Ted Bundy, eat your heart out
2002-10-05 - 4:48 p.m.
I began, this afternoon, with a treatise on the rights of two-legged avians (because one-legged avians have no place in the avian society. As stated by TBWhite in "The Once and Future King", birds live by their feet; the wings are a secondary aparatus. The Emus are the lords of the bird world, the Flamingos are the teenage-angtsy thugs [the pigeons are the gang-thungs, because such is the not-so-inside joke in my dorm room]...etc) but I figured the subject had already been extensively written by the time the title had been read, and so stopped.
Drinking. But I still have my coordination. Still have my coordingation. still have my coordiinaatoonees. *vodka in* styll have my cobordinates. Still have ny coordinatobs,. Still have my concoctions. STilklaj gotta mnnnnrtyandfn;gj!!# [insert something here about exponential graphs]
Revelation: guys drink to talk about girls. and they expose themselves, in a situation in which the listeners will not remember in the morn. Thus, it is a neceassary portion of society...a material good that is needed to provide a situation.
Bathroom Picasso, this one done in shaving cream. Wish I knew the name of the artist, making such Picassos.
Singing along to Counting Crows "...parks her car outside my house and takes her clothes off, says she's close to understandin' Jesus..." My favourite part of the song, mostly because of the concept of 'religous exposure' (nudelike exposure to one's own under-developed version of understanding/beliefs) and a ponder to what would be termed 'indecent' in relation to one's own amount of it. Full-frontal God, yo. But more than being a line of a song that I like, it's a prime example of a new type of sentence structure. Minus the subject, so that only the content remains. In this 'modern sentencing', one doesn't need to express to the reader that one is indeed one. Beyond that [we are]. To over-illistrate, an older generation might have said "I walked to the store", but a present day person would say "Walked to the store", and still retain gramaticly correct, for the subject in this place, by context, was already known. Gonna drive the teacher mad next semester, with this new concept of grammar.
It's not like I try at it...I don't make an effort to be socially ascew. Just feels like I'm playing with a different set of rules, a different game altogether. They're playing checkers, and I'm playing chess. Not to suggest that chess is more sophisticated, but that it's more unpredictable. Checkers can be won in the first move, if you know the game well enough. In chess, the first move doesn't necessarily lead to the second. Normally, this depth of description wouldn't be necessary; metaphors aren't so extensive in the real world. But that's the beauty of the secondary, practical metaphor of the state of Mynd. Disconnected from, for.
The following is an account of two mind-trains, one dropping the nearly-raw materials of personal experience off at the station for the other. Found a background on the 'net, gears-and-an-inverted-triangular-yellow-road-sign GIF that I edited in photoshop, and redistibuted into tiles on my wallpaper. I knew that the X-ing sigh was something mind-provoking, but if you asked me, even after I had edied it, what it was "of", I wouldn't have been able to say. It wasn't 'til later that I got a good look at it...it was an earth/world/reality X-ing sign (then again all X-ing signs could described as "reality X-ing")...depicting, of course, the western hemisphere. Multiple-plus obvious meanings. For some reason, this reminds me of an "alternate route" sign, and the ponderings that included the [overly-simple] concept that every route is an alternate route...[simple]...Every route is a number of alternate routes equivalent to the total number of routes in the world...[warmer]...and therefore, each route is, quite dis-seperately from it's original route, an infinate number of alternate routes, minus only the route that it is...[green light, cleared for takeoff]...and this makes perfect sense...[*cutting the wheel on a straightaway*]...Because we live in a matrix. A universe of alternates; an alternate universe.
Field trip to dodge chemical company, which makes embalming chemicals, embalming tools, postmortem cosmetics, and religious paraphanalia. They even used to sell funral home furniture and caskets. Had their own magazine, the Sears and Robuck of funeral service. But with technology being what it is today, they have a droid. A single family-owned and employee-named droid that stacks boxes. I actually felt bad for 'JAWS', as they call him, because he's caged off from the other workers, and barely interacts with anyone other than Betty the Forklift. He works eight hour days without flaw, and is paid meagerly in oil and electricity. But his work is apprecatied by the other workers, and I wish he could realize that speciffic joy of doing something for others.
Enter Megan (not to be confused with Meghan), stage ceiling, on an anti-gravity dancing pole. All-for-funn gal that reminds me of Kelly. But I made a couple little comments that turned into situations that make me wonder. She went out of the restaraunt to smoke, even though we were in the smoking section, which would normally indicate to me that ahe wants nothing to do with. But I had been poking at the smoke and blowing it around, which contradicts me in that she might have thought I had something against smoke. I hadn't brought enough money (which I could have borrowed from fashionable-mike) for the movies (it being a spontaneous decision to go out for breakfast), but this doesn't form a full justification for her suggesting that I get dropped off before the movie (because I looked tired). Course, when we got back to campus, I looked in the mirror for the first time today and realized that I did indeed look drop-dead tired. Thus I'm torn, between thinking of her as an overly-concerned person, or not wanting to think of her at all. [Lack of understanding is the single-mother of fear.] This type of logic, paranoid or accepting, is the conflict, the root of my most dibilitating disease. And who am I to state how the day 'should' have played out?
