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|Tuesday, October 12th, 2004|
|is this a journal I see before me, its handle to my hand
"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
"Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax--
"Of cabbages--and kings--
"And why the sea is boiling hot--
"And whether pigs have wings."
This journal is now closed. We apologize for the inconvenience.
|Monday, March 29th, 2004|
|one ringy dingy...two ringy dingies...
Just got off the phone with jwitchbaby
. The first thing she said was 'Are you okay?' This is because I never call anymore. I think she thought I was high or something, but really she's just not used to talking to me when I'm so happy.
And happy to be on the phone. Within a month of getting the job, my tolerance for talking on the phone dropped enormously. It was a vile, loathsome thing attached to my head, and I wanted it OFF. Over time, I forgot that I used to enjoy talking on the phone, though it was one of the reasons I thought I'd be suited to the job. In just a few days, I've gone from having no memory of ever enjoying the hideous phonebeast, to recalling that I did occasionally chat it up, to feeling phone withdrawal if I don't reach out and touch somebody at least once a day. (I still work with the phone, but on a comfortable level).
I think it's also that there's a lot of people I miss, who I'd be talking to if I didn't hate having my brains sucked out through my ear by the rotten vicious phone. Now that I've got it on a leash again, though, instead of the other way around, it's a whole new rodeo.
If there's a ringing in your ears, it's just me planning to call you soon. Current Mood: cheerful
|Sunday, March 28th, 2004|
|!---in an interstellar burst---I am back to save the universe---!
I was gone from lj for a while, which is distinguishable from my usual silence by the fact that I also wasn't listening. My friendspage was suffering from hideous bloat, as people and communities on all kinds of topics were mixed up, and an hour could easily bring 100 posts. I haphazardly checked a few personal journals here and there, but the obsessive-refreshing of the golden days was long gone. I found myself actually having anxiety attacks over it - not just the bloat, but the whole thing. The idea of tossing myself into a pool of random emotions and experiences was suddenly as appealing as tossing myself into a pool of warm tapioca with the occasional small hard green thing thrown in.
I suppose it was Passion that broke it for me. I made that huge post, and found myself without the energy to reply to the replies, though some were quite interesting or wanted addressing. I'm not sure if the depth of my fear and horror surrounding this film and its hype came across; I do know that they were amplified by my own binge on religious communities, here and elsewhere. Other people's religion, I'm finding, is like candy to me - shiny, pretty candy that sparkles and tastes of exotic if not totally imaginary fruit. I can't keep my hands out the jar, and it gives me an awful tummyache sometimes.
Stressing about life, the universe, and the possibility of a religious civil war, I put a blanket over my head for a while. Peeking out I see that the sky is not as fire, the sea is not as blood, and the Eye has not Opened over a scorched and twisted land.
Not only that, but some of my personal wars have subsided. As of today, I'm no longer doing phone sex calls for a living. Instead, I'm dispatching phone sex calls for a living. After almost two years I no longer work at home - amazingly, I'm quite happy about that, as it was finally starting to get to me - and I'm back doing what I always done, reception, customer service, and etc. The sheer joy of talking to these guys for no more than a few minutes, and sometimes being able to say 'No' to them, isn't going to wear off for a while. I find myself very well-disposed toward them now, damn near friendly-feeling, and have abruptly gone from dreading my shifts to looking forward to going to work.
And I just finally made several filters to make friendspage management a breeze. When I last worked in an office, back in Brooklyn, me and lj were like best friends, and it seems the truce is on again. I might even start posting regularly, you never know. Current Mood: calm
|Thursday, March 25th, 2004|
|keep reaching for that rainbow
Things I'd like to see:
1. hip-hop American Idol
2. artifacts on Mars
3. Eminem's daughter Hailey growing up to be a lesbian
4. any damn other country at all besides Canada (not that Canada isn't very nice)
5. using a time machine, the performance of Fuck tha Police by Sisters of Mercy &
Public Enemy that nihilistic_kid
swears he saw over a decade ago
6. a short-film version of PKD's story The Short Happy Life of the Brown Oxford
7. Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson becoming a Legitimate Actor
8. Vin Deisel becoming a Professional Wrestler
9. the other side of a black hole
10. myself holding a bag containing the cure for every known disease, plus a lot of money (because like NK always says, don't waste your wishes)
|Wednesday, March 24th, 2004|
|sneaking back in through the side door
NihilisticKid: see AI
humanx: yeah, not surprised
NihilisticKid: I was
humanx: really? you thought she'd be out
NihilisticKid: And she wasn't!
