knuckleduster.

murderfucking on an expensive italian leather couch in an enormous living room. every corner fixed with an industrial vice. hallucinogen chandeliers hanging every ten feet, disco ball light colonies recurring a thousand times on the two inch thick carpet. your singing voice gone to complete waste, your face buried in my hands. i think there are systems in place to prevent this from happening. i think there are drugs in this place to enchance this fleshparty. just shut up already so i can make you someone else. and you didn't wear the boots like i told you to, and you left the gasmask upstairs like i knew you would. god i'm learning to hate you, so don't you fucking stop. i don't even know why you bothered walking through that door in the first place. think about the wars being fought, and think about small loving families who will never get out of abject poverty. no, you're not going to drown here, baby. i've got way too much in mind for tonight. there's life in these walls yet.

-

and we'd make a fortune.

i intend to be the manager of a damn gamestop by the end of the year. come october, around holiday season, or so, i'm going to ask what my odds of being an MIT is. i've heard on two occasions that this DM is really liking me. he's actually even said in my presence that he's sure the only reason they hired me is because they knew i had the potential to become a store manager. now, i understand that by december, six months into my tenure, it might be asking much. but this is a big world. and i'll be turning 26 in half a year. i don't have time to waste. i haven't had the same drive in any other job ever. and i've only been here for a couple of months.

the only thing i've ever really known that i wanted to do for any amount of time is write. and, realistically, that's not a career move. that's something i do on the side. that's something that i want to have as an "ALSO" kind of thing. because i'm not going to get famous on that. i don't have the concentration for self-promotion and all of that. i can hardly even read other people's books for long periods of time. how am i going to delve into my own little worlds.

i saw the simpsons movie tonight which was OUTstanding. i loved it.

it's hilarious what a turnaround a year and a half has made. wrankmusic.com is apparently down right now, and my first concern is, aw MAN... now i wonder what site is going to host my pictures. and, i'm downloading a ton of music lately. just to see what's around. and i'm just not sure WHY i don't update that site anymore. i think it's just the lack of a local scene gives that lack of a feeling of centripetal force. there is no world to relate to, without going to those shows and seeing those kids and having things to talk about. and the forum became this HUGE joke. well, no, not REALLY. what it did boil down to was just a place where i could go and talk about things with my friends on a mass basis. that's not horrible, so to speak. it just became a little too specialized. kind of, but not really. i think the fact that we went there so much and the fact that it felt like we all knew each other so well may have alienated other people from wanting to say anything. well, that, and the fact that these kids who were going to shows had no real opinion on these bands or music in general... their friends were in bands so they went to the shows. these little fuckers would show up when their friends played, and left when their friends were done. hilarious. musically, this place has become so irrelevant. i'm okay with that. there are more places to be, more excuses to hit the road and catch shows, and more reasons to head into manhattan, a place that i most likely will never learn. i can't even remember how to get to union square.

my intent tonight was to write on my electronic typewriter. i'm going to do it and try not to get eaten alive by my sister. the clack clacking might disturb her whatever.

tonight, sharks. my words.
tomorrow night, ncaa, others' words.

i got so much distaste for the efforts of others.


-
the purchases:

at least i have a job again.

for them, and them.

&

stand!

RISE!

this shit will fuck you up.

a pretty amazing documentary about scopolamine, a drug which eliminates free will, and from what it seems to entail in this documentary, your memory of several hours. the kind of drug that has you "waking up in a bathtub missing an organ, with a sign that says you have five hours to get to a hospital."










check it out and browse the site to find a bunch of other shows/docs that are worth watching. i'm so down.

no point.

i just like these guys.



and, uh, i bought some stuff today.






