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Wednesday,
January 2, 2013
At Least I Changed
Happy New Year. It's gonna be a good one. I can tell. I'm
thinking about going back to college in the spring. I tried in the fall,
it didn't work, but you know what they say, "Try, try, try again, and succeed!
Or lose all your money and future prospects." I don't know. I might
just lie in my bed all year. That's what I did last year. It was
okay. I made some interesting friends. Most of them in my head.
It's a big platter of apathy, fear, and neutral silence. Earlier in the
year, I was in the hospital. That was okay. I had a headset radio,
so I could listen to Z-100 and become essentially a 180 pound, 5'2, 23 year old
teeny bopper. But I'm mostly over that now. I like all music.
Except for my own. It's pretty terrible. The early stuff was great,
but now I'm in my "blue" period, and by "blue," I mean "interesting in how much
it sucks." I got a new guitar and an iPod for birthday/Chanukah/Christmas
presents. The new guitar proved to be useless at making my music sound
better, and the music in my iPod scares me. I have to wear headphones, and
the music is just too close. I like my music about a foot away from me, if
possible. It does less damage that way. Less carnage. Less
destruction. There's even an Apples In Stereo album called "Velocity of
Sound," which is really good, I'd recommend it. But don't take it from me.
Because I don't even have it!
I also got a haircut, which I don't like. Oh well, it
will grow slowly and surely. "Slowly and Surely" is what they should have
called "Of Mice And Men." Not sure if that makes sense. No new T.V.
shows in the last couple of weeks. I'm surprised at how little it affected
my life. I probably should continue not to watch T.V., but once those new
shows start, I'm liable to watch just about all them. For clues.
I'm a real life John Nash. John Nash was a real life John Nash. John
Hash is more like it. Wooo. John Nash is the guy from A Beautiful
Mind, by the way. He who Russell Crowe was. I had a dream I wanted
to eat an ice cream cone, but it was just out of bounds. Yep. Hey,
you chose to read it! And I chose to write it. Couple of misfits we
are, 'ey? I started exercising. So far I haven't been putting too
much strain, I do the treadmill for half an hour at a relatively low speed.
At a relatively very low speed. But I'll work my way up, hopefully.
My goal is to lose 30 pounds this year. Which doesn't sound so hard, but I
gained about fifty pounds last year, and I don't even know how. I know the
drugs I'm on can cause weight gain, but I don't know if that's just from making
you hungrier, or actually effecting your body's chemistry to make it gain more
weight from an otherwise balanced diet. Drinking approximately every other
day for three or four months surely didn't help.
I'm listening to Heatmiser, Elliott Smith's old band. It's pretty
good. That's an understatement. Pretty soon as the words I say
continue, there will be some text that is an understatement to that statement.
It depends on your resolution what it is. I hope it's something good.
It's probably already happened by now. This is the quality of writing I'm
putting out there. I'm smoking Newports because I'm running low on Camel
Blue. I was going to quit smoking, too, but so far I've found that quite
difficult. Anyway. It sure is winter. I like it getting dark
early, because I like the dark. I'm much like Spiderman from that musical,
in that way. But I don't like the cold. I don't like the heat,
either. Because I don't like basketball. They're a basketball team.
Thank you, thank you. Seriously though, I like a happy medium. Which
normally can be provided by working air conditioning and heating units.
But it's always a hassle. No it's not. This is wrong and pointless.
That's what's going on my tombstone. It's because I'd rather be cremated,
but my loved ones didn't get the message. I don't know if I'd rather be
cremated. Just leave the body alone. That way, when they invent ways
to bring people back to life, you at least still have a chance. Well, with
all that crap they put in your blood, I don't know. But whatever. No
one's dying any time soon. Well, some people are. But we don't know
them.
