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3,186,824 |
male
| 25 |
indUnk
|
Aquarius
|
02,June,2004
|
Howdy dumplings, Your gonna be without me for a bit cause at 11am I will be on my way to Vegas. When I get back im sure my camera will be packed with pics so give me a poke on AIM sometime if youd like a peek. Also, Cheryl and I decided that at the end of my July vacation we will drive back to Arizona together, That way she can bring all the things she wants and also have her own car here. MapQuest says going from Wisconsin to Arizona will be a 29 hour drive, But with a case of Starbucks coffee and afew bags of JellyBeans im pretty confident I can get us home in 13.. =P Seriously though.. Im really excited and really scared at the same time, But i think im leaning more on the excited side =) I best finish packing and get some shut eye. You tarts behave yourselves! I've never had to knock on wood And I'm glad i haven't yet Because I'm sure it isn't good That's the impression that I get ~Mighty Mighty Bosstones
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3,186,824 |
male
| 25 |
indUnk
|
Aquarius
|
08,July,2004
|
Well people.. It looks like this may be my last blog for awhile. This weekend im flying out to Wisconsin and then driving back to Arizona with Cheryl, so wish me luck. You guys take care of yourselves. Ill be missing yah. And eat your greens! * Salute * I've been up all night.. And i might sleep all day.. Just to get my dreams just right.. ~Counting Crows
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3,186,824 |
male
| 25 |
indUnk
|
Aquarius
|
07,July,2004
|
Today was the dreaded the first Wednesday of the month. Do you people know what that means?!.. It means Senior Citizen day at Frys!.. From miles around, hordes of old people came stumbling and staggering into Fry's. Groaning and whining and bumping into each other. It was like night of the living dead!! Luckily I was able to escape.. Wait.. What was that noise?... Oh no they followed me!.. luihAbjmMKJHU655hm..dfh...67e b...HElp M
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3,186,824 |
male
| 25 |
indUnk
|
Aquarius
|
05,July,2004
|
Ahoy kids. It been alil bit.. Yeah yeah.. Ive been slacking alil. The other day a friend of mine at work, ' Old Yorker Larry ', had to cut out early cause he was having chest pains. When he went to the hospital, they told him his heart is basically failing. Also, he is too old to go under the knife so they just sent him home with alotta drugs and told him he has anywhere from two weeks to two years to live.. Pretty crummy huh? Ill miss the old goomba. =/ In other news.. This is my last week alone in this apartment, only 6 days till I leave and come back with Cheryl. It needs to rain here, like bad. I need to work on new pictures. I think thats about all there be for now... Oh yeah! Before I forget, Dont eat that lil brown potato chip at the bottom of the bag.. Its pretty gross. Yeah, but you know what? This one... This one right here... This was my dream, my wish. And it didn't come true. So I'm taking it back. ~The Goonies
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3,186,824 |
male
| 25 |
indUnk
|
Aquarius
|
03,July,2004
|
Ever feel like your just waiting for something to happen? Some chance to do something that you really enjoy and that actually means something to someone? Ever feel like your really meant for something more? Sometimes yea.. I kinda do.. Maybe im just doing things wrong.. Or maybe I just need a little change of pace.. Or maybe im just weird.. I really don't know what you mean, seems like salvation comes only in my dreams. I feel my hatred grow all the more extreme. Can this world really be as sad as it fucking seems? ~NIN
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3,186,824 |
male
| 25 |
indUnk
|
Aquarius
|
02,July,2004
|
If you have not gone to see Spider-Man2 . Go. Right now. Seriously. Tomorrow is my only day off this week and wow its felt like forever. Im starting to think they are making me suffer for having a vacation this month. Only 9 more days too.. Mmmm, ok anyway.. Where are all these perverted old women coming from lately?! Yesterday a group of them came thru my line arguing over who had the dirtiest shirt, then one of them suggested that I let them have mine.. Then they start arguing over who should be the one to take it off me.. EWWWWW!! Then this afternoon, this old woman needed a pen, so as I was digging through my apron pockets I said.. ' There is one somewhere in this mess ' she replies with.. ' Ooh can I help feel around? ' EWWWWW!! Just remembering all this again makes my tummy twist, and makes me want a transfer to Flagstaff even more!... Hmm its getting pretty late, I think im gonna go crash so I dont sleep away my one day of freedom.. Remember kids, dont let them ' lil ole ladies ' fool you.. Defense is paper thin. Just one touch and I'd be in. Too deep now to ever swim against the current. So let me slip away. ~Dashboard Confessional
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3,186,824 |
male
| 25 |
indUnk
|
Aquarius
|
03,August,2004
|
Aaaaaaand here I am! Yeah I know, its been an uber long time.. But things have been pretty nuts lately. My trip to Wisconsin was alot of fun, its so green and spacious there and her family was really nice. The drive back was not as scary as I thought it would be, just a couple 'bug incidents'.. But anyway there was so much to see on the way, we took a ton of pictures, and we only got lost once!! Amazing!! Sadly.. The morning man at my work is out of town so now I have to be the morning man. It sucks. I hate mornings with such passion... OH! And speaking of jobs.. Cheryl got one already and today is her first day! I will be sure to add more in later, I must run to the store now.. Woosh.
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3,685,894 |
male
| 24 |
Arts
|
Gemini
|
30,June,2004
|
Have you ever been unemployed, but had to pay rent, and didn't know where to find it? I have two bachelor degrees, and I have been in that position. The point I'm trying to make here is: I have a college education, I'm smart and good looking and charming, and I watched all my money bleed out of my account during the months of June and July 2003. For roughly six weeks, I was totally unemployed and unable to even get an interview. Luckily, I had fantastic family support, and good financial sense - so I lasted longer than many would have. I ate hot dogs and pasta every day, sometimes only one meal a day, and sat in my house every night watching network TV. I lived on a budget of 6 dollars a day for three weeks. Hey, I'm not comparing myself to anyone who is truly poor, thier experience or thier troubles. What I am saying, however, is that this experience opened me up to how hapless a person can be in that situation. Recently, I read a series of articles characterizing homeless shelters as 'enabling' homeless families to stay homeless. These people all couched thier arguments in the idea that it is cruel to allow these people to simply live off of the government, that they need to learn to provide for themselves, and the only way to do that is to force the fucking bitches and thier children out of the housing and the shelters. Why not just let them live there? What does it really cost us? We spend billions every year on weapons to kill people, Starbucks coffee drinks, and movies. Why not just say: Here. You can live here. And so can anyone else who is unable to pay rent and provide shelter for thier families. The estimated 3.1 billion dollars it would cost to fund the needed Section 8, subsidized housing, and shelters necessary to help our homeless is less than ten dollars each per year. I'll pay it. Will you? Its the change out of our pocket for like a month. People grumble and say 'Well, they're all drug addicts.' Or they get angry and claim that its these people's own fault they are homeless. They say if they can make it in this world, anybody can. So? Just pay the 10 dollars. Make somebody's life better. Get over it.
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3,685,894 |
male
| 24 |
Arts
|
Gemini
|
29,June,2004
|
For those of you familiar with the concept of ideological absolutes, a subject I covered in an earlier LESSON OF THE WEEK, merely reading the title of this post would send tremors of mirth through your body. 'Simply Evil', you would think to yourself. 'How naive. First, to call anything evil belies the meaning of the word, intended more as a guideline referring to one's direction in life than as an absolute that can be realized. Secondly, rarely is any action deemed 'Evil' simple in its rationalization, realization, or repercussions.' Or, at least, I hope that's what you said to yourself. There are so many firebrands running around labelling Iraqis and CEOs and cheesecakes and protesters evil that I thought I might as well post a few thoughts about it. Evil is an ideological absolute, and as such no person or thing can be characterized as Evil, accurately. There are cruel people, and dishonest people, and foolish people - and these traits may result in bad things happening, things that can be called evil or wrong or any number of things. But these people are not wholly evil nor are thier actions. As with all ideological absolutes, we can approach Evil, but we can never achieve it. To be totally Evil would be to become Satan, or god-like, in your cruelty and malevolence. The same can be said of Forgiveness and becoming God, the essence of that ideal. Evil is also a term that has lost its moorings: so many things have been called Evil when in fact they are only different. The things that come most to mind are homosexuality, scientific research, and secular education. The misuse of this word has caused its meaning (which should be awesome, transcendent malevolence) to be lost. Such is the way of pop culture, you say, and I agree. But let those of us who actually realize the power of words try and keep track of what they truly mean.
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3,685,894 |
male
| 24 |
Arts
|
Gemini
|
28,June,2004
|
I am a child. Young in the world; even younger than I have, perhaps, ever been. I was always a precocious student, and so even in the early days of my education I found succor in books and learning new things. But I have always had a predilection towards arrogance, arguably my greatest flaw. The combination of my natural arrogance and the environment I now find myself in is one that I find quite caustic to my emotional stability. I am not doing something I enjoy, in that I find office work degrading, and in that I find some of the people I work with degrading. Unfortunately, this is reality; we need jobs to pay rent, we need money to live, and so we work regardless of how it affects our quality of life and mind. I am still truly grateful for the work I have, and that I can manage to pay my bills and still have time to pursue my arts. At the job I work right now, I am barely competent. I am not interested in working farther than meeting new people, and keeping my job. It is a position that many people have; they do X for a living, where the value of X means little or nothing. I am an X. Fill in the blank, it doesn't matter one way or the other. If I am young, and I posit here than I am, and if I am arrogant, a fact proven beyond a shadow of a doubt many, many times, then I am also agonizingly so. I am so brilliantly young and naive, that the state itself has intrinsic value. We continue to live by the assumption that wisdom breeds with age, but so little bears that out. I have, in my own short life time, met the oldest fools and the youngest sages, and I was impressed by neither. The perspective of youth may be less informed by life experience, but it is also not burdened with the same trepidation with which adults approach new situations, new problems. It has value in and of itself, this fresh outlook, and that has been shown time and time again in the arts and sciences, in music and literature. The young change paradigms. Yes, I am often very wrong. And yes, I am often very convinced that I am not. But I learn so much from these experiences. Is it so much to think that I may learn something from them, that you never did?
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3,685,894 |
male
| 24 |
Arts
|
Gemini
|
28,June,2004
|
I'm having a problem. I know you are very busy playing golf and killing those awful colored folks over in the nasty desert, but I am hoping you can find some time to help me with my little issue. My problem: I'm a sinner. I love men, Georgie Worgie Boo, I like thier butts and thier shoulders and thier cute little nipples and the hair inbetween thier legs and the way thier jaws clench when they... Well, as you can tell, my hellish desires lie just beneath the surface. They threaten to overwhelm me everywhere I go, and I flagellate myself in shame when I cannot resist them. I am truly repentant, O Lord. It is so wise of you to protect marriage the way you are; without your guidance, I'm sure those shameless gays would be shacking up all over the country, engaging in anal intercourse while sullying the sacred institution of holy matrimony, at the same time! They would be forced into a lifestyle of monogamy, and thus be able to avoid the plague that God sent to cleanse them from the earth. I would go a step further though, George Who Walks With Jesus: I would force them to have sex in the darkest, dirtiest bathrooms in the most seedy bars, afraid of us breaking into thier houses and pulling them apart in the midst of thier satanic congress. Then I would go to those bars, and I would punish them! You like that you little faggot, don't you? You little whore! Suck my... Er... I'm sorry George. It's so hard to resist. Especially with them parading around, shutting down our streets and messing up the traffic. I can't stand those bastards getting special rights like that. I would write more, but I'm late for my electro shock therapy session. Those nice Mormons have a center not to far away, and they help me for free! What kind and generous souls they have, truly in line with Jesus' message. If they can't torture these thoughts and feelings out of me, I've heard of a special brain surgery that may cause me to have no interest in anything. That may be preferable to constantly flirting with an eternity in hell. Thank you, Georgie Poo, for being there when we need you. America loves you. Keep your priorities straight! Love, John
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3,685,894 |
male
| 24 |
Arts
|
Gemini
|
27,June,2004
|
The theme that keeps cropping up in my life is direction; now that I'm moving again, where am I going? In college we measured our accomplishments concretely - grades, shows we starred in, things we wrote that people read, people we fucked. It was so easy - it was the way we had marked progress for so long, with first cars, lovers, and graduations; with birthdays and anniversaries; the rhythm of semesters. But all of a sudden, these structures fell away. These things we took for granted, that kept us grounded in the steady march of time, were all taken from us. And I don't think any of us expected it; I know I didn't. I am here now. In a place where getting lost is easier than finding your way, and where there are no dream catchers. Here, it is so easy to forget what you want, who you love, where you come from and what inspires you. In a way, I feel like my life before this was a demo, with a 23 year try-out period. And then you had to buy in to keep playing. I'm struggling to find the mental capital to invest in my life, and sometimes I'm overwhelmed by how exhausting it is. In the meanwhile, I have to find some reason to keep standing, to keep walking through the landscape of human experience with my head up and my eyes searching. Once the game is over, you see, things slide away. The world is a vacuum of ideas and dreams; and children are protected from that as much as they can be, but adults are not. So many dreams have been sacrificed! Look around today, and see it in the eyes of the people who you work with, those that pass you by on the street. They are not whatever they wanted to be, nor are they where they thought life would take them. Every one has the carcass of a dream in his or her face, all of us barely resisting the urge to desperately grab at it and try to give it new breath. It seems that when you grow up, it is enough to keep dreaming. We have to find value in the life of these possibilities, these futures that never were, even if they aren't realized in a concrete way. I will try to remind myself to have fantasies and imaginary lovers, for the rest of my life; the chances of living your ideals are small, but if we stop looking for them we won't ever achieve anything. If I could, I would spend the rest of my life walking the earth trying to make people remember thier dreams, and cherish them for what they are: the real engines of our lives. Without them, we are just coasting, and eventually, no matter how hard we try and persevere, we stop.
|
3,685,894 |
male
| 24 |
Arts
|
Gemini
|
27,June,2004
|
TOP 5 REASONS I LOVE GAY MEN: 5) Well, they're, uh, men. And stuff. And men are sexy. 4) Less drama than women. I'm sorry, girls, it's just the truth. Y'all are crazy sometimes. 3) Joy. The gay community has a surplus of joy, and they are always happy to share it with other people. 2) There is something that appeals to my artistic sense about being one of the most reviled minorities in the country. Hatred of us crosses multicultural boundaries, and that is a beautiful thing. 1) Sexual freedom. When I talk to some of my straight friends, they don't even know what thier bodies are capable of. Wake up and smell the teabag, Mr. Breeder. Our bodies are capable of so much more than just sticking it in a woman!