-

and check out my boy mike knoll's new band, Agent right over here.

my only crime is living without you.

thank god for the dredg/ours show.

the speechless.

i forgot myself one day. i'm trying my best to get back to the point where there is a me that i remember. now, i know that there have been times where i haven't exactly reacted or responded to things the way you might expect. but at twenty five (jesus christ, we aren't irrelevany anymore, are we?) i'm trying to be the one true person that i was meant to be. natural sayings and natural facial expressions. and i've really never felt so at home. maybe i had to leave to realize this.

it's weird, though, you know? being in a relationship (an official one... the one that we really count to everyone...) changes you. it's going to, no matter how we try to cut through it. it's funny. i'm serious. it's funny when we see someone we really know react differently to something when they're around their lover or their love interest. it's fine, though. we know who they are, still. they're just trying to react within a parabola. is that the right word? i don't know, i don't care. whatever. they're just trying to react in a way that will keep them in a safe place with their lover. and we get on their case, but for what.

i was thinking about this tonight while bill and i got crushed in three of four games in ncaa. i really don't care anymore if someone wants to be someone else in a relationship, because i get it. it's finally to the point where i see that there really is a split in who we are as a married/engaged/sanctioned human as opposed to just a single dude. and we can't expect someone to be a single dude while they are married/engaged/sanctioned. it's just a rule of life. it happens. whatevzz. as rahul says.

ps, good luck, man.

thoughts on ncaa when i clear up a little bit. and when i finish either dynasty or campus legend. as of right n0w? great game. just more of the same.

actions over the course of the past 20 minutes? i'm a piece of shit. but i know what i'm doing.

i hate mirrors. i'm an ugly kid. circles around the eyes. whenever possible, i hide behind glasses, and hoodies, and angular hair cuts.

a fractured christ.

twitter.
i still think this could be awesome, but it really needs to get some people with the right idea behind it. i hate when people write about real things and even when they write about fake things (or i should say real things in a fictional way) i hate when they update more than once an hour or so. really, i'm just a complete horror.

i wonder what i was born for.

while chris gasparri remains one of the most shady characters i've known, he still has one of the most honest characters i've ever come across. he is what he is. i think honesty scares me away. when i know what i'm getting into, i step back i step back.

it's july 23rd. ALMOST august. and i'm still sitting outside FREEZING. i've been really hot maybe twice. this is pathetic. summer is here, it's true. but it's not the kind of summer that it's ever been before. i'm sleeping in a hoodie tonight. i'm serious.

she should come over. she should draw me so many things i can't see the paint on my walls. she should run away. she shouldn't be here. she should be better than someone like me. she should be seeing clay colored things. she should fulfill the outlasting potential of her hands. she should stop being so goddamn pretty. she should hold me for hours and stop watching the clock. she could remember just how far away i was and laugh at how close. she should be famous. she should come over. she should come over. she should know i can't sleep.

$.

do what your mother tells you.

i am such a piece of shit, and that's how i ended up slumped down against this wood backed chair. the small of my back is holding all my weight; my ass hanging off the end of the curves meant for your posterior. my shirt's a wrinkled horror, mostly at the collar where i was chokehandled around the room. i couldn't give less of a fuck. i don't listen anymore, not to anyone really. in this go around, i just tried to watch what he was watching which was me just watching him. i tried to see him as he saw himself in the mirror this morning. i thought about how he would tell his friends about this tomorrow, and that's really the only time i ever felt anything about this.

i'd never been punched before.
it's quieter than i thought it could be.
it has the same effect of a loud noise, though. all the senses kind of blindshot out.
as if he was some friend of mine, i almost said to him, "you got me all deaf, mate," on his way out the room.

i barely know this guy. i've only got what she's told me about him. well, what she's told me, and what i've found out through the internet. but that's mostly inferences, assumptions, and lies. i only know the idea of this guy.

but i like to think i have a pretty good idea of who he is.

i am so not going to do anything to him when i come around. i'm not so sure if it was the kissy face or the smile that put him over. well, that, or the whole, "your girlfriend ain't so much your girlfriend anymore" thing. the barbarian. i bet he'll be all layin' in bed rubbin' his knuckles tonight, thinking this is the last he'll ever feel anything about this problem again. i want to tell him, "baby, this will be your whole goddamn life." get the fireworks again, but at least i got in another last word. behind his eyes, all i saw was industry. puts up the big boy literary fatigues when he leaves the door. but back at the dark apartment, homeboy got the UFC channel tivo'd and a maxim collection to thumbfist through.

ah, shit, i got nowhere to stay tonight.

battle axe between the eyes.

i don't dream often.
i had a fairly vivid dream involving tons of bugs.

