seizure lights, they're there for a purpose.

sometimes it's nice to think about life really hard. think about the dying thoughts of a possum as it tried to cross the street. "maybe i should get out of that big things way." you stood your ground possum. good job. rest in peace possum.

i just realized the word "rip" is probably on countless tombstones. probably because not everyone could originally afford to have the words spelled out on the headstone so they abbreviated it, then it became a trend. it seem's like such a stupid word to be memorialized by, even if it does stand for something else. people are just goofy. i think a smiley face with a tear is more appropriate :.) or they shouldn't say anything and just paint tombstones different colors, whatever they feel. make a painting party out of it. rocks are boring and sad, even marble ones. it's mostly a waste anyways.

no that is not a third eye, it's a tear. dammit.

hey girls, i can fake it too.

let's face it, there's nothing out there for us. stay inside.

drastically different

the love is warm but unevenly dispersed. it's full, but not quite how they'd hoped. the end is often full of tears, but they're not dying fast enough. so they repeatedly ask questions, is every person loved one that can't be lived without? meanwhile, their truths hide in the things they don't know that make them want to kill themselves. but even worse are the truths they hide from lovers.

merry christmas.

every year christmas lights and luminated decorations suck excessive energy from the planet. also, cancer is growing. as time goes by we don't necessarily get smarter. in the future they will have other things to worry about. like who loves who. it's funny that why people aren't dying is almost more interesting a question then why they are. love each other like animals do, without standards or apprehension, it's fucking christmas.

miserable lover

i fell in love with her the moment i saw her without a jacket on. the rest of my day was ruined. it's that simple.

the worst artist: a biography

he tried to make some money, but he couldn't, so he lived at home with his supportive parents who were quite well off. he spent years trying to craft his perspective and niche in aesthetics, only to decide later that it had to find him, causing him to wait more than try. "my art captures the flaws and mediocrity of the human condition," he said to a local reporter, who jotted it down on a notepad which was soon thrown out and never printed. when he unveiled what he proclaimed to be his masterpiece, a few people nodded, but they didn't know anything about art. he shot himself in the head and survived. he didn't mean for that last part to happen.

eighty some years is much too long for nothing

blank stares resulting from the receipt of an unwanted gift. struggle is supposed to keep our minds busy. you never hear of the hungry being suicidal. it might have something to do with an obvious goal.

he's writing a novel about the apocalypse

he's about 400 pages into it, wars between devils and angels. it's guaranteed not to justify the dead trees it will be printed on. i kiss her and tell her i love her while jotting on some paper, "this life is not worth living."

i always find myself throwing things away

i've probably had one of the more typical white suburban upbringings a kid can have in this world. this makes me ignorant to other ways of life only in the sense that i may not have experienced them first hand, making those that have not experienced mine first hand equally ignorant. this ignorance to the experiences of others is universal and because of this, should not be considered a burden, or should be considered the burden of experience as we know it. communication helps us to alleviate this burden, or accentuate it. we come from a place we have no control over into a world that already has plans for us before we exist. then we wonder why there's no justice. just because something isn't there doesn't mean it isn't meant to be, or can't be.

¡hey, su pescado está en mi boca, gracias!

art, it's an interesting thing. you can teach certain skills and concepts, but creativity and inspiration? perhaps you can guide it and provide resources for development, but not the way you can instill facts on eager pupils. the art kids go to school so they can make money doing drawings and painting and manipulating images in interesting ways. i bet they'd strangle each other for their ideal job. i might pay to see that, then the remains could be an installation piece titled; motivated artists.

everybody look up in anticipation

you better get a dream fast and then hurry up and chase it. otherwise how will you know if you failed? you'll just feel disappointed and uncertain of life without a reason. it's better to have that perpetual carrot in front of you, so you don't stop and realize the absurdity of it all.

the wall wears it like a smile, a creepy smile

i took first place, but after that i still had to go home and be in bed before 9. mom said so. i guess i was happy, but looking at it now it didn't really matter, and only made things to come seem worse.

mediocrity

to be really good at something, like the best, you have to take your whole existence and focus it on that one thing, then maybe you'll be good at it. focus. like luke skywalker. except don't lose your hand. and never have a crush on your sister. that's gross.

let's move someplace crazy that other people are scared to go. let's do what they won't, they're all lame, look at them. lame-wads.

rockstars are not normal people.