This entry is long overdue for an ending. Too bad
there's two more paragraphs. Let's see. I keep trying to picture
myself in the adult world, with a job and friends and living on my own, and I
really can't imagine it. All those things are individual problems
currently in my mental state. Yeah. And also, clowns. Do we
still need them? Children are entertained enough by iPhones, grown ups
don't want to see them, etc. That's why I say burn all clowns in effigy.
If you're burning a real person, I don't know if that counts as effigies.
I guess we could just make a clown out of straw and wood and burn that.
Let's do that sometime soon. Hey, wanna guess something? Guess what
you're supposed to guess, and I will one day tell you if you were right.
I'm a fool. Hey, I like stuff. What's up. Gotta finish this
paragraph. I won't even write a fifth paragraph, I'll just leave you with
a poem I wrote during my first cigarette that eventually avalanched into an
unbreakable habit. Here it is.
Smoke
A problem with diction, rarely cited
Is that a sentence, once ignited
Can seldom run to its completion
Without some sort of disposition
Burning through the words like fire
And it's within this muck and mire
The speaker's lost themselves entire
But the top orator-- steadfast, consistent
Cannot discount the one who isn't
Because therein lies a cool relation
An amateur, his new vocation
Holding the crowd like his cup of coffee
It hardly matters if he's slightly off key
Forging love with the paper's potpourri
Text's fragrance is bittersweet
The thoughts we lose, the words we keep
Barely describe the joy and sadness
The great escape, the growing madness
Try not to talk with much emotion
It's uninviting to percieve devotion
Rememeber Newton's laws of motion
Use teeth and tongue to draw a picture
Make sure the message sounds like scripture
This is what all poets master
And quitting now would spell disaster
Above all else, speak with conviction
Be the matter true or piece of fiction
Such is the problem with addiction
-8:21 P.M
Monday,
January 7, 2013
What's Your Problem
Hey. I'm bored. So are you, I guess. But you won't be if you
just keep reading. I actually have to write this shit. I've been
drinking a lot of coffee lately. I don't know why. It's almost like
a meal. Especially with a cigarette. It's something to do, sort of.
I started a sketch class at the UCB. If you've been reading, you'd know
I'd taken improv 201 last summer, but now I'm taking sketch 101. I don't
know if I'm going to stick with it, I might drop it. It's really hard to
write a sketch. But I guess I'll try. I have to write a sketch for
next Sunday. I've got some ideas, but nothing written out. Sketch
writing is hard, what with the game and the premise and the heightening and the
straight men and so on. The heightening is the hardest part. That's
like, when in a scene, the comedy/premise has to grow, instead of staying at the
same level. That's hard. It's hard enough to establish a funny idea,
and then you have to make it grow? What the hell. I'm listening to
104.3, New York's classic rock station. So they tell me. I've been
listening to a lot of classic rock lately. It's pretty good. It's
good to mix things up. For my next musical interest, I hope it's Weird Al.
His songs are great. I should probably get into that next. Damnit.
I bite my nails, but I can't right now, cause they're all bitten. Now what
am I supposed to do? Bite the skin around my nails? I already do
that. I guess I could do that more, but I'm not as big a fan of that as
the original biting my nails. I hate lyricless songs. Okay Allman
Brothers Band, I get there's a girl named Jessica. Now what? Maybe
sing about her? I'd like to know more about her character and her
situation and what shenanigans she gets into. I like "We Didn't Start The
Fire." It just lists things that happened. Brilliant. Maybe
Weird Al could do a parody, "We Didn't Start The Wire," and just name people who
had nothing to do with the T.V. show The Wire. It would be a pretty long
song, though. There's a lot of people out there who didn't start The Wire.
This "Jessica" song just won't end. Here we go, "I Want
You To Want Me," nice, catchy song. Good. What was I doing? Oh
yeah. Hello. I've been smoking a lot of cigarettes lately. I
was mostly at around half a pack a day, but now I might be up to a pack a day.
And it comes in bursts, like, I might smoke 5 cigarettes in a row, and then not
smoke at all for four hours. Yeah. I guess music, being amorphous,
could be Jessica itself. I don't know why I'm so hung up on this.
