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Saturday, May 30, 2015

Thirty Days Has September, April, June, I Can't Remember

Holla at your boy.  Anyway, what's up.  Dorming begins next week.  It oughtta be hollerable.  That how that go.  Whatta do in the meantime.  I'm reading the Pete Townshend book.  It's as good as the others, but has a full line paragraph break after three paragraphs.  It's constantly enticing me to stop reading!  I read a page, figure, that's good enough for now, put it down, pick it back up a minute and a half later.  That's no way to read a book!  Well, it's one way.  And it's going really well!  One thing I'm taking away from these books is that there is no one way to approach doing music creatively.  Each person has their own way of doing it, and their own spark that makes them unique.  I wish I had a spark.  Probably why I smoke so many cigarettes.  It's a reasonable theory.  The only thing that's common is they all love the blues.  I don't know what a blues is.  I remember my first semester junior year at NYU, on the first day dorming, a suitemate got high with me and made me listen to modern blues on youtube.  Wasn't impressed.  Around the same time I found Robert Johnson on iTunes, which I liked, but didn't really put that much thought into.  I also had the idea for a band called, "Punk Drunk Blues," because Punk is good, Blues is good, and being drunk is good.  Three for three.  Also, three for three.  Four for four.  Four Fours.  Five seconds till fourday.  Where am I.
    Right, right.  Gotta do something.  I also had an idea for a song called, "Seo's Bistro," inspired by Mets pitcher Jae Seo.  What makes him deserving of a song?  He has a funny name.  Oh, how we would say, "Seo Sorry," and laugh, and laugh, and laugh.  Also, pretty sure Mo Vaughn was the inspiration for moveon.org.  Anyway.  Why does he have a bistro?  Seems like a logical progression.  You'd think he'd have a Korean restaurant, right?  Wrong.  Jae Seo was fully assimilated into this culture long ago.  What if "Mo-Von.org" was just a website dedicated to Mo Vaughn.  I came up with it, and I'm laughing, and laughing, and laughing.  Not much has changed since I was fourteen, when it comes down to it.  I know in previous crazysheet, I made a joke along the lines of Fantasy Baseball being where you pick players you fantasize about, in which case, I pick Mo Vaughn, hands down, every day of the week.  Sunday?  Yup.  Monday through Wednesday?  Yes, indeed.  Rest?  Yea.  What else is goin' on.  Where am I.  Right, right.  What else is going on.  Sometimes in dreams, I sorta dream music while in the dream, and I can distort it and play with it, in my dream, and it sounds brilliant in my head.  Can't do it while I'm awake, though.  Whatta shame.  All I can do is almost hit power chords.  I'm workin' my way up to it.  It took me years to be able to hit the strings when I'm strumming.  Also, I think I can solo by just playing completely randomly.  I see my heroes do it, seemingly without thinking, so, in my diseased mind, I think, Hey, all I need to do is follow my heart, man!  And that may be true, if you have a solid musical understanding in you heart.  Which I do not.  At least not while I'm awake.

There goes that crap.  Sorry, I'll give you some time to go into something else, before you come back to read this paragraph.  Alright?  Alright.  What else is going on.  It's like, every block of paragraphs is a verse, and the space in between is the chorus!  I hate this character more than I've hated anything, ever.  What else and crap.  Hi!  Maybe if I smoke more, that'll make my heart better at music.  That's a valid theory.  If not, though, who cares.  What's going on in the wide world of sport.  Shit, something really is going on in the wide world of sport.  Soccer, eh?  Great.  I couldn't care less.  If I cared any less, it would border on associating it with negative feelings.  I don't get to that point.  I just don't give any shits.  Maybe because my soccer game on Gameboy was fuckin' boring as shit.  I can't remember if I was ever in a youth soccer league as a kid, I think I might have been for a year or two.  But I don't ever remember kicking anything.  Just a lot of running in one direction, and then, running back where I came from.  I also remember, the first year of baseball, where we still hit off tees, and I still never got a hit.  I think the tee was set up too high for me.  I think those tees can be adjusted.  Yeah, but the lowest was still too high for me.  I'm a short stop!  Just not in the baseball terminology.  Also, water volleyball is really hard.  I remember doing that in Gym in Stuy.  How the Hell are you supposed to move distances greater of four inches in time?  It's impossible.  Not even mentioning that, while moving, you gotta hit the ball back in the direction it came from.  Except, with mentioning it.
    Anyway, huh.  This is like the fourth paragraph or some shit.  Great.   What else is great.  Two more paragraphs worth of things, sure, but what.  Anyway.  I can make a D chord.  Don't mean to brag.  That's about where I'm at.  Where you at?  That's something people say to their friends when they're meeting them, but one isn't there yet.  A little something I picked up here or there.  Yep.  When I play a D, it's actually a C, cause of my tuned-downdness.  Put that bit of inside knowledge in your pocket.  What else is going on and crap.  I used to tune down both guitars to standard D tuning.  Then I started doing Eb on electric guitars, because that's the kind of guy I am.  The closest I've ever come to being a musician is playing guitar hero late at night by myself with the volume off.  When I see those animated characters in the background jumping up and down with joy, I just kick into third or fourth gear and ride the wave, baby, ride the wave.  What else is going on.  I'm here, writing shit, and crap.  That should take me into the 2:00's.  Probably.  What else is goin' on.                   

Anyway, this was an entry.  Sure was.  Dunno how often I'll get to entryin' at dorm, on account of all the fun I'll be having.  Why, four five six o clock seven o clock rock, eight nine eleven o clock four a clock rock?  It's gonna be these days are yours and mine Happy Days all the time.  Whattado, whattado.  Brit Lit Survey I next month.  Most likely my least favorite class in the history of things.  Chaucer?  Shakespeare?  No thank you.  I heard a monkey is smarter than Shakespeare, it's a proverb or something.  Ceasar is probably smarter than Shakespeare, but so far, in The Planet of the Apes movies, we haven't seen any apes with an inclination towards literature or art.  Maybe a little bit later on in the series.  Also, apes aren't monkeys, this, we all know.  Anyway, see ya later.

-1:58 P.M. 


