Sidenotes, Continued.
2002-09-04 - 7:44 p.m.
This one will be short, in hopes that my day might follow suit.
The following is an except of me, commenting to myself, about a person that never existed. [It was about this time that I realized I don't have very much company in the summer.]
'She's so...out there'. *splays fingers out from temples*
'And don't get me wrong, some people are out there' *wiggly moose antlers* 'and that's all well and good'.
'Me, I prefer to think of myself as dloop'. *places fingertips at temples and moves them outwards horizontaly*
'Quite the opposite of boinka-boinka-boinka'. *moves hands to bounce fingertips off temples*
'Although, I suppose I am more boinka-boinka than I realize.'
Afternote: This is the type of mundane conversation that created the Sirs. [If indeed it can be called conversation.] The type of things that are funny at first glance, and disturbing towards the last.
Tip: Drinking and shaving. Don't mix.
Sixteen. That's how old I think I am. How old I must be. How old I seem to be. Interchangable. But I was born in 1983...and this is an issue. I shouldn't be dealing with this [lonely] depression junk at this age...I should be more mature than that, whatever that means. Mature. Maturity is being proud about taking a shyt without mommy's help. Maturity is going to work to make money and using the money to pay bills. Maturity is wearing a noose-bib on your neck and thinking that it looks good. Maturity is 'knowing what it's all about'. Maturity is bull[shit]. If maturity was all the good things in life; laughing, loving, learning...than we would be born as adults, and the rest of ourlifespan would be spent in a degeneration of that maturity. Right now, sitting at my computer in a college dorm [my college dorm] room...this is not the right enviroment to be dealing with this shyt. I thought today about leaving college, and couldn't give myself any good reason to stay, nor could I find a reason to go. All I discovered is that there ain't no 'mature' descisions.
Sidenote: Today, I may have come up with a cure for the common cold. And it was inside me all the time, or floating around me waiting to be inhaled.
Scared the shyt outta myself, reading old/dead emails. Couldn't even get through them in their entirety, such was the messed-upness. Psychological profile: obsessive, spontaneous, confused. Dangerous. Smack in the middle of schizoid, and on the border of -phrenia [it being a suburb thereof]. The scary part was, I'm not sure if this part of me has changed [for the better].
Revelation: The world [especially the downtown Boston area] is one continuous black and white photograph.
Sidenote: *looking at the tip of a ball-point pen a little to hard* There has to be a way to accurately observe something without measuring it in any way. Such is the secret that would make us gods.
Yesterday, I was accused of harassment, in a very under-the-table-and-off-the-record style. This would have been funnier, had the accuser not been completely serious. Fiend-of-a-roommate-of-a-friend shyt, and not really worth neuron-time/effort.
In Other News: I've seen XP seal itself up. The operating system turned on this guy (it just so happened to be guy-in-a-wheelchair) like a bad allergy inflamation. Wouldn't let his make new folders, open programmes, rename Anything...the only thing left to do was to reinstall the OS, because not even rebooting helped.
On quite a different note, I decided to stay at college. Today, I'll start my next 'Zine. This weekend, I plan to go into Boston with an arsenal of disposable black-and-white cameras. And maybe one of these days I'll start doing computer graphics again. Just gotta keep myselves busy until workstudy becomes an option.
