late-night pacing: a twidling of feet
2002-09-18 - 2:32 a.m.
The following are excerpts from Simon's latest misadventure into the publishing world, called "153 Ways Boredum Can Be Fun". Of course, like his other writings, I doubt it will ever be finished.
...#068 You may be bored, but she's bored too, and being bored is great when you have someone to be it with...
...#077 If people were never bored, they'd never be unbored, so enjoy it while it lasts...
...#104 Have you ever thought, that rain would stop falling, if there was not one single person watching? Just freeze there in the sky, waiting for someone to daze into space at it so that it could resume...
...#137 Becasue some days are best spent watching a bug crawl across the screen...
...#138 And hell, maybe the bug is bored too: bored of you watching it trying to escape, its effort without the fruit, in a biblical sorta sense...
Drunk on the 9th, stoned on the 10th, afterburn for the next week. And damage, permanent. Here I sit, smoking a clove and shooting coke down my oropharynx, thinking that these habits should have stopped {before [and stayed stopped]}.
When talking to myselves, I frequently use the word 'dynamic' to indicate the harmony of a situation. Driving down the highway for example, is a situation, and the dynamic is the feel that one gets by dodging the cars coming at you. Similarly, if one happens to be driving on the right side of the highway, this would be the feeling that one gets by coasting down the road. Things happen to change the dynamic (such as a car comming in from the ramp) and things happen to disturb the dynamic (such as a mack truck trying to squish into your lane), but it's something that exists between the parts, rather than describing the parts themselves. Just recently, I looked the word up in a dictionary, to find out what it really means.
For future reference, I started work on 'the mechliods' (models for animation) project on 11Sept.
Damn the hairless monkeys. Sometimes I wonder if hairless dogs think that they're more intelligent than hairy ones. They certainly seem to stick their noses up higher.
Sir#1: *sitting curled up in a ball on a desk*
Sir#2: *walking by* "Sir, mind if I join you?"
Sir#1: "Only if you sit down without the intention to change my mental facilities."
Sir#2: "I have no such intention, Sir, my mind is clear in regards to yours remaining stagnant." *curls up in the desk with Sir#1* "...but now that you mention it, maybe such an alteration would impossible for me not to take, for that is as the brain-bugs of thought-viruses work."
Sir#1: "Good loophope. Sit, loophole."
I figured out how I'm gonna die. Suffocating/drowning in my own mucous. The combination of clove cigarettes and coke will do such things to one's esophagous, that would land one in a sarcoughagous. And fermeldahyde is known to kill the lungs...embalmed alive, to death.
Heal my head Archibald, allow me to touch your robe...for I have sinned. See, I went to the library and got a book concerning extentialism. I was interested in it, having been called one myself, by some crack-pot way back when. I didn't read far into the unholy tome, not yet, and maybe not ever...the literal and logical stench combinesd were just too potent. A lesser brain might have gotten confused by now, concentrated on a few single lines and built their own view of this so-called philosophy. But not me...I discount all the lines before I make up my preception of this hesh-mesh of formal philosophies. The author couldn't even give a straight definition for the word 'existentialism', but dodged around the idea, and in so doing may have defined the core of exestentialism in it's whole[hole?]. "When it is a question of exestential concepts it always is a sign of surer tact to abstain from definitions, because one does not like to construe in the form of a definition which so easily makes something else and something different out of a thought which essentially must be understood in a different fashion and which one has understood in a different fashion and which one has understood differently and has loved in an entirely different way." -Soren Kierkegaard
Bullshit, all. Not that I don't agree with the basic principle, but you've got to define something...or you have developed nothing, or developed something with no name. Don't be callin' it "extentialism" if'n it's got no name.
Acording to my note, a laceration is "a wound or irregular tear of flesh" (Taber's Cyclopedic Medical Dictionary), but I had formerly thought of it as an accidental seperation of the dermis, in contrast to a sergical seperation of the dermis (incision). Sadly, as I just realized that there exist cuts which are neither surgical or accidental.
Imagine all of the possible colours of the world arranged into a cone, with the color wheel on the top. The pure hues, then are at the top (open end) of the cone, and as the point is aproached, the hue becomes lost in a sea of darkening greys. At the tip of the cone, then, is the pure black. Another cone is placed on top of the first, such that the hues align, but the greys on this cone slowly aproach pure white instead of black. What then, my friend, exists in the very center of this 3D colour map?
"And the long-forgotten fairy tale is in your eyes again, and I'm caught inside a dream world, where the colours are too intense..." -Magnetic Fields
