Probably not

Maybe one day you'll learn.

I should get that tattooed on my hands.

IT'S DECEMBER TODAY

AND it snowed enough for people from Florida to go 'fuck?!' and realize their state is placed where the sex organ of the nation as a whole would be.

look at a map, I don't lie.

Also, some fogies looked outside and went 'balls!?' because there was no school today, just a whole lot of winter at once.

For those of us with four classes in a jagged-bleary-eyed row, this is very good news. Rivals the time I read about Easter and thought 'crap' but then realized that it's actually all about candy. Or that time I went to a birthday party at a lake and it was me and eight girls or something.

That was a very special time.

Not like that pasta filled with weird white vegetables that looked like cheese that I only realized were vegetables AFTER consumption. THAT was a shitshow. Not literally of course...I mean christ is this cauliflower? Plastic cauliflower? What am I supposed to do with this?

It's like licking a vegetarian who doesn't shower.

In other news, there's a web-exclusive video about George Clooney on being sexy on MSNBC.

You'd think they could've just found a bear or someone from the 'saouth' named Opie with Lyme disease. ALL HE DOES IS SQUINT, DOES NOBODY ELSE SEE THIS? Maybe it's because he formerly suffered from Bell's palsy, but it's probably just what having air up top looks like.

He's a liberal that liberals look at and go, 'uh, no thanks. We'll just find a bear-spokesman. Where's Opie? No, George. We gotta find him a puppy or something.'

Here's a tip Cloonster, might want to lean in close; I'm going to whisper.

Making fun of the head of the NRA isn't the best idea I've ever heard. Those people love their guns. Hell, they made a club about it.

and let me just say,

worst Batman ever.

Nos vemos.

other languages are just better.

If anyone can actually read this, four stars for you.
***
Es importante ver la verdad
pero cuando todo lo que vemos es un reflexión
nos perdemos a veces
puedo imaginarme lo que corre entre ti
pero nunca lo he visto
porque eres un espejo
Vale más que me muestres a mí mismo
porque tu y yo
somos reflexiones
y nada más
Eres el sol
y mis ojos no se adaptarán a ti
Agarro la luz
y allí en mis manos
baila un reflexión
y nada más
***
Yo te daría mis brazos,
si los usaras para rechazar a tus demonios.
Yo te daría mis ojos,
si los usaras para mirar la lluvia.
Yo te daría mis manos,
si las usaras para para escribir una canción que es diez millas de largo.
Yo te daría mi voz,
si la usaras para cantar en el volumen más alto.
Yo te daría estas cosas,
pero tu serías yo.
***

Some story

Harold could see his breath, but he didn't like the faces it made. All around him the people hustled by, smirking and huffing out their own little pieces of themselves, expressing mere ambivalence to the life around them. Ahead a group had clotted around an old brown bus stop, an entire thrombus of indifference. These structures struck up confusion in Harold; as he had always thought that anywhere a bus stopped could be a bus stop. The clot all seemed to exhale in unison then, as if challenging him, creating a large oblong cloud. Harold watched as the people cloud floated away until it was cut apart by the cold sun, all the while thinking the words one less. One less breath for you. Another face rose from his own mouth, this one a theatre mask.
"Enough of that," he muttered, causing a woman carrying a child to his right to give him a protective glance. She looked much too young to be a mother. The lines of her face gave her about twenty years, while the child's lack of them gave her about five.
A handsome old voice spoke to Harold's left, startling him and causing him to look even stranger than the stranger he knew he was.
"Cold enough for ya?" it said. These lines were much more worn, the dirt left after a crowd has walked the path too many times to count. Metal winked from the chest, and more from the waist. Lines, all lines, Harold thought, disregarding the useless remark with impatience. All oblivious lines.
"Hey, I'm talking to you," the voice tried again. It seemed trained for attention, for just this kind of thing. Harold saw a flash of blue appear in front of his feet and looked up.
"It's you, isn't it?" the lines asked out loud.
"No, it's not." Harold replied, fully aware that he was himself.
"You have to come with me. I'd give you the old expression, but I'm afraid there's only a hard way here." the lines persisted, dangerously. Finger lines were spreading out toward Harold's arm.
He sighed out another face (a clown) and looked past the blue lines to different vibrant colors on the sidewalk.
YOUR SAVIOR IS HERE. ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS FIND HIM was written in tall crooked letters where people usually walk. Behind them an arrow pointed to a cross gracing the walkway, as if a religious symbol poorly-drawn with sidewalk chalk could force Harold to discover his salvation. All of it was mocking, really.
He spat, thought about the people cloud dissolving in the frozen light, and ran.
At first the street was empty except for the usual mountain of sound, and then he saw the monster machine bearing down on him.
TOO LATE. YOU'RE ALWAYS TOO LATE, his mind gnawed at him. One more likeness expired out and stood before him, hauntingly. This one was a portrait of himself, with the familiar lines drawn in the immediate and deep sorrow of the terminally ill.
The bus crashed through the foggy image and Harold's eyes grew wide as the apathetic life around the bus stop suddenly gathered all of its attention onto him.