Thursday, May 28, 2015

Yea Title

Hello friends and friends of friends.  And any type of enemy.  No neutrals, though.  I can't stand neutrals.  Where do they get off, being neutral.  I find Swiss to be the most neutral of the cheeses.  You can't argue with a feeling.  So, most likely, I'm going to dorm on Sunday.  And I don't mean dorm as a verb, I mean it as a noun.  To go with my habit of not using pronouns where they belong.  That's what's really important.  Still about a 20% chance they don't assign me to a dorm, in which case, I'll be like, Well, Fuck You Then.  I'll Take My Business Elsewhere!  Start living in the pizzeria across the street, sleeping under the crushed red pepper dispensers.  Chinese dentist.  I mean, wha?  Huh?  Anyway.  Read Eric Clapton autobiography.  Man, I thought I had a bad drinking habit.  Well, not really.  My parents think I have a bad drinking habit.  Three to four drinks a day.  He paced me, seven or eight times over, on that.  And then he became a sober!  Good on him.  Not gonna stop me, though.  Plus, a bunch of other drugs, in his heyday.  I judge artists by the drugs they do, not the actions they take.  Or the drugs they take, not the actions they do.  Either way.  I remember, the first time I tried to read my Led Zeppelin book, was the first time I was in hospital.  I had that, The Road, and I think Sophie's Choice.  I couldn't manage to read any of them, in my state of mind.  That's interesting and/or important.  Especially if you add a not before important.  And a not before interesting.  Gotta be consistent, if I learned anything from Sophie's Choice, it's that.  I never read Sophie's Choice.  I imagine it's a Pro-Abortion Rights doctrine.
    It's a good thing I never read it, I woulda aborted myself, then and there.  You don't need to tell me twice.  Whattado, whattado.  My plan for dorming is just buy a bunch of alcohol and trick people into being friends with me, on the guise of giving them free alcohol.  It's a pretty clever ruse, if I may say so myself.  Too bad I don't have the money to support such an excursion beyond the first night.  Hey, one night is all you need.  Once they're friends with you, there's no turning back.  Decisions are final, and whatnot.  I like how Tenacious D says you can only do one cock push up.  Honestly, I think if I attempted it, I could probably do two or three.  I had a dream I was the Jim Carrey of 2018.  Then, suddenly, still in the dream, it was present time, and I was like, I better change course!  This was a warning!  I don't wanna be the Jim Carrey of 2018!  That was tons of fun.  I think changing course, for some reason, in the dream, meant getting a different hair cut.  Dreams are weird.  When I was in hospital the first time, on the first night, I kept hearing the nurses walking by the door, keepin' me up.  Where do they get off, checking in on their patients.  I won't stand for it!  Not one bit!  Sometimes I worry there aren't enough entertainers my age or younger.  When the current crop dies or gets too old, who will replace them?  Robots?  That's not great.  I don't wanna robot entertainment hierarchy.  That's not fun.  Maybe it's just me, but I can't see an eighty year old Jim Carrey going, "Alllllrighty Then!" unless if it's in response to accepting euthanasia.  I would see that movie.  There goes my whole theory.
Alrighty then.  I must have seen Ace Ventura: Pet Cemetary II a hundred times, and the original only once or twice.  We had the sequel recorded on VCR, and not the original.  That explains that.  What else is going on and crap.  If I do dorm, I'm probably gonna take a break from all online excursions.  To really immerse myself in the new and different experience.  Here's hopin', right?  It's kind of dependent on if I make friends.  We'll see how it goes.  What's the alcohol:friends ratio?  One twelve pack'll get me how many friends?  Someone do the math, you're good at math.  I also vaguely remember seeing Pet Detective II in theaters, but it combines with seeing Dumb and Dumber I, and Air Bud.  I think because I saw all three in the same theater which I haven't been back to since the start of this millennium.  I remember I saw Saving Bobby Fischer in a theater with an escalator!  Forget the movie, I wanna see the escalator for two hours.  Will it continue going up?  Here's hopin!  Yeesh.  I bet if you opened up an escalator spot, where you can ride an escalator for 25 cents a pop, you'd make a killing.  I don't like Stairway To Heaven.  If it was really Heaven, wouldn't it be an escalator?  Also, 50% chance I've made that joke before.  90% chance someone else has.  100% chance who cares.  Why do you need a stairway, anyway, you're in a Led Zeppelin.  That's gotta get you halfway to Heaven, at least.
    Alrighty then.  The transformation has begun!  But I remember, because of my elevated status, I got prime seats to some rock concert.  Alrighty then!  Where was I.  Right, countin' down the days to potential dorming.  What else and crap.  Why doesn't Shredder just leave a trail of pizzas into the ocean.  Them turtles wouldn't know what hit 'em.  You know, water, turtles' worst enemy?  Whatta idiot.  Anyway, gotta finish this entry.  Mostways there.  I guess Jennifer Lawrence can just be in every movie from now on.  That'll solve that problem.  Male counterpart?  Chris... Tom.. Cumber.. Zeke.. Walter... Oh, that's right.  Walter Matthau.  That solves that problem.   Where every film shoot'll be a Weekend At Bernie's scenario.  I've seen Weekend@Bernies II a lot more than Weekend@Bernies I.  I have no excuse for that, other than that they must have showed II on cable T.V. in the 1990's much more than they showed I.  Same for Short Circuit.  And Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.  I guess it was just an era of sequels blowing the originals out of the water.  Tremors II.  Weekend At Bernie's II.  Oh, I already said that.  We're the Odd Couple, Felix, You Better Get Used To It!  Pretty sure that's an accurate line of dialogue.
    Yeesh.  What else and crap.  Escape From L.A. as opposed to Escape from N.Y.  But there was a notable release date difference between the two which would account for that.  Anyway, close to closing time.  Alright.  I looked at myself in mirror.  Three years is a long time, but I still don't see myself morphing into Jim Carrey any time soon.  Woulda been nice to score those killer seats at that rock concert, though.  Oh well.  Let's face it, if I'm gonna morph into anything, it'll be a Mighty Morphin' Power Ranger, because the word, it's in there, the word what I was using, it's in the reference.  Alrighty then.  In a dejected tone of voice, and crap.  I think I double alcoholed my cranberry juice.  What a folly.  Citrus Rum, it's labelled as.  Murs U R Tic.  Now all I need to figure out is what a Murs is.  Then I'll be in business for sure.  See ya later.

-11:13 A.M.                     


Saturday, May 23, 2015

Lets Title It Up!