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3,685,894 |
male
| 24 |
Arts
|
Gemini
|
26,June,2004
|
In honor of Pride Day, which is today, Sunday the 26th, I am going to do a spiffy top 5+1 list. Enjoy. TOP 5 REASONS I HATE GAY MEN 5) A Culture of Sex. The gay community, by necessity, is a community based in sexual congress. Unfortunately, in a society where gay men rarely get approval outside of thier community, this tends to focus the naturally sexual male nature even more, leading to a system by which much of a persons value is based on his percieved attractiveness. It is amazing how many gay men have had sex with nearly every one of thier friends . Then, when they encounter gay people who haven't, they don't understand how those people can be friends. 'They must be fucking,' is something I have heard many a time regarding myself and my close friends. 4) Britney and Cohorts. I find it ironic that a community known for its 'style' is one of Britney Spears largest fan bases, just behind 12 year old fucking girls . What the fuck? Can we get some taste up in this fagerie? 3) Bears, Blacks, and whatnot. I know of no other set of people so segregated by sexual preference. I mean, I suppose it makes sense to over-sexed people - if you only like being fucked by black men, you only hang out with black male tops. If you only like to have sex with hairy, fat, and bald men, you generally only hang out with Bears. If you happen to be one of those men, you generally only hang out at a bar specifically designed for your body type, because you are hardly welcome other places. Bleh. 2) Bars. I hate that I have to go to specific bars to hang out with gay men in an attempt to find somebody to date. Now, before hordes of you leap to the defense of bars, or say that's not the only place to meet men, I want to acknowledge that gay men go other places, so it's possible to see them outside of bars, and maybe even meet them! But - those of you who claim you can meet gay men in non-gay non-bar settings are kidding yourself, or so lucky I want to fucking kill you. 1) Dearth of Personality. Gay men have, in general, the unhealthy habit of killing thier personalities to better fit the 'ideal' mold of a homo. I know, straight people do this too. But trust me when I say in the gay community it is not only more widespread, but considerably more thorough. And A BONUS REASON: DRAMA. 'Nuff Said.
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3,685,894 |
male
| 24 |
Arts
|
Gemini
|
26,June,2004
|
Okay, so all these friends of mine are all jealous of my bloggation and so they're making blogs of thier own, which will no doubt be spiffier and more snazzy than my own, because they are smarter and more motivated. Fuck them. They're bitches and hoes, with thier colors and custom templates and shit. And thier links and shit. I hate all of you. Okay, well, not so much. But still...
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3,685,894 |
male
| 24 |
Arts
|
Gemini
|
25,June,2004
|
Mmmmm, the sweet taste of spirits! So I think we should all have a party - I have posted my first incredibly embarassing excoriation of myself while inebriated. Quiver in fear, Bitches and Hoes, at the vastness of my horrifying decrepitude. Bleh. I always get so wordy when I'm hungover. One reason why I don't go out to meet guys is because when I go home alone, the previous post happens. 'Dreams...' is kindof cool, though, and I wrote that when I was drunk too. So, I'm completely spacey and nearly drunk this morning, and I'm late to work, and I run onto the train, and what do I see? Hotness, sitting across from me. Not Keith's kind of hotness (he wasn't bald and couldn't have weighed more than 160 pounds) but still, hot nonetheless. He was made even hotter by the fact that I could tell he was headed home after spending the night with someone. We flirted the entire time the train came up here, until I got off at my work stop. Mmmmm, hotness, I shall never see thee again. Alas.
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3,685,894 |
male
| 24 |
Arts
|
Gemini
|
25,June,2004
|
I am going to be alone for the rest of my life. I have that thing, the undefinable one, the thing that makes people alone. Nobody wants to get closer than friendship to me - who cares why. That's the case. People have been reassuring me for decades that I will meet somebody. But I will continue to be alone. I need to get used to it. That has always been the task in front of me. Pride weekend always depresses me because its a celebration of something I hardly fit into. I'm a gay man who has never had sex. That's like an alpaca shaped like a slug, or a Republican who has never said the word 'NIgger' - in other words, it's very rare. My salient identity relates to sexual expression, yet I've never expressed myself sexually. I'm an anomaly. I should have already died. In twenty four years, I've never had a relationship, or even more than one date. I have never had sex. I guess that's where my real shame lies. Leave if you want to.
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3,685,894 |
male
| 24 |
Arts
|
Gemini
|
25,June,2004
|
Dreams, where have you gone? I slept through the night once, and you had left. I woke up, confused; I remembered, but there was nothing there. How can I see without Dreams? You are the rods and cones I drove around my entire life, directing me, seeing me through the wet and the cold. But now you run away... I go to our special places, but Dreams aren't there. All I see is a warm stone bench, where you used to be. Can I see you again? My heart pumped because you flowed through it. My nerves fired because you were there to connect them. And now, everything is grey - the meters are out of money, the loan declined. Are you like a canary, Dreams? Do you run before everything stops working, an indication that there is no hope? That Thor is preparing to draw his hammer back to smite my mind with his power? Let it happen. You heard me. I have enough power for you, Thor, and for you too, Abraham. You can throw all you need to at me - I am more than a match. I was born to draw people out of your demesnes, and I will if I can. The true lore lies not at your feet, but at the root of the human soul. You were just a metaphor for a less sophisticated time. Follow me out of easy answers, America. Follow all of us to a place where Dreams has gone; heaven, or Yggdrasiil. Warriors go there too, like MLK and the man you never gave money to, who lived on the corner until he died last summer in the heat wave. I threw up on him, because the smell was something my body couldn't store in memory. Remember, world. And learn. And don't hide from the ways of your own soul - it will find you regardless, before death or after.
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3,685,894 |
male
| 24 |
Arts
|
Gemini
|
24,June,2004
|
John Kerry is a big fucking pussy! Take your wife's money and buy some fucking moral courage , you pansy assed wannabe intellectual. STOP MAKING AL GORE'S MISTAKES! BE YOURSELF! STOP TRYING TO BE EVERYONE'S CANDIDATE - IT'S NOT GOING TO WORK OUT FOR YOU ! No matter how homophobic or racist or sexist or 'measured' your stands are Republicans are NOT GOING TO VOTE FOR YOU! ARRRRGHGHGGHGLSLFJEIDKJF BLECKDHF FLEBLSKDIF @#%&@&#$*!@*%(^*@!!!!!!!!!!! (And other sundry inarticulate sounds of rage.) Please vote for John Kerry because the alternative is like having a root canal done on your testicle. Or, for women, like having a menstrual cramp for four years straight.
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3,685,894 |
male
| 24 |
Arts
|
Gemini
|
24,June,2004
|
You know, I look in envy at those people who have always had thier one thing they do, that art or science or something that tickles them senseless every time they partake. I've never had that. I have passion for so many things that it is impossible to pick one. My first art was drawing and painting. I was obsessed with drawing little dragons and knights with swords and various other ridiculous medievil weaponry that I concocted from thin air. At first, my hands were just balls with lines drawn through them, and my swords were just vaguely pointy, almost straight shapes with a rectangle for a hilt. When someone in my third grade art class said they could shade better than I could, I looked at them blankly. 'What's shading?' I innocently asked. I didn't really get good at drawing until I was roughly fourteen - at that point I had tried sports and quit, (too many naked boys - too little time)and I hadn't discovered theater or music yet, so I buckled down and learned to shade. And lo and behold, my drawings became better and better. But about this time, just as I was about to develope a heroin habit and dreadlock my hair, I was cast in my first show. I didn't give a crap. Really, not even a single turd. I had two lines as the Lion in Midsummer Night's Dream, and I forgot both of them nearly every night of the show. But I was funny as shit. People would fall out of thier seats they were laughing so hard. At one point during the 'play within the play', I remember blankly picking up Thisby's blond wig and handing it to the very dark african woman playing Hippolyta. You probably had to be there, but I think someone threw up they were laughing so hard. I, one of the smallest roles in the play, got the standing ovation that night. Suffice to say: I was hooked. Play after play followed, and each one I did my thing. I started to be a part of the 'talent' of my high school; you know, the kids that get cast in every show even if they don't audition. But I also started to get bored, and all of a sudden I wasn't cast for a show. I couldn't believe it - I wasn't in a show! I was a junior, just a few months before my seventeenth birthday, and I was left without an art. About this time, my music teacher from elementary school was transferred to the upper school (I did some choir, and played the clarinet when I was really young). I was pressured into joining the choir. I instantly fell in love, mainly because I was so loud that everyone would stare at me when I sang and I felt special. But also because here was a language stranger and more wonderful than anything I had ever encountered before. People could understand music no matter where they were from. It evoked emotions, memories, and physical reactions. A year before I graduated from high school, I announced that I was going to be a composer. I focused on that, harder than I had ever focused on anything before. I dove into my private lessons, abandoned my singing and theater, and worked feverishly to finish my audition pieces before the deadline. I remember coming home from school at four, and writing until eleven or twelve, and doing this for weeks. I felt like such a tragic artist, doing such hard work. Finally everything was done, and I sent it off to the schools I had applied to. Fast forward eight months, when I receive every rejection letter (four in all) on the same day in April 1998. Because I'm gay, I bought flowers for everyone of my teachers, and then went home and cried into a Sara Lee Cream Pie. (I was also very, very fat in high school) But I wasn't finished - eventually, I would graduate from college with a music degree in Vocal Performance and an arts degree in Theater. Then, in college, I discovered dancing. At first I was awful - my friends can tell stories of how I would spin around and bust people in the eye or the neck with my elbow, or how I would prance around running into people like an idiot. I have knocked out more people... But every time I dance, its like my mind shuts down, and only the music is there, compelling me to move. So I kept doing it. Eventually, I became good at it, very good. And now, it looks as though I will be doing theater and music and writing, which is an art I have just recently discovered, at least in the sense that I want to do it more often now. I mean, I'll do theater and music until I get bored and then maybe I'll write something, or better yet I'll release an album while acting, maybe I should open an art gallery? I don't think they'd like my stuff, though... But that shouldn't matter right? Or maybe I'll...
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3,685,894 |
male
| 24 |
Arts
|
Gemini
|
24,June,2004
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So I was watching True Life: I'm Gay and I'm Getting Married on MTV this evening, mainly because as much as I try not to be, I'm a sucker for any programming that involves homos. Several things always strike me, especially when the show is about civil rights. The first - and this is something difficult for straight folks to understand - is the abject shame that lurks beneath the surface of every homosexual's face. There was a particularly startling moment during this particular show when one of the gay men (Brian? Was his name Brian? It doesn't matter; all homos look alike to me.) breaks down after the Massachusetts Legislature votes to put forth an amendment banning gay marriage. There, in his face, you could see everything that lies beneath the surface, in starker clarity than I have ever seen on the TV or on a movie. Just as everyone is an amalgam of all the people they have ever been, since the beginning of thier memory, so are gay people in many ways a collection of all the shame and hatred they absorbed, even as infants. As a 24 year old gay male virgin (Don't ask! That is a different, and very long story for another time...), I have my Pride to counteract the shame society places on me, but that hatred of myself still lingers, like the smell of left over burrito two weeks after you took it out of the fridge; it just lingers and lingers, and no amount of soap or scrubbing gets rid of it. And burritos are the kind of food you just don't want to smell when you aren't eating one yourself, you know? My point is: these subtle, ancient emotional artifacts from a different era of his life just appeared on his face. Try, those of you who are heterosexual, to imagine your official personhood - whether or not you are considered human - called to referenda by a group of old men, many of whom are doing so because they have cynically decided to sacrifice your civil rights so they can have a job next year. How much does that suck? It's like a jury deciding to execute you or not, except if you lose you don't even get the satisfaction of being dead. At the same time this depressing illustration of my own demons was playing across the screen, another scene was developing. On the night of May 16th, thousands of people descended on Cambridge City Hall to celebrate the at least temporary equality being granted at midnight. Each time a couple would walk down the steps after applying for thier marriage license, the crowd would cheer and shower them with flowers and confetti. These are complete strangers, who spent hours and hours simply cheering gay couples who were walking down steps. Why were they there? Because the powerful experience of being granted a right you have previously been denied is one that has little parallel in life. Because in seeing these people, joined in matrimony, they were able for a moment to escape the monsters they deal with every day. Because, surrounded by people celebrating love with every fibre of thier beings, as only people who have thier love denied to them every day can, they transcended the hatred that fills the very air they breathe and the water they drink in this country. All of a sudden, they were free, and they were more powerful than the people in the Massachusetts courtroom who labor so long and hard to deny them thier rights. Doesn't that inspire you? If the shame and sorrow on Brian's face near the beginning of the show represent the nastiest ranchero burrito smell imaginable, lingering in your refrigerator, the joy and Pride of that crowd outside Cambridge City Hall is the baking soda that cleans it all up. No amount of scrubbing bubbles can do what five minutes of being loved and affirmed accomplishes. That's why gay people have Pride - not because we think sex is something to be proud of (although for some people, it really is) but because it de-odorizes our souls, it clears the toxins that come from having people sneer at you as you hold hands, or from people calling you a faggot as you walk down the street, or from turning on the news and seeing bigots get the same air time as nobel-laureates, explaining thier views on civil rights. Happy Pride Month, everyone. Eat a dyke, save some wetlands. Kiss a fag, catch some lung cancer.
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3,685,894 |
male
| 24 |
Arts
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Gemini
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23,June,2004
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This week, we encounter something from the tender age of 16. A poignent and somewhat violent rebellion against the untrustworthy ruling generation. Some people smoked pot; I wrote precocious slam poetry. The Sound Follows Me. I can run and run and run into the dawn past the weeds and the fennel A displaced era surrounds me with a sense of disquiet that can not be shaken I have seen... the B lack ink upon the W hite paper and the paint cover ing our flaws and it flakes and breaks and only becomes deeper and deeper as well as the posturings of men who claim to know what they claim... They can firmly beleive that now is twenty years ago and that *maybe* *just maybe* if they deny the f uture enough it will cease to exist What is responsibility or a child to the thick grasp of waiting scrabbling x-philes determined that they will grow up happy and joyful and full of shit ( ? ) but all they do is ignore us until we are dust and our children's corpses litter thier fields of war It doesn't matter : as long as the bodies continue rolling in keeping the mortician nicely employed so that he can feed the next generation of dime-a-dozen dreams I can hear them T he S ound F ollows M e it chases me into the depths of my mind I scream and sing and hum it still reaches insidious instruments into my nose to pluck my brain and find out how I work. it can be trapped on a page a page of electrons or ink or strings or pounding things that rattle and groan with the new stress of genius The old men who scoff at me laugh and sigh saying in two different breaths how I am a Fool Lack the stupidity to Follow them and those that fear to break away from thier nice one-way glass walls begin to create skyscrapers from them so that they may live comfortably for the rest of thier lives The sound follows me the voices of unborn realities of trapped ideas without * a chance * The sound follows me continues to pour from my hands into a font of pure potassium chloride which I would offer to others but I only end up cleaning my brow...