Fountains of Wayne has a song called "Hung Up On You." Fact. What
else is new. After drinking two cups of coffee I made, and a large iced
coffee I got from Dunkin' Donuts, I've finally moved on to diet soda.
Which still has caffeine. Not as much, though. But what am I
supposed to do? Make more coffee? I should just drink 20 cups of
coffee a day and see what happens. But it takes a small amount of work
ethic to actually make the coffee, so forget it. I have an appointment
with the endocrinologist tomorrow. We'll see how that goes. It's at
12:45. Hopefully that doesn't interrupt my natural sleeping schedule.
"Life is one long emergency." Bruce Springsteen was right. "Hey ho
let's go." The Ramones were right. I love Joey Ramone's cover of
"What A Wonderful World." That's good stuff. I had a dream a couple
of nights ago I was playing a board game that was like middle school. A
lot like the board game "Life," but it was just middle school. It seems
like a pretty good idea. Someone get on it.
Anyway. "When I Come Around" just came on. I
don't know if that really counts as classic rock. I do know that it was my
first favorite song, though. So that's notable. Now, in case I
forget everything in my life, I could come back to this entry and remember it
was my first favorite song. It's a good song. I think my second
favorite song was "One Week." That doesn't hold up as well. You know
what, fuck it. It does. It's a catchy song, why shit on it just
because it's stupid. What else is up. My ashtray is overflowing.
There's a bunch of cigarette butts on my desk surrounding it. I really
should clean that up. Halfway through the entry. I'll smoke to that!
Cigarettes. Not weed. I miss weed. It's been over a year since
I've smoked a substantial amount. I guess it's good, though. I
really depended on that to get me through life. Now I just get through
life unhappily. Oh well. I haven't drank in over a week.
That's good. I guess I'm on the right track. Life ain't bad.
But then again, I have very little real responsibilities. Wanna hear a
joke? Why did Bob Dylan cross the road? The answer is... "because it
seemed like the right thing to do." Yeah. That was stupid.
Yeah. Fourth paragraph time. We're in the shit
now. Should I start following people on twitter? Apparently a lot of
people use it. I got no time for that. I started an account like a
year ago, and gave up after a week. It's stupid. These are the
pressing issues. What's up? I played guitar for about half an hour
before writing this entry. I'm slowly returning to my old level of skill.
I just have to take it slowly, I guess. Or I can take guitar lessons, and
get even better than I used to be. I really should do that. I keep
telling myself to do it, but never follow up on it. Anyway. My
favorite part of writing entries are the transitional phrases. "Anyway,
"Whatever," "What else is up, "Yeah." Lots of choices. Sometimes
they might get used twice in an entry. Sometimes even three times.
Something to look out for. They should do that on the radio.
In-between songs, they should just say, "Yeah," and then play the next songs.
Don't bore me with your giveaway tickets to a concert, or who's in the studio.
Just say, "Anyway," and then go to the next song. And don't just play two
songs in a row. I want one word transitional phrases. I saw Promised
Land over the weekend. It was okay. Pretty depressing, though.
That was interesting. Also, I like transitional phrases that are blatant
lies. I made myself more coffee. I'm really bored.
Hey. Oooh, Journey, "Separate Ways." Great song.
This is what my writing has devolved to. Listening to the radio and giving
short comments about the songs. I don't usually listen to the radio, but I
am today, so I guess that's what comes up. I will refrain from mentioning
the radio in the remaining part of the entry. Hey, I'm almost done!
Time to wrap up. In conclusion, the Barenaked Ladies are good? No,
that's not it. I have "'California' here we come" written on a piece of
paper. I don't know what I was thinking. Yes, that's the song from
"The O.C." What did I want to do with it? I'm baffled and
confounded. Phantom Planet, you have bested me yet again! Eh.
