Betting on Imperialism|
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|Monday, August 9th, 2004|
| You're watching me and it gives me a sense of relief to know that I never went along with you. I never followed you. I didn't leave what I have because of the things that you promised me. I think that you would have delivered on every promise. I think that you might have given me everything I ever wanted. I can feel your bitterness and envy 400 miles away. You'ce called me miserable. You've called me thoughtless. You've called me heartless also. We all suffer from these things. We all go from the best and worst in ourselves througout the course of any given day. I saw the worst of you just now. If you have something that you want to say to me, you should take that chance now because you'll never find me again.
| I believe I ate more today than I have in the past week and I don't feel ill from it. That makes me happy. I didn't want to resign myself to not cooking because the smell and sight of food made me sick.
I had a strange contemplation while getting gas today. I thought, I'd like to quit my job and pump gas. It pays much much less and I won't get the sensation that I'm making the world a better place everyday. I'll have to deal with assholes and smell gasoline all day and my small build might make me a target for thievery, butchery and rape. I won't do it of course, but I can't fight the urge to do something different, or just struggle like I once did.
I'm at the university at the moment which can be just as dangerous as pumping gas apparently. I need to get a paper written within the next two hours. I don't get as distracted here. This week feels weird. Slow with nothing to look forward to except for the hockey at the end.
|Thursday, August 5th, 2004|
| I spent much of last night engrossed in Indiana Jones and the Emperor's Tomb. My appetite still hasn't returned but I made sure to have a decent breakfast (Whole wheat english muffin, canteloupe, and 1/4 cottage cheese). I had only half my coffee on the way in. It doesn't feel as burdensome to move or talk today. I'm going to go out and buy the new book about John Kerry next week called Unfit for Command because, though nothing will persuade to vote for GWB, I'd like to able to be critical of the man I will vote for, it's only fair. Nothing, in my opinion, could be worse than four more years of lying, deceipt and corruption. But, realistically, I know John Kerry isn't perfect.
|Wednesday, August 4th, 2004|
| Was sick yesterday into today. We went running last night after dark and about a mile from home I had to stop and throw up. I think it was badly dehydrated, etc. Woke up without an appetite. Went to work in the worst mood imaginable. Had a meeting at 10 about the database which they all want more from. Helped with flotation and rebagged some artifacts. Then I drove home, barely awake. Still no appetite.
Fell asleep on the couch for 3 hours. 2 more upstairs in bed. C. brought home some soup and an english muffin for me and now she's gone out for the evening. I still feel like shit, honestly.
|Tuesday, August 3rd, 2004|
| Is there anyone else out there sitting at work in front of the their computer, completely unmotivated and desperate for outside stimulus?
Comment please. I most certainly am.
EDIT: It's been brought to my attention that only my listed friends can post comments. Well, I changed that. So, if you've been about and have wanted to comment, you go right ahead and spill it.
|Sunday, August 1st, 2004|
| While attempting to take a shot of the back of my head, I took this instead. I had to make sure I was the only one in the bathroom.
( Read more...Collapse )
|Re: my last post
My most recent purchase was a Krupps espresso machine. It's chrome and the drinks that it spits out to range between black and beige.
How's about some inter/otheractive journaling?
What is the last thing that you purchased and what color was it?
|Saturday, July 31st, 2004|
| August is the toughest month of all. Only because it used to be the most glorious turning point of the year. In early or late August (depending on whatever) my friends and I would make our annual journey to the beach and spend smoky evenings on the balcony while the broken CD player skipped CDs at us, eat nasty omelettes and bacon (which can never be too burnt), hunt for melon scented candles and dirty the place like it has never be dirtied before. This year I was planning on more gin, more quiet, and more run out ink pens being tossed in the trash. I can't complain, I have been to more places this year than I have in my entire life. I've visited different countries and I got to see the Oregon coast. Still, nothing lives up to knuckles on the railing and a key sliding into that lock.
My birthday also falls in August. The best time in August. Late August when the nights start getting a little cooler and those bugs start getting sleepy. When school is right around the corner and lives are being put back in to order. That's when I'm my most upbeat and happy, when I have amoment on that day to remember my summer. I was thinking of The Legend of Zelda yesterday and I was thinking, I'm always at home in Hyrule.
Hug me, I'm a socialist.
|Thursday, July 29th, 2004|
| I'm sick of sadness and nostalgia being my primary MO. It fucking kills me like crazy and makes me miserable. I'm turning into the kids I hate.
Anyhow, my date with fame tomorrow has been postponed to late breaking news in the Philly area. Action Six is going to get an earfull from Richard, etc. I was planning on wearing a loin cloth and a shark mask to the occasion but the weekend should come between me and such boldness.
As for work today, a friend called and asked me what I had been doing all day and I told her, "Washing 200o yr old rocks with a toothbrush."
Fortune and glory.
(On a more curious note: There are 17 available PCs in this lab, why have you chosen to sit next to me, lady?)
| In my dream last night, which should have been terrifying, I was scheduled to have my uterus out, like wisdom teeth, and bone that had been removed from my skull replaced. I was late for both procedures and they had to be rescheduled for this Tuesday.
If you any idea what these could mean, please let me know.
The abdominal procedure, I can understand because it happened recently to someone I "know". The bone thing is a bit more tricky. The lateness is typical. So?
|Tuesday, July 27th, 2004|
| Camden Yards is beautiful. Baltimore is a nice town. The Red Sox won by 7.