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3,685,894 |
male
| 24 |
Arts
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Gemini
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23,June,2004
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I still feel deeply. I know, I know. I'm 24 years old, I should have desensitized myself to my own emotions like everyone else. As some of my best friends would say to me during some of my more dramatic emotional breakdowns regarding love or life or simply existential crises: 'It's not that serious, John.' For a very long time, I was truly ashamed of what I felt, at first for being gay (for obvious reasons if you live in the US), and as time went on for loving or being kind or anything true. It seemed to me that the world punished people for being open and positive, and so cynicism and cruelty began to stain my personality. I became bitter, and angry, and I developed skills at hurting people that were so effective I did things of which I am not proud. To so many people this is the story of thier adolescence! Shame surrounding sex, discouragement of emotional expression and openness; is it just normal, this distancing and darkening of the emotional landscape? It seems that as we become capable of feelings that are more complicated, we also become disillusioned, as though these added facets negate the simpler things we felt as a child. This is like saying that because there are now trees growing on either side of the road, the plains we just passed can't have actually existed! I used to hate all of this feeling crap; it put me at a disadvantage. Most people have such a thorny exterior that when you set out to hurt them you push so hard you go a little too far, if you can at all. I, on the other hand, took just the mildest push to get the desired reaction. It was easy to be cruel to me, and so in my bitterness I grew my skills of destruction to a level that assured mutual destruction. And people learned to stay out of my sights. I wish none of that was necessary. I wish I could just be vulnerable and have people be tender with my fragile self. But that was not to be. I'm actually glad I never bleached out my emotions, because not only do they help me in my expressive art work, but they assist me in defending myself. There is little as frightening as an intuitive, passionate person defending thier inner child from cruel barbarian hordes.
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3,685,894 |
male
| 24 |
Arts
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Gemini
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23,June,2004
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In Chicago, the trains run through the city above ground, snaking around buildings and providing the proverbial tracks that identify so many areas of the city. I'd like to think a reason I moved to Chicago was that any city that doesn't bury itself beneath the earth is one I could relate to, but in fact it was the House Music that drew me here. I have a commute of an hour to and from work, and during the winter, it was already dark as I embarked on my daily journey towards home. In early evening, nearly every window in every building blazed with light against the far away darkness of the lake, and in each were shadows, living and dying their shadowy lives. It was through these anonymous windows with their anonymous shadows that I would gaze, into the lives of others - just for a moment, as the elevated train barreled past, taking me to my own window. I saw beautiful carpets and pictures, placed just so. There was the particular basket, on the favorite end table, where he kept his keys; or the bright, wet plants on the porch that framed her love of growing things. But the point of my looking through the windows wasn't those little stories, it was what they all meant, put together. I looked because in an era where we are all so separate from each other, where connections are few and far between, looking through those windows made me feel less alone. I have felt so alone for so long, even while surrounded by the love of my family and friends, that this sensation was miraculous. But why would something so many take for granted make me feel less alone? I still don't know for sure. Maybe it was the commonality, or the reminder that there are so many more people in this world than I will ever meet or know, or the profusion of those little stories of favorite things. All I know is that it was impossible to feel cynical for the split second I was looking through an anonymous window, and the sincerity of those moments was something I had not felt in a long while.
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3,685,894 |
male
| 24 |
Arts
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Gemini
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21,June,2004
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Today, our discussion is about the elusive qualification, Fine Points . First, a disclaimer: This definition of Fine Point was discovered through numerous drunken and otherwise impaired debates between myself and my eminently smarter friends. So if I screw it up, it is not my fault. Also, by defining this, I am in no way trying to compete with any corporation that may be in the business of manufacturing pens with very finely tuned tips. A Fine Point (capitalized) is (1) a slightly changed word, or choice of phrasing, that drastically alters the meaning of a sentence for the careful listener and (2) a redefinition or altering of a word to clarify the meaning, in order express more complex ideas with more brevity, or to avoid the degeneration of debate into semantic argument. It can also be used to mean any idea or concept that has been adjusted slightly, to great effect on its actual meaning. Some Examples: The use of words as ideological absolutes : concepts that while they either asymptotically approach actualization in the real world, or cannot be realized by thier very definition, are useful in a theoretical construct. Some of these words are nothing , altruism , love , and forgiveness , etc. The replacing of a word with a synonym of slightly different flavor , but identical meaning, (according to the thesaurus) in order to drastically change the meaning of the sentence. An obvious example would be: 'I took a walk to the park this morning.' vs. 'I took a stroll to the park this morning.' (That's not the best example, but the replacing word thing is more a spur of the moment event for me, so get off my case!)
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3,685,894 |
male
| 24 |
Arts
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Gemini
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21,June,2004
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Its strange - things are happening in my life now, but I'm still not that happy. I have a job as an artist; my career is going someplace, and I have never felt so still in all my life. As I walk along this road, sometimes a freeway and sometimes less traveled, with concrete walls and trees and deserts, I am so tired. And as I walk, I see giant, comfortable recliner dotting the landscape, most with a languid passenger, eagerly consuming the McCulture streamed across from a conveniently placed plasma television. These quiet people are comfortable in their cessation, content in the lot they have dealt themselves. They make me so tired - I want to grab them and force them to stand on legs that haven't stood for years and years, force them to walk in a direction, any direction. But I'm so tired. It seems as though the chairs grow around them over time, so that they cannot escape, wrapped in the softest wool, shriveled limbs coccooned in a safe place. As I walk, I see empty places, waiting for me, calling out to me, demanding that I stop and rest. 'Just for a moment, John.' They whisper to me. 'You only have to stop for a second.' I want to so badly. But I don't. I keep walking. Sometimes I am startled by the sound of someone screaming as their comfy future consumes them utterly, or the sound of crying as someone struggles to free themselves. The landscapes change, the trials do as well, but the walking is the same, the screaming, and the overwhelming desire to stop. Each of us has a journey in life, a path that we walk. For most people, I think, this cliche represents the trials and tribulations as well as the celebrations in their experience: births, deaths, lost loves and great lovers. It is a road marked by events, like cities; we see them and marvel at their terrible beauty. I look at it in a different way: The journey of life is easily measured in years, or milestones, or traditions. But the progress of our actual selves, our inner voyage, is not so easily gauged. It takes such self examination, such perseverance in the face of our own fears and inadequacies, to look at how our spirits are dawdling, that few people even attempt it.
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3,685,894 |
male
| 24 |
Arts
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Gemini
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21,June,2004
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I just want to say first off this is not a post that supports or condones Eugenics , except in the case of certain people who teased me in middle school, and you know who you are. Sometimes I look in the mirror and I wonder: 'What is the difference, between my face, and thier face?' By them, I mean John Ashcroft, Donald Rumsfeld, Georgie Poo, and Rush Limbaugh. All of those hateful, angry men and women (we can't forget Annie C)who constantly advocate war and violent punishment, who see thier enemies as statistics and monsters, not as human beings just like them. I often hear as much vitriol in the rhetoric of those mentioned above as in the speeches and missives of the Fundamentalists over the sea. But what is the difference? I mean, anyone can see two people, one kind and thoughtful, the other cruel and foolish, and instantly see the difference in thier demeanor, in the way they hold themselves. What causes me to try and understand what the people of the middle east must be going through? What causes me to agonize over not only the deaths on 9/11 but also the policies that make it so easy for terrorists to recruit people willing to die? Can we the people of the USA even conceive of a culture so devoid of hope that people sign up for a career as a suicide bomber? Do these people not realize that the people they demonize are human? I feel like you could take calipers and charts and discover the effects of forty years of cruelty on the faces of those without compassion. You could codify the results and then (and this is fantasy, obviously I would never advocate this) prosecute people based on thier CIGA factor. (Cruelty, Ignorance, Greed, and Arrogance). We could make it illegal for those found to have a history of ignorance and arrogance to run for public office. We could measure how many worlds of perspective away from your own you are able to understand, and then say that if its less than three you cannot make any decisions that might affect another person. Ultimately, we could (a la the Nazis) sterilize people with a predilection for foolish, thoughtless, and cruel actions based on the ravages of negative spiritual energy on thier face. I mean, by this point the science would have advanced to the point where we can tell by the teenage years who is going to have high CIGA factors. Obviously that's crap. But just think if we had CIGA in the 1960s when G.W. was in high school. We wouldn't have to deal with any of this.
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3,685,894 |
male
| 24 |
Arts
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Gemini
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20,June,2004
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Uh, is it bad when you feel more normal after a night of drinking than after getting eight ours of sober, healthy REM sleep? Is that an indication that I have a drunk problem, or that my body is made up of 98% Ethanol instead of water?
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3,685,894 |
male
| 24 |
Arts
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Gemini
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19,June,2004
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If you think about it, everyone in America runs from pain. It's the past time that nobody talks about but everybody does. I think, while everyone in the world at times tries to escape from their troubles (something that, done moderately, is a highly effective coping mechanism) Western Culture has turned taking a break from life and its consequences into a fine art. It's as if, the moment our peculiar brand of despair wells up, we run screaming into the mists of oblivion, obscuring it using any method available. This despair is no less horrific than that of less powerful and rich nations, just different: while they fight for their lives, we fight for our souls. We drink, or we use drugs. We have sex or we become addicted to porn. Sometimes, most of the time, we watch television and movies and drill out our eyes with those colored, patterned rays of light. We fight wars of choice only because of our inability to face our own hypocrisy, our own laziness, and our own greed, and the pain they cause our inherently humanistic and compassionate selves. We kill and maim people simply so that we don't appear weak, as if that is the most awful thing that could ever happen. All of these things: drugs, drinking, wars, murder, hate and television; all of them were created to escape our pain as a culture, and as individuals. They have many other superficial causes, but mostly they are used to escape the razor blades of a New York minute. Something rather unique, in my experience, has been happening for the better part of the last year: I have been having difficulty escaping. It started small, like being unable to just 'walk' from building to building on my college's campus - I had to observe everything. I had to find meaning and metaphor in every tree and every person walking underneath. Then I lost my interest in television as a medium of blankets, suddenly unable to watch more than an hour of programming at a time. Eventually, I even found playing video games (my ultimate escape) lacking in something. The thoughts kept creeping in, the sound kept following me, and the dreams (day and night) wouldn't let me go. I feel like I have avoided escaping pain for the majority of my time here on earth. I have always, in a somewhat twisted way, enjoyed emotional and spiritual trauma. Something about the pain told me it was a good pain, that would make my muscles stronger and my spirit healthier in the long run. And, for the most part, I feel like that is true. This is how I think about it now: We need to stop running from our pain, because that is ultimately an unattainable goal. Pain is the shell of a seed. Instead of running from it, we must live inside, let it enclose us and truly hurt us. Only then, as the sun warms the soil of our garden, can we burst forth into a magnificent, living thing. As we gestate inside of our hurts and troubles, we change subtly the makeup of our lives, our garden, our house. It is most important to live inside of our griefs, our loves, and our dreams, for they create the most change within us, give birth tot he most beautiful and awe-inspiring behemoths.
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3,685,894 |
male
| 24 |
Arts
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Gemini
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19,June,2004
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June 8th, 2004 John was forcibly ejected from the womb of apathy and despair that is typical of paycheck-to-paycheck living. 'He's a whole new person,' exclaimed his mother. 'His dream has always been to trick people into paying him for playing around on stage,' she continued. 'Now that dream has come true. I always knew his elusive ways would land him a dream job.' John was offered a role in Light Opera Works' August production of CANDIDE, by Leonard Bernstein. 'It's not a big role, and it's not as though I can quit my job, but it's a step in the right direction,' he's reported as saying. 'I'm really very happy,' he said over the phone. Morgan Yearling, one of the Baritones who lost the role to John's fantastic Yodelling, was less happy. 'I mean, I'm happy for him and everything. I just wish it was me.' 'He's kindof a bitch, actually.' Morgan testified when pressed by this reporter. 'Nobody who knows him likes him. His friends only hang out with him because of his trust fund.'
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3,685,894 |
male
| 24 |
Arts
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Gemini
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29,July,2004
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What does it mean to be sophisticated? Dictionary.com says it basically boils down to being more 'worldly'. Alternate meanings are 'to make impure; adulterate' and 'to refine'. I think that says it right there; take all the meanings together, and you get the sense of the word. Sophisticated actually refers to people who supposedly know the world, are perfectly okay with that, and have expertly altered themselves, and then discarded anything they felt didn't conform with the world they know. Sounds healthy, right? But I guess that's what it means to be a healthy adult. Discarding what is widely regarded as the detritus of childhood, to fling yourself into a world of backstabbing and guile. I was recently watching television - a show about movie stars, or something - and the commentator was discussing how rare it is to develope enough sophistication to work in the highest levels of Hollywood. In light of the above definition, that makes alot of sense. My friend Keith is one of the most sophisticated people I know. I'm one of the least. I don't think it has anything to do with intelligence, just with one's facility manipulating social norms. In fact, I think a large portion of someone's intelligence is lost with the transformation most people go through as they learn to be sophisticated. It's hard to explain the difference between myself and most other adults. I am responsible; I pay my bills, I go to work full time, I pursue my dreams with vigor. It has more to do with me simply refusing to cater to other people's phoniness needs. I feel more and more like Holden Caulfield; I know most teenagers identify with him, so this feeling is vaguely disturbing. I should re-read that book. I think it would mean alot of different things to me now. What it boils down to is that I don't think I want to be sophisticated, ever. I don't think what you get from it is worth what you lose. I made this decision partly because it seems like everyone who becomes that way forgets what they lost, and any change that limits further one's ability to understand others is a step in the wrong direction.
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3,685,894 |
male
| 24 |
Arts
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Gemini
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28,July,2004
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My search for spiritual salience culminated in my early 20s, with a particular emphasis on the concept of Forgiveness. Not the simple 'forgiveness' that so dominates the mindset of people, which seems more like the giving of mercy or a power play than actual forgiveness, nor the biblical 'forgiveness' that has been twisted to be synonymous with 'absolution'. I mean the idealogical absolute, that can be considered, but most likely never actualized; approached, but never reached. Like all physical deaths can be reduced to suffocation, I feel most spiritual trauma and pathologies, including spiritual and personal death, can be traced to the suffocation of the spirit. What is the oxygen that flows through roots of our inner garden? What is the basic element that makes possible the spectacular microscopic explosions of our passion and that power our vectors? Forgiveness, in its pure form, is neither absolution or mercy; it's the statin of the soul's vascular system. It cleans out the clots, and makes everything flow more easily. It reinforces those pathways we use, and creates newer and better ones. It is the fiber and the collagen, the endorphins of our second body. In short, Forgiveness is all of the essential infrastructures of our spirit. It is also the most neglected of all our internal structures. People will spend hours upon hours in the gym, improving thier physical bodies. People go to church and pray for hours a week, poring over bibles for the wisdom of thier prophets. Yet who do we see, petitioning the funerals of AIDS victims and bombing abortion clinics? Who do we see, threatening people outside clubs because of some percieved offense, or starting a fight in a bar? Is somebody cutting in line in front of you really grounds for smashing in thier face? If you observe popular culture with any sort of a cynical eye or wider lens, you will have noticed a disturbing trend in the media of our age: a tendency towards simplistic violence. Not complex, situationally valid conflict; but violence imbued with the idea 'I hate you - You die' as a logical progression. Usually, the people being killed don't even know why they are being killed, or commited an offense so obtuse as to instill horror in the thinking viewer. This irrational anger - Fisherman's Anger - is one of the many symptoms we are experiencing as we neglect to develop our ability to bestow grace. It is the last couple of generations, who grew up in a connected world, lashing out because their blood is hardly flowing. They are trapped, younger than people used to be, by the swelling cushions they rest on. They are struggling to free themselves, and don't know how...
