time to go

waiting for this moment, ignore the passage of time until it comes, time to slink away... fucking bullshit, time to kick ass and chew bubble gum or whatever

some townie bar

In mixed company, when I don't feel like making conversation, I sit back and wait for someone to say something stupid so that I can correct them. Is there a name for this condition?

some summer day

finished a lot of shit, semester ended, hell ya, time to eff off and chill for a bit ya? no. damnit. feel guilty for not getting RIGHT ONTO IT. Hmmm, whatever, played some, did some chores, now spooling up to have a productive summer. puke. no no,really, tcb, get r dun, you have objectives. objectives! remember the reason? hmm, didn't it have something to do with chicken? so why do i only have strawberries and peppers? (me too??) moving forward, onward, upward, hmm maybe not up should it be up i don't know if this is up i think i'm supposed to go up i don't know ah gad.
jesse mentioned haze, habitually trying to hide in a haze, but i don't want to anymore. tired of the haze, tired of choosing the haze, wanting to move, to feel the wind in my face or whatever (GAY) want to be more fully full. some purity of focused motion, i dunno even what i'm getting at all i wanna say is fuck ya blog posts internet friends portland at my fingertips <3

all the drugs

sitting at this job that started recreational and has become routine. once the pressure of PAY RENT/GET A JOB is removed, others fall in line to take its place. less tangible concerns, more abstract anxiety. is the slight pain in my neck a sign of impending death? old age? lying awake at night, eyes wide the fuck open, thinking about towns and states and countries and streets and memories and fading ambitions, dying for a cigarette but i don't smoke anymore. forcing myself to look in the face of my worry, no longer able to hide behind a cloud of distracting smoke. decide that caffeine is much better, start pounding dew at first, followed by more potent elixirs. all tweaked out and skittish, mind darting, FUCK. just want to lie down but it's four in the afternoon and that would be a DISASTER. put some boots on and rove around, looking for a way to spend some money. end up buying a retarded hat or some ill-fitting pants, maybe a jacket or some more soda.

whatever. still always filled with this powerful bucking PUSH against bland, against blind acceptance of tradition, against thoughtless bulljazz. i want to puke all over most things, attempt to demonstrate my overall disgust. but i am somehow, with everything i have right now, able to swallow it back and move on. little gestures: pink nail polish, fuck it all, never give in.


or something. mostly everything is fine. but we DO NOT have to be lawncare professionals. our supposed complacency doesn't have to extend beyond vegetable purchases to ironed shirts.

xoxo,
j lo

eating hilarity

so between this and ryland's new photos on facebook, i am feeling utterly homesick for both portland and my youth. is this what happens, we go our separate ways to become asshole money-makers, to occaissionally reconvene on our old stomping grounds maybe 20 years from now to remember the good old days?

would i be so in love with who i was and where i lived if i wasn't half-way around the world now? i'm still putting off all the things i should be responsible for--i still need to deal with the insurance over my "incident" from january, but now when i go to the grocery store, i buy mostly fruits and vegetables. how did this happen? how did i get here?

this is not the post i was originally planning.

it has been months since i dressed up in a silly costume for pure self-amusement.

The center of wha-what?

I guess I've been posting to the blog in my head for a bit too long now. Let's see,

Bought a ticket to MD today, assuming to see all you effers and effots there.

I am at a place in life where I no longer need to actively avoid my responsibilities. It's easy enough to hang low and they'll just pass right on by. I haven't graded anything for like 2 weeks, because why would I? And, per Jon's thoughts, I've decided to go the classical route this term and assign grades on the A/B/C/D/Gay scale. (Not gay like homosexual - gay like retarded.)

Anybody seen the documentary "Heavy Metal in Baghdad"? Highly recommended for every last one of yous.

There were some kids on the bus the other day that I figured were Reedies at first glance. So I listen to their conversation and sure enough one of them almost immediately talks about selling old Hum books or something. And I'm all like pff, been there, done that, moved on, big man. Until I realized that I was riding the 75 to my apartment, where I will spend the afternoon avoiding my thesis and screwing around on the internet. Which is entirely different than things were 5(!) years ago. (Bee tee dubs, theses take fucking forever when they don't have due dates.)

What now?