|
I've been wanting to update for quite awhile now, but just haven't gotten around to it. I guess the night before a morning mid-term is probably as good as time as any.
The trouble is I have nothing to say. Nothing at all. I wish I did. It would make saying nothing easier. But alas I don't, and this is getting pretty painful.
I want to go to Vegas. The American dream, by the neon hum, fulfillment on the next slot machine spin. I want to work out and get nice abs. Who wouldn't want nice abs? I want my back to feel better. I want to be 20 again. I liked 20 a lot, even though I bitched a lot about it.
I want to induce a new stream of consciousness. Freak out at my hand, freak out that I even have hands. I want to crash for 18 hours and not think it strange; I want friends who don't think it strange it either.
I want to believe in an afterlife again. Or at least that nice fluffly cloud, all my old pets and past relatives around me type of afterlife they taught me when I was a kid. I want to eat an apple and not have my body freak out.
I want my brain to work properly. I want to say things to people that I should have. I want time to be controllable. I just want control in general.
I want it all. I want it all.Current Mood:  recumbent Current Music: Flustered/Hey Tomcat - Death Cab for Cutie |
|
This town is a fucking mess. There's people just everywhere, there's news helicopters constantly hovering above. And yesterday, some fuckhead handcuffed an empty briefcase to a park bench bringing out the south-central type police helicopters complete with the spotlights from hell. The whole of Union Square was shut off and lit up in a blaze of bomb scare lights and cops galore.
New Yorkers are a funny lot. Nobody seems to care, hell even stupid ol me was poking my nose through the park wondering what all the commotion was ... "Oh just another bombscare" overheard from the crowd. I'm beginning to think that too. How else am I going to live here without that attitude?
Yeah, but today just a hit a crescendo. Too many helicopters, too many police, too many reporters and news cameras and protesters and puppies for adoption ... well the puppies were cute ... too many people, buses, congestion, yelling honking screaming. I can handle this place at its normal "worst", but these MOTHER FUCKING REPUBLICANS are just causing a big idiot mess here and I can't wait for them to just FUCKING LEAVE.
And I'm about as liberal as they come, but when I heard 250,000 liberal protesters are going to be ending their march just two blocks away from my home, I started to get that little shiver and twitch in my eye. Asshole Bloomberg could have just had them stay IN Central park, but no, he denies their right to assemble and now we got everybody protesting in my back yard, even more pissed off then before.
*sigh*
School starts Monday too. |
|
The lives.
The stories.
This city is these things. The people we know, the millions we don't.
Lately, I've been trying to pinpoint things. The exact time things broke inside, the day we looked at ourselves in the mirror and didn't recognize the person staring back. I despise the aging process now. It's a cruel fact of life that doesn't seem to need be. The dead sea. The old me.
I just got done watching the "Pope of Greenwich Village" and I'm sitting here in wonderment that movies like this got made without any hint of patronization or consideration of the status quo. It just is what it is and even bad actors can wander through a movie with so much personality they practically sit down next to you and talk about whats going to happen next.
I am at a loss at how to recreate such a wonderous thing.Current Mood:  blank Current Music: Postal Service |
|
I was almost ready to go to bed at 3am when the repeat of Conan came on. Modest Mouse was going to be on, so like an idiot, I stayed up. It was pretty good, but God, I should sleep.
Isaac is looking weird and there's a God-damned bevy of MM'ers now. Otherwise the performance was good, like I said last time, they are a very tight band. The sound is very rehearsed even with recent band line-up changes.
I finally secured college funding, so for at least one more year I'll be going back. I'm actually taking tough journalistic and writing courses next fall so I'm kinda excited. I'm kinda scared too, but oh well.
I'm applying for an internship at the Smithsonian. They have a Native American museum here that was just heaven to wander through. It was free too. Amazing. They have a basket collection that was much bigger then the museums in Vancouver or Victoria. My mum has about 50 of them from the old days and I hope I can expound on that since that is the only piece of physical history left from the old days. I've actually never wanted to do something more then this. I really hope I get it. We'll see.
Anyway, way too late. I need a new hobby besides just staying up late. |
|
Last night Holly Hunter was on Letterman talking about, of all things, her apartment here in NYC. We are actually lucky enough to be Holly Hunter's neighbors. It seems, she likes to stare mindlessly at the people below around 2am and yell at people putting garbage on her stoop ... Actually that sounds kinda like fun, but it's a tad bit creepy thinking Ms. Hunter could be looking in on me anytime I venture out.
That is all. |
| » Jealous ... jealous again. |
|---|
My own jealousy gets on my nerves sometimes. I trust my girlfriend, I know she's faithful to me and me alone, but sometimes I just freak out when she decides she's going out with this "friend" of hers. There's this guy who she knows from law school, and seems to be pretty nice. He's ugly as sin and married to boot, so I shouldn't worry right? I guess so.
Kay has an inability to make friends with girls. She has her old girlfriends, which are all pretty nice, but all her new friends are guys. Some are single, some are married or with others, but I get angry everytime she goes out with them without me. And it's not that often, and you know how school is with all its need to study and schmooze and shit. But I really seriously feel like shit every single time she goes out for an afternoon with them. Now, that's a problem.