One less.

***

Five-year-old Katrina Metz stood mesmerized by the bustling scene around her. Her bright blue eyes had stayed fixated on the strange man with the police officer throughout the entire altercation. Something had convinced strange man to try an escape into the street, and just before her mother's soft slow hand had moved with unusual quickness into Katrina's field of vision; she had seen his face. He appeared as though the Devil and God were raging inside of him, one of which commanding the upper hand. For years she would remember the most frightening part of that face; that she couldn't tell which.
And then there was the sound. The sound of rapid hope loss. The sound of therapy.
Strange man now lay sprawled ten feet away from the point of impact on the sidewalk and noise, crumpled face down on some words written in bright chalk. There was too much blood to read them.

***

Let's look at...

the divided self. Plato presented it to me through his usual strange Socrates dialogues.

We are motivated by reason. Reason implies some kind of rational(good) thought, but he also states that we have an irrational(bad) side and 'just' members of the community obey the larger (good) side.

Hence the divided self.

So, continuing along on this I wonder what/who chooses which side is rational and which is irrational?

Say it's raining outside of a restaurant that I'm in, but I don't have an umbrella. I'm about to leave, and there's an unattended umbrella just sitting by the door. Reason tells me to take it because I don't want to get wet, but reason also tells me not to take it because then somebody else would assuredly get wet. Which is rational?

if I was deciding for myself, and I figure this is objective(if everybody decided what would be best for him/herself), I would take the umbrella. I don't want to get wet, that could lead to illness(and so on).

if society played enough influence on my decision(this is also objective), I would be more concerned for the other person getting wet and sick and whatnot.

if God was (hypothetically) deciding, we would probably all just be smoten into little steamy rubble piles.

BUT something bad happens any way you look at it.

How am I supposed to decide what side to listen to? This 'God' character isn't going to tell me(too busy smiting and maybe not existing), society has no idea what is favorable for itself and can't be trusted AT ALL(one word. politics.), and there is so much that I don't know with any decision that I'm surprised I make any at all.

More difficulty comes from so many things being interconnected in these decisions.

say I don't take the umbrella, get rained on, develop pneumonia, and die(supposed rationalism kills me).

say I do and the umbrella owner is approached by a woman on the street who offers him some of hers, if he'll walk her home. They marry and have a million kids and so on(supposed irrationalism brings two people together into happiness).

say he chases after me and gets smithereened by a truck(supposed irrationalism kills him).

say I don't take the umbrella and the same million-kids-and-so-on situation happens to me(supposed rationalism brings me happiness).

say the umbrella is 'lost and found' and nobody takes it, and we both get hit by a truck.

You can't see any of that coming, but it makes pretty good TV.

This is where it gets sticky and I'm back at where I started.

So all you can do is hope and guess, I guess.

the strangest thing...

I'm pretty sure I'm only really attracted to people who challenge me and fight with me.

is that healthy?

probably not.

I'm experiencing for the first time meeting somebody who is too like me to work with. It's completely insane and I think my brain just doesn't know what to do(ah, introspection. We can even think about thinking. How boo-dang is that?). At first I was frustrated with myself (another nifty idea) but maybe it's okay.

I had a dream once that I was kneeling down, looking at a line in the sand. I looked up and saw myself in a mirror, on the other side of the line.

of course then it turned into the usual weird deformed things and sex dreams(woo!).

You can interpret from that what you will; I know what I do.