Well, this killed more time than expected. Another one in the books.
I don't want to make jokes anymore. I just want it to end. A few
more sentences. That's all you'll get. Hey what's up. I think
human life is fascinating. We all take such different journeys, but wind
up the same place in the end. Here. We all end up at the end of
paragraph five of a blog website.
-3:16 P.M.
Saturday,
January 19, 2013
Very Symbolic of My
Struggles
Hello. How are you doing. Don't answer that. Because I know
the answer. You're feeling loved, by me. Your devoted writer.
I haven't started today right. I drank four shots of whiskey a few hours
ago. It's mostly threw with, but who knows. I suck. I need to
quit drinking. And smoking. But really drinking. I don't know
how I would react to weed. Probably better, but who knows. "...And
one pony will discover her true destiny!" so they claim on the T.V. I was
watching Tales From the Crypt on T.V., and now it's commercials for stuff.
What kind of destinies are there for ponies. I can't think of any.
Except either being ridden or not being ridden. I'm drunk. It just
took me half a paragraph to figure it out. I've tried to cancel it out by
eating dinner, but it's still there. Crazy. I don't like the new
year. 2013 just sounds wrong. It's wrong. It's like it's the
future or something. I don't know. We're inaugurating our first
black president! But we inaugurated him before, so no big deal. I
hate music. A couple of months ago, I drank some beer and walked around
the park by my house, and suddenly came to the conclusion, "holy shit, music
consumes too much of my time. I could totally live my life without it.
It's an evil succubus that offers no reward for my time." And then I came
home and listened to Arcade Fire and, I guess, changed my mind. Cause
seriously, what else is there to do?
Who let you in? I guess you're okay. You may
continue reading, bitch. I don't know why I said bitch. I'm being
disrespectful. And that explanation doesn't really make up for it.
You're not my bitch. So, sorry. I spent some of the 20 dollars I've
been saving for weed on alcohol. I can make it up next time I see a movie.
I just have no way to buy weed. I don't know any dealers. I hope I
don't vomit tonight. That would really suck. SNL is new this week.
That's a good show. It's weird, though, because with the qualities of
their performers and writers, it should be a 9/10 every week. and instead, it's
only 7/10. I don't get it. Story of my life. I guess they're
trying for some mass appeal. Story of my life. My head hurts.
There's alcohol in it. That explains it. I'm going to start getting
money from social security, for my mental illness. I think I'll just give
it all to my parents, because what use is it to me? They won't support my
drinking or drug use, so might as well just add it to the pool. Life is
weird. Tripoli is where I go when I get high, because I sort of live on
Long Island. Blam. I decided if I ever become a rapper who
incorporates indie rock into his music, my name would be Kornbleezy. Good
thing it will never happen, because that's a terrible name.
I haven't read a book in half a year. It's a shame,
too, because I really should spend all my free time doing something
semi-productive, like reading what the great writers of our generations have
written. Instead of drinking and listening to The Wanted.
C'est la vie. I hate you all. Just kidding. You're my best
friends. Everyone is my best friend. That's how it works. Not
really. But then again, most things don't work, based on personal
experience on whether I work or not. Come on, stop giving me a hard time.
My head hurts. Thanks a lot, time. Whatever. This is boring.
Thanks a lot, bitch. People don't care about being called bitch.
You're a bunch of spineless bastards who are not worth the shit you shit.
I started watching movies online recently. It's convenient if you're
willing to put up with all the movies that don't work, and the ones that cut out
in the middle. The Middle is a song. Fuck you.
What's the deal with things? Are they really worth it?
I don't buy it. I don't buy a lot of things, on account of lack of money.
The 21st century is weird. I don't like it. Let's go back.
Things were simpler then, when Bill Clinton was getting impeached, and stuff.
Back before my balls became a sperm factory. Life was so much simpler
then. WHY CAN'T I WATCH PARENTAL GUIDANCE. That's what
the 21st century has come to. I've thought about going back in the
hospital. But I know once I go back, I'll just want to go home again.