i call 'em like i see 'em

he told stories between the acoustic songs he played. they didn't really go anywhere, but no one cared. they just wanted to feel a part of something more. a world they'd only heard through speakers and headphones. a world that no longer exists and even small traces like memories are becoming more scarce. the extinction of moments is constant and infinite. the thousands of fans he's played for has now dwindled to fifty, and it feels more like an open mic than a concert. getting older can't make it easier, but it doesn't seem to matter. there's an honesty and sincerity behind it that you can't fake. he's an artist because he's trying to say something, and it's obvious. he hasn't given up like those crippled by their own past. he's doing something new and no one can stop him. the world will be a different place.

they say god is a dying man that hates us, with nothing to fear or hold back

i'd like to say i'd do something completely different when faced with the same situation, but the truth is i'd probably respond in the most commonly expected way just because people expect it, to not stand out when i don't want to. there's probably a sociological term for this. something like, the expected reaction theory. someone probably wrote a book about it and is now living off of having written the quintessential book of the expected reaction theory. they now live someplace warm with an ocean view, on a cliff or mountain somewhere, still getting paid to talk about what they think about their ideas and ideas that have come around since. more of the latter, of course.

ok, someone you know is dead. so?

have a drink and stay a while. there's not much better to do. we're making folk songs without a message of hope, or a message at all. i want to see the stars fall out of the sky like electric rain and to run with the screaming crowds toward a non-existent shelter. i want to see their faces, those i never really cared for, those i did, and even more i'd never seen before, knowing we're all going though the same thing. we always have been, but most had their heads in the clouds, until now. now we all see each other exactly the same; fucked.

do you need any valium?

no thanks, i'm good.

but i do need to work on these things:

watercolor cards
a canvas
something for mother
strange gloves
a mask that works
investigate the car's make
just a radio
a bottle of wine
or five
call in sick
a record contract
more canvas might be necessary
job should have come first
feeling better about things in general

people we knew

they haven't killed themselves since you've not been in their lives. they probably don't plan on it either. they're planning out ways to make things better, or things already are. you don't have anything to do with these plans. the plans exist like their creators, independant and functional without you. a boy, with a pole, attached to a hook, sitting on a frozen lake, waiting for the spring.

panglossian detritus extant

on the bus ride, their public conversation only consisted of four subjects; how much vicodin was ingested, video games, pornography, and the uncertain location of their stop. an older woman seemingly on her way home from work was obviously disgusted. earlier today the crack head showed up for work and then left an hour later, just enough time for her to publicly criticize my misspelling of the word 'drawer' and not accomplish much else. they all go on living, though i'm not sure exactly why.

generalized learned experiences

everything we do carries with it a million assumptions, many of which are wrong. we depend on them. correctly applied they can be major short cuts in life.

angry without food

"you have a way of viewing the world that i cannot understand," said one monkey to the other. and they laughed and laughed and laughed.

why we're fighting all the time

it made sense; she was totally corporate. all the reasons she loved him were bad ones and besides, he stole them all. some people are gifted at life and some people just fake it. it normally ends worse than we thought it could.

wasted quiet days in space

smells like a bubble bath and love.

for better or for worse

in general we're probably worse than we used to be. most psychological tests seem to be focused on tricking people. getting people to do things against their will to display flaws or irregularities to better understand how things work. mind control. constant tinkering and exploring. we are great observers, if only we knew how to better organize and make sense of these observations. labels and generalizations only give a vague representation of anything.

her thong was visible in her low cut pants, made of a fabric that begged to be touched. the kind of thing people only put on with expectations. so much time is wasted thinking of stupid things like this to write.

the sun shows for a minute or two at noon, but the bright light shines all night long.

Please wait while we upload your life...

she didn't realize it, but i was always just passing through. when i said, i love you, i didn't mean forever. and when i wished it to always be like that, i didn't really think it could. she might have, but throughout life i've tried to concern myself as little as possible with impractical expectations, however impossible to avoid. the most reputed paths in life seem to be those of tolerating torturesome states, while telling oneself they are on a path to impractical expectations. ironically, this mindset is the only chance one has of ever reaching these expectations, however impractical. more often people will fall short and more often they will go on living with lacadaisical justifications or none at all. it's easy to live, knowing whatever life you wanted wouldn't have worked out.

smile

she smiled then, a loose, clumsy smile, genuine, unpretty.

we either live a life too short or too long. more often too long in a world too flawed. as our lives go on this seems increasingly obvious. justifications are as empty as existence itself.