I hate my dreams. At least the ones that happen while I'm sleeping.

Wilco - 'Misunderstood' and laying on the floor with your eyes on the ceiling is a pretty good way to think about all the stupid things you have yet to do.

haha, I said boo-dang.

and then?

so it's been a while.

so I've been busy(really).

so nobody that I met today seems to be out-fucking-rageous(my new favorite thing to say)

so I don't think I can handle anything less anymore.

give me the movers and shakers, would you?

I know there's way too much left to learn. why don't you make me feel like it, eh?

we seek to eliminate the taciturn, but search for them at the same time.

I don't sleep enough.

Late Update: Post Auditory Fiasco

I feel like laughing really hard and never taking anything seriously again.

that being said, I want to grow a beard so I can look like Grizzly Adams's'es yuppie nephew or something.

that being said, some people would think that me punching a hole in my left eardrum is an act of God, because my older brother was born with an underdeveloped right ear. Just a little bit of it is there. He can still hear out of it, just not well...which is a lot like the sitch with my left one. I'm living in his world right now, just...the other side of it.

If he stood on my left side we'd be a motha-effin' hearing MACHINE.

anyways, I don't think it's an act of the big G, but I can see how some people would think that.

If things get too ironic, point to God. Is that the idea?

My big problem with faith is just that...the faith. Some people would say 'oh thank God your right ear is okay' but I say no. I won't thank anybody for blowing up my hearing. Pessimism? maybe. Narcissism? aw, I wouldn't go that far, John Wayne(but first you gon' have to eat the peanuts out of my sheeit...was that John Wayne or Clint Eastwood?).

The point to all of this...however misconstrued and completely avoided it was...is that you scare me, organized religion. Stories about a Jewish carpenter claiming he was the son of God and a woman claiming immaculate birth? Jesus(damn!). That's the basis eh? I think it's totally insane and the very idea of people modeling their entire lives around this frightens me.

At the same time I love people for the purblind loyalty involved. Incredible(it's almost the same word in Spanish, but heck if it sounds the same).

and that's exactly what I envision 'saved' people as. A blind person being led along by a mischievous little boy with a not-quite trustworthy glint in his eyes. Sure, the olfactory is cranked and the audio is too, but you can't smell an intersection or hear that approaching stop sign...

Maybe I'm a little too suspicious at times.

Sometimes I feel like a bystander in my own head.

So where's the meat, you say?

Things happen for some reason. Every cause has an effect and vice versa. It looks like this:

a life of conscious risk-taking was bound to leave me SOMEWHERE like this SOMEDAY.

Trying to flip around two and a half times in the air is a pretty dangerous way to test if gravity is still real. Maybe eventually people will instill enough esteem in the expression 'eh, win some lose some.' I happened to lose one.

If we were created by some entity, a 'God' if you would, I would rather It be called 'Oh Mighty Myopic God!' because t'hell if anybody saw HUMANS coming.

haha. Myopic God. Let's keep that one.

Sometimes I entertain the idea that maybe the world is like a science experiment gone all crazy and awry(a little redundancy here and there keeps the doctor away), so this 'God' went 'oh, shit!' and ran out of the room. Something like 'eventual' Deism is the goings-on of this thought.

What comes out if I continue down this train is where did He GO? Pulled up a rock for some prime time entertainment? To go get Mom and Dad so the house doesn't burn down? Where?

that brings out far too many questions, so I usually fall asleep there or go get some crackers, because poops and giggles if I've got the answers(that expression is WEAK).

yes, I AM usually this much of an exercise in agnosticism(what a fun premise...people say 'yes' and I get to say 'I doubt it' and people say no and I get to say 'I doubt it' to them too!).

We have arrived back at redundancy, friends. It seems to always be a round trip to that when we talk about jee-oh-dee.

I think Mr. Jack Johnson said it best when he sang,

"And there were so many fewer questions/When stars were still just the holes to heaven"

Let's go back, Mr. Jack.

Let's go back and woo us some hoop dress women YAHHHHHHHHWHEEE!!!!!!

enough.

things I said a lot yesterday.