Hey, friends.  It's me, the jerk who makes you read crap every now and then.  What fun.  I'm done with the Spring term.  And you all doubted me.  Who thought of putting a, "B," in doubt.  What a freaking moron.  Anyway, I've decided not to dorm.  On account of there probably being only forty or fifty students in the dorm during the summer.  I don't like those odds!  I need at least two thousand people to make two and a half friends.  Or, one thousand people to make one and one fourth friends.  You do the math.  Or not, I just did it for you.  Either way, everybody wins.  Fifty people?  Whattajoke.  Doesn't matter though, I got a lotta fun stuff planned here.  Like, eating grilled cheese sandwiches, with bacon.  And drinking diet chocolate soda with alcohol.  And bacon.  And  probably some other stuff, too.  That's odd, usually comedy lists come in threes.  Yeah, I guess.  Anyway.  I wonder who discovered comedy is best in threes.  Was it Einstein?  Probably Einstein.  Also, E=Mc2? Alright, E is energy, we all know that.  What the Hell is an MC2? .Is it what happens to a DJ when he tries on new glasses?  Nerdy glasses?  The kind a square would wear?  High five, I made a terrible pun.  Jokes on you, you read it, like a rube.  Really though, mc2?  It means nothing.  Einstein was really phoning it in on that one.  Interestingly, Phoning something in?  PII=Einsteindidit.  Where was I.  Where am I. 
    This is terrible.  Still, gotta do something.  Fifty people.  Psh.  They must think I'm a sucker.  It would still make it a lot more convenient having three hour classes four days a week.  Shut up!  Gotta do something, though.  That's why I'm here.  Gotta do something.  So, how about that news.  What's in the news.  Mad Max was a good movie.  Pretty sure that's the headline of the week.  Either that, or me deciding not to dorm.  Either that, or me cleaning my room.  And you all doubted me.  Stupid paint chipped where I pasted my cork board.  Gotta get a new corkboard just to cover it up.  That's a good idea.  Put up a poster of Raquel Welsh.  And then, every night, tunnel my way to freedom.  It's only about six inches, shouldn't take more than two or three years, tops.  The good news is, soup has been a big part of my life the last couple weeks. I can't get enough of it.  Food flavored water?  Brilliant!  That how that go.  I wonder if MC Hammer named his son MC Nails.  And, if so, how did he go back in time to challenge Michael J. Fox to a car racing scenerio?  And change his name to MC Needles?  Changing the name, that part's easy.  Just get a notary public.  Not a Republic?  I'm fairly sure it is.  Democratic Republic, to be exact.  Going back in time, that's the hard part.
    This is craptacular.  Jokes on you.  At least, that's what I tell myself, to make me feel better.  I'm sick of diet soda advertising itself as, "Low Calorie."  You're zero calories!  Put your best foot forward, and whatnot.  About a 50% I've said that before.  It rings some bells and whatnot.  Maybe I should still dorm.  I mean, fifty people.  That's thirty five people who are looking for a friend.  And, it's convenient and whatnot.  And, it could just be a break from my parents.  Stupid having to make decisions.  Where does life get off?  Yeesh.  Anything else?  Yeah, half the entry, dummy.  Right, right.  Gotta do something.  That's how I feel.  We're gonna need a bigger corkboard.  Not quite sure how that applies.  Oh, because I have to apply to the dorm.  Now I get it.  Just sit in my room, read and crap.  Can't do that at home.  Who knows.  Put Sublime on a 24 hour loop, only to be interrupted every now and then by track and field play list.  Plus, I'm pretty sure it's guaranteed I'd have suitemates.  Gotta be friends with those jerkholes.  One would imagine.  Where am I?  Right, right.  Wha?  Huh?  Anyway, what else is going on.  Oh, right.  Running With The Devil.  Band on the Run.  Forgot about those two.  What else and crap.
    Yeah.  Who wouldn't want to be friends with me.  Besides everyone.  If you take away everyone, who else wouldn't want to be friends with me.  Ha!  I get lunch in an hour!  Jokes on you.  That's how that goes, I guess.  Hey, I got an A- in my English class!  And I even almost read one of the books!  Brought my GPA to an even 3.0.  I'm a great.  Whattado, whattado.  Also, sex might happen!  If there's fifty people, that's like twenty six girls!  Bingo bango!  How wonderful and crap.  Also, what else.  Let's see.  I talked about the important issues of the day.  I've made some funny bones.  A third thing, one would imagine.  If I make that comedy comes in threes, but I only gave you two joke three times, then it justifies itself.  How about that.  Anyway, huh?  I think McDonalds purposely doesn't pay its workers enough, so they'll go on strike, and it'll make the news.  Because, when McDonalds people go on strike, sure, there's a part of me that sympathizes with them and supports them.  But, there's another part of me that goes, Hey, I like McDonalds.  I should get some.
Also, you could get a double cheeseburger for a dollar.  That's three meals a day for three dollars.  What's the problem.  I've always thought there should be more people who order food, and just not pay.  Hey, you already prepared it, just give it to me.  Makes sense to me.         
Anyway.  Another entry in the books.  Almost.  What else and shit.  It's Saturday.  That's great.  What else.  God knows I need to listen to Sublime more often.  Maybe mix in some Reel Big Fish.  You know, for variety.  And crap.  See ya later.

-11:05 A.M. 


... Weird Al's Running With Scissors album

- The next day


Thursday, May 14, 2015

Titleholics... Anonymous?  Can We Get a Better Word For That?

Hey, folks.  It's your friend, me.  I looked up other Michael Kornblums on Facebook, and I was disgusted.  Wha, that's not what a Michael Kornblum is!  You're way off!  That's an interesting story.  Is it time to close up the entry yet?  Hmm?  No, okay.  What else I got going.  Probably sign up for dorm this weekend, unless I change my mind.  It should be great.  Wha?  Huh?  Zuh?  You know, that sort of thing.  I got a 9 minus in my Yoga midterm, as far  as I can tell.  The grade was just a couple of squiggles.  Sorta like a Rorschach test.  I guess not knowing how I did is very Namaste of the whole thing.  Anyway, wha huh zuh?  I still have 6 rock memoirs to order from amazon.  That'll be good transition from home to dorm.  Read half before dorming, half once I get there, should put me in a rock 'n roll state of mind.  And every evening before I go to bed listen to my track and field playlist.  That'll put me in the right state of mind.  Anyway.  Let's get entrying with it.  That's how I feel.  I found a rubber band on my way to the bus.  Now I'm wearing it around my wrist.  You know, for style.  Whatta joke.  What else.  I don't know.  All I do know is that rubber bands are the epitome of fashion. I'm rubber, you're glue...  That's not even remotely correct.  You're not made of rubber and I sure as Hell ain't glue.  Get your facts straight.  I guess if Mr. Fantastic is saying that to The Ramones as a way of identifying them through the title of one of their songs, I guess it makes sense.  But that's a very specific set of circumstances.  That'll rarely come up.
    Ha, I made you read crap.  Whatta sucker.  Maybe He's saying, "I'm Rubber, Your glue... lets combine it up."  Or not.  Most likely not.  Hanyways.  6 credits this summer.  I'm killin it!  And, forget lunch buddies.  I can possibly make Dinner Buddies.  The ultimate buddies there is.  That's how I feel.  Yep.  What else and crap.  I sure hope my dorm bed is North --> South.  I'm sick off this West --> East bullshit.  It's played out.  Anything but that.  Anything but that.  I still need to write this crap, I guess.  That how that goes.  Calories.  Cal-El.  I'd trust and support a Diet Superman.  Why not.  Aughtta at least finish this paragraph before class.  Probably skip the pizza today, I've got leftover taco.   Also, I want to go home.  Also, get out of my house!  Also, where am I.  Right, right.  Fruck it, if I want pizza I'm gonna get pizza.  A whole cheeze pizza, all for myself!  Keep the change you dirty animal!  What else and crap.  I need a drink.  Being sober is played out.  That's how I feel.  Man, I keep listening to my albums I made over the past year.  I'm a great.  Plus Crazysheet?  Minus my height?  Divided by Pi?  26.39990666.  No I'm not gonna show my work!  That's for rubes.  Also, I originally spelled it as Pie.  Because I'm a great.  Gotta do something.  Coca Cola Zero. You're the Zero!  Where does cola get off insulting me.  Stupid soft drinks, always trying to get my goat.
    Now I'm in lunch.  Because why not.  A man's got to enjoy his lunch.  I deserve a break today.  Snap into a Slim Jim.  Messin' With Sasquatch.  Gotta write more shit to justify my lunch.  I'm sick and tired of having to justify my lunch.  Just leave it alone!  Beer tonight.  Beer reminds me of socializing.  However, as the scraping subject who was ruled by fear once told Elliott Smith, "Whiskey Works Better Than Beer," and I believe him.  Elliott Smith's implicit endorsement of the validity of the statement it all I need.  Also, "All You Need" by Sublime.  Who wouldn't want to be friends with me.  I don't know.  Gotta at least finish this paragraph for lunch.  Teacher gave us possible exam questions, making it substantially easier to prepare for test.  Also, what else.  Sick of this West --> East bullshit.  Oh, Run by Epik High.  That's some Asian song a friend made me listen to once while high back in 2008.   How could I forget.  Anyway, I'm home now, since the Epik High reference.  Hey, what the what.  It's me.  Writin' shit.  Can you believe it?  Fruck.  What else and crap.  That's great, just great.  I think I'll see the Morgan Freeman movie tomorrow.  I'm a little afraid he might die halfway through the movie, he's pretty old.  I have no experience with elderly people.  Like, over 67, let's say.  My parents are both 67.  So, I guess, wait a few years, and it'll happen for me.  Summer of 67, summer of love.  That's a reference Morgan Freeman might know.  Free love, right?  This guy's on the ball.  What guy.  And What Ball?
I don't know, you figure it out.  Genuinely, Last Vegas is in the top 10 of the 100 or so movies I've seen in the past few years.  It's just stress free.  Fun.  Good times.  That, and Dumb & Dumber To.  Hey, I remember being at someone's front door!  Memories that'll last a life time.  Where am I.  Right, right.  Sometimes I forget the name of my maternal grandfather, his name was Ben, and I sometimes think it's Abe.  I have to assume because Abe is Grandfather Simpson's name.  Because I'm stupid.  I read somewhere that corn is mostly indigenous to America.  Where'd my ancestors get Korn from?  It's a mystery.  Anyway, what else.  Not everything in life has to make sense.  Like, I'm still trying to figure out what ball.  Still stuck on that.  Gotta move on.  What else.  Crap and shit.  Whateverandshit.  Dorming can't be bad.  At worst, it'll be mediocre.  I'll have my own private room, so even if I don't make friends, I'll have a vacation from my parents.  Sign me up for that shiz. 
    Anyway, Hi!  What's goin on in this paragraph, we'll see.  One would imagine.  Yeesh.  Halfway through May.  My iTunes library deleted itself.  Where does it get off.  I'll tell you what songs should be available to me, thanks.   You're a computer program, I don't need your opinion.  This is just like the time Doom deleted my hard drive.  I miss floppy discs.  I doubt I'll ever see one of those again.  Also, floppy discs.  Sounds funny.  And remotely inappropriate.  Yeesh.  What else and crap.  I'll see ya.