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3,685,894 |
male
| 24 |
Arts
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Gemini
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24,July,2004
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I am a slob. I know this. I have acquired the reputation as a sloppy, messy person honestly. I leave shit out. My room is only clean for roughly 36 hours after I clean it. I have been known to leave my toiletries out in the bathroom, my left over food containers out on the coffee table, and my dishes anywhere you could imagine them being. Recently, my friends and I moved into a new apartment. They both turned to me, looking grave, and said: 'John, you have to make a concerted effort to be clean in this apartment. We won't live with your sloppy messes.' I looked at them, felt a twinge of apprehension, and promised to work on my problem. Thus, I underwent the difficult training that has turned me into who I am today. I bore the humiliating comments without rancor, as I learned to put away my errant toothbrushes and rinse out my glasses. As Keith would yell across the house, 'John, clean up your shit!' I would meekly walk out and do whatever he said. It was my penance, you see, for being the only dirty roommate. But then, I began to notice something. Even while I was cleaning up after myself more and more, there was still trash accumulating in the public areas. The shocking part was: It wasn't my trash! It seems as though Keith and Joe were secret slobs, secreting thier trash in the wee hours of the morning, after drinking and partying all night. The trash would remain there until I, being sick of it, would dispose of it. What was this? Karmic irony? This struck home today in particular, when I walked into our kitchen to see the two leftover take-out containers I asked Keith to clean up two days ago joined by a third and a fourth. Keeping in mind the dumpster seven steps and ten meters away, I observed the rest of the kitchen. Here, is an inventory of the trash in the kitchen when I cleaned i up: 1) Four styrofoam take out containers, stacked on one another, to the left of the sink. 2) Gigantic bag of MacDonald's leavings, on the floor next to the trash can. 3) Three two liter bottles of soda, empty, on the floor next to the trash can. 4) Empty 'fridge-pack' of 7-up, on the floor. 5) Top of a carry-out container, on the counter next to the stove. 6) Opened envelopes and spam mail, addressed to Keith. 7) Gross, rancid top of a carry-out dressing container. 8) Completely full trash can, with no bag. Okay, so about 20% of #2 is mine, one of the three 2-liters, the 'fridge-pack' box, and the top of the carry-out container are mine. Everything else is Keith or Joe's. So, in the course of the last week, they have deposited at least an equal amount of open air trash, if not more, than I have. Who is the slob now, bitches?
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3,685,894 |
male
| 24 |
Arts
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Gemini
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23,July,2004
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At one point during my professional training at one of the country's best conservatories, my teacher stopped playing the piano, looked at me with a grimace on her face, and said: 'Why are you so afraid of doing well at something?' When it happened, I think my face got red, and I mumbled that I was sorry I had messed up; but my teacher had made a very insightful observation. It seems that every time I am confronted with possibly being successful, this problem kicks up in my ass. It whispers: 'If you are successful once, you can fail. If you are constantly failing, you never have to worry about downgrading your progress!' I know, its a cynical outlook. It probably stems from the systematic destruction of my artistic confidence that occured early in my college career, and in many ways persists to this day. It manifests itself by depriving me of hope for my future, and blanking out any dreams of success in the arts that I might have. I simply cannot visualize being a famous actor. Now that I'm actually getting work, my insidious, vile companion has started to convince me that I cannot act, or sing, and that I'm doomed to working in an office forever. Whatever happiness this golem in the mist gets from destroying my dreams cannot be greater than my dismay at having lost those glorious images: getting my first equity role, becoming a standard player in Chicago, moving to NYC and being successful off Broadway, until in an Act of God the world will never forget, I'm discovered in my brilliant little play and offered a movie career. All of this seems impossible to me right now. I hope it is not, but I am afraid of what the future holds. IT is a fear, but it's more too: it's a hole in my perception of myself and of the world. Can I measure up? I don't even know, and my body, for some reason, will not let me make a decision. It may turn out that all is for the best, and that the reason I don't know is because I don't have to know. We'll see.
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3,685,894 |
male
| 24 |
Arts
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Gemini
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20,July,2004
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So, I work as an office manager. I, supposedly, work part time, if part time is an average of 50 hours a week for the last two months. What is becoming clear to me is that if you are 'part-time', you are the company's bitch. I should have figured, probably. I mean, every company I've ever worked for has treated me more like an expendable resource than as anyone they actually needed. Its hard for me to have interest in a job or a space that is so dismissive of what it is I do for them. Its the same issue I'm having in one of my friendships lately; I feel like I'm his part-time best friend. There's the same sense of his dismissiveness, of his disregard, that makes me not have interest in his life or what he does. He takes from me what he can, and rarely gives in return; for example, he can borrow my money, but bitches if I occaisionally need him to drive me somewhere. He can consistently pay rent late, but can't take the fact that I'm a sensitive person who doesn't fuck everything that moves, and at the same time has the gall to be lonely. There is one part, a single fucking part of my life in which I don't feel part-time: as an actor. When I'm working, it is clear that I am important to the production. The director, the music director, the stage manager, the other actors; all of them treat me like I have value and purpose in thier creation. Why do I have value there but not here? I contribute to this office, when I'm allowed. I contribute as much as I can (but not that much, anymore) to my friendship. Its probably because I work much, much harder at acting that at being an office manager. What I don't understand is: How could anyone expect anything else? They treat me like I hardly exist, and then expect me to be boldly present during the work day, but only in certain ways. For example, I can't change anything in the office, because I'm part-time. I can make suggestions, but shouldn't expect anything to come of them, because I'm part-time. You can't totally dis-empower a person and them expect them to find some sort of fantasy investment in what they are doing. If you treat somebody like your bitch, they will most likely act like your bitch. What this bitch is saying is: How can I cut out these part-time shenanigans from my life? The friend is easy; we're going to have a talk about it later this week, and hopefully resolve whatever problem we have. The job is harder, but not impossible; find a new one! Or, get work as an actor that supports you (yeah right). Or, actually work part time, instead of 'part-time' fifty hours a week. But what about the rest of my life? Everything seems to have the relationship described above, from friendships to dating to social life to diet and excercise. When did I stop living life, full time?
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3,685,894 |
male
| 24 |
Arts
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Gemini
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19,July,2004
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How the hell can people in the real world be so fucking sure of themselves? It seems to me that the older you get, the more you know about the world, the less absolute things become. When I was small, I knew things like 'don't touch stove' and 'while I feel anger towards that person, I shouldn't throw this chair at them'. These were fairly absolute. Not much ambiguous about a directive to stay way from the oven, or the rule to not physically damage those that annoy you. As I grew older, my perception of the grays inherent in morality issues lagged behind my physical growth - at eighteen, I would say I was average, which is, suffice to say, not so good. I was certain of everything I knew, and relativistic thought seemed the the stupidest thing in the world. When I was proved wrong, I would grow defensive and pout; this happened most frequently. I'm not sure when it happened, but in college, I went from this rigid idealogue with poor reasoning my first year, through a gruelling developmental process my second and third, to popping out a grounded relativist my fourth. Naively, I was certain that this viewpoint would be the one that most people share in the real world, with its complex issues and massive diversity of culture. How could anything else be the case and not have the world blow up? I thought. What I had forgotten was: the world was 'blowing up'. I think the reason I changed in college was my friend Channing, who holds an award as the first person to ever convince me (without even trying, no less) that he was smarter than I was. Now, this was before I wrote blog articles decrying my inherent arrogance, during a time when someone called me a prick, I thanked them. So I enter into the bright, confusing new world after graduation, expecting everyone to be as bewildered as me. I figured: if you've measured out life so concretely, why aren't you a freaking billionaire? Write a book! Do a lecture tour! Something! But everyone I meet older than me and otherwise, seems utterly content that thier worldview is the end-all be-all of the universe. I'll admit, if you go up to them and ask them if they think this or that is the only viewpoint, they'll admit other's exist. It's when you ask them if those points have validity that you run into a brick wall. It's all blank stares from here, folks. I just don't understand how you can hold firm positions in the complex space that we call human society. I used to know how to be a stable relativist, how to be open and accepting while at the same time having my own set of cherished and examined positions. But nowadays, I've forgotten. It seems impossible.
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18,July,2004
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How do I see my generation? I see them as a disappointment. I see them as headless dreams, staggering through corpse ridden landscapes. I see them as a generation where the line between hope and hopeless is stark, and aches and burns, and nobody crosses. In that burning line I see sanity, and everywhere else paranoia, delusion, psychosis. Mass cultural psychosis, impulse moves driving us like singed dogs, yapping and licking, away from the crack in society. Who wants to live inside fire? I don't. I try to live outside it all. I see my generation as the first to deal with the digital divide, the first to have 50/50s, and 'armies of one' (does anyone else see the irony in that ad campaign?) We are a mass of angry demons, howling out of the 1980s cackling mouth, with its jagged crack-burned teeth and oil-drowned lungs. We are the last of the unsaved children, just barely escaping the maw of evangelicism, running headlong into the last, most powerful trip we could brew up. If licking money was sanitary, we would drown ours in french kisses. As it is, we lick the asshole of wealth every time we eat at MacDonalds, or shop at a Wal-Mart. Ours will be the first generation to acknowledge thier dependence on the dispassionate de-facto cruelty of corporations, and the first to not care (but not the last). My generation has no ability to look outside of thier own lives to the lives of others. There is no morality. Perhaps, my generation will the first to have raised more sociopaths than non-sociopaths. Gen-Med will be our nomer in future centuries; we are all panicked, angry, non-attentive, and depressed. In the future a large portion of us will be unable to function in society, because our brains have been fried by the ever-more-powerful drugs available to us; but nobody will care, and no-one will take care of us, because the fire will just get hotter, and the line deeper, between the hopeful and the hopeless. Somehow, we have to overcome this line. But maybe, its just too hot already, it has started to eat at the very fabric of our culture, and we cannot stop it. My generation may be the last to remember the United States as a 'free country'. Maybe god called Jesus and Mohammed to him to set about the workings of armageddon, because this is a war that will last far beyond my generation. I hope that my generation can change that, but, as you've just read, I don't really have alot of faith in us. HOPE ///fire\\\ HOPELESS
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Gemini
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14,July,2004
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I want to want. I have found nirvana and it's very irritating to lack desires; they are the fire underneath your fingertips, the iron cast off of your tongue, and they moan when the wind turns too cold. To eliminate such things from your life is to turn down humanity, the drone of ebbing flows and moonlit whys and hows. It is something I can see value in, if only because so much of what resonates in our flesh has little intellectual value; but if you are so cold, why not freeze yourself in slow nitrogen? Warmth is fast, and rarely articulate, but it wants fuel heart dreams pulsing immovable movies, it wants passion. Where is the passion of nirvana? Passion is the essence of desire, or maybe vice versa but I'm not being articulate here, just wanting. When I scream I don't do it in pain - oh no - I scream because a whisper would be too urgent, and talking would be too normal. I want to scream. This is my voice, this is my screaming bleeding voice, and it bleeds just to spite you. Do you want to kiss me? To fuck me? Do you want me to dream about you? Do you want to hold my hand and see if I think like you do? Do you want to hurt me? Do you want me to love you? I do love you. I do love you. I do. Do you want to be able to turn off your feelings and not want? I can tell you how. So can all of my friends.
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13,July,2004
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I drained the fishbowl with the fish still in it. I watched the little goldfishes wriggle and expire, my face all screwed up and red from crying. I was crying, but I wasn't sad; like most people my age, I long ago discarded the childish dreams of compassion and empathy. Instead, I cried because I knew I would never have the courage to tip over and empty my own fishbowl, no matter how murky the water, and I was jealous they had someone to do it for them. And, I cried because I knew how cruel I had become. I had just come back from the veterinarian. My friends had all told me I was crazy to take goldfishes to the vet, to just flush them and buy new ones for a dollar. But I had to find out why they were sluggish and dying, and why a fog had crept into thier crystal clear playland of a fish bowl. When he told me how sick they were, I just stood there. He said I should probably just flush them and buy some new ones for a dollar. Then he billed me. The window above the sink where my fishes died looked out on a sunny stretch of alleyway branching off of Halsted in the Lakeview area of Chicago. At any time between 10 am and 5 pm during the summer, I had a view of smiley bricks and cheery cement lintles, lit just so by the slanted light that just barely reached them. Sometimes, I would walk around the city, looking for that just-barely light, the rare kind that seemed to send vitamin D coursing through my starved veins a little more fiercely than the normal stuff. Remember when feelings like happiness and sadness were simple things? That's literally what goes through my head when I accidentally bump into some ray of errant sun snaking its way into my office: 'Good. I need vitamin D.' Whatever happened to simple pleasure? I rummage through my luggage sometimes, the suitcases I keep in storage, just to see if I accidentally left something in them. I did that once, in college. I went to Europe, and through some mishap wadded my favorite shirt into this little pocket on the outside of the bag. I looked for that shirt for three years, gave up, and found it the day after I got my Master's degree. Now I look in every pocket at least once a week. You never know. The fat one lasted longer, I thought. I was looking at the last moving fish now, bigger and plumper than the others. It seems that humans cannot escape nature, I continued: the least healthy always seem to fight the most to survive. 'Only the Good Die Young'? My brain was teasing me. Those creatures that make me think bad thoughts about death and sharp things sometimes whispered ridicule in a dry wind. The fat fish, dead now (or nearly so), so desperately needed water to live, and so did my spirit. But I had the metaphor, not the actual liquid that would return my self from the dessicated wasteland in which it had been lost. They deserved to die, these little fishes, for the bliss they had just moments ago. No past or future, just clear water and blurry images. A bright plastic plant. I wish my past consisted of a bright fucking plastic pieces of seaweed and some shiny rocks. I could banish that kid I told to kill himself in high school who became the first person to actually listen to me. I could erase the dissertation I delivered on sexual tension during my first almost hookup. They wouldn't even have to disappear - they wouldn't have even been there. I wouldn't have to remember what it was like to walk through the world unstretched but reaching, weaving myself like ancient textile, nano-robots of Gods keeping efficient care of my gardens while I explored outside the walls. I was so jealous; I told you that's why I cried. Sometimes, I catch myself shutting off my perception of time. Its a little trick I learned during history classes in college; if you desperately wanted to be somewhere else, and it didn't really phase you that people would think you were stupid, it was the best way to get out of class. You would be sitting there, but willing yourself to pay attention to nothing. It is probably the closest to an atheist's death I will ever be, where you simply slip out of existence at the moment of your demise. I do it all the time at work. I'll just stare at a wall and three hours will melt away. I'm so skilled at it that it scares me; but then I realize most people do it all the time, with very few moments of lucidity. That doesn't make it okay, but much like heroine use, at least it gives me a community. The last life was leaving my fattie gold, and suddenly light burst through my window; direct from the daystar, blinding and defining, cutting my grays up into little useless bits that shook off of my hair to land on my shoulders like dead skin. I could feel the last vestiges of the kid who refused to kill ants sagging through the holes in my carefully constructed but now destroyed skin of impervious cynicism. I screamed. The fish was dying, and I was screaming, and it was so beautiful in the sunlight that the last of the tainted water looked like my tears, down the drain. I grabbed the fish, feebly flipping about at my intrusion, and ran for the bathroom. Water, I was screaming to myself, he needs water! The floor was slippery, and I fell, managing to save the fish but hitting my head on the edge of the toilet, instantly bleeding into my eyes and mouth. It's no less than I deserve, I thought. Carefully, blinded, I slowly lifted the goldfish and put it into the filling sink. Hopefully, I gazed down at the tiny, bloated fish in the slightly pink water. It didn't move. I sank to the floor, blood still streaming from my headwound. All the fishes were dead. I had killed them. I wanted to throw up my heart and flush it down the toilet. That night, I slept on the bathroom floor. I didn't have the energy to stand up. I realize now how foolish it had been to just guess the right temperature of the water, but at the time, I thought I had murdered Fattie by suffocating him. I had dreams of a giant aquatic Teletubbie smothering me with my four hundred dollar sheets. The next morning, I awoke to find Fattie swimming about in the sink, blissful. Fattie lived for another three weeks, a fairly good run for a goldfish. I diligently fed him every day, rushing home from work so he wouldn't be lonely. I started working out too, and began writing what would become my first published book. The difference was subtle, but it was there. I could tell what it was when I walked through the city, and found a patch of just-barely light, squished between two stretched behemoths. I would stand in that light, and I wouldn't think of vitamins or what was recommended; I would think of how beautiful it was to swim through the world, and how sometimes tipping over your fish tank and suffocating is the best thing you can do for yourself.