I tried to do a 2 1/2 off of a diving board t'other day and landed almost entirely on the left side of my face, blowing a hole in my eardrum.

if you haven't heard.

sawbones says it should heal on its own...so don't worry. People ask me why I'm not freaking out and well...I don't know...what good would that do? I'd just end up with a bunch of broken stuff.

I had to explain the ball of cotton in my ear about thirteen thousand times last night, due to Lauren's friends.

funny yellow/pink stuff comes out sometimes.

just thought I'd make an exit.

tonight

we (Mobilejones) play our first show. I can't wait to be on stage again...if you've never been...write something and come play music with us. I don't care if you suck like sand between my toes.

if I saw the sun fall down I'd pick it up and make a crown
one that was a perfect fit for you

is what just came out of my speakers. the peppers make my brain happy.

is it weird to be in someone else's house and not know where he is? no? good.

I keep wanting to greet someone with 'hey sweet thang, how you doin'?'

I have the right person, just not the right situation.

muaha.

if I was the wiser of the two.

We are not but powder
the skin of my brother
We dissolve in the ocean
We give it color
We are not but reflections
or so it may shriek
magicians break locks
on our Caesar's dreams

We are not but powder
elasticized form
We fear what We see
We shake to the core
God's gift to Himself
leads us to the shore
but reflections We are
and not much more


yeah...I write poetry too. Try and guess what it means...I just told Grace that I enjoy poems because they mean as many things as there are people in the world.

I like saying the second stanza out loud like the star of some B movie narrating his exit.

you think this could be a poem that T.M. writes? I do.

I like that one. let's keep that one.

"Story of my life," the albino latino muttered and ducked inside, leaving the colors of the blossoms on the trees to envy themselves.


this might be my favorite sentence so far. I'm not at liberty to say what the story of his life is, but I thought I'd share a little.

it's four in the morning?

bullocks.

Who does that?

New things that I like to say.

-"kiblets"

-"cork sniffer"

-"Man, I would never brush fuzzies with that."

-"What in the name of partially hydrogenated Jesus?"

-"That was LOOSE"

-"Who are you brushing fuzzies with these days?"

-"the mooky looking one"

-"ass hat"(the classic)

Absolutely no point to this. I wrote 'BEN OFF' on the work calendar for tomorrow (because Lauren is coming to visit) and he scheduled me anyway. He then discovered that I have a cell phone and still know how to piss and moan. Who pisses and moans at the same time? fun.

over again

After forgetting about some things I had stored on here...I found three stories(and their corresponding storylines) in my documents. So I've started writing again. Maybe I'll post excerpts or something eventually, because these babies are going to be LONG.

It was pretty neat to see these storylines beneath the stories...events and character dreams that I completely forgot about but still sound pretty nifty to me. I guess I'm pretty creative when it's in the past tense.

Maybe this is what I want to do. Who knows? not me. I think my biggest fear about ever becoming a writer is others expecting me to have read millions of books and knowing everything about them. This, my friends, is irrational, but I can't help to picture a dinner party where somebody freezes me with a question or a comparison to some famous something like Jane Eyre. I've never read Jane Eyre; I just know that there isn't a parakeet in it.

I saw that on King of Queens.

Maybe whoever asks me something would buy that.

a special note

If I ever say 'bitch.' at the end of anything; It is NOT directed at a person. I use it as an expression, because the English language is so easy to manipulate.

A girl at Klotsche made me get a new ID because she couldn't see my picture on the old one. My picture comes up on the screen when you scan it, dwid.

in that context I guess it is safe to assume that it's directed at a person.

looks like

I respect people more if they have facial hair. I don't know why...it's a kind of distinguishing characteristic that flips on my 'he must be all right' switch.

I noticed this when I saw a Jack's Mannequin video and Andrew Mcmahonwhostever had a beard and a moustache. I thought he was kind of girly before, but now I like him. Go figure.

One guy I keep seeing has enough hair on his face to fill a neanderthal's asscrack, and that I do not like. He seriously has hairy EYES.

Do I wear a suit to a concert where one of my pieces is being performed? yes? no? relative to the situation?

bitch.

Certain Things That Should Never Be Said By Certain People In Certain Situations

In an effort to rescue this from becoming an actual blog...I'll revert to a different kind of thinking I do each day.

Pyrotechnician: "Oops."

Dentist: "Does that bother you, nannerface?"

