Romania in one.

I've been there for the past 9 days.

this has EVERYTHING

this blanket of sweat is fantastic, really. going up mt. tabor, 1:30pm, 104 degrees. sometimes you just have to really embrace these things. like when it's raining hard: go for a ride, no fenders, no plastic clothes. go through puddles. that's what this is like.

we're all running around, a little frantic. but smiling.

and here we are.

they played that 'little black backpack' song on the nineties at noon the other day.

Dogs

I got up, god damnit. That should count for something.

Something will get done today. "I will do shit today."

I think moving is eternal. I also like the undergradz in my lab. I also like beer. Although I'm contemplating dropping that too. No nicotine or caffine any more. I'm on a dropping things kick. Just don't drop the petri dish.

you stoll mae wut?

I felt the wind on my cheek coming down from the East

I'm becoming increasingly frustrated with my immense laziness that I've developed here. I literally cannot bring myself to even do things I know I must do. I can't wait until someone (i.e. my dad and graduate school) forces me to do shit or my brain will burst a blood vessel just to spite me.

But I guess it's not all bad. During procrastination time, I finally found a dating site that is particularly suited to my idiosyncratic needs.

I read that with every broken heart

This is how we roll in F-Town. What's that? You don't like how the pictures block out the rest of that shit to the side? DO something. (Followed by aggressive and sudden movements of the head).









At least the couch got some action that night.

Oh, by the way, this is my last week here and I'll be in Portland within a matter of weeks people. Weeks!

spitting up all over myself

since i'm supposed to be looking for a job, it is only natural that i am instead reading stuff on my computer that i wrote back in the day. this is an excerpt from a file called 'mr doubleton' that i don't remember writing at all:
------------------------

The street is beautiful, underneath the drama of an impending thunderstorm. There are still puddles from the last shower, and it is still raining under the trees as the branches drip dry. I can’t help but smile, even as I ignore the men asking for my change. Nothing, no one, can touch me today. I am more free than I have ever been, and it’s all because of Kent. I owe him everything today.

------------------------
and this is from when i was 17 and my grandpa died:
------------------------

so it goes on revolving without a pattern or reason but the revolutions in themselves are a reason and pattern aren't they? when it starts as a plaintive
murmur and degenerates into a pointless wondering all the credibility is squandered in the ensuing limelight. what have the great ones and the small
ones done to provide themselves with a supporting system of recklessness? when the tales involve great feats of majesty the listeners are filled with a sense of underachievement unmatched by the tellers themselves. as the rain rises to meet the sidewalks in the barrios everyone grins and becomes the epitome of glee with a outer face of pain. when we idolize those in favor they become out of favor immediately almost like the salamander does when the mistress coos to him in the dawning light of the night. the strapping young manager plasters happiness to the wall looking for a significant return on his investment in the great wonderous sedans of borneo. when keypads sway in the theatre with the idealism of old maids all becomes wasted and yet recycled with all the satisfaction of the coffee addict. although the packard holds an almost immune position in the rivers and streams of consciousness its bell has no toll whatsoever in the modern world. when it peals there is no one within the distance required for the execution of a spy. when will the light shine?

it begins...

New Plan:

-vacate Center.
-get dumb job.
-go to PSU in the fall, get BA in English.
-rock on!

seriously. PSU is the new Dr. Pepper: Solves All Your Problems!!

ps- why didn't anyone TELL me that school is where it's at? what are all you a-holes DOING out there? oh, right...my nad.

pps- wow, that sounds like you are all doing my nad. that's funny. FUNNY.

Misty Bubbles

i want to draw a picture. when will the buttons let me do that?

K mart does not sell liquid wrench. The bike shop claims they cannot unstick my seatpost. But the BP accross from K mart will let u use their liquid wrench for FREE.

burger king tasts good

words are not doing it today.