-2:53 P.M.


Tuesday, May 12, 2015                      

No More Spring!

    It's too warm.  Where does the weather get off, am I right?  Probably.  I have about a 60% track record of being right.  I'll take those odds any day of the week.  Except for Monday and Wednesday.  Monday and Wednesday are dead to me.  Yeesh.  School entry.  Most likely the last one of this semester.  As far as I'm concerned, the weather sold out.  Winter was great, but what's with this Spring crap?  Clearly just pandering to Hipster Brooklyn Coffee Tofu Seaweed.  I don't like it.  Don't like it one bit.  I'm sweating like a mother fucker.  That's no fun.  So I got presentation in Yoga, final in English on Thursday, then it's time to party like it's 1999.  I don't get that expression.  People in 1999 weren't that great partiers.  Not from my experience.  People from 1999 were always in AOL chatrooms full of my sixth grade friends.  I'm pretty sure that was a universal experience of what we all went through at the turn of the century.  Who knows for sure, though.  Anyway.  Let's school it up.  I'm already here, that was the hard part.  Man.  Where am I.
    Right, right.  Whassup.  Stupid living at home.  Dorming has got to be better, right?  Right?  Stupid website, never responding to me.  What else.  Gotta do something.  What nonsense.  What else.  I wanna write this entry.  Stop standing in my way!  I wanna go home!  That's how that goes!  What else!  Meh.  If I was giving a mediocre review of methamphetamine, I'd title it, "Meh-th."  How about that.  I'm fucking brilliant.  I'm the bee's gee's.  BG is a pretty good chord progression.  I got no problem with BG.  Is AF better?  Probably.  What else is goin' on.  I don't know my yoga moves.  Probably stressed out about that.  Oh well.  When is Paul Blart: Attack of the Blarts coming out on DVD.  I can't wait, personally.  I have a phantom headache.  I have the symptoms of a head ache except for my head aching.  Oop, there it goes.  I spoke too soon, I guess.  Whatta crap.  I wonder if Bill Gates gets royalties from people living in gated communities, or the revenue from The Gate, the movie, or Paul Blart: Microblart.  Blart instead of soft.  We've all been there, am I right?  Right?  Most likely I am-- 60% track record.  What if I had to make a playlist for a track meeting.  A song from The Get Up Kids, Four Minute Mile album, obviously.  Run Away by Weezer, or Runaways by The Killers, or Runaway by Linkin Park.  Hell, let's include all of them.  That's four songs.  Wouldn't Momma Be Proud? by Elliott Smith, it includes the lyric, Kid, You're on the right track.  A Run-DMC song,  Now we got six.  I think there's a Ben Kweller song called Run or Running or something of that nature.  Seven songs now.
    Yep.  That's what you came here to read.  No backsies!  The Beatles All You Need Is Run.  Eight songs.  Weezer's Run Over By a Truck, back to real songs.  Yeh.  What else is crappening.  I wrote the Hell out of my final paper in half an hour.  because I'm a hero.  Good for me and stuff.  Bruce Springsteen's Born To Run.  That's what, nine real ones?  Gotta think of one more.  I can't let you down, not now, not now that I'm so close to accomplishing something.  Run For Your Life?  That's a song, right? I wanna say by Black Sabbath or Iron Maiden.  Wait, no.  Run For The Hills.  Let's see who did it... ... Iron Maiden.  I'm a genius!  Kneel before Zod!  How can you have your Zod before you've had your kneel.  Cod before your meal.  Peapods.  Matzo.  'Za.  If I ever meet someone who calls pizza, "Za," I'm gonna punch them in the mouth.  Deal before Nod.  That's about a heroin addict who deals to support his habit.  It's heroin addictioning, you wouldn't understand.
    I don't understand.  The closest to doing heroin I've come is not doing heroin.  That sums that up.  But, yeah, I've had that drug that puts me to sleep within 5 seconds before my ECT treatment, and to be honest, it was pretty great.  I haven't done it in two years, though.  Also, there was that time I smoked that heroin.  Eh.  It's possible I've smoked it by accident.  Who knows.  Not I.  Within.  Heroin.  Close enough.  What else and Crap.  Running Out of Time.  Hot Hot Heat.  Anyway hi, it's lunch.  I knew I'd have lunch today!  I'm a genie us.  What would I wish for if I had three wishes.  No wishing for unlimited wishes, that's played out and no respectable genie would allow that.  I want a million wishes!  Then he punches you in the mouth and says, Get real.  I'm docking you one wish for that crap.  I want unlimited wishes!  How about this, we'll just say you wished to stop being such the asshole that you are and move on with our lives.  If I did have three wishes, though?  Probably ask for more songs to play at a track meeting, that's first of all.  I don't know.  Whatever.  What else and crap.  Also, turns out my English final is next week, so it's one more class session than what I thought, but it's more time to think about studying.  I gotta make progress with my life, and I'm not sure dorming is the answer.  to be honest, I forgot the question.  Probably something about this delicious 'Za.  I don't know.
    At least dorming is a answer.  Better than nothing.  Can I use my fifty-fifty?  Let's check with the judges.  Also, where am I.  School, right, right.  If I lived in a cafeteria I'd be home by now.  If I was home right now I'd go to sleep.  If I was a sleep, I'd dream about being in a cafeteria.  Such is life, one would imagine.  Yeesh.  Pre-yoga now.  Sweatin' bullets.  Pumped Up Kicks.  Outrun my gun.  Anyway, huh?  What else.  Either along the lines of running songs or a new topic.  I don't know why we'd stop talking about the topic of the year, track and field songs, but I guess it's unfortunately a real possibility.  Can't go wrong with listing songs.  That's entertainment at it's finest.  Yeesh.  What else.  I don't know.  Gotta finish this entry and crap.  What else.  I think the early class is ending an hour early.  WhattamIsupposedtodo.  I'm not good in the clutch.  Damn.  Okay they're not ending.  Fine by me.  I might be playing my music as background for our Yoga-izing.  Probably not, but I did prepare two 20 minute playlists, one of acoustic songs, one of electric songs.  And another one of Running Songs.  It's a story that must be told.  In playlist form.  The Santa guy was at the Pizza Kiosk, but as one of the servers.  You're wasting this guys best attributes!  Put him where he belongs you jerks!  Some people, am I right.  Some people.  Yes, go on, some people what?  Huh?  Wha?  Eh?  Get off my case.  I shoulda brought a sweat rag with me.  Always bring a sweat rag!  That's rule one of everything.  see ya later.

