Siren Relationships: songs in your sail, snails in your mail
2003-03-18 - 20:41 a.m.
Ante Amendum: some of the following are from old notes. if you see any repeated comments, feel free to email me at [email protected] to correct it.
Art: Collegeat. Where a college kid can be a kid. It�d have your basic menu, with a special �collegeat menu� on the side, that includes the use of leftovers, Ramen, and other extremely cheap meals that only college kids are used to eating. No longer will you hesitate to go out on Friday night because you don�t have money�quarter for a bowl of Ramen, any flavour. Stage up back for local bands to play and shell out promotional CDs, and there�s a big open space in case anyone has the urge to do anything entertainingly stupid, two steps in front of the band. Wet T-shirts on Wednesday, cheaper-brand beers on Thursday, and�oh, door prizes on Tuesday to sporadic places, or little things, like soap and extra-durable showercaps (seems you can never find a good showercap when you need one). And a full set of Ethernet jacks at the tables to start out, but with the idea that they would eventually be full terminals. Course, this would all be topped off by a special option to send that special emoticon to that special someone�s port across the room�and several other nerd-reach-out features that I haven�t thought up yet. Tables would be specially-adorned with one of the following: a spraypaint can, 1d4 fingerboards, 1d6 crayons of various colours, 1d3 potatoes (50% old and mushy), or 1d2 stress-balls. Play free.
The Logic of Egotism: (Warning: this mode of logic, as all others, may be circular on several points.) to the egotist, reality is perception*. the only things that are definitely real are the things that are observed by that person; less real are the things observed by those close to the egotist (family or friends), less realistic still are the things that have been observed to have been observed by any person of the globe�because it goes without saying that the egotist�s own senses are the most credible in the universe. what is really important here, however, is a personal level that demands to be above all others, the senses are just an indication of that truth�any egotist will have to agree that senses can be fooled, but rarely will an egotist believe that their own senses, specifically, have been fooled. and it�s never fully questioned as to whose perception should really be in question, so long as the egotist thinks everyone else thinks that the egotist�s perceptions are least questionable. most peoples then, makes the error that the egotist is careless or indifferent toward fellow mann. this is no so. the egotists, on the contrary, care so much about the people of the local society that they are willing to sacrifice their own personalities to fulfill the goals and ideals that have been placed in them by society (esp. the concept that criminals and beggars are obviously less perfect than the rest of society, as proof that there are varying degrees of perfection in society itself). they realize, however, that no one is perfect being, and so endeavor in covering up their own insecurities and faults with the scar tissue of lies, which eventually draw more lies to cover up the first lies. they see themselves as pillars of shining light and mental brilliance, but we see them for who they are, automated zombies built of scarred-flesh lies.
�wishes are like tattoos, �cept you can�t get �em removed.� -Nemo
March10. firstoff, i should say that i do not hate my job, in itself. i hate the combination of myself and it. got in another single-person car accident today�and i know it wouldn�t have happened at all if the shed door had been open all the way. i should have known something was up with the universe when i made it back safely to the funeral home twice, after successfully delivering two caskets, and only got lost once. so here i am, first day back on the job, and already busting up the cars�if it had happened at the end of the week, but no.
Related Sidenote: this saturday is the fifteenth of march. *crosses fingers in vain* pianos will fall.
March7. bus ride home on the 7th...miserable, lonely bus ride. walking around bangor in the cold because the greyhound station closes at 8. stoopid methodist church not taking in freezing children taking freezing children today, and everything in town besides dunkin donuts is closes around 6 on friday night. walking around bangor in the cold, i met a few nice homeless people, and eventually settled in with an outlet and a laptop to finish the midterm that was due today, and that i'll probably not finish until tomorrow...so, sittin' in the corner mindin' my own business, and i get flashed at dunkin donuts. by an employee. archibald has refused to comment.
March7. tokoyo's ecconomy has plummeted, unemployment in the us is up, and we blame it on what...not bush's recent allocatoin of money for training firefighters to wear hazmat suits, and the doubling of the border-crossing guards, but to the �anticipation of war� and �the september 11 attacks� (CNN) get to the source, mann.