Surgeon: "WTF is that?!!? LOL"

Pilot: "It's five o' clock somewhere"

Anyone of any relation if you're pretending to be someone else on the phone: "Thank God you answered; I'm so horny"

Doctor: "Your wife suffered great spinal injury and she is now a C4 quadrapeligic. She will require round the clock care and it will be very expensive. Ha! Just kidding; she's TOTALLY dead."

Cousin: "Well, at least we're not brother and sister" (YOU create the scenario. it grosses me out to)

English Children: (just about anything)

Propane Tank Examiner Guy: "Well there's your problem. Leaky tank. I like to smoke."

Guy That Walks Into Funeral: "Oh hey everyone...Is this where the cockfight is?"

Guy In Response To Guy That Walks Into Funeral: "Well...sort of"

Guy Upon Hearing That His Sister Is Now A Vegetable: "Let's eat"

Guy Picked On By Terri Schiavo In High School: "Punch me back this time, sleepy!"

Alex Trebek: "You did good. Your a smartypants." (know that the incorrect form of 'your' was used on purpose, nerds)

Porn Star: "Come here often?"

Girl Watching Tattoo Artist Tattoo A Different Person: "Aww you're so sweet to use my name." (this one happened to me)

Astronaut: "Haha Jerry's such a clown...We told him that you can take your helmet off in space and he ACTUALLY DID! What a lameface. Oh, there he goes."

That Guy Across The Hall That ALWAYS Sits In The Lounge On His Cell Phone: "No way dude; I don't always sit in the lounge on my cell phone."


That's it for now. I'll do parte dos if the thinks I think allow. I'm going to eat three bananas for breakfast today.

Something that you might not know yet, America.

I got a tattoo. On April Fools' Day. I really like it, and I hope that one day everyone gets a tattoo so he or she can see art every day instead of just those days when a trip to the art gallery is made.

It stings. I just know that it's going to hurt tomorrow. Oh well. Just wait until my mom finds out...

but...uh...

I would do this 100 point paper due tomorrow, but I can't stop eating grapes and talking to someone that I barely know. Vivo por me hago dano. That's not true.



I wonder what it's like to parachute.

You son of a bitch.

When you actually didn't sleep through theory and make it to a class at 11 at 10...your life sucks. I yelled at my alarm clock. And then I yelled at it again in spanish to make sure. Of course it isn't my fault for flailing at the alarm in desperate attempts to just make it stop...College is against me.

Ruminations: Alex Trebek

You all know the man.

-I think he's a robot. Nobody does that many languages or accents without messing up ONCE.

-His eyes sometimes remind me of a scared horse or a really, really creepy teddy bear.

-I'm pretty sure that when he watches himself on TV he does it surrounded by custom-made dolls designed to look like Alex Trebek by Alex Trebek while conversing with them about how good his tea is.

-One time, he told me that he calls his house 'Kingdom Trebekia, ruled by Trebek the Wise.'

-I hope that he's married to a model or at least somebody moderately stupid who doesn't know anything about books or 14th century plays so that when they eat dinner it's just tenseness and her feeling neglected and inferior when he goes to six book clubs a night.

-He reads the Dictionary while driving. A golden chariot. To Dictionary club.

-I'm waiting for what he says when a contestant answers 'well I just don't know, Alex.' He'd probably make his or her eyes bleed with his mighty brain.

-If you watch closely you can see two small extra arms on his back with even smaller hands constantly massaging his head and/or flipping off people he doesn't like. He grew them when heaven rejected him as an angel for pissing the other angels off by acting all 'high and mighty.'

-He doesn't have to meet you. He already knows you. Have you seen the show?

-Despite being picked on in school; he's only been in a fight once. It was with himself. He won.

-I can picture him playing with GI Joes and Barbies but having them acting out 'Don Giovanni' and singing all the parts himself.

-I'm sorry, Alex. I know you know that I'm writing this. Please don't hurt me.

Next up on 'Where Are They Now?'

I like Tang. Probably more than I like YOU, America. The beard is pretty exact.

Nothing was fun in the 1492s

Nothing was fun in the 1700s, either. Actually I don't think anything was fun until the invention of the ball+stick+string+cup game. Then shit really started to happen.