But I sort of like the structure of living in the hospital, Groups
designated at a certain time, breakfast, lunch, dinner, after dinner snack.
Meeting new people. It's not that bad if you aren't obligated to stay
there for months. But then I won't get to watch and listen to
self-referential youtube videos and drink diet cranberry gingerale soda.
Whoop there it is. I like listening to songs and pretend that I made a
movie and they're in the soundtrack. I can't be the only one who likes
doing this. It's so much fun, and adds layers on top of layers to what
you're listening to. Unless if you have a real life, and then music is the
soundtrack to your real life. If so, fuck off.
The last paragraph is now. I'm starting to hate Steve
Carrell. He's done a lot of good stuff, but man, is the bad stuff piling
up. Friend At The End of the World. Hope Springs. He must be
making a lot of money off that crap, though, so whatever. Who cares.
SELL OUT. Now when I finally build up the nerve to tell a girl how I feel
about her, and she smiles and tells me she feels the same way, what the hell
movie am I supposed to see with her? Crazy, Stupid, Love? You must
be crazy or stupid, love. Life is full of surprises. That's why I
distrust Radiohead. The end of this entry is no surprise. Except to
me. I haven't written it yet. But, rest assured, it will be half a
paragraph. Life has really come to a stand still. Yow. Yow is
a word? What the fuck. No one tells me these things. I better
not throw up again tonight. I feel like I might, though. Oh well,
it's my just desserts for drinking. Something something something relative
to the phrase, "just desserts." I'm getting really lazy with my writing.
OR AM I? The mystery which will never be revealed. Anyway. I'm
going now. See you later.
6:45 P.M.
Saturday,
January 19, 2013
There's Nothing Going
On
Hi. With that out of the way, hello. Greetings are fun.
They're the only part of the conversation that is
practically mandatory. If someone
starts a conversation with you without a greeting, you have every right to cover
him with leaves and set him on fire.* Anyway.
I don’t know what to say. Or what
Not to say. My life is boring. For further proof, take my word for it.
Hey. Bastard. What was I going to say. I got a new job. That’s a lie. I
like my current job of walking around in circles and smoking cigarettes. They
pay isn’t great, but god damn, at least I’m doing something good for the world.
I guess I’m just a recluse. No shame in that. Forrester, from Finding
Forrester, was a recluse, and look at him. He’s a fictional character played by
Sean Connery. So I got that going for me. I like making lists. Top ten
lists. Top ten reasons to drop the “F-Bomb.” Number 10, your superior officer
told you to. Never mind. “F-Bomb” is like “A-Bomb.” If someone told me to
drop an “A-Bomb,” I’d be like “A bomb? Any bomb? Be More specific.” And
that’s why they kicked me out of the army. I don’t see myself as an army man.
Unless if it’s a high level position, where I can make plans. Because I’ve got
all sorts of plans. I can’t just be a grunt. I’d have low self-esteem. And I
already have that. On the other hand, I’m super awesome. It’s a balancing act,
trying to find the happy medium where I’m just purely content with who I am,
rather than thinking, “I’m the shit,” or thinking that, “I’m shit.”
I’ve started to expand my horizons on things. All it took
was a different lens. I like grilled cheese sandwiches now. I never used to
like cheese, but, lo and behold, people change. The answer is in the smoke.
The smoke I’m smoking. I’m not smoking smoke, I’m smoking tobacco. Smoke comes
out of it. If I sound like an insane person in this paragraph, my work here is
done. However, there’s still work to be done. Rope-a-dope. I’ve started to
realize that I was very immature in my teenage years. I was too caught up in
dreams and whimsy. Now look at me. I’m a regular Joe Six Pack. Six packs
are a weird amount to have for a carton. It’d be 3/5ths the size. Still, I’m
for it. I’m all for anything. I might see Gangster Squad later. It got
mediocre reviews, and the trailers didn’t really impress me, but I like Sean
Penn. I don’t really want to see it though. Movies are weird. I like movies.