-1:05 P.M.   


Friday, May 8, 2015                      

One Title To Rule Them All

    Hey guys and other things!  I wanna say girls.  Pretty sure I've opened up an entry that way before.  Oh well, don't mess with perfection.  Anyway, Hi!  What else is going on.  Still on the fence about dorming.  I'm not sick but I'm not well, in other words.  One reason I'm a little hesitant is because a girl was giving some sort of presentation in English class, using the computer, and I saw her screen name was blahblahblahwhatever95.  Ninety Five?  You're fuckin' young.  And that makes her like a sophomore or junior!  I don't wanna be a creep.  I also don't want to not have sex.  So you can see the predicament I'm in.  I mean, if it's all about friendship, it's not so bad.  I can be like a Funzo that creates Fun wherever he goes, even though he's a bit older.  They'll go, Look, There's Funzo!  What Fun Does He Have In Store For Us!!  What was I talking about.  I forget.  Something about being hesitant to take advantage of young ladies.  I mean, being in class with them, I don't really feel like there's much of a social difference.  When they were kids, there was a war in Iraq.  When I was a kid, there was a war in Iraq.  We've got so much in common.  They've never played Sega Genesis, though.  Why, I bet they have no idea who Sonic The Hedgehog really is.  What does sound have to do with hedgehoging.  I don't get it one bit.  Also, let's be clear.  The first Iraq war was in 1991.  I was two years old.  I don't remember it that well.  The first politics news I clearly remember was Monica Lewinsky.  And, as my fifth grade self, thinking, Break me off a piece of that!  Not really.  I can almost remember the 1996 election, because I can remember watching the Simpsons Halloween episode where they spoof it when it was new.  Is anyone listening to me? 
    I'll regale them with stores about Dolly, the cloned sheep.  About how there was a group of women called The Spice Girls who captured the public's imagination.  About how a Cuban kid found his way to America, and then back to Cuba again.  I could choose to dorm with graduate students.  But I don't wanna be associated with those creeps.  What are they doing in a college dorm?  Makes no sense.  I mean, to be honest, I've taken four or five classes over the last year.  Socially, I feel 100% comfortable with these kids, probably because I haven't grown socially since I was nineteen.    Also, because I'm short.  Don't know exactly how that effects the equation, but it's safe to assume it does.  Also, I was gonna check off, on the dorm form, that I want to dorm near Freshman, because I figured they would be more desperate for friends.  But, I figured, with my age, that's still creepy, even if I wanted it for a reasonable cause.  So, I ain't checkin' off shit.  Playin' a little game of Dorm Roulette.  Which is where you eat fried chicken in the dorm.  Also, de-activate my Facebook.  I don't need these jerks to know I have no friends.  Better to be silent and thought a fool than to open one's mouth and remove all doubt.  Apply that to the internet, and it basically means, Stay off the internet.  I'm all about being foolish, though.  Maybe it's high time we change that.  Also, where am I.  Home, right, right.  That's usually how it goes. 
    Halibut that.  Did you know in Alaska, they use all of the Alaskan.  And they have forty different words for forty.  Forty different words for snow, psh.  We have unlimited words for different numbers.  Unlimited.  Bet you feel pretty foolish now, Alaska, don't you?  Mike Gravel.  What a loser.  What else and crap.  Lunch when this shit is done.  That's great.  I wonder how great lunch will be in Dorm.  Probably pretty great.  And I can force people to Lunch with me, otherwise I'll human centipede them.  I have the technology.  See, college is all about lunch.  Listen up, I've done this once or twice.  Why isn't there a Chipotle on campus.  What are they, idiots?  Anyway, let's move on.  What else and crap.  What else and crap.  I don't get what the big deal is with Monica Lewinsky.  All presidents have a history of sleeping with their slaves.  Ain't nothin' new there.  Also, I'm lying like Hell on my dorm application.  Quiet or out going?  Outgoing!  Morning or night person?  Night Person!  Hey, dress for the job you want, no the job you have.  I heard that somewhere in a thing.  What else and crap.  They oughtta be clear, on the form, where it asks if you smoke or don't smoke.  Cigarettes or marijuana, you idiots.  Nobody know what you mean! Nobody!  Either way, I'm checkin' off not smoke, because I'm gonna use the opportunity to try to quit cigarettes, and it's for the best if I don't smoke marijuana.
    See, I'm a hero by taking summer dorming.  Quitting cigarettes?  We're saving money.  Or, at the very least, I can buy cartons for underage kids and make a nice profit.  Going to jail doesn't scare me.  I've been to hospital.  Either way, I'm a hero.  That's what I want you to take away from this.  The kid who I exchanged band camp profiles with a few days ago, his band is called, Last Great Hero.  I listened to a couple of songs?  Hero?  Hardly.  Great?  No way.  Last?  I sure hope not.  Unless if it's the other definition of Last.  In that case, I sure hope so. His band name is trippin' me up!  Wha, that's not supposed to happen!  Anyway, dorming.  Gotta do something.  That's what I've been led to believe.  Shit, I have some crap to do this weekend.  Write four pages of final paper.  Figure out how to do warrior poses, history for all the poses in Yoga, because I figured out I can kill a bunch of time talking about the history of the poses, instead of actually doing them, because I'm a genius.  Figure out what songs to use.  My first instinct was El Scorcho by Weezer, because he has a line in it, "Press Table," and Table is a Yoga pose.  And I would figure out other songs that mention yoga poses.  I think he meant press table, like, a table for the press.  Ha!  What a rube!  Pink Triangle for Triangle Pose.  Falling For You for Taking a Step Back.  Butterfly for Downward Dog.  It turns out I'm just gonna play the second half of Pinkerton.  Either way, I'm a hero.  Yep.  Whattado, whattado.  Got three weeks to do crap before dorm.  You know, like start second guessing whether I should dorm.  I figure that should take up a nice chunk of time. See ya later.