THIS IS NOT FAIR

I went to bed at two having to get up at 9:30. And I just laid there. And laid there. Annnnnnnd you guessed it, laid there. Trying to sleep but failing miserably is probably one of the worst things to fail at, unless you just so happen to be lifting an elephant.

Maybe I sleep too much during the day. Maybe there's something wrong with me. Hey, I'm not the one lifting an elephant. What a terrible idea.

Reasons why I could never be on game shows.

1) Family Feud

I'm pretty sure that I'm smarter than anybody who has ever been on that show. The dumb answers aren't even the worst part; it's the people that cheer them on and loudly proclaim them as "GOOD ANSWER!"s.

Host: "surveyed 100 people top five answers on the board. Name a person in a place of authority."
Woman: "Firetruck!"
Rabble Family Mob: "GOOD ANSWER!"

Well, Rabble Family Mob; that is not a good answer. A firetruck is a big red THING, and I hope you are all crunched by one on your way home to dumbland extraordinaire.

Where do they find the families?

I would say policeman. Did the pervy used-to-be host die?

2) Who Wants to be a Millionaire?

First off; that's a stupid question; only crackwhores and crackgigolos don't want to be millionaires because they dun forgetted what one is.

I would probably get kicked out for yelling out answers and showing utter dislike for Meredith. Stupid Meredith. She ruined it.

Regis is 74 and still dreamy.

3) Lingo

Who came up with this? Guessing five-letter words with only the first letter shown huh. Sounds fun. For sixth-graders.

My foul mouth and keen ability to speak without thinking would ruin the hell out of this one.

PENIS! CUNTS! BAGINER! COCKS! BAGINER!

My partner would glare at me and I would just laugh. It's impossible to lose. I think I'll just pretend that I'm good at crossword puzzles for now.

4) Jeopardy!

If there's anything in the world that can make anybody feel like an autistic three-year-old or the smartest person in the world; it's Jeopardy.

Firstly, I would trace my hand and write 'TERKIE!' underneath it as my name. That's probably frowned upon.

No I do not know Prince Vladimir of Czechlaturkiva's maid's maiden name. Oh it's Smith? I would've thought it'd be a little more...you know...extravagant.

I rarely speak in questions. There's an epidemic in this here country nowadays where everybody ASKS things instead of SAYING them. It drives me insane. That's not the real problem though. I'm just not studious enough to do any good on this show.

Once again, crosswords.

5) The Weakest Link

That woman was NOT intimidating. Just frumpy and angry at being frumpy and angry.

These questions are easy too, like perpetuate 1,000 dollar questions on Millionaire.

I guess trying to intimidate the current wussy boy-copy of that woman thing would be fun, but I think I'd just be too overtly mean to the other contestants and they'd vote me off. Bitches.

6) Wheel of Fortune

It's like Lingo, but bigger and with a still-attractive fifty-year-old on set. And there's a wheel with purdy colors!

I wouldn't even TRY to get on this show. I can't even watch it...it's just so...boring. skip.

7) The Price Is Right

This show + blueberry pop tarts = my childhood.

I think this would be more of a novelty to be on than anything. I don't really NEED a giant china hutch, Bob. What would he do if I wore a 'Hot For Bob!' shirt?

I'd be surrounded by 40-year-olds if I got come-on-downed...I can see it. And some bitch would bid 801 after my 800 and I would stare at her with vicious intent until she got really really uncomfortable. Then, if she won, I'd make the 'you're dead' motion, running my finger across my throat and get sued.

8) Hollywood Squares

I'd ditch the pre-written jokes(come on, you know they do that) and dip into my own personal, and much more mean-spirited, stash. 'nuff said.

9) The Pyramid Game

I can't think of anybody that I would go on that show with and not hate afterwards. A lot of the time I have to explain the things I say, and now you want me to explain something without talking? Whoever I brought would get mad at me for sucking at sign language and I would be mad at them for sucking at interpreting really crappy sign language.

Oh, and the host is a tool.

10) The Match Game

If only I was alive when this was around!

Every time my answer would be a drawing of a hand turkey on the little card. I can't ever see that getting old.

and I don't really know why I'm here

I think I'll start talking to the internet. I'm not really sure why. Sometimes I think things that don't belong in many other places than the ol' noggin', and here we are.