Will you be my friend? Back on track. Okay. Here we go. I like poems, too.
Who doesn’t like a nice poem? Will they be my friend? Get back to me on
that. I guess I’m not doing college for another semester. Maybe the summer.
It’s so hard for me to focus, though. And being around people freaks me out.
My ashtray is on fire. BRB. Sometimes you think about the choices you’ve made,
and it seemed like you consciously made them, but it’s really all part of God’s
plan. Sponsored by The Church of Mormon. I’m not a Mormon. It’s confusing.
Why can’t you drink alcohol? Is it because God hates you? For the next new
church in Christianity, I hope they ban money. I guess that’s just socialism.
I hope the next new church in Christianity is socialism. I like money, though.
It’s just that money doesn’t like me. Maybe I should try to make money
jealous. Maybe I should try to make money. Jealous? I have a court hearing
coming up on whether I’m going to stay in their program or “graduate” into
living on my own. I love him, but only on my own. Les Miserables. The
Miserables. You know what I’m against? Drunk driving. Sorry, but I have to
take a stand. Against is really “again st.” So stop drunk driving on the exact
same streets you’ve drunk driven before, really, is what I’m saying.
Okay. Let’s do this. I might take a break in five minutes
to go see Gangster Squad. I hope that works like Gangbusters. That’s a phrase
that never really made sense to me. But I like it. I hope that makes
sense like Ghostbusters. Don’t cross the streams. Please. Who are you
kidding. I changed my mind about Gangster Squad. It looks like shit. And I
can see it on the internet within a week or two. Anyway. I do like the
experience of going to a movie, though. That’s half of why I wanted to go.
Because of the movies that are out, it’s the one I would most want to see.
“Not ashamed of my big ego, need it cause no one else loves me.” A note from
my high school years. “Birds are so stupid, they don’t know what time it is.”
Another note from my high school years. “Michael, there are girls out there who
like you, TRUST ME/why should I trust you, you’re just a character of my
imagination.” I don’t know why I’m putting this crap out there. I used to
write down notes a lot, often lyrics. Now I don’t really write anything,
because I rarely leave my house, and could type. I don’t like my
computer. It’s not so much as I don’t like it as much as I just don’t trust
it. Have you heard the good news about the internet? Everything’s available to
everyone. I don’t know why I called it good news. I was playing a character.
TRUST ME. It’s all part of God’s design. I hope God was a design major. Cause
if he majored in cinema studies, we’re all fucked.
Wow. It's almost February. That was fast.
About 27 days, to be exact, from the start of this month. February has
valentine's day and both my parents birthdays. Maybe I can combine them
into one, but that would be extremely inappropriate. What to do.
Yeah. I really don't know. No, I really don't know what to do.
Anyway. One of these days I'm going to get better at this. All it
takes is being smarter and funnier. I can do that like trustbusters.
Mystery Men was a movie. Moving on. I don't know why I said that.
I don't know why I wouldn't say that. Moving on. When I think of
real life mystery men, I think of editors. And when I think of real life
editors, I think of pioneers. And when I think of pioneers, I think
about dividing that word into three parts and drawing my own, private
conclusions. Lets see what more high school me had to say. "It
ensures people won't kill their successors," and I lost what that was in
reference to. Trippy. "Jim Casy is a 0 for Jesus Christ." I
don't know who Jim Casy is, I may have been trying to say Carrey, but either
way, it really makes no sense to me. "You're missing the point." God
damn right. That's enough of that. I drank a cup of coffee. I
think I'll make more when this is over. There's one paragraph to go.
You know your blog isn't going the way you want it to when every time you scroll
randomly through it you see the word "paragraph." Lots of killing time.
But enough of that. I want to record an album. I
have like 10-15 good songs if I work a little on the lyrics, and I think I'm
ready. I just need some vocal training, because my voice is a wreck.
