciously whistling along.
Oh, the gool ol' days when I could trap myself in my bedroom, praying day and night to the God of Interactive Video Game Entertainment. Spending sixty hours on a game was child's play. Sometimes, I would play for so long that the in-game timer would max out: 99:99:99. I think I broke the step counter in FF3 because I was positive that by walking around aimlessly in some random dungeon, I would be rewarded with some secret that nobody else knew about.
Its so sad the way that video game worlds are so much more wonderful than real life. Being able to escape reality into something you love is a great feeling, but so contradictory. Reality is so vast, endless, and mysterious, while a video game is simply finite. But, I suppose the difference is in the risk. Exploring video games and failing miserably results only in a game over screen with the opportunity to continue. Exploring life results in bodily harm, mental illness, illegalities, prison time, and death sentences.
Well, in an exaggerated way.
I wish I could fly away.
Reading Hell's Angels is probably not good for me right now, at this very moment. Those grizzly, unkempt men lived in a world of their own inside of another world. The system within the system. Hunter lived it with them, although vicariously. I live it vicariously through his writing. Plato would say I am twice removed from the truth. But aside from that.
These guys are the modern cowboys. They had no rules. They didn't adhere to the structure of society. They had it made.
"...and then, sweet Jesus, it dawned on me that I was right in the middle of it, with a gaggle of righteous dudes that no man could deny... weird flotsam on the rising ride... I had a feeling that at any moment a director would appear... The scene was too strange to be real."
I often talk about how I want to live in the woods, build a cabin out of logs and dirt, grow my own food and kill animals and eat them. I usually say this in jest when someone asks me in one way or another to predict what my life will be like in several years. Surely, I don't think I'd ever drop my life the way it is now and move out into the wilderness, but damn, I would love to.
There's just something about that sort of unadulterated freedom. Being in charge of everything you do, not having some omnipotent intangible hanging above you, telling you which way to go and what you should do. I would have to abstract my conscience; a conscience that has been raised by society's rights and wrongs, society's dos and don'ts. I guess I never had a choice because, since day one, I've been under the influence of something more dangerous than any substance: society.
What a disappointing personal revelation.
I think I need a job, or at least something to do when I'm not doing anything.