Too many things at once make me an unhappy twilight campfighter.

Most people believe that, when we’re born, we’re a clean slate. A tabula rasa. Not to say that most people don’t believe – or like to believe – in predestination. Indeed, most people are comforted knowing that wherever they end up aligns exactly with where they’re supposed to be, at that precise moment. But this isn’t a story about being happy where you end up. It’s a story about forgetfulness and eternal despair.

Fosse che sopratutta la verità che mi ha raccontata era

E lei mi ha mandata una lettera in cui era scritto, <

Non era decisso avanti tutto quello che ha successo. Era solamente l’opportunità che c’avevo.

La decisione è arrivata à me così, era una cosa semplice. Una volta sola. Non era per

qualche motiva, una motiva al cassacio. Non è perche tu mi hai annoiata-quest'è vero si-ma

comunque-non era perchè mi stancavo di tuoi abbraci, i tuoi baci... questa non si puo succedere

mai. Forse per tutti venga un’altimo quando non si puo’ continuare. Ti devi rallentarsi prima di

perdere tutto>>.

Io l’ho letto e à me significava niente, proprio niente. Era come ha svegliata mentre

stava addormitanda. Non mi ha promessa niente. Non ero spoventato.

Without a doubt it was the most nervous moment of the year. There were no certain solitudes in the morning rush that day. It was as if no trace of any sort of strange being was blocked in the air current in the evening of the twenty-seventh. After which, nobody really made any promises.

Penetrate our silent lies.

Wasn’t there any satisfaction in knowing it was a salient plan to begin with?

“I wasn’t alone back there,” she said. “The conscience was tingling. It was a sensational moment. One of those…” Her voice trailed off, and everyone closed their eyes.

I put the recorder back in the middle of the room, and the wet sponge grabbed it.

I remembered instantaneously what species I had seen back on the traffic yacht. Sunlight reached the far recesses of my rare-tapped cerebellum. I hadn’t had any idea what that felt like. It actually hurt. A lot.

“What are you waiting for?” she snapped. “We haven’t got all fucking day. Just like you to wait around and squander a perfect opportunity.”

“That hurts,” I said, genuinely meaning nothing at all. Then I forgot what I was doing.


This piece is completely absurd.

the lumberjack returns

lumberjack guy who asked me for money on subway
which i didn't have any so i gave him my sandwich,
in exchange for this picture Originally uploaded by stardove07.

this time i saw the lumberjack on the subway in new york city. he looked healthier and actually smiled at me, after he asked me for money. i think he remembered that we shared a moment.

i asked him what he was doing in brooklyn since we don't have many trees here. he said я хочу съесть вашу головку, его смотрю как большая часть сыра. i smiled and nodded and then he started laughing, and then he started crying. but then he started laughing again.





This post is inane, absurdist nonsense.

we have a supersonic toilet.

really, it is. if our toilet magically levitated and oriented itself horizontally in the upper atmosphere, it could literally propel itself, when flushed, to at or above the speed of sound. how do i know this? because when any toilet in our building is flushed, all 6 floors vibrate for about 3 1/2 minutes. the ripples are felt beneath the earth to lord kimbo down in the seventh circle of hell, also known as its capital city, Pandemonium (or Dis), also known as Carteret, New Jersey.

we also have a toaster that beeps.

aside from this news, i am strongly considering quitting my job sooner rather than later. it has no means of vertical ascension and is really far removed from my interests of the moment. i would like to savor any or all time that i have before i go (?) back to school focusing on what creative instincts i have left behind. being that i have never felt comfortable enough here to play music, i hope that some peoples' new presence here will help change that, and i hope to find a space conducive to the exercise of that talent, which many people lately have helped me realise is important to pursue. i feel really unworthy of some of the tremendous compliments i have received and have decided it would be regrettable and malignant to those who lavished them if i didn't at least try to do them justice.

so i guess this is in line with new years' resolutions.

i will get back in shape so i can run another marathon in 2007, in whichever city i end up in this fall.

i hope to take advantage of the creative resources this city has to offer, such as darkrooms and whatnot. i want to consolidate my creative output into one central resource.

i need to get out and meet people. and be more social here.

and i need to take things a day at a time.

Dick says, you can do it. Thanks, Dick.

This post is all about me, me, me.




It is also about toilets.

time to write the first post of the new year.

first post of the new year! yay!

hoo-ray for profundity. goodnight.




This piece is inane.