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It was one of those perfect evenings. The humidity had died down, and the wind was blowing just enough to move hair. There was a smell of some sort of flowers in the air, probably a lilac. I was absolutely riveting. It reminded me so much of evenings in North Carolina like when I was growing up. Later in these days, the fireflies would come out, and we'd catch as many as we could and jar them up. It was like swimming in a fog of fireflies, there were always so many of them.
This is the kind of evening was nothing short of amazing. So peaceful, so serene, so perfect. One day, I hope to die on an evening like this one.
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Saturday, March 10th, 2007
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Gas prices are a scam.
Cell phones are a scam.
Religion is a scam. It's in fact the biggest scam that's ever existed ever. Come on - believe what I believe, do as I do, or I'll kill you? You'll believe what a dead guy wrote 2 thousand years ago, but you won't believe me? Living right in front of your very eyes?
Love is a scam.
Free PS3s are a scam.
Seedless watermelons are a scam - they've got seeds.
Myspace is a scam. It takes away from the time you could be spending doing worthwhile things...like knitting.
Political correctness is a scam.
Everything is a scam.
SO!?! So what? Scams are fun. Don't worry about being fooled. If you manage to logically wrangle around one scam and safely avoid it, another one will just sneak up right behind you. Don't worry. It'll be okay. I promise. (Trust is a scam.)
Act the fool. Don't be so self-concious. Get your crazy ass scammed. You don't want to be left out, do you? (Acceptance is a scam.)
Chuck Norris, however, is not a scam. He is the exception to the rule. Because he was in Sidekicks with Winnie Cooper. She's hot. (You better believe hot women are a scam.)
I love................sleep.
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Wednesday, January 10th, 2007
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| Time: | 7:28 pm. |
| Music: | Asian Kung Fu Generation - Rewrite. |
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Music is music. I can't help that. I've often been called a snob for my taste in music. I'm the guy that hates everything except what I listen to. That's not exactly true. Music is music. Music to me means something different than music to you. Just because I don't like a certain genre of music, I'm not saying that that genre is shit. It just means I don't like it. It's not my cup of tea. It doesn't get me off. Whatever...
All I'm saying is that you should like the kind of music you like and don't let anyone (even me) tell you otherwise. You obviously like it for a reason.
Also, let people share music with you. Let them give you mix cds and the like. You never know. You could end up being a huge Phantom Planet fan but hate the theme to the OC. You could end up rocking out to Asian Kung Fu Generation even though you have no idea what they're saying. You could really enjoy Mary Lou Lord even though you've never heard a lick about her before. Just keep your ears open.
And for the real snobs out there, fuck off. Crossfade is terrible and you know it, so stop shoving it down my throat.
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Wednesday, September 27th, 2006
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Taking my time, taking this drive, waving this town goodbye
small of your back, nape of your neck, I remember everything as I drive
waving this town goodbye
so long so long
taking my time, taking this drive, waving this town goodbye
I will leave under the cover
summer's kiss upon the sky
like the stone face of your lover
just before she says goodbye
I was certain that the season
could be held between my arms
just as summer's hold is fleeting
I was here, and now I'm gone
so long so long
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(This is not a defense for those that use performance enhancing drugs to become better athletes in baseball, even though it may sound like it.)
You hear the names: Barry Bonds, Jose Conseco, Mark Maguire, Jason Giambi, and Rafael Palmeiro. And lately you hear Jason Grimsley and David Segui. People will argue that these people used performance enhancing drugs to get their name in the record books, to become better players than all their peers. The argument is that using steriods is a travesty to the game because it destroys the spirit of the game. It's cheating, and cheating is bad.
While I will agree that cheating is wrong and you shouldn't need to cheat in professional sports to show that your man, the argument sounds awfully familiar. It's now that I'm brought to another controversial issue in Baseball: Instant Replay for umpires. The argument here is that (for the most part) fans don't want instant replay because without it, the game is more interesting and that's what makes baseball fun to watch. If Instant Replay was introduced into Baseball, the game would become more mechanical like Football. And though it would catch cheaters like Alex Rodriguez in the act and make the game more fair, Instant Replay would destroy the spirit of the game.
