more sick
Wow, you should see what I just coughed up.
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Wow, you should see what I just coughed up.
When I was kid, I loved being sick. I didn't get sick very often, and it represented getting doted on and cared for, and possibly missing school, the ultimate of all priveledges. Now here I am all stuffed up and a little delerious and feeling a little like I got hit in the face with a shovel. Plus there's this evil moist chocolate cake here taunting me that I can't eat because I know that it would make it all so much worse. Nobody is doting on me. I am just schlepping along in this mean 'ol world and desperately trying to hide the fact that I am still a little boy and I don't know about lawyers or NAFTA or saw palmetto. Nobody is going to clean my sicky sheets (or even go down to the store and get me some change). I'm going to a party tonight...whoo hoo.
My heart just feels like it could burst.
God I am having this wierd social phenomenon where all of these people in Seattle I used to know are all hooking up with each other and me. It's kind of amazing how it's just started to network out and include everyone. Makes me wonder what is the purpose of all these harmonic convergences. Maybe just to have a good time this summer.
My friend Cara works in the Pike Place Market. I asked her if she wanted me to get her a coffee and she said sure, but she needed to write it down:
4 ristretto shots with a little vanilla syrup and soy milk that has not been foamed (just plain out of the carton), sorta like a latte only short.
Thank You.
That got us to thinking as to what the most hellish coffee order could possibly be. I teased the barista about it so bad that she gave me my coffee for free and gave me the aforementioned drink for $1.25. Groovy.
Can I just be crude here, briefly? I saw these Britney Spears ads on the Oscars last night. (Gladiator?!?! Best picture?!?!?)
It always amazes me that an entertainer who positions herself in the market as "hottest snatch on the planet" is always so surprised at the hordes of icky middle aged groupies she has. They pay your rent, honey. Check this open letter to her. Oooh, she generates some fascinating stuff online.
One time I lived with this 5-year old and I used to make up stories for him when we took the bus to his school in the mornings. One day I made up some story about a monster and he was very insistant about what the monster was called, so I told him that it was called a Greek-grak-grok-groke-gruke. Then he wanted to know what it looked like, so I folded up the tip of my tongue into the shape of a "w" (a talent of mine) and said, "It looks like that."
"Oh," he said. For some reason that seemed to make everything perfectly clear. I told him the story and then forgot about it for a long time, and then, about a month later he brought me a picture he drew, and I asked him what it was, and he told me it was a Greek-grak-grok-groke-gruke. The funny thing is, is that it was a little stick figure, but it's head looked a lot like my tongue when I'm folding it up into a "w". His mom was pretty impressed. She framed it.
I went and saw Scott Everhardt last friday and it was so good. That man can really play a harmonica. Sad songs...he's got a coupla MP3's on his site...try Nothing in This World.
Is it possible that I can recommend something more highly than Y0UNG-HAE CHANG HEAVY INDUSTRIES PRESENTS. What is it? Ummm, it's moving poetry set to the most excellently chosen of jazz. Please take that with a grain of salt, though, becuase it's the coolest way I've ever seen poetry presented on the web. Just go look at dakota and let your ass be blown away.
I don't know how long it will take to load on a dial-up connection, but it should be OK, and so, So, SO worth it! The sound is really a must. Omigod.
Looks like my I would like a girl entry finally came up and was posted today. I couldn't remember what it was, and figured I would feel totally different about it so many weeks later. But I read it and it's still pretty much accurate. Also, read Shauna's entry...it's good.
I went to the library in my new neigborhood to look through the CD stacks, and what did I find? METALLICA!
Nowadays of course I'm more of a jazz, motown, funk, folk music kinda guy, but seeing that bloody red cover of Kill 'em All took me back to the days of my friend Aaron Parsons sloppily playing the Four Horseman riff and just getting so excited. So, even though I'm really not much into this kind of music anymore, I got it anyway, and I still think it's bloody brilliant!
In the meantime I have heard so much more music, and so now, much of the music I liked back then strikes me as a bit daggy, even completely sucky. For instance, I once really liked Phil Collins, and now cannot stand that hack-ass songwriter. But Metallica clearly stands the test of time. I haven't hear Load, Reload, and Buttload, but these old albums are something else. I remember Master of Puppets being my favorite.