She thinks I'm a nutjob. And I know a lot of my paranoia comes from my cheating ass father and his new girlfriend, so I should just forget it right? I don't know really how to handle these feelings. I share them (readily) with Kay and she seems to just shrug them off. She trusts me around other girls, and I'm perfectly able to have several friendships with them and never think it a big deal. In fact my best friend in Seattle was a girl with just about all the same interests as me, but I had absolutely zero interest in her.
So I dunno. Blah blah blah blah blah. I've got a shower head to change and a mirror to hang. What a fucking boring Friday night. Time to play some music real loud. God, Yuenling beer sucks.
Jul. 23rd, 2004 @ 10:12 pm
|
| » All the people that you know ... |
|---|
I spent the weekend in East Hampton, swimming in the waves with millionaires. The townies sneer and grimace and make up words like 'citidiot'. "Not you, of course, those guys down there" as they point at some asshole honking and cutting somebody off in his BMW. "Hmmm" I say.
Much like Victoria, you have an Island where the rich and poor both congregate for the same piece of land. Without the rich, the poor wouldn't have most of their jobs. Then again, they'd probably be a lot happier. Who knows. I'm just here to observe, just try to act like I'm not here.
I'm doing very strange things to survive these days. I'm pretending to have a dog and writing diary entries about this supposed dog and his new bark collar. They pay me $75, so I'm trying to make it good. I give the company helpful hints in well thought out detail. It very well could be the lowest paid/best job I've ever had.
I'm off to Barnes and Noble to try to get a real job. It's hard thinking of life in $8 an hour terms, but at this point, it's better just to pay the rent. Since I have no plan on how to get my loans for the fall, I'm pretty screwed right now. Any job looks better then hanging around this apartment.
Now to don my very best khakis and long sleeve shirt. B&N needs another college worker like the world needs another fundamentalist.
Jul. 22nd, 2004 @ 11:02 am
|
| » It ain't just right |
|---|
Our lives are made up of yesterday's promises and tomorrow's good intentions. I, for one, have never been good at making today the day that something amazing happens.
Thursday we go to East Hampton, and this time it's to visit the relatives that Kay has up here. I'm not sure how I feel about this.
And I still haven't found a job, nor secured loans for the fall. My life is ... um .. not going so well right now.
Jul. 11th, 2004 @ 04:48 pm
|
| » 'Gettin by, by gettin high' |
|---|
--I actually haven't smoked up in over 5 years.
Can't sleep. Search net when up. Find things on net. Post here -
http://www.straightdope.com/classics/a5_092.html
Of particular interest was this:
"Five of the last ten U.S. presidents have been left-handed, although lefties account for only 10 percent of the population."
but it goes on to say:
"Looking through the medical literature, I find studies reporting that lefties have a higher accident rate, are more likely to have their fingers amputated due to power-tool accidents, suffer more wrist fractures, etc. What's more, lefties suffer a higher incidence of allergies, epilepsy, schizophrenia, and certain learning disabilities.
Lefties, a 1992 article in the Atlantic notes, also show unusually high frequencies of depression, drug abuse, bed-wetting, ... sleeping disorders."
Well let's see ...
Higher accident rate - CHECK. I go to the emergency room almost every year due to some retarded injury. I almost KILLED myself in the kitchen once. No joke.
Likely to have their fingers amputated - SEMI CHECK. I cut my thumb to the bone in shop class once. Stayed away from the band saw since.
Suffer more wrist fractures - CHECK - Broke both my wrists as a kid
Allergies - CHECK.
Depression - CHECK.
Drug abuse - CHECK. - in the past.
Bed-wetting - NO COMMENT. - Certainly not in the last 20 years.
Sleeping Disorders - CHECK. - Big time.
Anyway, we're born leaders, and born clumsy dyslexic, depressed bed-wetters. So take us for what we are -- the fucked up person you love to follow!
Jul. 1st, 2004 @ 06:19 am
|
| » I love the rain. |
|---|
It's 4am again, and I'm still up. I can't stand my sleeping schedule, nor the self-desctructive pattern I've built up for myself over the years.
I think way too much, and I know that's the de facto cliche of those who think themselves somewhat intelligent, but I really cannot shut off my brain. It fears death immensely. It fears the unknown, money problems, family problems, the future- God it hates the future.
I trick it with long fantasies about movie scripts and conversations with interviewers. I conjur perfect retorts, witty comebacks and 2 hour features with a perfect ending at the end of it all. But there's always that ending, and I'm still laying there awake. I get the sniff, that *whiff* of something terrible and I bolt upright. I rush to the light, the chair, the couch, the waking life. I have to be awake, because I can't fathom whatever else there is. What is it? It makes no sense. I am here now, I am thinking now, I am expending energy right now. But sometime, somewhere, that will end. For no reason, for no understandable reason.
It just happens, like everything else, and we thinking machines are left to comprehend something we cannot- left to the fate we can never change.
Jun. 30th, 2004 @ 04:24 am
|
|
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=92.1){kind=small}
aforementioned's journal