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12,July,2004
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When you read right-wingers like Ann Coulter, you think: why isn't this woman medicated? But, luckily, such extreme cases of disregard for human decency and paranoia are rare; the majority of conservatives are thoughtful people who simply suffer from one problem: they have no concept of difference. They share this belief that either 1) everyone is the same, and therefor have the same opportunities as they do, or 2) everyone is not the same, at the most basic level, and therefor policies like eugenics and slavery and pre-emptive war against heathens should be duly considered as valid. This common belief helps us to understand alot of ideas that come out of the conservative camp, for example: 'Equal rights = Special rights'. Since everyone has an equal shot, if they aren't lazy or drug addicts or homosexuals (and those are choices anyway), any law designed to 'protect' individuals from discrimination are not only patronizing and offensive to said group, but also are blatant attempts for these so-called 'oppressed' minorities to get an unfair advantage. If there isn't a level playing field, that is clearly because the aformentioned people are degenerates who need to be whipped into shape, instead of coddled in their weak, sinful pleasures. The examples are numerous. One generalization that rings true is the characterization of conservatives as having self-oriented compassion. Now, I don't mean to say that they are selfish, or that they are compassionate only to themselves. They are compassionate only in situations they have personally experienced; for example, a conservative who has lost a child to gun violence will not agree with that part of the Republican platform, while one who has not will refuse to even entertain the notion that such a tragedy can happen to someone responsible with guns. Another example would be conservatives who have gay children; while they may be amenable to gay rights, because they have first hand witness of the horror many GLBT people face living in this country, they will still advocate the death penalty for abortion doctors. That is, until one of thier children has to have an abortion for one reason or another. 'But,' you might say, 'What about conservative black people, or Log Cabin Republicans?' First off, most of them will say they're trying to 'change the party from within.' We all know that's crap in such a self-absorbed community, but they honestly want to create a socially liberal and financially conservative political entity. Secondly, there are crazy people in every demographic, from Don King to Anna Nicole Smith, to Omarosa and Sam on the Apprentice. I'm talking about the general community, not the exceptions. Liberals still foster somewhat of a sense of self examination and testing that is sorely lacking in the conservative arena. They see it as weak seeming and waffling to mull over opinions and decisions after they're set. They make that common mistake in believing that bravado is confidence, and confidence is weakness. Allow me to assure you that it takes far more confidence to question one's own beliefs than it does to vitiate the beliefs of another. Regardless of the reasons for the conservative's outlook, they results are clearly around us: collapsing social support structures, destructive and badly planned wars exacerbated by an almost willful ignorance of other cultures, environmental and energy policy driven by corporate interests instead of sound scientific input, and eroding civil rights. Narcissus would be proud; the world is falling apart and we're obsessed with an image in a pool of water.
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09,July,2004
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Again, someone who gets time in print but has nothing profound to say: http://story.news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story&cid=115&ncid=742&e=6&u=/ucmg/20040708/cm_ucmg /adultchildrenspeakoutaboutsamesexparents Its so clear that the woman, 'Cassidy', is disturbed by the fact that both her parents were women for much of her life. But lets also take into consideration the kind of approbrium that society would place upon the child of lesbian parents in the early eighties, or maybe the kindof confusion that her mother re-marrying a man would induce. To say that her parents are responsible for her current attitude is probably accurate: either they were insensitive to her needs as a child growing up in that situation, or they, like billions of parents across the globe, were just not perfect. For every one disaffected straight child of gay parents, I could direct you to a hundred gay children of straight parents. A thousand. Hell, I'll just give you a map of Boystown in Chicago, you can walk around. There are tons of gay people there who have problems with their parents. So maybe, gay kids should be taken away from thier parents and given to gay parents, and vice versa? Oh, but wait. THAT WOULD BE CRUEL. Then again, social conservatives are never really concerned with cruel unless is directly affects them. Bitches, and hoes. That's all they are. My eloquence fails me in trying to illustrate thier blatant ickyness. Actually, I think my next post will be about conservatives...
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3,685,894 |
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Gemini
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09,July,2004
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Okay, so I've lived in Chicago for 14 months. I have no friends. Somewhere along the way, I forgot how to make friends. I don't have any. I have Keith, who I knew in college, and I have Brent, who I knew in 3rd grade. So, how do you make friends in the real world? I don't know. I can't figure this out. It seems like alot of people fuck people, and then talk to them, and that's how they make friends. At least in gay bars. Keith kisses people. I'm not sure what Brent does. I'll be sure to ask him.
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08,July,2004
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Oh, and John Kerry will lose the election. I'll vote for the man, because a coward that can speak is preferable to one that cannot, but he's about as inspiring as a professional office manager, and the american people have noticed. We need another New Deal, we need another integration of schools, another Roe v. Wade. I wish Gavin Newsom was running, I'd vote for him over Kerry any day. I mean, he is a friend of the gays, but that's not why; he's still the bearer of the Best Quote of 2004 award: 'Some principles transcend patience.' Think about that one for a minute.
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07,July,2004
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I am liberal. I'm a fuck the stupid fucking conservatives, with thier confederate flags and burning bibles, liberal. My heart bleeds, almost all the time, as you know if you ever read this blog. I was steadfastly against the war in Iraq, I still am, and I'm not ashamed; I have watched the reasons of the other side wither and die, be replaced, and die again. My stance hasn't needed to change, because it is based on humanist principles of compassion and forgiveness, instead of vengeance and anger. I do think that people who advocate war as a primary solution to a problem practice assertive ignorance, but I also think that people who believe all problems in the world we live in can be solved peacefully must live with both eyes shut most of the time. Basically what this boils down to is that you can't have black and white positions, which anyone who has even a modicum of perspective should understand already. A conservative's favorite counter-argument (and, in many ways, thier least effective one) is that if we don't like the country we can leave. And, as someone who has had this used on him many times, they always have a cute little smug glint in thier eyes when they say it, that they probably learned from thier task-master at Kamp, No. 42 and 1/2. To be honest with you, they have a fucking point. There is no reason our country is in it's untenable moral position in the world right now except the willful dishonesty of the Right, and the apathy of the Left. Since I have no control over the arrogance of our conservatives, I will try to address the inexcusable absence of our liberal leaders from the national dialogue: They are wealthy. They want to keep thier wealth and comfort. Slaves in other countries are different than slaves here, because we can't see them or smell them. And we have police to remove the homeless from our doorsteps. They give the money they make from investing in abusive multi-nationals to favorites like Red Cross and Greenpeace, in small installments or large chunks, depending on thier tax needs. They feel good about this. They think: there will always be problems, and poor people, and bad genocides in other parts of the world (until they're here), and so we should do what we can, but certainly not strain ourselves. And it's so much easier to just let other people, people better suited to that work, help these unfortunates. Bleh. I don't know about you, but that didn't inspire me. And then again, I don't volunteer at the nearest shelter, or civil rights group. I don't even give them money. I don't make alot of money, either, but that's not so much relevant. Some of the worst off financially manage to volunteer a dozen hours a week. How can I judge when I'm guilty of the same things? I can't. I can't teach them what to do differently either. What I can do, is try and alert them to thier hypocrisy, the hypocrisy of Western Society. Built on ideals that rejected the caste system so prevalent in other parts of the world, the colonists of eastern america settled into a comfortable relationship with thier slaves soon after thier revolution. There are still slaves, we just don't keep them in sight now. We live on wealth made possible by the work of billions of people, who make one of our paychecks in a year. Every time you purchase anything, or use any public services, or walk through buildings, realize that the quarry down the road sent its rock to India, while we got the stuff to build it all from Pakistan, because we make more money that way. And that the people working those quarries in Pakistan don't have unions, or pensions, or 401ks, like our miners. And that if they did start to organize, we would pressure the government to beat them down. And if the government wouldn't do it, we would replace them (we've done it before). And if they started to get cozy with India, and they were going to start selling cheaper rock to them, we would probably try to start a war between them. That way, we can sell weapons to both sides! Think about it everywhere you go, because that way, even if you don't volunteer or give up all the decadent wealth that Western immorality affords you, you can at least feel bad about it. And that's the best I have to offer you. Feel shitty, folks. Because you are standing on the faces of people you have never met, and don't want to meet. And let every decision regarding policy and foreign affairs that you make, and every vote, be colored by your guilt.
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07,July,2004
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I figured out a long time ago why I preferred childhood to adulthood - and to tell you the truth, ever since I made the decision, I haven't looked back. Sure, there are lots of reasons to prefer childhood. You've got the simplicity, the fact that you're being taken care of all the time; the world is new, and things are bright and learning is fun and not requred. For probably the only time in your entire life, strange people will say to you they adore you, and they will care for you, and they will actually mean it . You see, when you are a child, you cannot be judged; no matter what you do, you are not responsible for your actions or, most importantly, who you are. It is the ultimate world, the closest to the Garden we ever get. At some point, though, we need to grow up. I would say this is necessary, but unfortunately, I don't think most people ever do. Thier outsides grow to adulthood; they can have sex and children, and boy do they. They can get jobs and have money, and they do that too. Most importantly, the moment they turn 18 (I would say 21, but come on, who actually believes liquor laws work?) they have access to a universe of mind-numbing and body-sculpting, death-defying and socially-lubricating substances. And they do those as well. But they never actually become adults, inside. They never reconcile thier mental and physical development. This is the very specific reason I don't like adulthood: because of sex. 'What?!' Screams the masses. 'Sex is the best part of being alive!' Before you also begin to excoriate me for being a virgin, because god knows that disqualifies me from the fraternity that is human society, and also from having any thoughts of weight on the subject of sexual congress, I would also like to say that the physical act itself has little or no bearing on my argument. I like the feelings of sex. They are irritating sometimes, but fun most of the time. I have no problem with people fucking or losing thier mind for someone. What I have a problem with are the vast complexes that grow up around these acts, the artifices that we encourage to grow and mutate throughout the duration of our young adulthoods. For some reason, they give us comfort when the urges are raw, and new, but most people never out grow them. Even after they have served thier function (maybe, age fiteen?) people cling to them as lifelines; a set of mutually agreed upon behavioral cues that ensure little or no confusion, hurt, or actual involvement. Here's where this strategy bites us in the ass: we never let go. We never actually get involved, and when by some accident we do, and we get hurt, the pain is so new that it feels like the world is ending. Then we run back behind these walls, knowing what we have suspected for so long: that to be true in love is not only impossible, but dangerous. How many people live without thinking, screaming, but drowned out by all the other screaming people? But I digress; I am directly affected by this crap people play in order to get laid because I refuse to play it. I say that, but in actuality I just suck at it. I am that rare breed of young man or woman who simply cannot learn how to be fake enough to get laid. I inevitably say something too serious, or a big word, or I tell a joke that screams 'THIS PERSON IS STRANGE. HE IS DEVIATING FROM STANDARD PROCEDURES. ABORT! ABORT!' I think its because I want to get involved in people's lives, and that's frightening. I have lost friends because of my attraction to them or thier attraction to me, and I know this is something people can relate to. The main difference here is that my situation is a total loss. Not only do I not get laid, but I also lose friends. The smartest, most socially skillful people I know discarded them, and then learned to ape these behaviors over which most people have no control. I'm not sure I'm ready to even try to do that. But this world I live in now is hard, and insane, and if I don't I may not be able to make any friends. I know it'll take an act of god to meet someone special if I don't. Having experienced one already, I may just decide to wait for a miracle.
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07,July,2004
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It is strange how the chains made with care and abandon true art of psychology and self-wise agony can surprise made to have a life of thier own they have a life of thier own and seek to entwine us in a net of ageless violence
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06,July,2004
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I am so tired. I can't remember ever being this tired, and not telling everyone in the world to fuck off. Unfortunately, I need to go to a rehearsal in an hour. A four hour rehearsal. The worst part? I'm tired because my stupid butt was like 'I'm going to irresponsible and stay out all night' and 'Who cares if I drink alot' and the combination is killer. Fucking killer. And so I don't even have a right to complain, which means that this post is just trifling, because I'm definitely that irritating guy who makes his own bed and then complains to high hell when he's forced to sleep in the damn thing. Or not, as the case may be.