So now I'm brought to a crossroads: If I oppose Steriods, I should be in favor of Instant Replay? That's what it comes down to. Fans can't bitch and moan about one issue and ignore the other. How can someone be against cheating, but also be against a device that would stop cheating? And I'm sure my opposition would make the point that using Steriods and Instant Replay have nothing in common, so no basis for a camparison can be made. But they do have something in common. The excuse to ostrocise Steriod use is being used to deny Instant Replay.
I'm not saying I'm in favor of Steriod use. I'll agree that it's a horrible thing to need to cheat at sports. All I'm saying is that you can't be pissed off about Barry Bonds breaking Babe Ruth's all time home run record, and at the same time not be able to say "lets go to the tape." Steriods and no Instant Replay make the game interesting. That's all I'm saying.
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btw, lay of Jason Grimsley. The guy got smacked in the face by a baseball. He wasn't supposed to be able to pitch again. The guy has to feed his family somehow.
Harvey, Grimsley collide under "royals notes."
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10 things Boston needs to do to win the Pennant.
1. Trade away Rudy Seanez.
2. Acquire a lefthander that's not Lenny DiNardo or Javier Lopez.
3. Give walking papers to David Wells and Matt Clement (although I do love Matt Clement, he just can't stay healthy).
4. Pick up starting pitching that doesn't suck. I'd suggest trading for Ervin Santana of LAA, or getting back Bronson Arroyo (it was such a big mistake to trade him away).
5. Make Tim Wakefield a God and have him pitch every game.
6. Punch out Gary Sheffield.
7. Hide Alex Rodriguez's and Jason Giami's juice (stomach virus my ass).
8. Only use Julian Tavarez in middle relief roles. He can't be a setup pitcher. He's just not that good.
9. Clone Melky Cabrera and put him on every team at every position (the guy can't even make routine fly outs for christ's sake).
10. And for everything else, bring Bo Jackson back to life and sign him as a manager. Bo knows what to do.
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I'm sorry you feel so terrible about your situation. I wish I could help, and you know that if you ever need it, I'm there for you. And if not, that's cool too.
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Tuesday, April 18th, 2006
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Red lights are flashing on the highway
I wonder if we're gonna ever get home
I wonder if we're gonna ever get home tonight
Everywhere the waters getting rough
Your best intentions may not be enough
I wonder if we're gonna ever get home tonight
But if you brake down
I'll drive out and find you
If you forget my love
I'll try to remind you
And stay by you when it don't come easy
I don't know nothing except change will come
Year after year what we do is undone
Time keeps moving from a crawl to a run
I wonder if we're gonna ever get home
You're out there walking down a highway
And all of the signs got blown away
Sometimes you wonder if you're walking in the wrong direction
But if you brake down
I'll drive out and find you
If you forget my love
I'll try to remind you
And stay by you when it don't come easy
So many things that I had before
That don't matter to me now
Tonight I cry for the love that I've lost
And the love I've never found
When the last bird falls
And the last siren sounds
Someone will say what's been said before
Some love we were looking for
But if you brake down
I'll drive out and find you
If you forget my love
I'll try to remind you
And stay by you when it don't come easy
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Wednesday, April 12th, 2006
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You're a boy who was a man who is a tree
Perfect hair forever
In life there are some times
Consequences to the actions a hero must face
To the end of the universe
Watch out for bears
to them you are spaghetti dinner
Perfect hair forever
Keep on fuckin' in Paris
Keep on fuckin' in Paris
Keep on fuckin' in Paris
Love love love, you're dead
But don't die
Go to the mountain where those people are
Perfect hair forever
Buy some things to bring them to the mountain
A mountain which does not exist
Fulfill your destiny
Do that thing to that guy
Play that trick on him
Pee pee in your coat
Old chinese joke
Perfect hair forever
Recording this today at 2:30
Time for dentist: 2:30
The lights went out
It might be 2:40
perfect hair foreve---
Dance
Dance
Dance all night
Get real funky
Funky hot
Hot all night
Hot all night
Night night night
Night all night
Night all dance
Dance dance
Dance!