�i�m just a creative-style genius...not like a �real� architectural- or chemist-genius...instead of doing stuff, i just sit around and overthink. people rent me out, as they would a whore, but instead of stripping off my clothes, i strip off my skull and shove a piece of schizo- in their ear. the corporate offices and politicians, they�ll pay by the hour for someone else to think up their business innovations and conspiracy theories. five-hundred ways to pretend you�re not at war with someone, and i�m working on number 501. fortunately for me, i�m not an ethics-type genius.� �Mr. Tinker out to lunch, bending forks into Jesus-shaped spirals
used to have a crush-thing on this girl named rachel, in the summer before eighth grade, i think it started. of course, this was odd, because i didn�t see her all summer. all the better for designing your own memories, as a three-month sized blank canvas. never even talked to the girl�somehow, my high-school crush was more of a lesson in �learn to avoid someone� than a lesson in �get to know someone��and now that i think of it, rather deserving of a completely different title than that of �crush�. fear, perhaps. this diary was originally written for a girl. a girl who liked to read, and mayhaps she still does. it became something else�a place for me to put my post-it-note thoughts on a wall, and draw lines from one to the other, to organize my thought-bugs and categorize the outliers. it became a place to reaffirm the things that were firm, and make squishy the things that weren�t entirely squishy. a place to vent my confusion of�things�girls, politics, the concept of the self, time, human behavioural patterns. but really, it�s been the same thing throughout�for i have secrets locked away from myself, that haven�t escaped yet, until now�one more fear that must have slipped my mind�a fear of forgetting. Forgetting myself, forgetting what i was thinking when i made the decisions i did�i want to be able to piece my life back together when i�m old and senile, through journal entries and movie-ticket stubs�with photographs and scribblings of computer code. i want to be able to remember, when i�m old enough or crazy enough to have nothing left to forget.
Checkers Variation: replace the checker-pieces with Hershey kisses, and instead of saying �king me� you get to say �eat me!�
*Perception: any sensory stimulation or intuitive idea which acts as a building block to make a complex thought.
March17. Counting Crows, ��Round Here� has to be the best song ever, on a Monday noon, doing paperwork next to an open window, on the first day that�s felt like spring in five months. move on to Beck�s �Loser�, and �Engel�, which is ten times better than �Du Hast��followed at length by ye olde Radiohead-Marcy Playground one-two punch. and thinking of Lindsay (radiohead collection), here�s a comic I got a kick out of, and no one else seems to, and I know she�ll appreciate.
http://www.uclick.com/client/wpc/dc/2003/03/16/index.html
because nothin� beats a free comic strip, unless it�s a free titty-tassel strip. But there was that part on �King of the Hill� that came close: the one where Connie started her period and Hank asked her if she knew how to use a tourniquet. TV was never better, unless it was SNL. back to the music and fresh air, because i�m skipping out on jury duty today, and i have once again been able to convince myself that i am not pregnant. today, if only for a day, the world smells inherently good.
Mission Ban-a-Towl has been planned. i�ve runn out of towels, and my neighbours are in great need of fluffy bathroom towels; clearly, something must be done. a raid on the local hotels, is what i propose. more to follow.
March18. Jury Duty, take two. or lack thereof. slept in this morning, and finding it really hard to keep things together for some reason. somebody musta left the play-dough out without a top on it, again. sent the court people a letter sayng that i�m a poor starving college student who just got two failing grades�just hinted and danced around the idea that i have pms (Postman Maniac w/ Semiautomatic).
another link for all those Zelda fans out there: http://www.cleveland.com/news/plaindealer/index.ssf?/base/news/104747090210864.xml now, i expect everyone to do their part, and sign up for lots of mailing lists on the internet, using the addresses of political offices of the US. �remember, if you instruct charities, surveys and politicians to send the Whitehouse (or similar political figureheads) junk mail, you get extra-special bonus points. the post-war has begun.
The White House
1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, NW
Washington, DC 20500
Post Sanctum: Mitch would beat me for not mentioning this�we went to war today. bleh-big-freakin�-bleh.