-11:19 A.M. 


Thursday, May 7, 2015                      

You Titlin' To Me?

    Whassup party people.  here with another sublime school entry.  Is it going to be great?  I don't know.  Probably.  There's a decent chance, I guess.  What else.  Should be good.  What else and crap.  I'm kind of in no-man's-land, in terms of my life.  Dorming, assuming I do, would instigate a whole new chapter of my life, probably, or something like that.  And, just like Vanessa Angel, I'm a fan of new beginnings.  But what am I supposed to do before then?  I got nothin' goin' on!  Yeesh.  Crap and shit.  That's about it.  What else and crap.  It's the penultimate day of classes for spring term.  I wrote a bunch of crazysheet.  Life well spent!  Anyway, jeez.  What's in the news.  I don't know, I stopped watching T.V.  I got better things to do.  Like walk in a circle and recite the alphabet ad nausem.  It'll pay ff one day, you'll see.  I need to decide how honest to be with party people about my illness.  Probably just tell them, if I have to say anything, it's about depression and/or anxiety.  They don't need to know anything else.  Great.  Depression, huh?  Well, I guess you'll be the life of the party!  Yeah I will you no-good sarcastic bastard.  We'll see who the real party person is.  None of this is going to happen.  I'm gonna have an anxiety attack the week before dorming starts and decide to stay home.  Stupid anxiety attacks.  Doesn't anxiety know I've got bigger fish to fry?  Like filet of sole.  I got filet of soul, but I'm not a Filet of soldier.  It's Indie Rock music, you wouldn't understand.
    Yep indeed.  What crapdom.  What else.
  Here, There Were Three sentences I cannot read at all   Need contact lenses, either way.  That's good.  I should trick people in thinking I'm an R.A.  I don't know why.  I wish I was blind.  Blind people got it easy.  Get someone to see for them, whatta scam.  Yeesh.  Gotta figure out before I make a decision.  And figuring shit out is my greatest weakness, in general.  Too bad, I guess.  We'll see.  I feel more comfortable crapping at Queens College than I do at home.  If that isn't a sign I should dorm, I don't know what is.  Besides the No Right Dorm on Red.  That's a pretty straight forward sign.  Seventy five days and nights.  that's a buncha time.  Whattadoo, whattado.  If I do dorm, I would probably take a break from crazysheet, and probably writing music.  Just time to relax without all this crap.  Unlees if I meet fellow musician at Dorm and jam with them.  That's one of my dorm fantasies.  Who knows.  Gotta get my shit together.  One would imagine and crap.  Still here, writin' bullshit.  I've gained twenty pounds over the last half year.  That kinda sucks.  Oh well, you win some, you lose some. The point is, don't matter whether you win or lose, the law of averages dictate that your next go around will even yourself out.  That's what I take away from that colloquialism.  Because being stupid is what I'm all about.  Hey, it turns out I have class next Thursday, too.  And a final!  No fair.  Uh-oh.  Whatta crapdom.
    Anyway, class is over.  I can do this.  Relate to other people.  Get myself out of my head a little bit.  Why not.  I'm an adult.  More or less, one would imagine.  Anyway, it's time to poke more holes in the logic of Eminem songs.  Man does he like letting us know who he is.  In my life, at least, he was the first music I would listen to where I actually felt I could relate to the songs.  Something lit up, sorta.  I guess, simply, he was my first favorite music artist, but it's more than that.  he made music relatable to me.  And, if he's reading this, I hope you know I took all your posters off the wall!  Great, whatever.  Him, and Mystikal.  Hey, I want girls to shake their asses, too!  We have so much in common!  Yeesh.  Where was I.  It would have been interesting if Stan sent a letter to Eminem saying, You better lose yourself man, in the music, the moment, you own it, never let it go.  They we'd have a lawsuit on our hands.  I'm goin' through this pizza fast.  I'm gonna head home after this paragraph.  Man.  A life without crazysheet.  I gotta grow up some day, why not make that someday in 3 and a half weeks?  Man, I can't stop thinking about all the ways I can trick people into being my friend.  Every person is unique, and it takes a particular scheme to gain each person's friendship.  I gotta think about what chant to do on opening day.  "Let's-Have-Fun!"  Pretty simple and straightforward, that's the way to go when it comes to chants.  "Let's-Go-Mets!  I Mean, Let's-Go-Meet-Each-Other!"
    Where was I.  Oh, right, school.  Where am I.  Home.  Great.  Gotta keep you updated on the deetz.  So whassup.  Why aren't I in a fantasy baseball league.  I want to be in a fantasy baseball league.  Too late for that, now.  It's gotta be on my bucket list, or something, though?  Would have to get started several months in advance, but that's okay.  I remember I used to like keeper leagues, having won my keeper league three years in a row.  But now, the idea of a keeper league nauseates me.  Sure, you can pick right the first year, and you'll look smart.  Maybe the next year, the success carries over.  But, sooner or later, your #1 picks won't be playing like #1's and someone else's will.  The probability that your guys will be great, year after year, is pretty low.  Don't get me started.  I have a lot of strong opinions.  Mostly about fantasy baseball, but still, good to have a mind of things.  Also, Head to Head?  Whatever, I could care less.  Head to Head is the G rated version of the scene in Requiem For a Dream.  Yup.  Head to head is what they call it in fantasy sports where each week, your team faces off against one other team, and you gain points based on which statistics you are better than him.  The alternate way is rotisserie which is where you eat fried chicken.  Glad I could clear things up for you.  Colonial Sanders.  Sherman.  40 acres and a mule. I wish I had 40 acres and a mule.  I'd be infinitely higher up the economic food chain if only I had 40 acres and a mule.  I had a science teacher is middle school named Dr. Arce.  That's where I got the 4 on a test.  I can only imagine the frustration where the Microsoft Paperclip Guy asks her for the ten thousandth time, "Did you mean to say Dr. Acre?"  Which is particularly upsetting, because, logically, he should have picked up by now she doesn't.  Personally, I think he's saying it just to be a sarcastic, condescending, dick.  A sarcastic dick.  That's when you get hard ironically.  Yep.
    Last paragraph, I guess.  Whatever.  I gotta take a test in English.  Out of the three books I need to have read, I've read none of them.  On the midterm, she lulled us into a sense of lullability by having a sub, who said we could cheat.  Now, she's gonna be there, and I'm ill prepared!  It's her fault!  How was I supposed to know I had to do the assignments.  I should just get up thirty seconds in, dust off my hands, and hand in a blue book that just says, "Why Not?"  and then at the bottom, "A' Please, Like From Internet?"  It's not a terrible plan.  Wait, no.  Yes it is.  I sometimes get, "not terrible" and, "terrible," confused.  Primarily in this paragraph, but yeah.  Hey, another entry in the book.  And another day closer to potential Dormitorying.  Dorito Maury Ing.  That's the kind of clever quips I'll be offering anyone who dare set foot in my common room.  I saw a picture of a common room and it seemed kind of small.  That won't do, that won't do at all.  Just gonna have to move all the furniture into the hallway.  It's win/win/win.  I should cover my entire bed room walls with cork board.  And they all say, All Cork Board and No Play Makes... Whatever wanna hear some quips?  In England, they use quips as currency.  True story.  Except for the part about it being true.  It's not really much of a story, either, I guess.  That how that go.  Oh well, it's gonna be just like when I was in NYU!  We'll go watch Superbad and another reference or two, one would imagine.  I think I saw Superbad with my high school friends, actually.  It's hard to remember specifics; I was high.  I remember that specific.  The greatest specific that could be specific.  See ya later and crap.