They just have such a sense of how to use space in a song. I went to go see them at the Metro Centre in Rockford, IL when I was 14 or so. When they sang Master of Puppets, there's that part where it goes Master...Master.... and there's these little pauses of just under a second...and every fan knew the timing...so in concert when they played that song, there would be these milliseconds of absolute silence in this huge fuckin' stadium between those words. Goddamn it makes me want to go to a Metallica concert right now!
Plus, they're such a pure metal band. It's like they define the boundaries of the genre...not a hint of glam or satanism...just pure gnarly metal.
I'm not going to go out and buy the CD or anything...the time in my life for Hit the Lights has passed, but I just thought you should know.
aaiiiaauuuuauuuuughhhghhhhhhhhhhh!
^^Anguished sound of transcendental frustration with last programming assignment in C++ class.
A portal site with attitude to spare. Yahoo, watch out, homely.com is in effect. It's going to be my new home page.
At a dinner party a few nights ago with me and two couples:
tiny: I guess you just can't really change anyone.
He of couple: Yeah, that's funny, we're still trying to change the same things about each other that we were five years ago when we started dating.
Her of couple (looking surprised at this revelation): Yeah, that's true. (clearly was thinking about going into more detail here) ....yeah.
The Shortcomings of the Self-Centered Attitude
The function which the self-centered attitude performs is the avoid short-term difficulties and to act as an unwillingness to work for the acheivement of ultimate happiness. It is an overindulgence which grasps to oneself and is therefore unable to bear even the slightest harm. It views even minimal hardship as extremely disquieting, while constantly inducing a sense of impending personal loss. For these reasons this attachment to self is called the "self-centered attitude".
...It also endeavors to conceal our faults, while drawing attention to our good qualities. It shows no tolerance of even the slightest mistakes that others may have made with respect to us...Instead, causing anger, it induces all of our personal shortcomings, and sustains the attitude that we are superior to others.
Despite our desire for happiness, it leads us to perform actions that are completely incongruent with that goal. Due to it we are jealous of our betters, competitive to our equals, and belittling toward our inferiors. It is the root of our antagonism toward anything desirable which others possess, and is like a malignant disease that feeds on pleasure while avoiding all difficulties and conflict, thus ensuring that we fail to reach any worthwhile long-term goals...
It also acts as the cause for the self-doubt which plagues and disturbs the mind; it increases our inability to associate with others, and makes us disrespectful and haughty. Becuase of all these negative influences, when others utter so much as a few words out of place we are completely unable to cope with it, and it brings in its wake suspicions of others' harmful intentions of us that are exaggerated beyond all reasonable proportions.
Ultimately then, through its facade of concern for our well-being it is the root of all privation and the source of all personal failings which can deprive us even of our own life.
-Bodhichitta: Cultivating the Compassionate Mind of Enlightenment, by Ven. Lobsang Gyatso
Roosevelt 'hood update:
I saw the guy again. He asked me for fifty cents today. In another two weeks he'll be a political fundraiser. Count on it.
There's this guy who lives in my neighborhood...but on the street, you know...dirty jacket and white scruffy beard and sort of confused...you know the type.
I noticed him because, well, because he's always in my hood, but also because he always asks for one penny. "Can you spare one penny?" I offered to buy him a burger one day and he said, "If I was hungry, that would be just the thing, but I'm not hungry."
"You should ask for a dollar," I said.
"I should do a lot of things," said he. I thought about carrying around pennies all the time so I could give him one whenever he asked. I thought about him a lot. I felt like it was dishonest to just ask for a penny when you damn well know that if anyone is going to give you any money it's going to be more than a penny. Why not just ask for what you need? I tripped about it a little. But then I saw him again this morning. I saw him making the rounds and realized that I had one dollar in my pocket and I was not going to be a snot...I was going to give it to him. I missed my walk sign waiting for him, and finally he approached.
He must have been really hard up, "Do you have any pennies you can spare?" he asked. Whoa...multiple pennies.