a nap partner

i don't think she would have loved me if she'd met me then, because of who i was and what i thought i wanted. she would have left me to become someone she might love, without ever having known it. i think i may have let her go as well, because of how i pictured love. on a movie screen, on a tv show, as a girl who never gets older than twenty and needs nothing more than to cave to my every desire. natalie portman, jennifer love hewitt, whoever. i saw enough of them, one of them was sure to have undying affection towards me. if only i could happen upon meeting her. then her flawless personality would mesh with mine like the most perfect of tanglings. but i never would meet her. and even if i did, love degrades like happiness, chaotic and unpredictable, yet always new or disappearing. i wasn't looking for someone i could lay down with and take naps with forever, but in the end that's all any of us get. someone to talk to and look at before and after naps.

take notes

they fall in love so easy when they want to and then act like it is out of their control. if we really said "i love you" not necessarily with any thought or worries, but when we felt like saying it, because it is a nice thing to say and can make people feel good, would we say it more? just dig a hole in the ground and be happy you're somewhat comparable to a character someone casted and wrote lines for on tv. if you dont finish anything, no one will care except possibly you. if you don't care, then it doesn't matter. keep records and data to build theories surrounding the possibility of achieving what you want. then realize on your death bed that all you wanted was to spend the time you wasted collecting records and data doing something more productive. let's do more than just observe and take notes.

i quit

i decided i wanted to quit, and i did it. i quit. it didn't make me any happier, but i quit.

despite instinct

it was the first time it's happened since i can reasonably remember. i looked at the crackers and i didn't want any, i wasn't hungry. i didn't want to eat the crackers. putting them in my mouth and devouring them did not seem appealing in the least bit. i ate them all anyways.

i should be in movies

the more i think about it the less it makes sense, but the more i want it to.

a quiet soundtrack to a new apocalypse

pleonasm

you can't love something you don't know of, you can know of things that don't exist. you can love things that don't exist. it's an excuse to have and give hope, if only for pretend.

how can loving something too much be bad?

they couldn't stop. it became a part of who they were until being without it was impossible. they died unable to remember how it had felt before, instead, they remembered a list of facts, both arguable and unarguable. these facts that made up who they'd become, told them nothing of what they'd thought or the theories behind their actions. in regards to this, one could only speculate. it made retracing paths to happiness impossible. this self-reflexive archaeology became more of an empty habit than a finite goal, like most things done too frequently.

it's not fair

when i dream of home, i dream of a place i no longer live.
when i dream of love, i dream of a girl i no longer have.

lets go someplace different

dance parties everywhere, heavy with salacity and herds seeking to fill the void in their lives. people do this at all ages, all over the world. they will travel over the largest of oceans, the tallest of mountains to perform their mating call in a new gene pool. but really it's the same gene pool. the same idiot genes doing the same idiot things trying to prove they're desirable in a world. not something left for the garbage men to leave behind. still so many find they are left behind. but, even old men in young clubs get lucky with a liberal cash flow. fuck, let's get away from it all and go to cancun.

overeasy

jealous over nothing; it happens all the time.

2003:this just in

jonathan brandis killed himself at the age of 27, if you don't know who this is you can check out a handful of the legion of fan sites that outlived him.
1
2
3
4
5
6
this last one inparticular compares/confuses him with the characters he played, stating they would have never done this.

also, there is apparently an organization which deals with issues pertaining to child actors called; A Minor Consideration (AMC). what do you make of all this?

flower plucks self

there's a lot out there for you if you know hot to get it.

shit.

putting on a smile

certain people probably meet misfortune more frequently than others, are they to blame that their dispositions bare these scars? not all people are born with sunny dispositions and not all are taught the virtue of optimism and selective enduring. if you just happen to bump into a few too many miserable people, to the point that everyone you see is miserable, this could effect you negatively. subtly, but actually. some people can't help how they are, we say as we go about things, putting on a smile.

i wish i wish i wish

“I wish I could fall in love and have a boyfriend like that,”

she said as she watched the couple’s inebriated dance. She might not know it, but she can never have a love like that or be thrown around in such a carefree manner by a great lover. If she was lucky enough to meet such a person, she would ruin it before she was able to comprehend its value. I think she knows. Watching them dance made her a little sad.

a list

things i need more of in my life (in no particular order):

philosophy
alcohol
song writing
writing
painting
love
dancing

Mr. Robot hearts technology

in the future, everything will be in 3-D. it's progress.
(they probably really believed this in the 70's.)
ha.

lets all try: too hard

in the meantime, i was thinking about aliens and wondering why happiness often seems like chasing air or giving up.

people spend lots of money to dress sharp, but they often end up trying too hard.

diet: teddy grahams

hi emily.

some things are best left admired from afar.

