Twitch: attempting to wiggle out of reality (see Spasm)
2003-03-30 - 11:56 p.m.
Related Sidenote*: six litre of coke in the last two day. not sure how much more the troops can take. threes, maybe fours litres more tomorrow is expected. if the three, we might live another day. if the fours, we will be forced to keep the watchmen [he means eyeballs] on guard [open] all night�i fear the worstest, not that the coke might march in fours, but because i do not know how many they will be tomorrow. the enemy, he slowly grows, whil we is forced to slowly retret, and move forward only when we can assimilate and use there own ammunition [caffeine]. the men is restless, i feel it to. oh god, the hiss of war! [*cap unscrewed*] battle stations! courage! [after a few hours of separating notes/papers into �useless� and �trash�, i have decided that this will once again be a daily diary�although i may not be able to post daily�i�ll keep track by stating each of the more down-to-earth accounts with a date. the dates may not always be accurate or precise, but it will give me some bearings, so that i may arrange them in a line on my desk and pronounce them to be straight.]
�My heart may skip a beat, but �tis a luxury my brain cannot afford.� �Nemo
March30�smoking a cigarette out front with this polish gentleman that is currently borrowing articles of my clothing (blazers, both). so, i�m standing there, watching people walk in the glass double doors of the building, noticing how the light bounces off the glass pane and then refracts off the puddles of water which bounces off millions of tiny rain dropsylets which bounce off the windows outside, and each photon which was originally grouped with a stream of others is suddenly separated from that bandwagon womb of �white light� to a different window to be reflected out of, and then, as a fraction of a second passes, the rain dropsylets have re-arranged in a different pattern, causing completely different refractions and reflections for the light to pass through, but those tiny photons are gone, never knowing that this world exists, or even what a drospylet is�so insignificant to us�so, i found myself leaning against a building support, wondering what else might have been in that cigarette, and some people saundered up to talked to the guy i was standing with. since i wasn�t talking to him, i didn�t bite their legs off in a fit of jealous rage�i mean, it wasn�t like i had any sort of mystical connection with this guy. but had i thought of something to talk about, toes would have flown. no one had nice teeth to speak of, so i�ll get right to the shoes. yes, shoes. i�ve never really looked at footwear in quite this manner before, never really even noticed�it�s like, all my life, i�d been tying these things onto my feet and didn�t realize that something so revealing about human nature to me could exist�right there, at my feet. clockwise, starting from myself, there were a total of four sandals being worn, both of the basic brown-but comfortably-buckled-snuggly type, the kind of sandal that cuddles up close to your foot in all the critical places, and follows your every move, but still leaves your foot open to air, and easily slips off at night. the other two, myself included, were wearing some sort of stylish penny-loafer-style basic black shoe, more stylish than a real sneaker, but still practical for running, and still useful for writing nasty messages in rubber on gym floors. classy enough for a wedding, but casual enough to top a mountain. the leathery black beauties in front of me, however, had a sort of hard-set chin feature to the shape, as if to say to my shoes, �hey ya pansi ars wimplin�, what are ya doin� all the way o�er there, wit� no one to kiss yer ass but yer mama!?� my shoes, well trained as they are, bided their time with soft, silent, nervous smiles�*face rests on hand(left), propped up by arm(left)* yea, still waiting for the results of that pregnancy test.
March22. Phone needed rewiring. Cut the female end of an RJ11 off a scrap phone I had lying around, and soldered it to the old one, epoxied or soldered the other connections, scraped out a local spanish band who had got stuck behind the number panel, and carved a hole for the new phone-to-wall cord. In retroflexion, I probably should have had better ventilation, working so close, using my lighter to melt the solder. ��fuzzyheavy�LEAD PIOSON? >Pb/HgLD50?� �bedside note
March30. walking across campus with a bottle of swiped (but not stolen) sparkling cider, and hiding it with my �deep pockets� spell, in case public safety should catch it on camera and think it wine. passed two guys, walking the opposite direction, and one of them produced a Ziplock (TM) bag of white powder. �man, you got that sit on you?� and then, after a small amount of bag-pinching, �man, this looks like some good shit!� i blink and continue on. as i approach my room, a guy in the hall is trying, evidently, to light a spoon on fire with his lighter. maybe i shouldn�t have been so concerned about the silly bottle.
