Subspace Fractures and You

I deleted the poetry I put on here. A blog is no place for poetry. Technically, a blog isn't even a place.

I woke up at 8:00 this morning and I haven't eaten all day. That's not good, but I'm tired of making sandwiches, and I don't have any cereal. Well, I do, but it's awful, so I'm not going to eat it. I guess I could make chicken or eggs (or both, for the ultimate culinary quandary!), but I probably won't.

Are you bored? I'm taking a survey, but don't tell anyone. It's a secret.

Living alone is making me a bit crazier. I mean, it's just boring. I talk to myself when I walk anywhere. It's more just trying to process things externally, but I'm sure I seem crazy to people in my wake.

"Did you see that guy?"
"I'm blind, you jackass."

Have you ever tried it? It really works, or at least it does for me. Seriously. Although the whole not stopping when you pass people thing is optional - optionally required, that is.

Did you know Alex Cason shaved?

Are you bored now?

Two Drunk Men

(Two drunk men are rifling through DRUNK MAN #1's basement.)

DRUNK MAN #1: Wait, what are we doing again?

DRUNK MAN #2: We'rr lookin' for somethin' to play russian roulette with.

DRUNK MAN #1: Oh. Right. Was that my idea... or yours?

DRUNK MAN #2: I think it was yours.

DRUNK MAN #1: Mine?

DRUNK MAN #2: Yeah. Yours.

DRUNK MAN #1: Oh. Okay.

DRUNK MAN #2: What?

DRUNK MAN #1: Well, it's just-

DRUNK MAN #2: What?

DRUNK MAN #1: I don't think I have a gun.

DRUNK MAN #2: You don't?

DRUNK MAN #1: No, I don't.

DRUNK MAN #2: Well dammit, what'rr we doin' here? I've got a gun at my

house. In my attic, in fact.

DRUNK MAN #1: Well sorry... I'm a little high right now.

DRUNK MAN #2: Yeah? I just did a bit of blow.

DRUNK MAN #1: Will this work? (He holds up a crossbow.)

DRUNK MAN #2: Sure, that'll work.

END SCENE

FRTSOAE

Oh my god. To what end do I invoke god? The end of describing Fionn Regan's new album, Shadow of an Empire. It's amazing, in an entirely different way than The End of History. For, you see, Mr. Fionn Regan has Bob Dylan'd faster than Mr. Zimmerman himself. I more than anything suggest you look up the song Violent Demeanour. You'll know what I'm talking about. Really though, it's another gem.

Also, a note: Fionn is now the proud owner of an afro. Be warned.

It's Yours and Mine

I was going to post a dream I'd had on here, but looking through my journal I realized that the ones that were good enough were (generally) too good to waste, letting them languish as just dreams. At some point, I am going to rewrite my interesting dreams as pieces of fiction, and see what comes of that. Still, I'll regale you with (what was at least to me) a strange thing that took place in a dream. Rather, it was just the dream itself.

This dream, the contents of which I have very specific plans for, lasted for three entire years. That actual period of dreaming was quite obviously less than that. But I am sure that during the brief time I was dreaming, I lived a very human three years as someone other than myself.

Dreams are such fascinating things, in that they transcend the laws we are bound by in waking life, yet at other times so very strongly reinforce them.

Dreaming is one of my favorite pastimes.

Places Like This

It's strange to me that I'm actually running out of pointless things to say. I would just keep filling up the days with other various works, but on the other side of that I'd like to keep at least SOME of my work unknown until it's published.

I went back over all of my journals and such and discovered that I have over two hundred pages of handwritten material. A large quantity of that is shit, but hey, it's all about the journey. Also, since I've come to Eugene I've used up three ink cartridges for my pen.

My southern gothic fantasy hybrid piece is stuck and has been for some time now. I thought I'd make this a new paragraph because I'm not writing this one by hand, seeing as I plan for it to be substantially longer than any other of my pieces. Four chapters and a prologue does not make a suitable standalone piece.

I am frustrated.

The Dailier Grind

There is now a 60" by 40" poster of Beck on my ceiling. It's awesome. But what's annoying is that I ordered it after I bought a first edition copy of One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish, and that has yet to arrive. And the reason I bought that? It was four dollars. Brevity is clearly present here.

Impermanence (Of Sorts)

Here are some things that have been touched upon this night:
-teeth
-laughter
-people as entities
-entities
-permanence
-music
-divine comedy
-mirrors
-jamming
-having brief moments of (in)sanity
-bodies
-imposing morals on animals
-eyes
-more laughter
-no really, we talked about laughter
-like, had conversations about it
-multiple times

Yeah Broseph

I'm tired of men sitting next to me on the bus. It's not specifically because of the fact that they're men, but more the fact that they're always the guys that spread their legs as far to the sides as they can, hunch over, and make their elbows join their knees. Those guys are really annoying to sit next to, because they take up all of the space. ALL of it. Ever. Exaggeration? Yes. But the point is nonetheless made.