we're dancing naked in a vacuum

as a kid, i was staring at him. he must have been in his mid teens with the beginning of a moustache above his lip. i wondered how long it took him to grow it, though it must have been a long time, since he'd obviously never shaved. i wondered how long it would be before i could grow one. it turned out to be seven years or so. my staring made him uncomfortable. he called me on it. i quickly pretended i hadn't been staring, poorly.

now that's love

he promised that he would fix it. no matter what, he would make it all better. so much so, that all the harm he caused in the past wouldn't matter. he would earn back his worthiness and then some. now that's love, or it would have been, had he been able to keep his promise.

don't tell anyone

(i need to get out of all this. here. all of it. soon. or something bad will happen: nothing.)

breaking things

it's funny, funny as in weird, feeling both happy and sad at the same time. remembering is magical, it can do this. though the happiness it brings can sometimes feel a little more sad than happy, the way life often does.

we were just talking. i was sad. she wasn't necessarily sad, but she was by the time she left.

apocalypse packing

we're packed to venture out into the woods to eat and sleep and make shelter. we'll come back pretty much the same. maybe a little dirty and hungry compared to how we left. who are we kidding, we'll probably just get drunk and tell stupid stories. the same thing millions of other people are doing in the comfort of bars or their homes. only we're outside, holding sticks and crossing our legs. someday we might not have an option.

it happened

two bottles of champagne later... a plan.

fair trade

i love the smell of coffee, it brings with it so many wonderful memories. i don't drink coffee. i used to go to coffee shops and eat scones just to smell the coffee around me and read. plus coffee shops are neat places to go and just be at. but since i've moved, the scones aren't half as good. i need to find something else, maybe coffee.

poke/prod

everyone thinks i'm looking for a job. in truth, i'm not looking for a job, i'm looking for a type of life that will leave me contented. i don't think any typical job will result from this. i'm beginning to think more and more that nothing will result from this.

in a world

i loved her. i really did. it was frightening and wonderful and then gone. everything that isn't is a lost potential in a world where anything is possible. i used to strive for pragmaticism towards those kinds of things. other people get sick of pragatism real fast. too much calculating and rationalizing, not enough humanity. in the end they're going to sell or throw away everything we have left. sentimental doesn't mean shit to anyone else. I'm falling asleep now and I wanted to do so much more with my day.

she never knew

she never knew sex could be loud until she stopped living with her parents. even then she could never bring herself to be loud. it was her roommate, not patient enough to wait for privacy before having sex with different boys. and the porn the roommate watched with the strange boys she braught over, once she was asked to join in, she was on her way out the door and exited without hesitation. there were also the complaints from her lovers. "you don't seem to get into it enough", "it seems like i do all the work", "why don't i turn you on?". ok, so the last one wasn't so much of a complaint as a question. but what if that's all she's got? what if that's as into as she gets, as much work as she wants to do, and what if she doesn't get turned on, at least not like her roommate or any of the girls in her "boyfriends'" videos. but what if that's not it, what if it's him. what if there's someone else out there who likes to make love just the way she does, quiet and soft. not loud at all. and what if these quiet love sessions would open her up, open them up to a new way of making love. more vibrant and tantalizing than the raunchiest of her roommate's sessions. perhaps she just needed someone who didn't try to teach her, but just let her be natural; the way she was supposed to be.

most people

you shouldn't partly give up on life. you should either embrace life, or give up completely. i don't think these two characteristics describe most people. i think most people partly give up on life.

corner apartment

she cried for the first time since she could remember. that's a lie. she cried often, not long before bed. since she left home she realized she hasn't felt love the way she used to or the way it is in movies. not that this is what she wanted. secretly she wanted something more, a kind of love that can't be captured on screen or in words, something that can't even be called love; a happiness that makes you wish for death. without this everything seemed petty and mundane, as it was. this is why she cried.

the boys who said they loved her are gone now and even further are the ones who didn't bother. it's true most people are just a reach away, but a reach can flurry into thousands of miles when stubbornness and bitterness take shape. the stubborn belief that running away from the past will bring happiness and the bitterness that disallows old scars to heal properly. after years begin to pass a reach to some seems just impossible. and why bother, especially knowing they never loved her like she wanted. if they did, it wouldn't be like this. a world with a love like that would be a different world. a world where fading loves leave no trace. a place where we can depend on our lives having a purpose and that purpose coinciding with our happiness. at the resolution of this goal we die, not a moment later. that she couldn't have this was something she'd known most of her life, but this was little consolation. eventually she'd fall asleep.