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Thursday, March 16th, 2006
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To the snotty girls that bug the sign-in guy:
Shut up! I'm just doing my job. Like I'm supposed to remember everyone that walks in and out that door. If I ask if you live in the building, don't get offended. You have no reason to. It just means that I don't know you, nor have I ever known you in any capacity, and that includes being a resident in the same dorm that I live in. So get your nose down from the high ledge of snot and be civil about things. Do you know how many people walk by me trying to get in without signing in? Did you know that I get personally repremanded if I let someone go by without having them sign in? Did you know that if someone who doesn't live in the building walks past me and causes trouble, I can and will get fired? You girls all give a big stink when a rapist gets into the building without any question by me, but then bitch me out when I ask you if you live in the goddamn dorm. How am I supposed to know that you're not a rapist? How am I supposed to know anything without asking a fucking question?
Shut the fuck up you stupid bitches. Get a life. Stop interferring with mine.
And no, I can't open the door for you. I'm not allowed. I can get fired for doing that, too.
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Tuesday, February 21st, 2006
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| Time: | 6:51 am. |
| Music: | when I win the lottery - Camper Van Beethoven. |
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Well I lost an eye in Mexico
Lost two teeth where I don't know
People see me comin' and they move to the other side of the road.
I robbed a liquor store or two
Made myself at home a few times
Borrowed myself a car when I needed it.
I got me a shack at the bottom of the road
Fixin' cars and givin' tows
Spend all my money on the lottery.
When I win the lottery, gonna buy all girls on my block
A color TV and a bottle of French perfume
When I win the lottery, gonna donate half my money to the city
So they have to name a street or a school or a park after me
When I win the lottery
Never run a flag up a pole
Like Mr. Red, White, and Blue down the road
But I never called myself a hero for killing a known communist.
Now I can walk into any old bar
Find a fight without looking too hard
But I never killed someone I don't know just 'cause someone told me to.
And when I win the lottery, gonna buy the house next to
Mr. Red, White and Blue
And when I win the lottery, gonna buy Post 306 American Legion
Paint it red with five gold stars.
When I win the lottery.
When the end comes to this old world
The rats will cry and the rest will curl up
And God won't take the time to sort your ashes from mine.
'Cause we zig and zag between good and bad
Stumble and fall on right and wrong
'Cause the tumbling dice and the luck of the draw just leads us on.
And when I win the lottery, gonna buy all the girls on my block
Silver-plated six shooters and a quart of the finest highland scotch
'Cause when I win the lottery, the rocks will shake their heads and say
That God is good but surely works in mysterious ways.
When I win the lottery.
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Monday, February 20th, 2006
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If you think that my appologies mean nothing to me, fine. However, you are wrong. But that doesn't matter, does it? It doesn't matter what I think or feel. It just matters what you think and feel. You are the only one in this, aren't you? I appologized because I was a dick online. That is the honest truth. I, however, appologize for nothing else because I don't feel I did anything else wrong*. But that doesn't matter, does it? The context of the appology doesn't matter because you don't want to hear it. You're just going to take what you think is truth and force it to be truth**. And you're just wrong. When it concerns the context of my feelings, you're just wrong.
I'm not trying to reconcile because it'll make me feel better or it'll make me sleep better at night. I'm trying to reconcile because I don't want to loose you. This isn't something that's just "Let's make paul feel better before I go to sleep." This is "You were my friend and I miss you." But if you don't want to be my friend, then fine. If you don't want to be one of the most important people in my life, then fine.