-3:03 P.M.         



Tuesday, May 5, 2015                      

No Title Is Good Title!

    Hello Cinco De Mayo fans.  We're one five short of any phone number referenced in film or T.V.  How fascinating.  One would imagine.  So, I talked to my therapist about dorming over the summer.  She was enthusiastically for it, while both my parents have reservations about me making reservations for the dorm while listening to, "Reservations," by Wilco on a loop.  But, yeah, there's a good chance it might actually happen.  Gotta do something.  And my opportunities for sex would increase exponentially!  Anyway.  It's not gonna be easy.  It'll be on me to bring the party.  It's possible.  I guess.  Yeesh.  Today is class entry.  How wonderful.  Dial M For Murder.  I bet after that movie, there was an epidemic of people dialing, "M," to talk to the movie, overloading the control board.  Control Board.  That's a decent guess as to how telephones worked fifty year ago. Just a bunch of plugging and unplugging.  That how that go.  "Yes, is this M?  I'd like to speak to murder, please."  WWhat an idiot.  When everyones moving in on move in day, I'm gonna try to start a chant of, 'Let's-Be-Friends!  Let's-Be-Friends!" and if that doesn't work, maybe the wave.  "Let's-Be-Friends," non-stop.  That's what Nonstop was about.  The never ending semi sarcastic search for friends.  Anyway.  Do I wanna be a Jay Baruchel, a Seth Rogen, or an Other guy.  All of the above, please!  And have sex with Rachel while Lizzy watches.  Oh, man.
    Anyway, what else and crap.  I'm gonna bring the party.  I'll be a hero.  They'll build a statue.  You know, to commemorate me.  Sure, they'll say it's for Grover Cleveland, but everyone whose in the loop would know.  I had a dream I found an older generation iPod on my walk.  And I was like, Oh, that's cool, let's see what songs they got.  Fascinating.  I just fell asleep again.  If you dream you're talking about a dream, you're actually, I don't know, who cares.  I just fell asleep deeper.  I'm Inceptioning myself, or something.  I tried watching that once and it made absolutely no sense to me.  Anyway.  I'm twenty seven in a few months!  You know, the age to dorm in college?  Get with it!  It's bad, though.  Because in my mind dorming would be like taking a break from much of my symptoms.  And even if that is true, they'll still be there when I get back.  You know what they say, Put Off To Tomorrow What You Don't Wanna Do Today.  Anyway, what if I'm shy and awkward.  No way that happens.  I'm a party machine.  They based The Terminator on me, back when the script was still about a Party Robot.  Anyway, if all else fails, alcohol.  The Social Lubricant!  Gotta buy like three 12 packs of beer on opening day, and they'll flock like flies to shit.  I'm a genius!  Opening Day.  Hopefully I win my first ten dorm games.  Then lose a bunch.  Just like my baseball heroes.  I'd be playing My Name Is Jonas on Guitar Hero and tear my ACL.
    Anyway, Lunch To The Future.  I think I should be more comfortable socializing than the last time I dormed based on how I'm so used to entertaining the voices in y head.  I knew dementia would pay off eventually!  But, I mean, really.  A decent chance I'll have sex?  Holy Moses watta probability!  I traded bandcamp pages with the guy sitting next to me in English.  Great minds sit alike, it turns out.  Yeesh.  Gotta pace myself eating before Yoga.  Hey, Sex Might Happen.  Great Grandfather of Gardenias!  And we have private rooms!  People must be fucking like bunnies!  I remember in Mario 64, in-between worlds, I think only one chance ever per cartridge,  you have to try to capture a bunny.  I never got him, and lost my chance.  I still won the game, eventually, but I can't help but wonder how I might have lost out by not catching that damn bunny.  That may have been a dream I had twelve years ago.  Playing Mario 64 was a dream, the first console game to be played in 3-D.  I never heard of such a thing!  What else and crap.  I accidentally went to the bathroom while a classmate was already there.  So, we were walking back together, and I, of course, started walking at 1/8th the speed.  I had to.  It may have confused him, possibly, but I had no choice.  Anyway, huh?  What else and crap.  That's just guy-code-etiquette.  And I'm a guy who like code.  The etiquette kind.  That's me.  Yeesh.   
    Pre-Yoga now, for two paragraphs.  Stupid voices.  Now That's Entertainment.  Enter taint ment.  Look at him go!  Yeesh and what else.  One more week of clizzass, or so I have been led to believe.  Nine year\s almost.  Nine years since my Freshman year.  And my mind set is more or less exactly the same.  I'll have a ton of friends!  I'll make wondrous progress with my music and comedy!  I'll do drugs!  Well, one of those came true.  Can't complain about that.  I'm not doin' drugs this time around, though.  Alcohol, sure.  But other stuff?  I know my limits.  I also know my attributes.  5'2 145 pounds.  There was another guy my height at the pizza kiosk.  He's old and bald, though.  I feel like you can almost get away with being short if you're youthful and vibrant.  Old an bald?  What an asshole, I'm assuming.  If he wasn't an asshole, why did he choose to be short and middle aged?  He's making people look down on him, literally, for some sick pleasure.  He disgusts me.  Where does he get off?  Probably lower than most people.  Stupid height tawk.  Life is weird, one would imagine.  I don't know what else.  Nobody cares.  I don't care.  You sure don't.  I don't make the rules.  I don't break the rules.  I am the rules.  I used to have a Ben Kweller song on my iTunes called, "The Tules."  Looking back, I realize it probably was a misspelling.  For years, though, I just figured, there's a song called The Tules.  Which is what the band Tool called themselves originally, I'm told.
    Last paragraphizzle.  Yup.  What else and crap.  Whattado, whattado.  Life is full of choices.  Choose right, you're the bees knees.  Chose wrong, Go Directly To Jail, Do Not Pass Two Hundred Dollars.  Monopoly is weird.  You can just randomly go to jail.  But I didn't do anything.  C'mon, you know what you did.  You rolled the dice.  If that doesn't implicate you, I don't know what does.  Also, I don't know what does.  Yeesharoni.  I smelt macaroni last night for no apparent reason.  I know when you're having a heart attack, you smell toast.  So I just figure, if I'm smelling macaroni I have, I don't know, Gonorrhea.  I don't make the rules.  And I don't break the rules.  Who doesn't play with Free Parking Money.  Who are these animals.  He's saying what we're all thinking!  Also, He Is Me!  Thanks for the assist, me!  I make a good team... Yeesh, what else.  Whattado.  Hey, wanna climb the stairs with me?  That's a fun dorm activity.  "Let's be friends to the end!  Hi-di-ho!"  Whose that, Flanders?  NO you idiot.  Get out of my common room with that bullshit.  It would be weird if Rod and Todd were my roommates.  Nobody wants that.  Cause they're too young.  Don't belong in college.  They're only too young as I am too old.  Wha?  Huh?  Get out of my common room!  I need to figure this stuff out before I decide 100% what to do.  Would my age be a factor?  I don't know.  I'm in my mid twenties, which is practically early twenties, which is what on all your fake ID.s Makes sense to me.  See ya later.