a ranting on a walk in the rain on the way to get groceries

advertising

i decided this anonymous guy has a good idea here. networking is important these days, even if it is on a mass impersonal level. i am going to start networking the same way to produce a massive income. this will be great! my new message which i will sporatically post anonymously on every blog in existence is this:

"you are deep and interesting, please send me your money, love every few days."

then when people see how clever i am and that my message relates to them, they will be motivated to send money to me. i don't see why people haven't thought of this before. wait yes i do, it is because i am so smart. i am going to get so much money like this.

damaged goods

"i could love slobs and bastards," she continued. "i've had cripples and creeps in the sack, and i've bent over backwards for them. but for the first time, i meet a guy who really had it all. good looking, brainy. the whole time i couldn't help thinking, what's the matter with this guy? when's he gonna dump me? he's not gonna keep a pig like me around, no way. i felt fucking anxious as hell, like he's going to get under my skin and bang, drop me from heaven. well, i finally couldn't take it anymore. i told him i never wanted to see him again. he wouldn't leave it at that, so i damaged him and finally went off with another guy. the next day, when i heard he offed himself, i realized that he wasn't fucking around with me, that he really loved me." she started to cry in a painful and frightening way.

sometimes our past experiences don't let us trust good things.

sell yourself

she's pretty with a bit of attitude, someone will give her money. besides, it's not like she'll starve from a lack of resources.

re: dusting off antiques

lets try this again:

3 years ago this is what i did for fun, it was awesome.

stupid money

no one feels bad taking stupid people's money.
while it certainly makes you wealthier and probably smarter,
it might not necessarily make you happier or better.

today i got internet full time kids.

things are going to get a lot more interesting or at least a lot more frequent. this is for certain.

relationships

dusting off antiques

i know this isn't working... give me a few days to fix it.
(i don't have constant internet access [i know how outdated this makes me.])

3 years ago this is what i did for fun, it was awesome.

how are you?

we're on our way

we're not exactly where we want to be, are we?

no. no we're not.

where do you want to be?

i don't know.

we probably won't get there anytime soon.

settling and enduring

You're better off if you enjoy life despite difficulty. Otherwise you should probably quit, because though it might get easier, it also gets harder all over again. It's not a game you can win and it's not a puzzle you can solve, you just go along or not.

They always come in angry and underfed. I too am often malnurished and tired. The exchange seems doomed before it begins.

moving

he didn't like where he was living, so he moved. he still didn't like where he was living, so he moved again. he moved a third time. after moving seven or ten times, he realized;

you can't move away from the world.

undescribable/uninteresting

the best moments of your life should remain undescribable and uninteresting when attempted to describe;

a performance so emotionally captivating, the shaking, the
fury. the surreal distortion of consciousness, if only for a moment.
the gentle tickling of senses and blanket of euphoria followed instantly by a
rush of unfair coldenss at its absense.

on hiding

sketching alone in a corner

doing best

the best you can do is love something that won't last. i guess smiling wouldn't hurt.

grip

frayed rope burn

diseased

that girl's all full of disease.

she said this as a warning. she assumed i was interested in some sort of company for the night and seeing that girl chat me up like a horny adolescent, she thought she'd help me out. the warning was appreciated, not that i would've pursued it, but sometimes it's just good to know these things. knowing more about your world lets you make more educated decisions on who you want to be. otherwise you're just full of assumptions without any reason. although some girls just say shit about other girls so they can have you for themselves.

food is not like crayons

this was only a test. i meant to say some metaphor involving food and collecting crayons, but it didn't work, so instead, this;

never used to

i've been dreaming lately and remembering them; i never used to. for some reason they only involve people from my past who i've lost contact with. this tends to give them a creepy aura of longing and misplaced affection or nostalgia. i'm not sure that i'd be happier dreaming about people i still interact with on a regular basis, though it'd make things more relevant.

a walk

i went for a walk to get something to eat, thinking of nothing inparticular. after eating i went to a record store and browsed through the albums. there, i repeatedly stumbled upon records that made me think of a girl, a past lover. so i left the store and went for a walk. i passed a couple, walking hand in hand on this sunny afternoon. the girl carried an umbrella to hide herself from the sun and the boy kissed her as they walked under her umbrella. seeing this reminded me of a moment shared with a past lover. my walk took me to a park where i sat on a bench to read a book about cute and awkward moments, which forced me to think of a past lover, if only to imagine and relate. but now, thinking about it, and writing down all these now past moments and memories of love, i realize; like each moment, love's just a passing thing.

ups and downs all around

i saw everyone i know in this city today. i probably won't see anyone again for several months now. or perhaps this is a hopeful sign of things to come. however, if the world ends soon i might consider myself lucky, though feel a little remorse, to have seen it all take place. at least to have been a part of it. ups and downs all around.

it would be funny, i think, to see any animal fly that can't, or shouldn't. did they ever figure out how the bumblebee flies? or the hummingbird? i don't know, i'm asking you.

i should get used to being social or alone. neither one feels too comfortable in excess.

decay

now we're making decisions. now we're living.

scratch that, i think i'll be just as happy or miserable despite these decisions. perhaps. (really this is only my way of justifying whatever decision i make. kind of like cheating myself into being happy/settling.)

unwelcome confessions and advice come all too frequently. we're probably not happy because we can't just do what we want exactly when we want to.