You have no idea how I feel because you are not me, and you can't go about making assumptions on how I feel, or what my intentions are, or why I'm doing ANYTHING because you have absolutely no way of being right***. You can't say that what you think about me is gospel and go believing it because it's just wrong. It's just wrong. But again, that doesn't matter.
I'm not playing this game anymore. I'm not playing this drama anymore. I'm not gonna walk on eggshells around you because you say so. You got shit to say to me, you say it****. You don't want to be my friend, then fine. You've killed any feeling that I may have left for you, and that makes me sad.
And I am not sorry for anything that I say in this entry because it is all gospel.
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(many hours later)
Listen. Whatever you think, whatever you feel...fine. Whatever this has to be is what it has to be. Just know (and this is the god honest truth) that I loved you very much. You were a wonderful friend and anyone would be lucky - nay, honored to at one point in time called you "friend." Take this however you want, but from the mouth of the person saying this, this is not an attempt at reconciliation, it's the truth. Do the things that you have to do, and when you're finished, if we're still friends, then so be it. If we're not, then I'm glad to have known you. And that's not an attempt at sarcasm or an attempt to get some percieved "upper hand." I just don't know how to say it better than that. It makes me happy to think that at one time you were one of the most important people in my life, and I'll take that idea and keep it. No matter what you say or what you do, that's how I'll remember you.
You meant something to me. How many people can say that about anyone?
I know you're going through some shit, and it pains me to think that not only am I not there to help you, but that you don't want my help. But if that's how it ends up being, that's how it ends up being. It goes how it goes. Take care, Sarah.
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*And if you feel I did anything else wrong to you, then you better tell me because as far as I know I did nothing wrong.
**Prove me wrong.
***Without confirmation from me.
****And not write a coy livejournal entry either. I stopped doing that - perhaps you should too.
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Wednesday, February 15th, 2006
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The writing on my arm says
Your feet are much smaller
Than mine
Come crash on my door
Come fall on my floor
It's never too much to help you up
I'd rather sit next to you
With nothing implied
Nothing on my mind but you
Covering peepholes
And chasing down long halls
How can you not be beautiful
It's enough for me
It's enough for me
You're all I'll ever need
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Tuesday, February 14th, 2006
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| Time: | 6:46 pm. |
| Music: | Simple Twist of Fate - Mr. Bob Dylan. |
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They sat together in the park
And as the evening sky grew dark,
She looked at him and he felt a spark tingle to his bones.
'Twas then he felt alone and wished that he'd gone straight
And watched out for a simple twist of fate.
They walked along by the old canal
A little confused, I remember well
And stopped into a strange hotel with a neon burnin' bright.
He felt the heat of the night hit him like a freight train
Moving with a simple twist of fate.
A saxophone someplace far off played
As she was walkin' on by the arcade.
As the light bust through a beat-up shade where he was wakin' up,
She dropped a coin into the cup of a blind man at the gate
And forgot about his simple twist of fate.
He woke up, the room was bare
He didn't see her anywhere.
He told himself he didn't care, pushed the window open wide,
Felt an emptiness inside to which he just could not relate
Brought on by a simple twist of fate.
He hears the ticking of the clocks
And walks along with a parrot that talks,
Hunts her down by the waterfront docks where the sailers all come in.
Maybe she'll pick him out again, how long must he wait
One more time for a simple twist of fate.
People tell me it's a sin
To know and feel too much within.
I still believe she was my twin, but I lost the ring.
She was born in spring, but I was born too late
Blame it on a simple twist of fate.