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05,July,2004
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I am vexed with you. Why are you pretending to be my father? I don't need you up in my business. Where are you when I'm getting my ass beat all over the country? Where are you when I'm being disrespected from inner-city Detroit to Grove Pointe? The fact of the matter is, I have more problems than you know how to deal with. I mean, that's the story of your life, right? But I don't plan to get up in your mess, I'm just talking about my life right now. How are you going to try and legislate my shit when you can't even balance a fucking budget? I will let you know, I make one thousand and twenty dollars and thirty three cents (after taxes, baby) a month and I manage to eat, pay rent, AND drink some Michelob Ultra (I'm watching my carbs, you know) a couple times a week. Anyway, I'm not trying to tell you how to do, or not do, your job. God knows I have benefitted from your two little friends; you know, the smiley one and the tipsy one? Just lay off my muthafuckin' grill for a minute, a'ight? Who gives a fuck if two guys or two girls or three rabis want to join themselves in my holy shit? How is that your business? Last time I checked, y'all were trying to figure out why bitches don't believe your ass after you lied to them about practically everything. The only two, positively true things you've said during your tenure are 'Hello' and 'I can't remember making a mistake.' Okay, also, can we have some clarity up in the churchly antechamber? I have been around far longer than y'all claim, and so many folks have partaken of me at the same time that sometimes I lose count. Some bitch used me fifteen times in one year back in 3126 B.C., so this whole 'sacred institution that hasn't changed in two thousand years when it was invented by my ancestors the monks' bullshit has no place in my lexicon. At least do your homework before you be spreadin' that ignunt shit like it's butter on popcorn. You better remember, I'm watching you. You're better half is only there because of me, and don't you forget it, you ignorant muthafucka. Peace, The Institution of Marriage
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05,July,2004
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I always believed in that storybook kind of love, where you meet the person you are supposed to be with, and you just know. I never knew quite what form this would take; it was the ultimate mystery. It consumed me for many years of my life, searching for this one person. People would sigh when they heard me talk about it; was John still obsessed with this? Hadn't he grown up? That kind of love is like santa claus - it only exists for children and in movies. I suppose I was a little bit obsessed. Imagine knowing , beyond a shadow of a doubt, that there was someone in the world that completed you. That you could finally, after decades, stop feeling alone. I had faith that I would find that someone, but I had to keep looking. It didn't help that my parents had been desperately in love before my father died, as I had quite the example right in front of me. When college started, I started to become bitter. I was angry; I had never had a boyfriend, I felt like I was behind the times. Everyone else was dating, I thought, why not me? (Insert whine) I was a thirteen year old in an eighteen year old's body. I still thought there was the one person for me, but I started to suspect that I would never find them. And that made me terminally unhappy. Sometime around my fourth year of college, I stopped believing. Probably the healthiest period of my life was that year, when I wasn't looking for anything aside from what was in front of me. That was when I started doing theater at Oberlin, and my singing really took off. I made two of my closest friends that year - Keith and Bacilio - and really started to repair my image of bitterness. I began to really focus on what mattered in the world, and my resolution of the people around me became finer and finer. The cliche is that, the moment you stop looking or believing, or whatever, it hits you, right? Well, as is usually the case with cliches, that came true. An oft bandied about metaphor for our internal structures is that of the House; we are each a house, with rooms and things in those rooms, and this is where we live for our entire life. Lives, like houses, change over the years. You get new furniture, and add a sunroom. In every House, there is one room that we never go into; every shameful thought, fear, and awful thing we have ever done is in that room. When I met him, he walked out of that room. I told him at some point that he was like rain, and my entire body was covered in burning wounds, and that when we were with one another, he would pour down on me, and I would stop hurting. We were circular, a force to be reckoned with. Time flowed like water, having little or no meaning any longer. When we were together, the silence was filled. At some point, I suppose I'll try to write about what it feels like to be in love with your soulmate, but I feel words failing me this morning. It was the best and worst thing that has ever happened to me; at the same time I was proved right for believing in that storybook love, it was also proved that I would probably never have it. That's a story for a different post, however.
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3,685,894 |
male
| 24 |
Arts
|
Gemini
|
04,July,2004
|
A friend once said to me that he wrote all my thoughts years before in a great big book, which he called his Journal. He said how sad it was that all my thoughts were the same as his, how profound they had been when first written down by him, and how I needed to get beyond his thoughts. Only then, he reasoned, could I be worthy of being a part of him. I tried - for days and months I tried to be rid of my sick, old, and thoughtless words. But they built up, and bore holes in me like ants, and burrowed into my mind to laugh and quaff fine drinks in my right brain. Please, I begged my friend, help me to be free of your thoughts, which have so insidiously disguised themselves as my own. He sat sagely for a while, consuming whole apples with nonchalance, observed a storm approaching. He whispered to himself, and fell inward, then exploded outward. How can you judge me? He screamed. You are worthless, he calmly explained, and worse than that - you are human. His expression changed slightly, a grimace or sneer. I am not human, his voice swelled and my eardrums shook. I am not human, he repeated, I am like the aspirations of all people; what you would have your child be, I am. He looked thoughfully at the storm approaching in the distance, at the whorls in the clouds descending to voice its opinions on our encounter. I am what is perfect - I see everything before anyone else does: listen to the wisdom I uncover with my great mind. With this, he gathered up his weak chin and set forth into the articulated winds, and shouted words no man could ever hear, nor understand. He screamed them until his ripped folds collapsed and he was forced to drink water and heal, from the top of a ladder which was supported only by the weight of his thought. My friend lay there, healing, for a great many minutes, heaving and moaning, until I could no longer stand it and I began screaming. To my surprise, the words and non-words that came from my mouth were the words and non-words that had come from his mouth. Alas, I thought in despair, once again I speak only what has already been spoken. Hah, he crackled happily, spitting blood onto the ground with an ambivalent air, twirling his long-boned hands: Once again you can only speak what has already been spoken. His beard had grown and was unkempt beneath twin cataracts. A movie was in the making: the sun had broken through the now spent clouds and beams of light eerily illuminated the wasteland we now stood in. What am I doing here, my friend, I asked haltingly, as if afraid of the answer. You are learning to live, was his answer. Slowly, you are learning that the only heights that you shall ever reach are the highest levels of mediocrity, and from those lofty demesnes you will faithfully repeat everything that I have said. And that is life, he said with finality, turning to walk away. Wait, I cried. What should I do now, I asked as he turned to glance longingly at me. Well, he said, plucking an apple from the top of a nearby fallen tree, you should do what it is for you to do – being made of meat. He consumed the apple and reached for another. This one he split down the middle, and ate the core first, leaving a shell of the apple’s meat and skin. Carefully, like an old man, he bent and put the remains into a deep puddle, where it floated like beautiful debris. Meat, he said, cannot thrive without the heart pumping it's fire. Like this apple illustrates, the flesh cannot access the water which gave it life in the first place. Only through the core can it do that; and the core is in me. I eat the core, he reiterated. With this, he turned and leapt forward, down the hill and into the forest, singing with his blooded throat, a rough-tuned melody of knowledge and surety.
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3,685,894 |
male
| 24 |
Arts
|
Gemini
|
03,July,2004
|
There was this little boy sitting on the stoop. The small building behind him was half in a forest, half out. It couldn't decide where it wanted to be, so it was both places. The boy preferred the forest to the dirty gravelly playing field right outside the door. In the forest was where the interesting things lived - the bugs, and the fungus, and the decaying trees that just might have bodies underneath them, if you concentrate hard enough. It was one of those days that you have no right to be depressed - and all the more upsetting because of that. This little boy sat on the porch and kicked rocks into the dust, while everyone played all around him. Everyone wanted him to play; they would yell to him as they giggled and screamed, running through the giant tires and play structures that were scattered around the dusty field. He looked at the steps. 'Why aren't you playing, like all the others?' Said the teacher who settled in next to him. 'Because I'm alone,' the little boy explained. 'And I always will be.'
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3,685,894 |
male
| 24 |
Arts
|
Gemini
|
02,July,2004
|
I am a spoke on a wheel. Only when my head (near the rim) touches the ground can I truly feel god around me. But for much of my time on earth, I have been spinning and spinning. Each time I find that space in time, when my head is crushed beneath the ground, and the passion oozes out ideas from between the jagged cracks. I just wish I could heal in between passes: the ground is hard and aches with cold dirt and sanity.
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3,685,894 |
male
| 24 |
Arts
|
Gemini
|
02,July,2004
|
I am a fool. One of the tragic side effects of deep set arrogance and elitism is that, for the person so afflicted, it is nearly impossible to determine what is reality and what is exaggeration. Normally, this would have little effect; arrogant people are rarely concerned with the veracity of thier self-percieved talents. These people in fact constantly rearrange thier lives to reassure them that they are what they think. However, in the rare circumstance, one of them achieves a modicum of self-awareness, and this is where the tragedy begins... I walk down the roads, surrounded by people; I think I must be smarter than them. After all, I am terribly unhappy. The young men drool in thier mouths, numbed by the chemicals of thier stirring loins, immune to the humiliation heaped upon them by the women they annoy. They don't see themselves. They never would. But maybe the people that walk around and act pompous are the ones you want to have around. Mostly everyone else is arrogant, just blindly so. Would you rather be with those who are self aware? Or surrounded by the meat of culture? Are you the brain or the bicep? I watch the television. Do these ads work on people? Who is this creepy six flags spokesperson? I easily see the attempts to market to my age group, and deftly avoid them. Surely everyone else does as well. Do they? There is a macho guy flexing and showing me my inadequacies now. I take my cheese-whiz and draw nipples on his back. I think most arrogant people are very, very stupid. I am very arrogant, so I must be stupid as well. At work, they call me an idiot. I make stupid mistakes, mistakes that a smart person wouldn't make. I want to turn to them and say: 'I live in worlds you never knew existed. Ten years ago, I knew more about the human condition that you did, and I still do. I have been proven wrong more times than you have had complex thoughts. You will continue to sit and be consumed by your legacy of delusion, until just before the last vestiges of the vast creative soul you were born with are destroyed, and you suddenly wake up, poorer than you have ever been.' But all I do is meekly bow my head and thank them for telling me how life is. Yup. I'm pretty stupid.
|
3,685,894 |
male
| 24 |
Arts
|
Gemini
|
15,August,2004
|
Hear ye, Hear ye: http://www.nytimes.com/2004/08/15/opinion/15rauch.html
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3,685,894 |
male
| 24 |
Arts
|
Gemini
|
14,August,2004
|
So tonight is the opening night of my first professional show. It will go well; this I know. It's too easy to go badly. Why does injecting family into life create, by necessity, drama? I guess people who are so close for so long have desperately intimate knowledge of one another; it becomes difficult to separate your knowledge of yourself and your knowledge of them. I am so glad my family is here right now. They make me feel more alive and positive than any other force on earth, probably because I know they support me so much. Even when I have no faith in myself, they have a vision of where I will go, a thrilling vision that propels me... I once asked Channing what he thought love was, and without waiting he answered: 'Love is wanting more than anything to help somebody move forward in life, towards thier goals and dreams.' I guess when I feel thier great expectations I am propelled, and that is what it means to be truly loved.
|
3,685,894 |
male
| 24 |
Arts
|
Gemini
|
12,August,2004
|
My sophomore year of college was a hard one. I had spent the first part of the year in desperate, dramatic love with a young man who clearly did not return my affection, but enjoyed the adoration I so willingly displayed. The break with him was hard, and sharp, and is the first of a few that have truly transfigured my perception of the world. The second part of the year was spent in problematic spirals of depression and obnoxious extroversion, which was obviously an overcompensation for the depression. Two things happened that changed my life: I met with a fantastic jungian analyst named Sonja, and I met one of my dearest friends, Channing. In a one-two punch, Sonja opened me up and cleaned me out, and Channing filled me with spirit and helped me to heal from the surgery. This coming year has the feeling of my sophomore year of life; hard, but with agonizing edges that I tug closer to my throat. Agony is not always bad; orgasms can be accurately described as thus, the same as the pain of getting hit in the balls. It is a thing, less than a qualification. A descriptor, unlike 'good' or 'evil', that has no morality or implied benificence attached to it. I like agony. It is like clarity, like a sharp edge on a photograph that draws your eye to it; if you live without agony, you are without sharpness at all. A state I tend to find pitiable. But I sense the hardness and the agony, and the transformational quality of this next year. I imagine I'll do a couple more shows, and maybe I'll start directing (?). My teacher back at Oberlin just told me he thinks I should direct because I could be one of the few that was actually skilled at it, and that my mind is ideally suited for the tasks involved. I have to admit that I posited the question in an email to him specifically for that reason; I have really wanted to try my hand at directing for a while, and I have just not had the opportunity. I wanted an indication from someone I respected, and I got what I wanted, one way or the other.
|
3,685,894 |
male
| 24 |
Arts
|
Gemini
|
09,August,2004
|
Okay, so I'm not posting all that much lately. I'm just creatively squeezed a little right now, and I'm not really used to it. The creative mind is a muscle, and mine has been dangerously lax in the last couple of months. I'm working up to it - bear with me. I've also been doing alot of things with my music, lately, so check it out at urlLink http://music.download.com/puer . I actually write decent music now; go figure. Hey Robert - wanna start a production company with me? J - wanna hook me up with all those famous musicians you talk to all the time? I'm just kidding. I have years to shamelessly borrow on my connections in NYC.
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3,685,894 |
male
| 24 |
Arts
|
Gemini
|
03,August,2004
|
I walk through the world, obsessed with the meaning of things. Just this morning, I caught myself looking at the tan and red brick buildings running past me, towards the city, and seeing people with art deco hats and electric wire necklaces strung vainly around them. I saw the deferred dreams of thousands of people, straining to reach the tallest point of the tallest tower. I became absorbed by the dusty sunlight, warped by the coughing AC on the train, and propelled in a world I'm not sure ever existed, when I was child living in the shadows of the projects. In the uniform windows of these buildings I saw the involuntary Hive mind of corporate culture, and the slightly different color revolutionaries that gazed back at me, more beautiful because of thier assymetry. People who are crazy, legitimately crazy because of being stretched into shapes they were never meant to keep, have sat in my seat. I see the filth from thier hair on the window beside me, and the stains from thier left over dumpster food on the floor. This seat means the woman who sat here and ignored the dying man because she was afraid of her own vulnerability, and the surprising business man who showed compassion. The plastic of the seat is a 1970s table, pastel and perfect in its naivete, ignorant of the family fighting across it or the land ruined to make it. The brushed aluminum hand holds are a dark sweaty night in New York, riding back home on a half-lit subway car, after dancing for six hours. The fake paneling next to me is the wall of my family room. The station's meanings are all caught up in my experiences there; but the plastic slip covers on the stairs are an airplane, and the vaulted ceiling is a train station in Italy, more dust than stone. I see college kids ready to go to the city, already running past me to the highest places they can find, stretching themselves. I see the workers, painfully dignified as they endure the glances of the rich people they serve, who are frightened of them. If I'm lucky, the sun slips around the sky-scraping condo buildings, and they stop pulling me out of shape, and I'm trapped in a memory of the same sunlight hitting me in the same way at a different time. I have always seen the world this way; I don't know how to otherwise. I tried to see the world in mundane terms. My friends said to me 'John, not everything means something. Sometimes a chair is just a chair.' How can they understand? To me the curve of the chair is the limb of a tree that I used to read under, the wood a testament to my youth spent in an orthodontist's office. The cushion is the carpet of my first dorm room. It is placed just so. Why is it placed that way, turned to the side? It means the last person who sat in it was afraid of the person they were facing, or angry at them. They had long brown hair and fast eyes, and a pouting mouth and a nose they didn't like, except in profile. It just never stops. I would like to believe that the whole world walks around, distracted by the meaning of doily placements and potted plants, but that's not the case. To most people, the world is just that, and each object serves a function, and is possibly beautiful as well. I think that this part of my perspective is part of the weight on my heart, part of what makes me less than most of the happy men I see out when I go to bars. What is the meaning of my stories, my associations? Maybe one day I'll meet somebody who sees with my eyes, and they'll look at me and tell me.