"I don't have any pennies," I said truthfully, and paused...suddenly not sure for some reason, but then, "I do have a dollar though, do you take dollars."
"Yes," he said, "I'll take a dollar, that would really help." He caught onto my confusion a little and he said, "I can only ask for pennies...that's just how I am. I can't even ask for spare change...just pennies. That's just how I am."
Tagline from the Christian Station: We play music about loving God, and loving People.
Ever do something just so you can blog about it? Today I listened to Christian Radio all day. Is there something about being a Christian musician that blocks all original thought? It was all watered down versions of regular genres. Watered down R&B, watered down dance music, even sort of watered down Easy Listening, if such a thing is possible. I mean, how white can a radio station be? It's ever whiter than the Easy Listening Station. Aren't there any Christians with soul?
In its defense though, I had a really good day, and it was calming when it wasn't totally repulsive. They are pretty hard up for advertisers it seems, and I heard the same ad over and over again. It's actually pretty funny how people sell things to Christians:
"Want to create a safe environment for your children or youth group? Why not create your own game room? If those damn kids are going to do heroin, why not let them nod in the comfort of their own home, sloppily playing at their own pool table? Buy one today!"
Loose Pages (8 1/2x11 copy paper folded in half)
got nudie?
I got no nudie but I got a cozy bed
I got no nudie but I got a cozy bed
I got no nudie but I got a cozy bed
That's just fine with me
A cozy bed don't fuss and fight
A cozy bed don't fuss and fight
A cozy bed wouldn't care if I stay out all night!
That's just fine with me.
it's a loose pages / one a day poem.
Loose Pages (on a brown paper bag)
don't forget for even a moment!
make a list. write a sticky note.
tie a string around your finger.
(as if that ever worked)
set the alarm.
tell a friend to remind you.
place things on the floor
where you know you'll be walking later.
tell yourself to remember
when wind chimes sound,
when you walk through a doorway,
when you pick up the phone
at the height of madness,
on your first sip of tea,
when you blow out the candles.
you are alive.
please don't forget.
it's a loose pages / one a day poem.
It seems to me that living is a series of potentially catastrophic events, all of which that can be potentially handled with supreme skill and grace.
(on a blue handmade piece of Tibetan paper)
Our tender friend:
centerless center.
Our lost brother:
rhythm and change.
it's a loose pages / one a day poem.
(notebook paper, ripped out of the coil)
(Bosnian translation by Nina Pozegija)
I dream of the Autumn
and when I dream
the leaves fall and cover my eyes
They smell like a smoky morning.
Sanjan jesen
i kada sanjan
Lisce pada I mokriva mi oci
Mirisu hao dimljeno jutro.
Translator's note: This isn't a very good translation, because you would never use the word 'smoky' like that. The word I used is only good for, like, sausages.
it's a loose pages / one a day poem.
(on an 8 1/2 x 11 sheet)
Tip From a Llama Trainer
llamas are very territorial
so when you first start to approach them,
you just come up to maybe 20 feet and don't make eye contact.
then next time maybe 10 feet,
and then 10 feet again.
in this way the llama becomes accustomed to your presence without having to be freaked out.
it's a loose pages / one a day poem.
What th'? The almighty mother of comments in the source code, via The Morning News,via k10k. Pssst....there are no secret messages in my sourcecode. Really.
Did you think it was just a dirty trick to get you to look?
Hello Beauties! Be sweet to yourself. You are not bad.
(written on a notecard)
I'm too skairt to rite a pome.
I'm too skairt to rite a pome...
this world -- this country -- this city
with its dark nights and
little places to drink in and little
people to get in trouble with.
Everyone's loneliness just hits me at once
out doing their desperate lonely things
and me wanting to join them -- knowing
there will be a morning.
Dreading it, yet hoping it will come soon.
Ok, I am going to still do the rest of the one a day poems. I have a handful more, but instead of going in a notebook, these are the ones that were written on various random scraps of paper. To simulate their disconnected quality (and maybe to drag it out) I'm going to do them one a day until they're all gone.