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Tuesday, February 7th, 2006
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| Time: | 1:39 am. |
| Music: | 1492 - CC. |
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I'm a Russian Jew American
Impersonating African Jamaican
What I want to be is an Indian
I'm gonna be a cowboy in the end, I guess
I bought a gun because it impresses
All the litle girls I see and then
They all wanna sleep with me
Oh where did we disappear
Into the silence that surrounds us
And then drowns us in the end
Where these people who impersonate our friends
Say come again, come again, come again
Into the dark Italian underground
With disco lights and disco sounds and
Skinny girls who drink champagne
Then they take me on their knees again,
And pull me up and out the door
Past railway cars and tranny-whores
And mornings spreading out across
The feathered thighs of angels
Oh were did we disappear
Into the silence that surrounds us
And then drowns us in the end
Will they try to get you out to pull you in
And all these people say come again, come again
In 1492 Columbus sailed the ocean blue
In 1493 he came home across the deep blue sea
In 1494 he did it with the girl next door
In 1495 he barely made it out alive
In 1964 these sailors left me at the door
In 1970 some people got their hands on me
Now I am the king of everything
I am the king of nothing
Now I am the king of everything
I am the king of nothing
Oh where did we disappear
to the silence that surrounds us
And then drowns us in the end
Where these people who impersonate our friends
Say come again, come again, come again
Oh where did we disappear
To the silence that surrounds us
And then drowns us in the end
When they try to push you out to get you in
and all these people who impersonate our friends
Say come again, come again, come again, come again, come again
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Thursday, February 2nd, 2006
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Scheduling the schedule is a hard task, one filled with gooey caramel and a nugat center...
Mon
No class
Tues
10:00-12:00 - Radio Show
02:00-03:15 - Poe class
03:30-04:45 - Jazz History
05:15-06:30 - Computer Class
Wed
02:00-04:40 - Language of Film
Thurs
02:00-03:15 - Poe class
03:30-04:45 - Jazz History
05:15-06:30 - Computer Class
Fri, Sat, Sun
No Class
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Saturday, January 14th, 2006
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The truth of the matter is that every time I talk to you, you severely depress me. So sue me for not wanting to be depressed all the time. It's okay while we're talking, but afterwards...you just depress me. And aside from the all-of-the-sudden interest in my life, you really haven't been around to depress me, and I really liked that. I liked not having you around to muck things up. And it just seems that every time I talk to you, my head turns to shit. It's not a very pleasant feeling, rest assured. Take comfort in the idea that you still matter enough for me not to want to have anything to do with you (and that isn't really all that true). I just don't think I could take it right now. I don't think I can handle you in my life right now. I don't think I could handle it, and then everything would just turn to shit. I love you, I hate you - what does it matter? It's all the same anyway, right?
I don't know if you'll read this. You read the other thing before from this journal against my wishes, so it should be logical to assume that you'd read this too against my wishes. This is a moment of genuine clarity that I haven't been able to voice for quite some time. I mostly just yelled for you to leave me alone. This is why. I probably won't be able to voice this again, so take it now or never bring it up again.
For the record, the fact that you have a new boy (for my understanding) is just a footnote in what is a relationship that went on way to long. I usually don't give him a third thought other than "That's such an awkward name."
Talk to you later Sabrina.
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Monday, January 9th, 2006
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So my stepfather brought up two very interesting points as he was arguing with me about how much better a person he is than me:
"At least I pay rent, you don't do shit."
Oh yes! The mighty rent of attrition! Where you provide $300 to the household, turn around and take $500 from the family bank account and deposit it at the local liquor store. Wow, that's so much better than what I do, that whole "not stealing from the family to support my alcohol/drug habit" thing. Oh Joe, you're a saint.
"At least I don't beat children and break things," I say.
"Just like I pointed a gun in your face, right?" he retorts.
Well, Joe, I'm glad you managed to pick up that mighty flaw in my logic. You know, that whole "gun in the face" part having anything to do with beating children and breaking computers for a living. But no, for the sake of argument let us continue down your path. Let's bring up how my brothers and I got you put in jail for 3 days for sticking a gun in michael's face, and then you denying everything and the police believing you because you're older than us and letting you go. Let's bring that up. Because, your position is, of course, that it never happened and that us kids made it up because we hate you for no reason aside from the obvious sticking-a-gun-in-people's-faces reason and that whole I-beat-children argument. And please, allow me to retort.