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3,685,894 |
male
| 24 |
Arts
|
Gemini
|
03,August,2004
|
Every show I'm in has an arch. It follows this path for me; at first, nothing works. Everything is difficult, and people get frustrated with me. But at some point, it changes...it becomes easier and my work is better. Then, there is always a point where it becomes effortless and flawless. I had that experience tonight. I stole an entire act with fifteen words. Good for me.
|
3,749,755 |
male
| 26 |
indUnk
|
Virgo
|
31,July,2004
|
Aha! Is Python language so easy to implement? We already got Python itself on normal platform and Jython on Java. Now, there is even more -- urlLink IronPython on .NET and Mono. I have thought more about it -- what's the benefit from such a implementation? Jython talked a lot on this issue, but it's already partly dead. (UPDATE) Today, when rereaded some articles about IronPython, I was noticed that its author is urlLink Jim Hugunin . Who's him? I'm the creator of JPython/Jython, the co-designer of the AspectJ language and chief architect for its compiler and related tools, and the creator of Numeric Python/NumPy. Everything is obvious now.
|
3,749,755 |
male
| 26 |
indUnk
|
Virgo
|
29,July,2004
|
urlLink del.icio.us Amazing! Just sucscribe the urlLink popular link with my RSS aggregator, I would know interesting websites that ppl readed. And, of course, I wouldn't need to copy my bookmarks.html from home to anywhere. Note: I also tried urlLink Furl . It use the similar idea with del.icio.us, and provide a better organized interface. Obviously, the number of furl users is less than del.icio.us currently, I haven't decided which one is the best to me. Update: After digging in Furl several hours, I knew more about Furl. Most are cons. 1. Open a random page in d... and the corresponding one in f..., you can get more information from the first one. 2. When bookmark a page, Furl allows me to create only one Topic instead of several Topics in delicious. 3. Sidebar , yes, the righthand-sidebar is really easy to use, much much better than Furl's ComboBox.
|
3,749,755 |
male
| 26 |
indUnk
|
Virgo
|
23,July,2004
|
I searched in Google to find explanations about blogger API. They all said that the first line in content would be treat as title. But, neither gnome-blog nor blogtk could post in this way. That is to say that all known blogger client can't write title, except Blogger's BlogThis!. So, what's the problem? Or, did I miss something?
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3,749,755 |
male
| 26 |
indUnk
|
Virgo
|
20,July,2004
|
urlLink Blogger Help : All about Blogger's post editor Looks nice, but Preview function isn't as good as others.
|
3,749,755 |
male
| 26 |
indUnk
|
Virgo
|
19,July,2004
|
I must get A for all courses in this semester. Sure, I believe I can do it . I will update this blog item in November, and check whether I get it.
|
3,749,755 |
male
| 26 |
indUnk
|
Virgo
|
18,July,2004
|
urlLink 维拉潘对北京赛区表不满 呼吁球迷支持中国队 为什么还有人去看中国足球队的比赛？ 这不是给自己找罪受么？
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3,749,755 |
male
| 26 |
indUnk
|
Virgo
|
17,July,2004
|
Yes, I reopened it. 1. The button wouldn't open the new popup window. 2. The title always set to incorrect 'undefined'. urlLink Bug 6497 - Blogger button doesn't open up in a popup window like BlogThis and is named incorrectly.
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3,749,755 |
male
| 26 |
indUnk
|
Virgo
|
17,July,2004
|
urlLink 教你一招：linux中如何使用微软鼠标的第4、5键 Excellent article in Chinese. I will try it.
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3,749,755 |
male
| 26 |
indUnk
|
Virgo
|
16,July,2004
|
urlLink Asus Anti-Linux Attitude Sucks- MozillaQuest Magazine Perhaps, the author is too sensitive, but Asus is really stupid in this case. They should learn something from Nvidia who didn't provide open source driver but still maintain a good relation with open source community.
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3,749,755 |
male
| 26 |
indUnk
|
Virgo
|
16,July,2004
|
At 5:00am, I received a call from Marie who came back from China. When I drove in the motorway at 100km/h, it's great fog. Sometimes, I can't even see the object that 20 meters ahead. Later, things became even worse -- the right head-light of my car was broken. :( When off highway, the road was narrow without any road-light, and most cars are 80+km/h. Horrible. After the dangerous trip, I saw Marie eventually. Hey, surprising, she is a really beautiful girl now, or more beautiful than ever. And, Chinese fashion style make me feel comfortable. ^_^ On the road to home, speed wasn't high, because many ppl were driving to work. Fortunately, we arrived home safely.
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3,749,755 |
male
| 26 |
indUnk
|
Virgo
|
16,July,2004
|
Blogger, nice to see you. 看到本页的兄弟姐妹们(如果有的话)，大家好。
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3,749,755 |
male
| 26 |
indUnk
|
Virgo
|
07,August,2004
|
Read urlLink The Powerbook Prank: He wanted a Powerbook. We gave him a P-P-P-Powerbook! , and look at following picture. HAHAHA!!!
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3,749,755 |
male
| 26 |
indUnk
|
Virgo
|
03,August,2004
|
I found an interesting metaphor in a urlLink Taiwan Forum . 用車子來敘述的話... unix - military vehicle unix是軍用車.價值千萬.性能卓越.堅固.持久.耐操.雖然不是很好坐.也不太好操作.但是絕對夠猛.一般都是使用研發完善的技術.功能強大而少有缺陷.但是軍用車豈是一般人用的起.有錢買也不一定會操作.所以我們常常看到長官在車後座.前座是專門司機... BSD - BMW or Rolls-Royce bsd系列則是bmw.勞斯萊斯.車廠依照軍用車的性能仿造的貴族車.價值百萬.連操作介面也一成不變.舒適.穩定.也事像軍用車一般請專職司機.老闆後面享受... Windows - Common Sedan for home use windows是家庭房車.價值幾十萬.外表有質感夠舒適.引導式操作介面.最適合學開車.你所需要的大部分都有.但是內部卻很脆弱.但是你不用的也拆不下來(廠商策略.不是真的不能).你要自己改裝又很困難.改了之後也好不了多少.有時會更慘.常常通知車主能進廠升級順便收一些費用.出了問題維修廠又說是車主不當控車或沒有保養造成的.老是跟你說要全修但是不保證一定能修好.不如再買一台或買第2代車種比較划算... Mac - racing car Mac像是高級賽車.價值百萬.車體系統和操作方式自成一套.出貨前做了最完美的調整.出貨後沒有改造的需要.不常出新車種.一旦有新機種.一定是搭配最先進的科技.車廠的服務絕對到家.品質至上.大部分買一次能讓你用好久好久.而且不想再換.也不太需要換...你只要有錢買.因為價值和價錢成正比... Linux - not a car, just a design linux...不能說是一台車.應該說他像一個設計圖.設計他的改車專家托瓦茲是因為想要像unix.bsd系列的車種.但是不用那麼貴.而且要很容易改裝.於是設計了這個性能.介面幾乎相仿.但是構造完全不同的車種.並且公開此設計圖.更允許自行修改.製造.販賣.此舉動使許多改車專家.小型車廠.都投入研發改造.而這群人也將改進後的大部分資料公開.使的這張設計圖幾乎天天都在進化.現在此車種延展性超高.價值無法估計.你想把他改造成飛機還是迷你賽車都行.托瓦茲後來在很多車廠擔任總監.負責此車種的維護.而此車種幾乎取代了unix系列車種...
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3,749,755 |
male
| 26 |
indUnk
|
Virgo
|
02,August,2004
|
urlLink Gentoo MacOS ! A nice way to build software from scratch on MacOS. And don't forget the urlLink Fink Project which is maturer and base on Debian. I could imagine the distro war on Mac now.
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3,749,755 |
male
| 26 |
indUnk
|
Virgo
|
01,August,2004
|
I readed the news that urlLink Doom 3 urlLink has landed in New Zealand recently. It's a long wait for many many game players, but not for me. I'm never a FPS man. This kind of underground shooting game would make me dizzy. Counter-Strike is probably a better one than DOOM, Quake and Half-Life, because most of its scenes are under the sky, not in the dark building and tunnel. Have fun!
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3,692,930 |
male
| 17 |
Student
|
Cancer
|
30,June,2004
|
I couldn't keep my promise of updating this 3 times a day. Oh well! Here's to trying again. I was taking hostage by an addiction called billiards, more specifically online 8-ball. And wasn't let go until I couldn't take my bad odor and proceeded to shower. Eww! (I know) but after all that loss of sleep it took a big hit on me this morning and I missed going to school for the 3rd time. I got to tell ya, 8-ball along with chatting to the other player at the same time is really cool and then the fear of losing your credits adds to the addictiveness (I got $2.00 remaining from the $5.00)
|
3,692,930 |
male
| 17 |
Student
|
Cancer
|
29,June,2004
|
Anyways even though I did skip a day today's the one that matters since 17 years ago I was born in a city known as McAllen. And hopefully I'll get a new digital camera for a present. Anyways yesterday I was on the computer all day trying to make a website and learning how to animate in Flash MX and finished a measly 2 second animation that said a clip 'the world is a vampire', from Despite All My Rage by Smashing Pumpkins. Well if you want to see the sorry excuse of a (Chobits)website I made then just click urlLink HERE I also working on another website made entirely of one picture via layers and slices in Photoshop. Well from now on I'm gonna try to update my thingy here 3 times a day. Here hoping I can! 'Computers are useless. They can only give you answers.' Pablo Picasso.
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3,692,930 |
male
| 17 |
Student
|
Cancer
|
27,June,2004
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Well I was gone battling a virus, an annoying piece of shat that had burrowed itself into my computer after I used a fake crack for a ____ program. ^_^ I'm not saying what I was trying to hack, but I will say this...It certainly taught me a lesson and I ain't gettin' near another one of those 'cracks'. I was able to get rid of it after first going to an online virus 'sweeper' that destroys everything that looks like virus and had put itself in every folder that contained the word 'share'. I think it was trying to spread whenever I shared something with other people. Anyways...It couldn't delete a process that was running in the background 'explored.exe' Okay that's it...Oh yeah!...Finally I'm gonna download ep 89 of Naruto from [Anbu-AonE] today as soon as I finish downloading this giant .torrent dowload of 5157.0 MB! 5 #$@*&#%! gig's! Ohhh, the power of bittorrent! I also made some funny animated gifs that I ripped straight from videogames: Mario running (Mario 1) Mario running (Mario Advance) Mario walking away (Mario & Luigi: Superstar Saga) Mario running (Mario 3) Link running (Zelda:Link to the Past)
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3,692,930 |
male
| 17 |
Student
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Cancer
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25,June,2004
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Hey it's Friday! No Summer school today and I got up around 4:46 I was checking if the (translated version) Anbu-AonE_Naruto 89 episode had been released since the raw(not translated) one was cool to have but, all I really want is to understand whats going on. I did get a version of episode 89 translated by some no-name group called SG that just used the dialogue from the manga and put it on the episode. Well hope it comes out soon. Okay...what else...Oh yeah more funny Flash movies I want to link: urlLink History of Fuck urlLink Free your Mind (it's a funny Matrix parody with a...squirrel...thingy. Maybe a chipmunk?) Well enough of this. Loading... All computers are designed to be a perfect machine without mistake, until the first person touches them.
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3,692,930 |
male
| 17 |
Student
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Cancer
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24,June,2004
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It's hard...and plus I gotta sleep to make up for all the late hours I stay up. Sometimes I don't even sleep and stay awake through the night like today for example, and the very reason that I'm writing this. Did I mention I'm 16........Anyway I am, and My B-day is June 29 (5 days from now). So that means I still go to school and there's this punishment called 'Summer school' that you receive for not doing your work in class. And guess who's the lucky person that gets that beautiful prize? You guessed it. It's almost over and that means I get to have my head glued to computer monitor all day.^_^ And now for that Naruto. If you haven't heard of this anime before Anyway it's over for now see you later! ^_^ anime rules! urlLink narutofan.com urlLink narutochaos.com the bigger the cushion, the better the pushing -fat clown from 'House of a Thousand Corpses'
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3,692,930 |
male
| 17 |
Student
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Cancer
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22,June,2004
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Well it seems I forgot that I have a blog and haven't posted. But that's all right cause chances are that nobody saw this. Anyway I was too busy posting stuff at urlLink [adult swim] and I guess I enjoyed it too much wasn't productive at all. Wait a minute....yes it was! I found a link to some funny flash animations all about Mario and they are hilarious some are sad and epic. funny ones (some guys humming the song with drums...rocking!) urlLink http://www.albinoblacksheep.com/flash/mario.php Mario dying (it's pretty much Mario dying) urlLink http://www.geocities.com/Funny_Blast/mariodeath.html Sad Ones Part 1 urlLink Part 2 urlLink Part 3 urlLink Part 4 Well that's pretty much it. Note to self: Wake up early! You! 'Give someone a fire and he is warm for a day, but set him on fire and he is warm for the rest of his life.'
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3,692,930 |
male
| 17 |
Student
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Cancer
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20,June,2004
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ooh it feels so tingly and stuff!...and may I quote what a wise man once said, 'It's like a koala crapped a rainbow in my brain!' ^_^ And now I become another person who writes those very words. So you can't put pictures huh? Well I'll try some ASCII art later.
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3,692,930 |
male
| 17 |
Student
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Cancer
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27,July,2004
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Well right now it's 12:47 and I'm just about ready to go to sleep. Today when they picked me up it was Sargeant Farias who came in my recruiter's car. We go a little lost when looking for another guy cause Farias doesn't know the area that well. While looking for the guy we asked someone for directions and ended up giving the guy a ride(I think he was an illegal) anyways we found him then went to the office and waited and finally left to PT. We stretched then did some exercises and alternated between that and pull-ups(starting from one to 6 then down) . After that we ran, and as always I got tired and was left behind. When we finished we left to the office again, got weighed, then waited while Master Gunnery yelled at the Sargeants. After a while we left and Sargeant Mojica took me and Hernandez home, I asked a lot of questions and found out that once I go to San Antonio to enlist I can wear a Marines t-shirt and he would hook me up with the ones at the office. I got home ate chicken and showered and eventually found myself to the computer to write this. And about this weekend, I went both Saturday and Sunday to PT. On Saturday alot of people went including a new guy which threw-up after running(I was just left behind) and on Sunday only me and Veltran went to PT with Sargeant Mojica(my recruiter). I had to wear a white, plastic, trash-bag under my clothes to help me sweat and after a while I just took it off cause it was killing me. He treated us with a Gatorade 'Thirst Buster' from Circle-K and we went back to the office and got weighed. I didn't sleep that Sunday until today at 11:00 am..........as a matter of fact I think I'll go to sleep now since it's 1:18 am....NIGHT
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3,692,930 |
male
| 17 |
Student
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Cancer
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26,July,2004
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Okay right now it's 4:47 and I'm about to leave to go to PT(Physical Training, Marines) I think the guys that pick me up will be here any minute so I writing this in a hurry and drinking as much water as I can so I won't get dehydrated so fast. And today in the morning my internet was down(as alwaysj, damn you Time Warner!) so I just slept since 11:00 till 4:30 and I hadn't slept at all I stayed up until 11:00 am and finally couldn't anymore okay so I'll leave this and go get ready.