Insects
To see insects in your dream, signifies minor obstacles that you must overcome. There are small problems and annoyances that need to be dealt with. Something or someone may be "bugging" or "pestering" you. Alternatively, insects are also said to be symbolic of precision, alertness, and sensitivity. You may need to organize your thoughts and sort out your values. Sometimes they are seen as divine messengers.

Flies
To see flies in your dream, symbolizes feelings of guilt or a breakdown of a plan. Flies may also forewarn of a contagious sickness or a surrounding of enemies.

To dream that you kill or exterminate the flies, signifies that you will regain your honor after you fell from grace and will be recapture the heart of your intended.

Fleas
To see fleas in your dream, signifies that you will be provoked into anger and manipulated into retaliation by someone close to you.

To dream that fleas bite you, signifies that vicious rumors by false friends will slander your character.

Lice
To see lice in your dream, signifies frustrations, distress and feelings of guilt. You may also be feeling emotionally or physically unclean. Alternatively, the lice my represent a person, situation, or relationship that you want to distance yourself from. You may be feeling used or taken advantage of.

the possibility of people.

i wish that, even if i had to reduce my speed by (at most) 33%, i could read in the dark. not just read signs, but read books and interpret and store data. i wonder if they'll ever release backlit books.

i lived in florida for a year. i will never forget that. at jade winds, almost every night was capped with a cold beer out on our balcony. our little moment of zen.

i love finding people who i'd love to meet.
i love meeting people who i want to ask questions.

i'm trying to figure out what to do with my room. i was in this same mode when i was about to leave the first time. i want to make sure that whatever i get to add here, the things that i have are things i'll want to bring with me to my next home.

i've found the summer. i lived through them my entire life, and have known that warm weather, and that open ended feeling. but i've finally found something amazing in it. i can't bring those words to life anymore than asking you to live it with me. i don't know exactly what my backyard is capable of, because i've never thought of it as mine to live in. since we were kids, we always demolished it with our little sneakers. and with dogs living here my entire life, we've always let them wander around back there instead of taking them for walks. but since we started really taking care of it, with a decent sized deck, a good sized patio, actual green grass, a coy pond, etc., i think it might have all the makings for a nice little hangout spot. it's to the point where i'm seriously considering heading to home depot or lowe's or something of the sort to get some tiki torches. or something less tacky. something so that, on nights that we're here, we can bring a conversation and some refreshments to the outdoors. i want to get a medium sized ipod dock/stereo to bring outside with me/us.

when i get a house, i want a porch. i want to watch thunderstorms from it with my wife [and kids]. in silence, sometimes; in laughter, sometimes.

i have this odd syndrome. i feel my best when i'm single, because i feel like i really get to be myself. but what the people who love me have always fallen in love with is that person. being so far away from justine right now has been such an odd dynamic. i feel that calm, peace of being single. but i feel that terrible stretching and reaching of being far from her. it's not that i'm not myself when i'm around her, but i feel more stressed out about being silent. i think that while i'm around her, i can be happy, but i can never get that solid, brilliant line of contentment.

i'm scared of drugs, not because of the damage they could do, but because of how true the things they say they are might be. and i believe in their potential to make certain things great.

when i'm unemployed i get so stressed out that i'm unemployed. there's always something i could be doing. those silent moments that i could be using for out of presence and mind wandering are always spent overexamining myself, the now, the later, the tomorrow, and the way past next week. i forget that, eventually, when things start to come together again, there will be nights like this where i can twist my bottom lip in my fingers and squint off into the slats of the fence. i forget that i'll be okay.



from: +1516205XXXX
Hey hey! i got your msg!
thank god you hav it!
hehe. whats up with
you? things good?i hear
u got a job at gamestop?
is that where?

this in a response to a myspace message. it's not bad, per say. i just think to properly respond, it would take about 30 txts.

i was sitting on a curb when i called you and i said, "i don't hate you." please come here. where have you been.