"As if you could tell which way was up when your drunk, let alone whether you stuck a gun in anyone's face."
"I can tell what I'm doing when I'm drunk, and I can tell you for sure that I did not stick a gun in anyone's face," you would say (probably in not such a non-threatening way, but it's where you would go - that, or telling me to fuck off, but please, since I let you continue your line of arugment, let me continue mine).
Do you know what you've said to me when you are drunk? And not just on one occasion, but at least on three seperate occasions? You tell me I'm the best son you ever had, much better than Joey. You tell me how much you love me when your drunk. Do you remember any of this when you're sober? Hell no. When you're sober, I'm the demon spawn, the worst fucking kid in the world. So you tell me again that you can tell left from right when you're drunk. One more time, for old time's sake, tell me that you know you didn't stick a gun in Mike's face when you were drunk. Please. You've been beating that dead horse for the last 11 years (yes, since 1994).
You tell me I have to move on, I have to put everything behind me now that you smashed my mother's computer on the fireplae mantel. You tell me that I have to move on. Fuck you. I'll move on when you do.
I've forgiven you for many things in my life, and up until you destroyed my mother's computer, I was about to forgive you for everything. But not now. Now, I can't wait until you die. I'm planning your funeral party. I'm planning it little by little every day. I'm putting money away so that I may throw the biggest party when you die. I will be dancing an irish jig on your grave, Joe, fresh dirt or otherwise. It's going to happen. No one will stop me.
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By the way, while I'm here:
Sabrina, just leave me alone. I don't particularly have any reason to talk to you. And quite frankly, I'm very pissed off at you for calling me when I have a girlfriend, but not calling me when I don't, as if it was all of the sudden okay to talk to me now that I have a girlfriend. I don't have any particular desire to be your friend, and haven't for a long time. And personally, it's been a lot easier for me not having to talk to you. Please, just leave me alone.
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And on that note, yae for the Carolina Panthers DEMOLISHING the NY Giants 23-0. The last time a team was shut out at home in a playoff game was 1980, and it was Tampa Bay that was stopped by the LA Rams 9-0 in the NFC championship game. Go Panthers!
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Monday, January 2nd, 2006
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Some time ago, I commented on the amount of metaphoric Douche that Bill O'Riley actually contains within his body, and I wonder if it would be okay to use the phrase "Johnny Damon" in the same breath (oh wait...).
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"There's no way I can go play for the Yankees, but I know they are going to come after me hard. It's definitely not the most important thing to go out there for the top dollar, which the Yankees are going to offer me. It's not what I need.
"I'd like to finish my career here [Boston]. I'm not sure they'll let me do it, if they offer me [only] two or three years [on a contract]. I want at least four or five.
-- Johnny Damon, 5/01/05, on MLB.com
After spitting on Boston's 10 million/4 year deal, Damon goes the "shave and a haircut" route with the Evil Empire for... a 13 million/4 year deal. His reasoning: He was "looking for a 7 year contract." Scott Boras, I hope you die. Johnny Damon, you are officially a douche. You are the king of douches, El Douché.
Needless to say, I was not pleased.
Although, my brother posed an interesting scenario: Perhaps Johnny Damon just signed with the Yankees with the intent of purposely performing bad for the sake of Boston, a sabotage of the Evil Empire from within. Though unlikely, I have resigned myself to saying that this can be the only scenario in which Johnny Damon would no longer be a douche, and in fact would become a saint. However, very far-fetched.
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To give this post actual meaning where only an absence of such exists, I must add some quotes:
"You bet your sweet ass-per-cream!" - Aspercream Commercial
"Say Smith, do you perchance have any gatorade? I seem to have left all my electrolytes with your daughter." - Bollock (I mean Patrick Stewart)
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flanneljesus's journal