March24. I woke up today and decided that the weekend needed to be one day longer. I got nothing done after Thursday, nothing�drunk every day, but did so only mildly, and only for fun, for sport, as they says. As part of my Abnormal Psyche class (abbreviated Ψ� ) I�m reading �Drinking: A Love Story� by Caroline Knapp�modern writer, feminine sentence structure and organization, logos is first to bat, pathos bunts the ball and they both try to make it home. but all in all, it�s not that bad, and i�m seeing all these similarities between the author�s predicament and my own drinking problem�not with alcohol mind you, but with coke�[here, as far as i can tell, monday ends. no memory of the rest of this week has been recovered from this point until the following thursday, and notes are scant.]
March22. I�m pretty chummy with all my neighbours, except one. The one who lives with the person that I am most chum-chum with in the whole suite�and who lives so close�if our doors were to open outward instead of in, they would, I�m afraid, abut, at a right angle�from which there would be no escape but to perform self defenestration from my first-floor window. I�ve been watching this guy for the past few days�very mysterious is he, much like a postman. A mail-delivering disposition he has not, although I would see it very easy for us to develop a sort of Jerry-Newman relationship�thwarting each other�s plans for no reason and all�but alas, neither one of us knows the other�s name�so the whole effect of seeing him, and dropping my voice, just to utter the name of my
March28. stayed up until 6:30am watching HackSign, an anime about characters in an online game, in the next prison cell over, with the odd neighbour i�d mentioned in the post earlier. his name is justin, and he�s a pretty cool guy�but in being so, he has thwarted my only plan thus far, which was to be in a sort of devious plan-thwarting nemesis-relationship. thus, as he has so far thwarted all of my plans, 100%, one has to wonder�but if he has thwarted my plans, than he has thwarted none! and thus, have i thwarted his plan to thwart mine! eeexxcellent.
Related Sidenotes: thwart is a fun word. like wart, but with a little thumthing thpecial.
March14. on the greyhound bus back to mass, a guy went into the bathroom�as i needed to use it, i knocked and waited, but no guy came out. i joked, full heartedly and full bladderedly, with an older woman who told me that he had gone in�kept looking at my bare wrist and figuring out all the things he could have been doing in there. if he was an elderly man, maybe he forgot how to take a shyte, or just needed a little more time to jog his memory. possibly, he�s fallen asleep in the process. but a younger man has no such excuse. he�s either really bad at jacking off, or committing suicide, or shooting up, or hacking from his cell phone, or building a weapon of mass destruction. no young person can do good things in such a small bathroom for such a long time.
March28. spent a considerable amount of time hanging out with Sam (don�t feel right calling her samantha) and saw The Way of The Gun�two criminals and god. and it was a very sringish day�love the smell of wet asphalt and warm (nor burning) tires�copperdustbloodsweat�mmmm�so the Sam-girl is intelligent, and good to talk to, and that�s about it. only one more month of college left.
March29. played AD+D, with me as the DM�finally used my Mythos Campaign Setting, self-designed or self-stolen from the legends and stories of many different cultures through the history of the real world, you decide. but just when it was going good, and the PCs were together and about to embar on the quest to kill the sixteen houses of vampires of the cabal, who keep the local lich-lord�s power in check (the characters don�t know they�re working for the bad-bad guy until later, but end up being the super-chaotic power later in the game that helps raise the Trinity of Choas and thus start the national conflict with the lawful PC group)�one of the players (Josh!), playing the undead spawn-type pre-deathknight character, decides he just up and doesn�t like the necromancer character. the player got all pissy when the other characters tried to reason him into not attacking the rest of the group, but sometimes people (there�s always one in a party) just can�t get out of the super-vengeful killing mode. it was noted several times that this person has run a series of PC-killing PCs lately, no reason he wants to divulge, or even knows for sure himself. but the moral stands�don�t spend three years building a whole world because it�s unlikely the PCs aren�t going to kill each other I the first tavern.