-

the ark!

i found these pages torn out of a small notebook. i don't remember writing them.

naked lunch is a book; not a work, not a hissing commentary.

its genius came in its fluidity.

if any of it was on purpose, it instantly loses its appeal.

God, I'm Tired.

\\\the door's not really a door

i've written this way. (the way naked lunch is written)

just vocabulary bleeding from my hands and mouth, coming together just barely. saying things you're jealous you hadn't thought of sooner.

you find 3 or 4 lines as cornerstones.
and you move on,
never removing a thing.

i know this style, is what i'm saying.

in this version, Terry Southern includes an introduction which claims that Burroughs' social, political, and ethical commentary
"AS IN ALL GENUINE ART,
IS MORE INSTINCTIVE
THAN
DELIBERATE."

bullshit.
i swear.

just call it what it is.

an addict talking like an addict about addicts, addiction, and its implications while being addicted.

he just happens to have the right tools in his mind and his his mouth. word after word after word.

i've said this time and again about music. but with this book, it just makes sense:

instead of giving you this book, and asking you to read it, i'd rather just give you the emotions i felt while reading it.

i'd rather impart its impact onto you.

i guess this is pretention. surrounded by addicts.

7700
0359
21200
12800
history.com/starwars
jj abrams
paradise lost
paradise lost!

th
fr
sa -- 11p-7a
su
mo

-

next.

i am the god of war.
who the FUCK are you?

finished it. took ~14 hours.

sick game, if not a little bit too short. a lot of relying on the replay value which i'm not going to go for at all. new costumes are cool and all, but i'm just here for the story. which, all in all, was just more kratos having it out with the gods.

there will be another installment of this game, and will most likely be solely on the ps3. hm.

call it travel, but we were there.

sometimes, i feel like i didn't move to florida at all. sometimes i feel like it was all a cover up for a suicide attempt. some days i feel like i'm being handled with care. people not wanting to let the wrong thing slip out. a fact here or a hint there. keeping the charade in place. come to think of it, there hasn't been an uncomfortable silence since i've been back. so you're all locked and loaded, then? well that's all just fine.

i think about who might have found me; put the whole thing in place. maybe i laid down one night, while i was drying clothes and decided not to get up again. got caught up in a fever, decided to take the whole thing apart. i'm no immune. i crack like we all crack. and sometimes, it's dying or killing. constructing an ending in someone. writing someone out. it comes not a lot, but just to be sure.

the twitter phenomenon.

i want to encapsulate my thoughts on this whole twitter movement that's happening in such a terse statement, that it will make perfect sense appearing on the site itself, but it's near impossible. i think the best way to put it is:

no one gives a shit.

just like those livejournal posts where people discuss what they've been doing for the past few days (i could see a transcript of a vacation, but c'mon); just like those myspace blogs that talk about myspace blogs. just like those flickr pages of everything you've eaten today.

no one gives a shit.

there's a link up top on the site called "public timeline" which seems to post the last twenty or so posts in the past ten seconds or something along those lines. and i read it sometimes, in hopes that someone will go outside the box a little bit; maybe express a brief clarity, maybe create a tiny universe, maybe say something intriguing. because these things are really possible. i'm 'following' four twitters which do just that. in one hundred and forty characters or less, they give me something to read and at least absorb. some of rah's are a little on the X-D side for me, but i'm sure some of mine register on the 8-| scale for him as well. but in the middle of those extremes of our posts, there are bits of things that interest each other with what we write in there.

+ stephifty sandwich was worth the wait!
+ jwatkins debating whether i'll keep this feed going
+ legirl leaving in a few, and i still don't know how to get there.

no one gives a shit.

and i'm not saying that my feeds are any more on the side of revolution. my flickr had been a blind dash at throwing whatever i could point my camera at and capture. my livejournal hit its moments of self-importance. but even clicking in, and reading some of these 'tweets' that folks post is like fucking a blow up doll.

and i'm probably being a major elitist right now. but the thing is, i have no problem with each and every one of these users having an account. on any and all fronts. but i just wish there was a little bit more soul behind those dead eye[con]s. it's hard trying to point this out, without saying, "they should be more like us. the way we do it is right." because, in essence, that's what i'm saying. but some of this information doesn't need to be out there. it's that gabby bullshit that prevents a streamlined society.

and there i was sitting in die hard,
loving the tricked out explosions
which costs multimillions.

okay. okay.
i guess it's just frustrating to know the potential of a system being put to waste. i've looked at those limited character allowances as a challenge. just another new media to create within. i'm not saying my twitter is great. but i'm proud that at least it's different. and i'd love to find more just like mine.