GO!GO!GO!

today was so productive (i had an overwhelming urge to write "productful"--and why is that so wrong?) i can hardly believe myself. got to the office bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at the crack of 11 am, unbelievably early, as far as my 4 am bedtime is concerned. and then i did stuff. all day long. i didn't just fuck around, i actually read shit and looked shit up and got this whole complicated system going with computers and microscopes and monitors and shit so THERE! TAKE THAT!

and i acutally saw my advisor. for maybe 45 minutes. i didn't just talk to him on the phone, i sat across the desk from him and actually saw his lips moving. it was amazing. inspiring even. to know there's someone who knows shit. who's vaguely looking after me. who has told me to find a committee, put together a 2 page prospectus and plan out the classes i'm going to take the two years i'm here.

it's like i'm at reed again.

the funny thing is, that makes me feel better.

bandaged energy.

i say 'god', you say 'damn'.

clean lines and closed eyes, the clearing of throats.
abandoned bedding and aimless running, the hint of structure.
everything makes such a racket, especially the wrong kinds of shoes, that it's hard to hear the phone ringing.
the more merchandise we transfer, the shorter the distance becomes. what?

i say 'god', you say 'damn'.

a word from up high, spelled incorrectly, falls flat and withers.
a concealed question, misdirected, is intentionally unheard.
a trivial day and night, uselessly fumbled, leave little trace.
a cigarette, hastily smoked, fills my lungs with glamour. what?

i say 'god', you say 'damn'.

you've got a dizzying number of connections; i'm tethered tight.
you've lived lives of action and movement; my legs are half asleep.
you take it all in stride; i get stuck on every little hiccup.
you are a picture; i cannot stop fingering you. what?

i say 'god', you say 'damn'.

storytelling

ok, look. it smells vaguely like rain outside. or maybe just sprinklers. that's to set the scene. not that i'm outside; i'm just near an open window. what's really important is that i spent hours today sitting in a fred meyer and then a mall, reading. do you know what that does to you? it makes you sleepy.

the idea behind this was to be a kitchen table with scraps of paper and whatnot, so loosen the fuck up, everyone. back in ladd-abington, i got really frustrated with, uh, things, and started sending group e-mails about Nothing. jonny was the only asshole to respond, as i recall. so is liz the new jonny?

it's the weekend now, and i'm really quite thirsty. really. and it's dark outside. and bananas!!

this is sooooo yesterday.

i'm not joking when i say i want to hear hilary duff's album. i'm also not joking when i say things like 'bananas!!' i am joking, however, when i wear a confederate bandana. what's the difference, you ask? the letter 'd'.

&c.

running away and hiding. staring at nothing.

i spent eight hours today riding around town and sitting on various benches, staring. sometimes reading. i decided that i associate eating with swallowing one's urges. and so when, like now, i have a hard time eating, it is because i am reluctant to shut my eyes and go to sleep, figuratively speaking. see, it's like a job, this introspection. another day, another useless platitude.

in other news, i feel rather wound up. and frustrated with my emotional paralysis. (is it just me, or do i sound more 'chicken soup for the teenage soul' every day? when am i going to start discussing my salvation at the hands of a loving grandmother or well-meaning teacher? or jesus? "and right there in the pastor's office was when i first felt it: everything was going to be all right.")

nevermind. i feel lisa loeb-fine.

i'm trying to sleep away the part of the day i cannot drink away

root canals are ripoffs. they also hurt like a motherfucker. don't get one.

movies, on the other hand, are good. watch lots of movies.

don't think about what you need to do. that also hurts like a motherfucker.

you know the scene.

just what i said

my hands hurt from hitting things, yet i still feel a fire. my torso is covered with words, and i'm still choking on them. i'm looking at the big picture, and in turn forgetting to do little things like pay the bills and get a job. or maybe i'm looking at no picture at all. i feel very close to something, but i'm not sure what it is. time to sleep for five hours and then SAY GOODBYE TO J-BOY & J-WARY. or say SEE YOU LATER. because distance is an illusion, and god is a shitty magician. or something. thank you ellen.

A jedi's steed

Sammy, I've been making sweet love to your bike. Also, vaccines are a scam. They don't actually do anything. I should know. I study viruses. Wait, no, I hang out in Portland. Ha.