5:45:44 P.M. 



Friday, May 1, 2015                      

Sticks & Stones May Break My Bones, But Titles Can Never Hurt Me

    Can sticks really break your bones?  Stones, sure, if they're boulderish.  But sticks?  Man are your bones brittle.  Anyway, new month.  Alternating it back to white on black.  The orig.  Inal.  That's Weird Al's album where he parodies the songs he grew up with.  The Origin Al.  Make it happen!  It's like a triple entendre.  That's the most entendre I've ever heard of.  Anyway.  Put out a new album of unreleased songs, from last Summer to Fall.  They're mostly 2/3rds good.  Each song is almost decent, but has one thing going against it.  Whether it's the lyrics, the singing, whatever.  That's what Greatest Hits albums are for.  For releasing your shitty songs with the justification that it's not a real album.  I think Greatest Hits albums are for your greatest hits.  Ha!  What a rube!  Anyway, I meant to say unreleased songs album.  That's a thing, too.  Everybody does it.  Like a, "Best Of," The Crap That Got Left Over.  Why am I still talking about this.  I lost interest two paragraphs ago.  HowOldRobot.  Pssh.  I'm old enough not to listen to robots.  They can't be trusted.  Have you seen Short Circuit?  First it's guessing our age, then it's the right to vote.  Greatest Hits album.  You know, those three songs that one person commented positively on?  I should release a Greatest Hits album with just one track, 0:00 long, entitled, "Pbltttt."  You know, short for the Professional Bowling ltttt.  Youtube sent me an e-mail saying, "Way To Go, Michael, your video is now on youtube!"  That's the most positive feedback I've gotten, ever.
    Youtube's on the ball.  They get it.  May, huh?  Never woulda guessed.  I'm gonna see The Avenue Germans either today or tomorrow.  Because I like fun.  Anyway, huh the huh?  Wha?  Jelly beans?  I've never liked jelly beans.  I never liked jelly, and I didn't use to like beans.  A double negative makes a positive.  Logically, you should like jelly beans.  Logically you're stupid.  I'm stupid, I mean.  Who ever said that italicization is stupid.  And it was me.  If I remember correctly.  Anyway huh?  Wha the what.  Let's entry it up.  Maybe hi.  That'll get me started.  What's up.  Hello there.  That's a good way to get it started.  Salutations!  Welcome.  EH.  Yeesh.  I gotta have things to say, right?  I've had things to say for a good year and ahalf.  That's half this incarnation of crazysheet!  50% decent.  I'll take those odds.  Same odds Two Face gives you.  And he's a reputable person to aspire to duplicate.  I feel bad for Two Face in the Christopher Nolan incarnation.  He was bad for five minutes.  Never got to do anything.  I forget how he died.  In my mind, it's basically just Batman tackling him, and then he dies when he hits the ground.  Something like that happened.  Anyway. I discovered summer housing, from June to mid August, around 75 days, is only 2,000 dollars.  That's a fraction of what I get from Social Security!  There's a good 25-30% chance I can convince my parents to let me do it.  I'm twenty six.  I need to get out of my parents house, even if it's only for two and a half months.  It would be incalculably good for me.  Just like how death is incalculably bad for the younger version of me.
I generally get 400$ in birthday and Chanukah money, combined from my parents and uncle/aunt.  I still have 200$ left over from last year.  This year, another $400.  200$ saved from not metrocarding it up back and forth.  It's a bargain, it is!  I've heard there's not much going on in the dorms, but I can change that.  I'll take it upon me that it's my responsibility to turn it into party central.  Pretty straightforward.  Just talk to everybody all the time.  I can do it under the cover of sharing my music.  Hand them a paper with the link to my music, then also give my room number, saying to stop by day or night, and we'll party.  Not cocaine party, as it is called in general lexicon.  You know, alcoholic party.  Everybody can get behind that.  Then, I'll be famous for starting the party in the dorm, forever.  Michael was a hero, people will say.  I'm the Founding Father of Fun.  None of this is going to happen.  Shut up!  It ain't your face on Mount Funmore.  It's me, Nate Ruess, and two other references.  Stop by, day or night.  A thousand dollars for two and a half months of potential fun.  I'll take those odds.  Better than what Two Face is gonna give you, I can tell you that.  I'm getting way ahead of myself.  None of this will happen.  But you can imagine what it would be like if it did, am I right?  Wha, you don't care about the details of my personal life?  It doesn't effect you in the least?  You're just reading this with a blank stare on your face, waiting for it to end?  Cool.
Just for that, you're not invited to any of my alcohol parties.  You're cut off!  I have to decide which Seinfeld character I wanna be like.  Let's rule out Elaine.  George?  I can do that, it's fun, I don't know how many friends I'm gonna make.  Jerry?  It's a nice role to have, but you gotta build up that respect that people look at you as a Jerry, I couldn't do that quick enough for it to last two and a half months.  Kramer?  Harder than it looks.  Wha?  I have no idea how or why that riff happened.  That's college for ya!  Where was I.  Oh yeah, fantasizing about what will never happen.  That's actually a pretty big part of my life in general, always has been.  I remember in high school, pondering the duality of either living life dreaming, or in reality.  You can live hoping for the best, imagining the best, aspiring to the best.  Or you can learn to be happy with what you really have going on.  I think I always tend to go towards reality.  Or, at least, in theory.  In theory reality is better, to me.  Sometimes it's easier to live in dreamland, though.  No one wants to hear this crap.  They'll leave five minutes into my alcohol party!  Ugh.  This ain't gonna happen.  I did just have a fifteen minute potential-friend-gasm, though.  It was fun!  And hey, 10% chance it happens.  I'll take those odds.
    You can imagine what it'd be like if I did, though, right?  I sure can.  Surely.  Kansas.  Canned corn.  Candid Camera.  Wrath of Khan.  Star Trek.   That's a good way to make friends.  Just do Michael Scott for two and a half months.  Hah.  Seinfeld.  I remember that thing.  Whenever someone comes by to party, I should say, "Hello Newman."  Then they'll get that I'm Jerry right away, and act accordingly.  Anyway, huh.  I managed to eek out another entry.  Good for me, I guess.  See ya later.


-11:14 A.M.