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3,692,930 |
male
| 17 |
Student
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Cancer
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21,July,2004
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Well Monday I did go to training and I actually lasted longer in the running, since my parents had to sign some papers to let me in the Marines all I did was stay after they left and later I found out that one of the Sargeants(a chick, really hot) that was there while the Major talked to my parents was going to come to the PT. So all the guys were like, 'Whoa she's got hot legs(she had really short shorts)' And as always I wasn't able to make all the laps around the track. The hot Sargeant was pulling me and I stilll couldn't make it, and when it was almost over the two other chicks were pulling me(enjoyed it, but embarassing) After the guys dropped me off I decided that I was going to cut off all my 'beautiful' hair off. So when I got home I woke up my sleeping Mom and asked her to cut the hair off(she was surprised *gasp*). It turned out the machine didn't work so she tried as much as she could with scissors and the next day we went to the hair place. And on Tuesday I went again which was kinda good because this time I felt almost no soreness first of all, the dude that gives me a ride saw the hair-do and was all saying, 'Slick!' Anyways went to get Hernandez(very hot chick) And when she saw me she said, 'Wow, almost didn't recognize you' So we proceeded to pick this apparently lazy guy that doesn't like to go to PT(Physical Training) so I did the training and this time it was different cause we had to run then stop and do the exercises(it sucked ass) I was stared by tons of people since I was so far behind the other people. Oh well, so we went to a store 'Circle K' and we got a free drink (a whole 44oz of it) . Then we went to the recruiting office and waited then I got weighed and found out I was now 202 lb. thats around 3lb of lost weight. Also my recruiter saw me and was amazed and chuckling at my new hair-do. Finally I left with the rest of the guys and got home and ate food and got some *hush* free porn on the internet via 'backdoors' I then slept at around 8:00 am until 5:00 pm the next day(today) Okay that's pretty much what happened those others days. And today all I did was sleep all day and eat.
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3,692,930 |
male
| 17 |
Student
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Cancer
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19,July,2004
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Well as I said it's Monday and I have to finally go training again and now I have to go early because my parents have to sign papers to give me permission to be in the Marine since I'm 17. And also on a different note, I was going around the net and looking around 'naughty' sites (not porn) but serial, patch related sites and I said yes to one of those windows that pops up. Guess what happened? Facking spyware that's what happened! Oh the pain! Internet Explorer sucks! So now I'm using Mozilla. And I still can't get rid of the fecking spyware. Computers are useless, they only give you answers.... to more problems
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3,692,930 |
male
| 17 |
Student
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Cancer
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18,July,2004
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Well today I got up and was surprised to find out that I'm not in so much pain anymore and maybe I'll go to the Marine training today. But I doubt I'll be able to take all the exercise. And for a while this stupid blog broke and it wouldn't show the stuff on the right, I later found out it was the code that Flickr uses when I sent a picture to the blog. Oh well. I'll surf more net.
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3,692,930 |
male
| 17 |
Student
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Cancer
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17,July,2004
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urlLink Google Just trying out this Blogger option in Google toolbar. I'm still sore. And just downloaded Naruto 91 from SG anime
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3,692,930 |
male
| 17 |
Student
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Cancer
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15,July,2004
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Well after I wrote the update on Thursday I went at 6:00 pm to train for the first time, and boy was it hard and very tough. I have to admit that I'm not in the best shape weighing in 205lb. at 5ft. 7.5 in. Today which I still consider Friday (it's 3:59am right now) I was supposed to be picked up by the other soon-to-be Marines but got lucky and never was. It doesn't matter anyway, because I don't think I would be able to handle it since today I'm VERY SORE. Well I guess today ( technically Saturday) I'll do better. 'Pain is weakness escaping the body', Marines
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3,692,930 |
male
| 17 |
Student
|
Cancer
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15,July,2004
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Well lot's has happened since my internet was gone. On Tuesday I was called by a Marine recruiting guy and was told about the Marines and If I wanted to sign up, I said yes and I didn't sleep at all, around 8:30am the next day I went over to Wal-Mart and took a little hiring test thing at the store in one of their little machines that they have, and when I came back I went straight to the toilet...then the bed and slept until 2:47? The recruiter was going to come to my house at 3:00 so I got ready, I took a test to see if I could be elegible to just sign up as a Marine. Well I passed and then for the rest of the day I just was on the internet looking around and downloading playstation iso's, but this time I was going to go to sleep because I had to wake up the next day(today) at 11:00 to got to the office they had and give me a presentation about the Marines and such well I got back home at around 2:30 and then just munched on some Funyuns and found out the internet was back so I first put the CD I got from the Marine stuff and then this. [a little note: I broke my keyboard while writing and now it's 4:10 I posted on____...well look on the time posted] 'Pain is just weakness escaping the body', The Marines
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3,692,930 |
male
| 17 |
Student
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Cancer
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14,July,2004
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Well technically it's already Wednesday but for me it's still tuesday, okay! So on this Tuesday finally [ANBU-AonE] released their sub of episode 90...damn dependency of mine! Why can't I just move on? And TECHNICALLY 4 hours and 17 minutes from now a New episode of Naruto in Japan so THATS how late they were.
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3,692,930 |
male
| 17 |
Student
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Cancer
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12,July,2004
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Well I checked everywhere and haven't found a trace of them releasing it. Well from now on I hate them! I didn't update yesterday cause I was busy 'upgrading' to Microsoft Office 2003. urlLink Now some great music (some guys humming Mario song with drums) If it weren't for electricity we'd all be watching television by candlelight
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3,692,930 |
male
| 17 |
Student
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Cancer
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10,July,2004
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Even though I have already seen episode 90 of Naruto, I'm still eager to see the Anbu-AonE sub. So I've been paciently waiting since and I also already saw the DBZ episodes and getting ready to see the brand new batch consisting of: DBZ eps 41-50 that finished downloading this morning. I don't think I'm gonna download anymore until I can buy some CDs to empty my poor 'bloated' hardrive. Oh! If only you knew how many things are in that thing. Anyways I'm off to watch those nice classic nostalgia inducing episodes. Don't you wish there were a knob on the TV to turn up the intelligence? There's one marked 'Brightness,' but it doesn't work. Gallagher
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3,692,930 |
male
| 17 |
Student
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Cancer
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08,July,2004
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After I downloaded Naruto 90 RAW yesterday I found out that it had over writed another episode I had, which was really weird. Well I just got it again and I haven't seen it since then. Today I woke up around 12 in the afternoon and started watching the brand new episode I had been downloading yesterday (eps 21-30). Half-way through watching them I remembered about the new episode 90 and by then someone had to have already subbed(translated)it, and for sure after going to urlLink Narutofan.com there was a quick sub by the group sganime. While it downloaded I watched more of the classic DBZ episodes and then after 26 minutes it was done and immediately started watching it (it was great). I proceeded with the great DBZ episodes but a feeling came over me after watching Naruto and that was the urge to watch more!...more! Anyways I was a good peer and shared the episode 90 until my sharing rate was more than 1.0 :-) [i use BitTornado] Then around 4:00 I started downloading eps 31-40 and still downloading right now (8:34 pm) Oh well I'll just 'surf the net' now. Computers are useless, they just give you answers
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3,692,930 |
male
| 17 |
Student
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Cancer
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02,July,2004
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Well it's Wednesday July 7th and that means that Naruto 90 is finally going to be out soon. I already have the RAW(un-translated) version but I really want that [Anbu-AonE) release. My little brother was mostly the one that celebrated the 4th of July, because I was inside enjoying spider-man 2...*hush* *hush*. Then Monday I finally started going to school again but I got there late. And Tuesday which was the most important days of the whole summer, I overslept and missed the final test! So today, even though I knew I had no chance of taking it again, I went to school and found out I have to wait until November. So that was it, and my mom had left already. So I first went to the restroom then walked around and ended up outside in the front of the school. It was around 8:00 and the morning was very hot and humid and there was very little shade. But I waited until 9:00 and finally gave up and called my mom to pick me up. Cause I was not about to wait until the usual time she picked me up i.e. 10:00. Anyways a very funky feeling started coming up around my stomach...yes it was the diarrhea. So now it wasn't just waiting in the hot sun, but a race to go to the toilet. [i think it was the orange i drank in the morning] Okay that was alot of info, maybe even too much. But that was my morning. In the afternoon I started watching the 10 episodes of DBZ I downloaded off a torrent eps. 11-20. Then after I finished I started downloading 21-30 which I'm still downloading right now. Which technically is already Thursday, well until next update. I think I'll check for that episode 90 of Naruto now.
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3,692,930 |
male
| 17 |
Student
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Cancer
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02,July,2004
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I found out the hard way that you're not allowed to link pictures from your geocities account. So I had to take it off instead of seeing that little red thing on the corner when something's not loaded (you know what I'm talking about? Oh well!) But forget that, something even scarier than that happened yesterday. Yesterday at 6:00pm my cable went out so that means my internet connection goes, 'Bye Bye!' Until Today at around 3:00pm! it came back so I'm happy now and immediately went to play some online 8-ball :h) Well that's All I got to tell myself in case I ever forget what happened this day......wait......what!?
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3,692,930 |
male
| 17 |
Student
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Cancer
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01,July,2004
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Well I think people should see what I really look like and decided to add my picture. Don't be frightened by my appearance that's normal. Anyway be gentle if you ever do come across my face :( *sob*
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3,692,930 |
male
| 17 |
Student
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Cancer
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11,August,2004
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Well Sunday I left to San Antonio to enlist in the Marines. It was really hot in the shuttle and I was in the back and really packed........but next to a chick! We lasted 5 hours in that van and finally got in to the hotel I find out that I wasn't in the list and had to wait and finally was given the card to go to my room. I left my stuff in the room and me and the other guy that wasn't in the list looked around the hotel for all the rest of the people but couldn't find them. I finally saw my roomate and he told me where the place to eat was. I ate porkchops with mashed potatoes. I then went to my room and changed so I could go to the excercise room and did the bicycle thing then the treadmill thing for an hour. While in their I met a couple of guys and one guy helped me with the running thing.
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3,650,974 |
male
| 23 |
Student
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Scorpio
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30,June,2004
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I'm going to go out on a limb with this one, but I would put forward the idea that, just as Spider-Man was a reflection of America's spirit immediately post-9/11, Spider-Man 2 serves as a pretty good reflection of the national mood a few years further on. To explain: The theme of the first film was outright heroism. Oh, to be sure, it was repeatedly pointed out that there are certain prices to pay; 'with great power comes great responsibility' and so forth. But the essential nobility of it, the worthiness and worthwhileness of Peter's choice to become a superhero was never really questioned. The second film does question those assumptions. We're asked to consider whether running around acting as a hero might be futile at best, and actually harmful at worst. Many scenes play out as darker echoes of the first film; Peter rescues a child from a burning building (without using his powers, even) and returns her to her grateful parents. Yet he learns later that, unbeknownst to him, another man burned to death a few floors further up. It becomes increasingly clear to him that he cannot hope to save everyone. There's another section of the film where Peter, for a while, rejects herodom entirely. Much like the first film, he witnesses a robbery and chooses not to intervene. And this time, no tragedy results. The world keeps on spinning. We are asked to consider whether an opportunity to act heroically requires us to do so, or merely gives us the option. Yet another scene depicts an exhausted Spider-Man, having just stopped a runaway train, about to fall into the harbor below. He is caught by the passengers, who pass him along like honorary pallbearers, and later, choose not to reveal his identity. I swear I heard someone in the theatre shout, 'Go New York!'. Trite, perhaps, but also a valid and oft overlooked point: under the right conditions, mobs of people can act with incredible nobility instead of ignorance and hate. New York really did remind the world of that, and though the first film gave short shrift to the heroism of the ordinary individual, the second reminds us of it often. The film's strongest argument in favor of the hero comes from Aunt May (speaking, I maintain, the words of Stan Lee). Interestingly, she says very little about the things Spider-Man has actually done. Rather, she's most concerned with the way in which he has inspired others, like their young neighbor boy. This, she claims, is Spider-Man's greatest importance. The film could even be commenting upon itself: do all the whiz-bang action sequences pale into insignificance besides the ideals, and the nature of humanity itself, that the film projects? The point of all this is that I think Spider-Man 2 will resonate strongly with a nation that has, perhaps, become a bit weary with playing the hero. We've become very aware, not only of the responsibilities that come with the role, but of all the violence and pain and missed opportunities and unintended consequences that come with it. That's not to say (and the film doesn't say) that it's not worth it to be a hero; rather, it's that you must think very carefully about what you are doing, how you are doing it, and most importantly, why. It's quite clear at the end that Peter is acting for just as many selfish motives as selfless ones. This does not invalidate his actions; but when he tries to forget the personal side, his powers seem to vanish. I think that there might be a little lesson there for all of us.
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3,650,974 |
male
| 23 |
Student
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Scorpio
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28,June,2004
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A quick post before bed, on my last half-hour of battery life. What possessed me to bring my laptop to KC but not an adapter? Spider-Man 2 is, without question, far superior to its predecessor, which was itself a pretty good film. Without going into spoilers, it has a great deal more humor, and does a better job of remembering that it's a comic book. It also seems much longer than its 2:15 running time, not in a is-this-over-yet? way, but in a wow-there's-a-lot-of-plot-here sort of way. Let me go out on a limb and say that the female characters (Mary-Jane and Aunt May) are the most interesting in the film. While all the men around them seem to be doing and thinking and feeling whatever the plot requires them to, these woman seem like fully realized human beings. That's very important even (especially?) in comic books, as their writers have never forgotten. Aunt May, in particular, seems to be speaking words directly from Stan Lee's mouth. The philosophy behind his characters and his writing becomes crystal clear. (Look for his quick cameo in a scene involving Aunt May.) Oh, yes, and my interview today! Went quite well, I think, despite my being rather sleep deprived. Talked to three people from the company; one was definitely positive, one probably was but hard to say, and one was totally unreadable. One way or another they say they'll get back to me within two weeks or so. Don't expect me to announce it here immediately - I may, by then, have some other offers to consider - but the signs are positive, at least.
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3,650,974 |
male
| 23 |
Student
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Scorpio
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28,June,2004
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Posting from my hotel room in Kansas City. Ethernet ports in every room. What a wonderful world we live in, that this is becoming a semi-standard feature. Love the booby-traps though. Have a complimentary bottle of water! PS: We'll charge $4.00 to your bill if you do... Cerner is literally wining and dining us - dinner was at a really, really nice restaurant here on the plaza. Perhaps I misevaluated who needs who more; they're really going out of their way to convince me that it's a nice place to work and nice city in which to live. When, in reality, if I didn't think so, I never would have applied in the first place. Ah well. Real interviews are tomorrow noon, and I will in fact be going to see Spider-Man 2 at midnight, and head home Wednesday instead. More urlLink decisions from the Supreme Court today, and unlike last week, these are really cool. Holding people indefinitely without trial? BAH! Take that, Bush. Glad to see the Supremes occasionally remember that we do have a few bedrock legal principles in this country.
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