Also, a little guitar training couldn't hurt. Also, there are lots of
reasons why it wouldn't work. But it might some day. So, yeah.
"Guy goes to open window, big face staring back at him, both scream (at night)."
I have no idea what that's supposed to be. I have to wake up at 8:30
tomorrow. What is this garbage. Oh well, it's almost done. I
don't know if I could cut it as a musicians. Look at it this way.
Rock stars are like inoculators. See what I mean? Cause I don't.
All I know is, "all the lost pages my mind's searching through, what's the most
beautiful thing I ever knew, was it what I thought it was, I'm so confused."
And there you have it. High school lyrics. Gotta love 'em.
Nothing like my freshman year college lyrics. Those are way more
sophisticated. My favorite song I wrote in high school is "I'll Push You Down
The Stairs." Either that, or an untitled abortion song, where there's a
line, "I will not let my daughter kill my grandchild, because I got mad rhymes
like Oscar Wilde!" And there was another untitled abortion song where I
go, "It's an abortion song, and it's being sung, it's an abortion song,
pro-choice has won." Yes, I had two abortion songs. Always gotta be
prepared with a back up. "It's an abortion song, I don't have one anymore,
it was a baby that came out, onto the floor." And with that, I bid you
adieu.
-5:18 P.M.
*If you went to read this before
continuing with the entry, you get a gold star!
Thursday,
January 31, 2013
Boy Am I Glad To See
You Again
Hello friends. I'm here to prove that I am the cause of and solution to
all of the world's problems. I'm in the market for new pants. To
wear around my legs and waist. What a waste. A waist is in-between
your legs and mid region, mid region being commonly known as stomach and/or
abdomen. Did you know that humans are the only animal that cannot breathe
and swallow at the same time? Something to think about while you're eating
your animal crackers. Did you know that you cannot teach a bee anything?
It's sad when you think about it. I'm going through my college notebook.
It's more interesting than nothing. Most things are more interesting than
nothing, but not all. I think I was high when I took these notes.
Most of it is just the words I'm supposed to remember, in a real mish mosh
across the page, with no explanation for what they mean, and random scribbles
and circles. No animal makes vowel sounds except for lyres and parrots.
Good to know. I don't know what a lyre is. It'd be good to know.
"Measles while pregnant --> deaf." Oh well. The octopus, in addition
to being one of the smartest animals, is affectionate like a cat, and you can
teach it like a dog. I think I remembered that. Or at least I
recalled it after reading it. "Octopus shoe repair." Great.
People used to think crystals were alive. What maroons. "Things Like
Turtles." What the hell am I doing.
That was fun. "AIM: Learn Stuff About Things." I
was a real smart ass back in college. "Duck, geese, wolves have
complicated social lives." Who woulda thunk it. Whatever.
Knowledge is good for you. At least that's what people tell me. I
gotta get back into school. But not just taking classes. I need a
social life. And that's hard to create out of nothing. People like
to talk a lot about social engineering, but I think that's just when engineers
have social circles. My uncle was an engineer. Look at him now.
Don't stare. It's impolite. Oh yeah, also there's no picture
of him. It'd be impolite. I gotta drink some coffee. Do my
thang. Chicken wing. I ended up seeing Gangster Squad yesterday.
It was okay. Woah, I opened my pack of cigarettes and there's a 1 dollar
off coupon for Camel Snus. I don't want to get involved in that stuff,
though. It's probably even more addictive. But think of the
savings!!! And they have different flavors, too. I was watching a
movie based on John Lennon's life as a teenager. It was okay.
Apparently he was raised by his aunt but thought it was his mother or something.