This lounge has changed a bit since 2000. Instead of large clunky white gateways they have processors the size of frying pans and the monitors are so thin you could fold them in half. They changed the tables to a thick sturdy formica and so my days of resting my feet on particle boarding and hitting visibly stained keys are long gone. I have my class in a few minutes. It's steamy outside but very cold in here. I'm wearing a sweatshirt and blue jeans. I'd like it to be fall again.
I'm going to be on T.V. again. For those of you who remember my waking up strangers bit on the Philadlephia news, I now have to think of some more shannigans to entertain reporters for about 5 minutes instead of 30 seconds. They are coming out to our site on Friday. I have a whole car ride filled with Latin Jazz to come up with some kind of poetically challenged nonense.
"It's like waking up stangers, know what I mean?"
|Monday, July 26th, 2004|
| I'm in Virginia. Rain threatens the purpose of my trip, to see the Red Sox in Baltimore tonight. Last night I went to Old Town, Alexandria. I think it may be one of my favourite places. I ate at the Fish Market, bought the new Modest Mouse for cheap, an album called Slow Wonder by A.C. Newman and a box set of early recorded Latin Jazz.
The way that I fight with my past is getting no less brutal. Sometimes I wake up and expect to see pale green light and white walls but I get the clutter of an unpacked bedroom. Sometimes I wonder, should I close those boxes and move on? Just get further away? I was also thinking about a career change. Something that will pay me well, and give me an office or cube to hide in. I'm an idiot for thinking this, I know.
|Monday, July 19th, 2004|
| Dear Dad,
Thanks for the legs.
|Tuesday, July 13th, 2004|
| Sometimes I hear this building breathing in the middle of the night.
|Sunday, July 11th, 2004|
|Gin over ice with a lime?
Yesterday was a good day. In the most simple way, it was very good. I got back from Little Egg Harbor in the mid morning and washed my car, inside and out. I cleaned the house. I cleaned the dogs. I has a deliecious lunch (Coucous and sauteed veggie-tables). We fooled around a little in the afternoon. I took a long and breathtaking shower. We went to the mall to find me some tank-tops for work. In Old Navy I discovered that I fit into a Boys Large. I bought 3 polos for 20 dollars (nano-care!). We went to coconuts and C. bought me a copy of Indiana Jones: Blah Blah Blah on PS2 (I'm a video game junky for about 3 weeks out of the year).
Last night was also good. We went to Georgie's for Stacey's birthday, where we met a wide variety of people (namely, Sam, the gentleman that I played pool with for a while) and hung out with a few that we already knew. I begged C. to let me be the designated driver and finally she let me. So, I got to watch her cut loose and get pretty drunk for the first time since we met. It felt really good to watch her have a good time. I love her way too much. From Georgie's, we went to Paradise where C. had some more to drink. We hunted for food on the way home but I made sure to go to all the places I knew were closed because she would kill me for letting her eat so late. All this in a really clean car! God, I love it.
Man, what a senseless post. I just needed to remember some stuff, that's all.
|Thursday, July 8th, 2004|
| "I've seen this room... I've walked this floor..."
I realized I had this picture on the M drive at the university here. This was the last time I was in my childhood bedroom. I remember it being sterile and alien. From here, it looks like home. I miss it. I miss the filthy mess it could be. How quiet it was a 4 in the morning. Heh, rotting ham sandwiches and dry coffee cups. Shriveled fruit and empty beer bottles. I don't even remember turning that lava lamp on but I am certain it was mine.
It brings along the sensation of decades.
|There's nothing to do here for a while.
I tried calling last night, around 11, even though you still haven't returned my phone call. I was sitting on the back patio having a cigarette after the game and noticed the sounds and the way that the air felt. I never made it a point to sit on that porch alone.
I dialed the wrong number because I've become accomplished at forgetting things, like what it was I wrote on the inside of the my closet doors that last day. I said I'd keep it a secret to everyone so now I have no one to ask. I'm glad there is nowhere to be gone at this moment, because I am going nowhere.
Tonight I begin my first summer class. It's with the professor that people thought I was sleeping with my freshman year. I could use a familar face.
"The pleasure of sorrow is sweeter than the pleasure of pleasure itself" -- buddy buddy with Byron, he was.
|Monday, July 5th, 2004|
| I'm covered from my torso to my fingertips with a poisonous rash of some kind. Burning, itching, etc. The bumps on my hands are poison ivy but the red spots on my stomach and flank sides are clearly a more vicious demon. Chiggers? I don't think so. There's no sign of them on my ankles. I think that I have finally contracted poison oak. Hurrah.
|Sunday, July 4th, 2004|
| I'm always telling myself I have to get out more and stretch my limits. So, last night I proposed that we all go to Red Bank to see the fireworks (All being Henry, Cin, and myself). I chose this particular outing because I didn't just want to go out and expand my horizons, I wanted to go out and do something that I loathe and can't stand. Why? I really don't know. To say that I did?
So we took the train from LB and rode it ten minutes to Red Bank amongst all these people with their red white and blue t-shirts and their face painted kids. A woman wore a t-shirt that said "Patriotism, an American Tradition" I wanted to slap the shit out of her and let her know about some other American traditions like sending the impoverished to fight our overly funded wars, etc. Fuck you, soccer mom.
We hadn't even gotten there and I was already hot to start some shit. I knew that I was grossly outnumbered by Bush-Cheney hats so I chiiled out. Henry suggested that if I were a man I might start pissing on everything. Cin kept tickling me but I continued grumbling.
The fireworks were very pretty and loud and I did enjoy them. But I think I'm going to restricted my horizon stretching to things that I might actually like.
Oh, Happy birthday America. I'm sorry I didn't buy you a gift because I like you less and less every day.
(Rhys, I'm registered to vote)