"everything makes us impatient. perhaps we feel remorse for a life which is too long, from the pont of view of the species, for the use we make of it."
-baudrillard

oh jeez.

free beer

the said hawaiian tropic girl kept coming up to us to talk, at her sister's wedding reception. not that we were all that interesting, but enthusiastic and increasingly drunk, as she was. i didn't know anyone there except the friend i arrived with, but the father of the bride (and the hawaiian tropic girl) kept replacing our empty beer cups with full ones. we didn't have to leave the table to drink, flirt, or browse the karaoke book, only to piss. the bride sang karaoke and we flirted with her sister until everyone was way past drunk and the reception hall employees began to kick us out. all the wedding guests went home, but we were not wedding guests, so we went to the bars for the extended flirting and drinking which would inevitably take place. i can never have fun like this without forgetting there's a future.

now we're living

now we're making decisions. now we're living.

uncertainty and fear resolved only with money and inflated self-esteem. some people never know certain kinds of comfort.

sitting on a beach with a nice girl feels like opportunity and hope even if there is none.

God; a metaphor

i thought i saw the word 'God' there, but at a second glance i realized it wasn't there. the word 'God' wasn't on the page at all. i couldn't even find a word i might have mistaken for it. expectations are built up and torn down abruptly like great civilizations.

jazz

i went out once, to get drunk. i met up with some people who i didn't really know and we went to a party where i didn't know anyone. once there i wandered around a bit to see if there was any way it could be fun and there wasn't. so i called a friend and went to meet up with her group. i found them wandering the streets. the place they planned to go was lame, so we wandered and then the group stopped and sat down on some steps in front of an ex-girlfriend of mine's house. an ex who i hadn't talked to in several months. i wasn't entirely comfortable with our resting spot, but i tried my best to look casual. a few of the girls in the group were busy networking on their phones, trying to find a destination. eventually they found one, which didn't sound too promising, but we went.

after traveling to the other side of the city, we arrived at a house where a few people were drinking, but it certainly wasn't a party. it was a crappy little house, and most people were watching tv. i wasn't drunk at all. there was strange talk of a party next door, so we decided to check it out. it was a "no clothes" party and people were dressed in duct tape suits, saran wrap, basically anything they could cover themselves with other than clothes. we obviously weren't dressed for the occasion, but we got some cups and after a few drinks the clothes shed easy and nobody cared.

the beer tasted of sweet honey and the music was a melodic jazz. it was an artsy/bohemian crowd, people who were about getting drunk and enjoying company. my friend and a friend of hers were getting hit on by this strange character who appeared almost thirty, wearing only a pair of skimpy red swim trunks. he was trying usuccessfully to show off. he pretended to dance, which the girls managed to turn into a dance off between the two of us. which somehow turned into me showing a girl how to swing dance, which lead to her showing me how to salsa dance. this deteriorated into me drunkenly spinning her around while she flailed and spun exuberantly.

after leaving the party we walked down the local bar strip, my friend, her salsa dancing companion, and i. we were drunk. the streets were full as it was nearing bar time. we heard some yelling as we meandered through the thick crowds. i looked up towards the source and saw a scared man and a fist in the air which connected with his head. as his face landed hard on the concrete the crowd spreaded some, but not entirely. my friend bent down to try and help him. his friends were off to the side on their cell phones, i dont know how i knew they were his friends, maybe they weren't. he was bleeding profusely and her hands were covered with blood from trying to help him. we left him with his "friends," who seemed to have allowed it to happen. we then went to a nearby apartment of this guy the salsa dancer knew, to drop her off, and so my friend could wash her hands. there were two guys sitting on a couch rolling a joint, one guy showed her where the bathroom was while we tried to explain why she was covered in blood. once she cleaned herself off, i walked my friend back to her place and then went home myself. drunk.

spring break

my favorite spring break in college was spent living out of a suitcase with a backpack full of books, sleeping on friends' couches in a snowy city. my least favorite spring break was spent in cancun, mexico, staying at a fancy hotel on the beach.