I only caught the last third of it. Here's some more of what I wrote back
in college fall '08:
How's everyone doing tonight. Have you heard
the latest about Barack Obama? Turns out, he's kind of lazy. I
didn't know he was half Mexican too! JK. Seriously though... when he
moves into the White House, I heard they're gonna start calling it the black
house! I seriously heard that somewhere, I think. No seriously,
you're a great crowd. How about that Michelle Obama? God damn, what
a woman, am I right? I heard when she moves into the white house, they're
gonna start calling it the Michelle house. That's how powerful a
personality she has. Yeah.
As adorable
as the Obama girls are, wouldn't it be cool if he had a son? Like sorta
the kinda kid from The Cosby Show, always getting into trouble and causing
mischief. I don't know. All I know about black people and politics I
learned from T.V. Don't judge me! Haha. Seriously folks.
I go to NYU. It's pretty great. I get high everyday and enjoy the
pleasures of gentrification. Now, I'm not saying NYU students seem out of
place in lower Manhattan. I mean, you don't need to be a certain type of
person to live in Chinatown. That's the beauty of America. And
Chinatown, im particular-- although it's mainly for Chinese people, all colors
are welcome! Especially yellow! Wakka Wakka!
Just like the
21st century. I don't know if you've heard, but America is going down
under, and China is gonna be running everything. I'm kind of okay with
this. I've already sacrificed so much of my life to my cell phone, iPod,
computer, T.V... answering to robot-like Chinese overlords is the net logical
step, right? Maybe not. Yeah, forget it. This is America--
land of the greatest country in the world. We can financially outmaneuver
China if we wanted to! We just don't really want to. America, thank
God, is a country of individuals. We don't have the sort of patriotism
they have in communist countries-- and thank God for that. Blind
patriotism is the biggest intellectual cop out I could imagine. I need to
take a shit.
Well, that sure got boring near the
end. I am referring to my life. So I guess this is like the fourth
paragraph, right? Might as well be. Man, that was five years ago.
I guess so. Most of the time I feel like I'm still college age, because I
haven't graduated yet, and mostly that's around where my maturity level is, but
sometimes I realize I'm 24 and am amazed at how different I was in college.
Like the same, but just really not so mature. Not that I am now. I
guess the word I'm looking for is inexperienced. Although I haven't really
experienced much since college. I don't know. It's a wild world.
Cat Stevens knows. He's a Muslim. Translated, that means he
surrenders to Allah. That's what that song "Surrender" was about. If
I had to describe my writing style, I'd say it was, "Overly lazy, irreverent."
That's no good. Jokes on you suckers, you read it. And my self
esteem has to live with it, so the jokes on me too. I had Chipotle as my
lunch and dinner the last two days. It's because I can rarely get it, it's
not near me. I miss having my student intern job at NYU and going to
Chipotle on lunch breaks. Those were good times. Plus, I was getting
paid. I guess so. I found a notebook I was keeping around the 4th
grade timeframe, as a school project, which was pretty funny and sad to look
back on. Example entry (and the first one):
Yesterday my brother kicked me. It hurt
physically and mentally. Now I know he does not like me.
Today in Hebrew
school I might have a pizza party. I hope so because I will be hungry.
Yesterday I arranged my birthday party. It's going to be on Dec. 19th,
1998. I am inviting 16 people. My real birthday is December 12th.
Tomorrow I don't have school. Sorry I won't be able to write to you.
Two days ago it was
halloween. It was very fun because I was with my friends trick or
treating. I will be eating candy for a long time! I will remember
this halloween for years to come.
What a jokester.
Later on in the journal I decide I need to give it a name, and I name it Mickey.
I don't know. I'm just not in a good place right now. I'm home.
Which isn't that great a place. My room is all messed up and I'm living
with my parents, it's just not an ideal situation right now. I mean, it
could be worse, but as it is, it's like a 4 out of 10 on the goodness scale.
I'm exhausted. Not really, but in the metaphorical sense. Cars get
exhausted. I don't know how cars work. All I have to go by is that
animated movie Cars. Which I never saw. Anyway. See ya.
3:31 P.M.
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