1

Sorry

2

I

3

missed

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my

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posts

6

last

7

week.

Explanation (Read: Excuse?)

Yesterday I walked six and a half miles in under two hours, and decided during said trek that I wasn't going to do standard blog posts this week. Poetry up in this muhfuggah.

Falling, Falling, Falling

Three days in a row? This is getting stupid (and by this I mean I, and by is I mean am).

Yesterday was a day of people. First, my partner for my oral exam and I went to the EMU to practice. We ended up just talking for a good hour and a half, and of course getting no practice in. We left the EMU and went to Hunky Dory, a smokeshop on 7th and Lincoln, where I bought a pipe and some White Burley tobacco. It smells like vanilla. And tobacco.

Later, after we had parted ways and gone to our respective homes, Jaime called me and I had dinner with him and two of his friends, James and Blake. That's probably the most offensive I've been in quite some time. Jaime made couscous, palenta, and a salad. All were, as per usual, quite good. Blake messed around with the settings on Jaime's keyboard, and found one with an inordinate amount of sexual moaning. At this point, he decided that he would use this setting to create an audio porno. He was wished luck by none.

Gone Away Again

I should really get back on the ball. This has been two days in a row I'm late. Now sure, you could point out the fact that not only is my readership minute, but that I don't really say much with these things anyway. But I made a goal dammit. A goal to write minimum of one blog a day until the end of the year, and I plan to stick to it.

Apparently in the morning yesterday I missed Chris by just fifteen minutes. I wake up at 7:15, so doing the very easy math brings it to Chris having gone to sleep at 7:00. That boy should really get on a normal sleep schedule, or at least a less abnormal one. Like mine. Now granted, I've been staying up until roughly 1:00 or 2:00 every morning and getting up at, as earlier mentioned, 7:15, but did you know that recently a genetic mutation was discovered in some people that makes it so that they require only six hours of sleep as opposed to the standard eight?

I doubt I have that mutation.

It Asked For Wrinklefish

I got two things yesterday. First was my electric bill, which came to $37.92, a good $3 under the average. The second was my signed first edition copy of Only Revolutions, Danielewski's sophomore effort. Yes, I know there's no reason to own that. But guess what? I do anyway. So HA.

Something that I very much recommend everyone do at some point is watch TV while listening to classical music. Last night we watched Dirty Jobs and an episode of Nova while listening to Four Seasons, and a while it back it was a show about Woodstock with Serenade For Strings. Things will match up, and it is far too much fun.

Also speaking of getting new things, my partner for the oral exam in french keeps changing. Not through any thought on the part of my partners, but the fact that my teacher keeps changing the groups. I think it's solid now though. Apparently we will be having an oral exam every Friday until the end of the term.

Yes, this is late. Speaking of late things, I should get going. My bus gets here pretty soon.

Devoirs Pour Demain

I woke up at 9:30 today. That's bad on Mondays. Also Wednesdays and Fridays. Any guesses why? No? Wow, really riveted crowd I've got here. It's because I have class at 9:00. My general wake up time is 7:30, which gives me adequate time to rise, bathe, sate, walk, and wait. The point here is that I missed writing, which is indeed not a good thing. Missing philosophy (which is right after writing at 10:00) I could care less about. It really is a boring class. A philosophy class should never be lecture based; that defeats a portion of the point of the thing.

Moving on to 2:00 this afternoon, I arrived in french the usual minute before class begins. We got our scores for our oral exam, as well as our chapter tests back. As anticipated in a prior posting, I got a C on my test with 77%. On my oral exam, I got a 37.5 out of 40. For said exam, we were allowed to take in notes written in english. I was going to post a picture of them, but it was huge. Instead, I transcribe them:

Hi!
Hi!
Name?
Name! Yours?
Name! How are you?
Good! You?
Good! Student?
Student! You?
Student! Classes?
Classes!
Like them?
Maybe! You?
Maybe!
Portland?
Nope. You?
Yep!
Weekend activities?
Weekend activities!
Dance time! Bye!
Bye!

Myself, I had a good handle on everything we were saying. These were more for my partner, Chris Griffith (I call him (though not to his face) Kind Bearded Chris). I lost my 2.5 points for accidentally saying the past tense form of something. Damnable past, ruining everything.