Reality: a door with it�s hinges loosely attatched (cellar door)
2003-09-06 - 2:02 a.m.
Lost my keys. All of them. So I went to the grocery store and bought marbles, not to replace my keys, but to indicate at what point I should copy my keys again, in preperation of loosing them. I figure, when I loose the marbles (being the more common thing for a person to loose) I will be nearly due for loosing my keys again. Ordered another key for the doors of my car, regained my second ignition key from Mitch (which I gave to him in case of such a reoccurrence) and grabbed the spare one for the apartment, and reformed a similar set of keys that will get me around for the time being. When I was set to go to work, however, my hydraulic clutch was all floppy, somehow having gotten air into it. Borrowed Chris�s car for a day (because e is a nice roommate, and obviously didn�t read the warning labels on the back of my box) and bled my clutch when I got back from work.
Worked at the gas station across from the Schat-a-ko (imagine it spelled with far more letters than is actually required to say it) Fairgrounds for a couple days, much busier than my regular gas station, most of the volume from the crannies and their need for beer. It�s interesting that in this postmodern world, so many people can find a need to run away and join the circus. My fellow employees included one Stacey and one Carrie (whose name I remember only because of Stephen King), Stacey being the more flirtatious of the two, both however, were already involved in relationships in which kids were involved.
Father and Step-mother landed in troy the other day, little white rat dog in tow (who, thanks to the theories of Skinner, is now much more �behaved� but is not necessarily any more �intelligent�, as my parents would want me to believe. I find it odd that we attribute intelligence to beings whom piss only in properly designated areas, because it�s then obvious that males have more of a �biological inheritance� to being intelligent, simply because they have a longer urethra.) They stayed for a bit, and saw the apartment, and helped me fill out some paperwork and left before things got too awkward. Also, they remined me that I�m overdue for changing my contacts, working on the second month of a pair of so-called-�disposables�. Not that this isn�t uncommon, but it�s my last pair, and I haven�t ordered more yet. Just means I have to concentrate on things more to see them in a non-duplicated fashion. Or close one eye (one of Step-mother�s classical driving tricks).
College, take2. Day1: logic, physics, calculus. It�s like being in high school again, except that I never had a normal high school experience (defined as: a substantial group of normal-people friends and �politics� and �tactics� and such). As a child who needed glasses in the fourth grade, I commonly made up things that I couldn�t clearly see, which resulted in being called �creative�. It was most noticeable when the teacher put analogies up on the board and I�d misread them as �ninja is to crane stance as the setting sun is to ----� very complicated analogies for a child. And just for the record, I found out that �chi/karma� is the answer to any of these analogy questions. As Mitch pointed out, this is likely where my grasp on non-reality began. Met a supercute girl in calculus (I seem to have the best luck with sitting down next to cute people, or, conversely, with them sitting down near me). Passed a note about how the professor seemed to be stoned, to which a stream of hippie comments and contact information were soon transferred. Her name is something odd best not mentioned, so I have settled on calling her �Marwin� a nickname of sorts, which plays the same position as lucy�s nickname �Kerowyn�. This method of meeting people worked so well, I almost sent the girl next to me a message as well, but by the time this crossed my mind Marwin and I were well into emoticon notations. Day2. in one of my classes, the instructor suggested that the sentence �green ideas sleep furiously� is not grammatical, or in any way logical, and thus is not a sentence at all, even though it has all of the linguistic components that ussually form a grammatically correct sentence. I beg to differ. I say that nay, it �tis a sentence, grammaticalitness aside, for the singular reason that it conjures something within the human psyche that results in thoughts associated with given themes. It may not be very precise (meaning that the ideas that are formed by it are not especially similar when it is read to two different persons) but it nonetheless is a arrangement of words which causes us to think, and thereby fulfills the requirement of being a functional unit of verbal (a form of inter-mental) language. The bell on campus is a combination of our old doorbell from when I lived in Pittsfield, and the kind of methodic �bong� you would expect to hear from an oversized grandfather clock overlooking a cemetery. Creepy, familiar, empowering. Day3. We had made plans to go to �Sneaky Pete�s� a weird-sorta-sketchy bar from what I hear, with a bunch of other students from the dorms. When this failed (mostly due to age and false ID requirements, but also because no one had a car but me) we eventually opted instead to send someone out to get beer while we watched the anime �Chobits�. Wonderful night of quiet smiles. Also tonight, I rather simultaneously learned that Marwin is both an avid RPG player, and also 17 years old. Which results in her only knowing how to play 3rd edition, which is, in itself, a drawback, but in the greater scheme of things, she�s an order of magnitude higher in point value than anyone else on campus. Just for reference, she�ll be 18 for half a year before I turn 21. But even then, she�s still in that stage when you can turn to someone and say �I like the word vicarious, I dunno what it means, but I like how it sounds�, still in the stage where being stoopid is cool in so many subtle ways. For the record, this is good for me, because most of the people on campus seem to be in that stage as well, and they all seem pretty impressed because I am soo stoopid that I have to write my class schedule on my arm, because I�ll loose/forget it otherwise. Day4. In and out, I�ve gotten the commute down to fifteen minutes, and now need to rethink where I park, to save time on walking to class. Lost my car for a short period of time while I forgot where I had parked it. Relief is good. And it smells of warm rubber.
i wish you were here, so i'd have someone more to talk to.
September6. A lot of drunk people at my house, mostly vegetarian environmentalists. I formulated the theory of the Six Steps of Drunkenness, but have since forgotten them all. Clairvoyance the first: I would really like to hang out with, and get to know, a certain seventeen-year-old who is only-temporarily a short-and-cute physics major, that plays AD&D. Clairvoyance the second: I am a lonely. (not a lonely individual, because it cannot be proven that I am an individual, and not quite lonesome, because I am me is myself.) Clairvoyance the Third: Mitch has gone walking, because at some point Fariah (his exgirlfriend) said something at the party tonight which was true in all the wrong ways. But right now, I must sleep, in preparation of the visitation of the three ghosts of Cigarette Smoking, and Cigarettes Smoked, and Cigarettes Yet to Be Smoked [all of whom, i later established, are represented by my three favourite co-workers]. As it turns out, people should be more blunt and straightforward, but reality isn�t really as real as it was meant to be.