+ zero606 I am trying to come up with a new logo for my blog and for my shopping log. I need an inspiration!
+ razzie I think imma take a shower right now

because, jesus.

-

antenna.

today is my first real day off since i started working again, it feels like. every other day that i've had no hours at a job, wedged between two other days that i DID have hours have been monopolized from morning til night. that's not a bad thing, necessarily. in fact, today is just like one of those days where i was unemployed forever. except today, i got to appreciate it, guilt free. i wasn't worrying or tap-tapping.

it finally felt like things were okay.
because they are.

a majority of today has already been spent plopped in front of my ps2 and television playing more god of war. I have been having such a good time with the game, exactly like i had with the first one. it's just one huge movie, essentially, that i get to help along. there are a few parts where i've died, literally, twenty or more times. stuff like that is frustrating, as in any video game. mostly, this kind of thing would come up in earlier NES games where the pits were placed just too far apart. or enemies just did NOT make sense in certain places for the skill level that your character was ready for at that time. but the BIGGEST thing that made games very difficult were the lack or sparse placement of save/check points. and that's what keeps this game on. the people in charge of god of war must have had very similar experiences with games, and have put markers after pretty much EVERY thing that you do. and that helps out a WHOLE lot. so, i've got the barbarian's hammer, the spear of destiny, and icarus' wings, i've spoken to the titan atlas, and have freed a phoenix from its ashen prison.

i'm down with that.

i also finally started to read a million little pieces by james frey.
there was such a HUGE hype behind this book due to the oprah machine, and that, to me, waters down a book SO much. it's like the whole davinci code thing. when that book was getting insane acclaim, and stayed on the best seller chart for who knows HOW long, i had to ignore it, just at least for the first chunk of that. there's just an element of tag-along that goes with those HUGE hype trains. like the wii right now. i'm sure that a lot of people who are looking forward to getting those hard-to-get wii systems are going to be selling them back within the year. not a majority, or anything, i don't think. but a good amount of people are going to be disappointed that they bought into the whole "grassy knoll" mentality. either way, the book's first twenty pages are legit. and while that can't necessarily mean the entire book is going to be good, so far it's exceeded my expectations.

click for new music.

flower children.

while in west virginia for the weekend, i picked up this manga based on that cover alone. the synopsis on the back sounded fine, whatever. but it was that cover that made me want to pick it up. now, i'm into anime, this much is true, but an aficionado, i am not. i wouldn't even necessarily say that i love the stuff. as i think i may have mentioned once or twice before, it interests me, mostly due to its broad possibilities.

a japanese homicide detective is mailed a horrible package (his girlfriend dismembered, and kept alive by a jelly-bath of electrolytes) which sets loose multiple personalities into his psyche. and the common multiple personality disorder type stuff happens. after reading the first installment, what the storyline seems to be is a collection of horrible murders that the various characters (not only the multiple personality character, but others as well) will investigate, while continuously exploring the possibilities present within the multiple personalities.

this series is 18+, and for good reason. the mutilations are pretty twisted. there is definitely a good amount of blood present too. in fact, one of the main reasons dark horse is bringing this manga over here now is the fact that takashi miike actually made a tv series based on the original japanese series. if you're familiar with what takashi-san's taste is, then that will give you an idea of the levels this manga will go to.

i didn't love this first installment of the manga, but i did enjoy it. i can vouch for its quality. i'm looking forward to the second issue. it's not something i'm on the edge of my seat for. but it's something to follow.



-



the rangers got one of my favorite players... i'm stoked about it.
hockey god, chris drury... he might just be a reason i make sure i see a rangers game this season.