i turned a corner

incoherent drunkenness took place one night, or over the course of a night. somehow i became isolated from my companions at a party, in an unfamiliar part of a city i was new to. i was incapable of making my way home, though i didn't realize it. in the middle of a frigid winter night i wandered the snow covered streets and asked a stranger for directions to the wrong place without listening to his response. i kept walking, without direction. my mind began thinking less and less of my destination and more about survival. i turned corners, i fell, i climbed, but mostly just focused on walking. i tried using the moon as a compass, trying to remember how it looked before i left. i couldn't remember, if i even noticed it before. i turned a corner, there was a building with lights on, which looked warm and inviting. the doors were unlocked, so i walked inside to see women in fancy dresses and men in formal ware. ashamed, i kept walking and came to the end of a long corridor where i turned a corner, opened a door, and walked up some stairs hoping to find a way out. i don't know what i looked like being in the state that i was, but some security guards stopped me as i reached the top of the thin stairwell. they walked me to the front of the building and called me a taxi. we often learn something new about ourselves in the strangest of situations.

it's hazy today

today is a hazy day and i have nothing to do. it's nice to have days like this. like a reference to all past memories of hazy days. a reminder that we can't see everything in life we used to. it all looks so different now, a little bit scarier with sad undertones. i hope it doesn't clear up for several days now, i like to be sad with the weather.

i like to go out and have fun

a while back a friend of mine was trying to hook me up with a friend of hers. she said things like,

"you'd be good for each other. she likes to do things, the way you do."

what she meant was, i like to go out and have fun, which apparently not everyone likes to do. the reason me and this girl even came up as a possibility was because i got drunk and asked her for her number after chatting with her most of the night when we bailed on a party which neither of us were comfortable at. i probably never intended to call her, it just seemed like the thing to do. the truth was at the time i had just gotten out of a relationship i didn't want to get out of. i guess i was trying to force something to happen. so i called her, or she might have even called me, it doesn't matter. we made a plan to go out one night.

so i went over to her apartment where her surprisingly dorky roommates were watching tv. i say surprisingly, because i didn't know what to expect from this girl, because she's completely ordinary. not unattractive, but plain upon first sight. the friend i met her through wasn't, which is why i figured there was a potential, for something. so we left her apartment and went to this movie. neither of us knew anything about it and it turned out to be a really graphic sexual and violent tarantino-esque film, which i like, but made for an awkward first date scenario. so we decided to leave and went to my apartment where we called a cab to take us to this bar for salsa dancing. some friends of hers were supposed to be there.

so we went to this bar and met up with her friends, but mostly it was just us. this was before i knew how to salsa dance and though i knew how to swing dance, its not quite the same. she didn't know either, so we kind of watched others, stole moves, and shook our hips real dramatic. we didn't drink anything except water, dancing is dehydrating if you do it right, or wrong. after last call and the lights came on we left the bar and walked back. we shared memories and thoughts as we walked past the night lit buildings and closed stores. i took her to her apartment building and said goodnight.

we hung out on and off for the next several days. one night i called her to do something, i was shooting pool with some people at the time and told her i'd give her a call when i got back to my apartment. upon arrival at my apartment i called her, but she didn't answer. i didn't leave a message, probably because i was tired and just going to bed anyways, or because i hate explaining myself spontaneously to machines. so i just went to bed. i called her the next afternoon to do something before i left town for the weekend. she didn't call back. on the bus out of town i received a voice message from her, it went something like,

"hi.. i'd like to do something, but.. what the heck. you said you would call me back and you didn't. i mean, what am i supposed to think. i fell asleep by myself on the couch. i'd like to do something, but not if i can't count on you."

i didn't call her back.

highlight

aimlessness is a type of freedom.

in the train station they careened and veered like go cart drivers, or antelope averting some predator. men and women in hundred dollar suits. it was about 5pm. it happens almost every day at 5pm. people fill commuter terminals everywhere then disperse as quickly as they came. each of them wore the sternness of their goal on their faces, not satisfied until the burden of the day is left behind and the freedom of familiar personal comfort surrounds them. the resolution of this mission is probably, on average, the most exciting part of their day. just going home.

recommendations

death tolls and release dates. it's all a matter of perspective.

flags fly half mast all too often these days. walking down the street, some people smile, some people don't. some refuse to step aside out of courtesy, even if they're taking up the entire walkway standing side by side with their partner.

i was walking with a girl, complaining about the uncertainties of life. she did her best to console me. she said things like, "you're not alone," and, "it will work out." the usual consoling friend monologue, and she had some recommendations as to what i should do. other people also had ideas for me. everyone's ideas completely different, revealing each individuals unique conception of who i was in relationship to their world, but not mine.

more natural

she doesn't like using the air-conditioning during the summer. its because she doesn't want to pay for it, she says, but really i think its because of some ethical primitivist fixation. though, she doesn't mind propping the door open on hotter days, trying to suck the cool air from the air-conditioned halls. does being selectively cheap help nature? does successful economics make you happy?

speaking of happiness...
i was sitting out in the sun today with a friend, using the term loosely. we're friends out of convenience and small common interests only, which i guess defines any friendship. so i was playing cards with a friend today out in the sun. we were passing the hours, much like i'd imagine a pair of elderly retired men pass the hours, reflecting on the moment and moments passed. we discussed our desires, what we thought we needed to be happy. right then, what would make us happy. we didn't know how to go about getting any of these things, it was just a laundry list. there was no course of action to be followed. at least none we planned on thinking up and then taking the time to follow out. it was just things for the moment and thinking about them and sharing them made us happy. having them might have made us happy too, but the moment would have passed and eventually we would not be happy with the same thing. we weren't avoiding happiness, we just weren't going out of our way for it. there's a certain amount of contentedness knowing you don't have to try very hard. it makes things seem more natural sometimes.

pretty hard and cold

listening to ugly noises and watching machines. progress as we know it is pretty hard and cold.

i was chatting with a self-proclaimed successful salesman the other day by accident. he was driving me away from somewhere i didn't want to be, towards a place i looked forward to leaving. as he drove i opened and closed my eyes involuntarily, being very tired from having worn a suit all day long. neither of us made eye contact, since he was driving and both of us preferred the scenery to the sight of each other. aside from large exits and towns, the scenery remained green and lush. trees, bushes, and grassiness abound. suddenly he said to me, presumably since there was no one else present, something like,

"it's amazing to think, one day this won't be here. it will all be developed and built upon."

based on his phrasing and lack of emotional disclosure it was difficult to tell if this thought made him sad or excited. using the knowledge i had obtained about him from having spent the entire day together, i presumed he was happy about it. i did not respond or i might have said, "yeah," quietly, still looking out the window.

gently flickering light of hope

things are getting placed into boxes without a destination.
we're trying to improve, but don't know how to measure it.

i haven't made a drawing in quite some time.
i often wonder how i became miserable when i starve myself of the things that i knew made me happy.
at least i know.

my name

just so i have it in print. in case i wake up one day and forget, however unlikely.

my name "fusselman's rabbit" comes from chapter 6 or so of Phillip K. Dick's Flow My Tears, The Policeman Said. within which there is this little story or fable about a bunny rabbit trying desperately to be something it isn't and can never be; a dog. it's a good little story/metaphor and i've always related to it, i even included a reference to the story within a paper i wrote for a comparative literature class. i got an A on the paper, i think i did on all the papers in that class, it was on Don Quixote. the parallel was made between the Don's attempt to be what he isn't and the bunny's. differences being whether or not they achieve their goal. not everyone gets to. in this duel the bunny was the loser. fusselman's rabbit.

capable of anything

so i'm going to go a little post crazy here in the beginning. for a number of reasons:
A) i'm bored and unemployed
B) new things are always exciting
C) fuck. who cares. i want to

i was watching chinatown yesterday, it's a really good movie. classic even. you should go watch it now.



now that you're back i'll focus your attention on a key part of the movie. there's this line in it that really stood out to me, something like;

"most people never have to face the fact that in the right time, the right place, they're capable of anything."

churn that around your head and see what spews out. anyways, that's all.

and now a picture of my brother at a noriban (apparently korean karaoke). he's the one on the right, i don't know what's up with the weirdo on the left, i'm not related to him.

eureka

so i just made this blog or whatever and i wasn't sure why. i've made websites/poetry collections on-line before. i don't really need this and have often considered myself better than it.

i think i know now why i did it. because i needed something to complain to about life which my friends or anyone i know won't be able to associate directly with me. so there it is. get ready to be pummeled with ranty depressed rhetoric on why my life isn't worth living while i proceed to ignore this philosophy.

doot doot.

one.

so i guess i'm doing this, because maybe i'll update it more than i did my other "blog-esque" sites.
i dont know where i will live next week (what else is new).

scams are all over, people are taken advantage of every day
it's not so bad if you have the right perspective.

WARNING: this is likely to get ugly/pretentious, without due cause.