NihilisticKid: They dumped Matt
humanx: His performance was better than hers that night, but her overall showing was better
humanx: He'll have a good career - that sendout was classy
NihilisticKid: Yes, a gentleman!
humanx: He's too adult reallty
NihilisticKid: His problem was his dark charisma
humanx: But will do well
NihilisticKid: threatening for the teenyboppers
humanx: Yeah, he didn't know how to handle it... but shaving would have led to being more chinless than Johnny Red, who, btw, is living in a state of shock - he didn't know that the crazy girl who followed him around in middle school has millions of sisters
NihilisticKid: oh yes
humanx: k if I post this?
humanx: say something clever quick
humanx: dark charisma was good but you like to have the last word
NihilisticKid: The interesting thing is the country theme is designed to eliminate the black people but didn't this year
|Thursday, February 26th, 2004|
|the passion of the brand
All right, I've been thinking.
I don't post much anymore, except for this kind of thing - I think about something for a couple months, then I post about it and retreat back into lurk mode (I still read lj every day).
The following post is going to contain a lot of opinions and controversial facts, and many of them are going to be about religion. Because each individual's experience of their religion is unique, I am speaking only of groups, averages, and trends unless I indicate otherwise. If you feel this will offend you deeply, please, please keep reading, because I don't get any really good flames. This goes double if you're Mormon.
It's this movie I've been thinking about. You might have heard of it. Interesting concept - it documents the last twelve hours of a man's life, as he is tortured brutally until dead. There's even a forty-five minute whipping scene. It's not some nasty kink thing - he's political, it's an art film. Critic David Denby, of the New Yorker, called it "one of the cruelest movies in the history of the cinema", and Newsweek's David Ansen called it "relentlessly savage" and says that "It's the sadism...that is most striking."
You might have also heard that large groups of Christians have been going to see it. They're buying out megaplexes...which, some of them, are playing it on thirteen screens.
I know the proliferation of Christian denominations is probably confusing to a lot of people. It started confusing me when I was six and it still does, but now I've at least got the details down. It's worth knowing, in this day and age, because the differences are once again becoming important, and something is happening in this country which requires a certain background of information to really understand.( So here's a quick primer on Christian denominations for those to whom we all look the same, by yours trulyCollapse )
This movie has an innovative marketing machine behind it. Until yesterday, almost no one but
the aforementioned Christians - almost entirely evangelical, and largely charismatic Christians - had seen it. Even stills from it were rare. No clips were released. And the country can talk about little else. Lots of companies have pulled this simple stunt before (Nintendo, for example, when it first released its home console, engineered an artificial game cartridge shortage to keep demand and prices up, and thus succeeded where Atari failed and set the stage for the false scarcity of music CDs and DVDs that is so rapidly dissolving today). However, usually the subject matter doesn't allow them to pretend the silence is somehow reverential.
Because this movie - and I don't think I need to go into another primer here to make sure we're all on the same page about what a movie is, and that partly a movie is something that is expensive to make and therefore expected to be sold - is about Jesus Christ, the cynical movie-going public has fallen for tricks so old they make vibrating theatre seats look postmodern. It is not so much a movie we are asked to purchase as an experience - which is right alongside the way all the other shit is being sold to us at the moment, but again, clothed in holy robes.
And so, many people are stepping up to buy their ticket and take their ride, most with very little idea of what they're in for. A movie theatre is a place of vulnerability, where the senses expand and the mind becomes receptive. There in the silver dark, people are played like strings, up and down the emotional scales. There is no denying the sheer, blunt power of the cinema. It's a tool which can be used elegantly to do evil - as with Leni Riefenstahl - or clumsily and roughly to do good, or masterfully to do nothing more nor less than not waste two hours of the audience's life. There's nothing to indicate that The Passion of the Christ is masterful filmmaking, or contains any elegance in its brutality. Nevertheless, this film, held up by its clever marketing machine, is yet a tool, and one which is intended to carve the minds of its audience into a particular shape, with the assistance of their decision-making emotions.
I have come to think, the more I read and hear, that this film is dangerous, as some have said - not just dangerous in its anti-Semitism, to which I can't speak as no consensus has been reached by its many professional and secular reviewers - but dangerous in an even wider and more frightening way.( bet you know whyCollapse )
|Saturday, February 7th, 2004|
woke up, felt fine, then in the middle of a call I realized I was going to throw up. hung up, did so, and proceeded to do so for the next several hours.
it's weird - usually there are, like, other symptoms, but all I had was sudden, extreme queasiness and frequent throwing up.
I did have one beer and one mixed drink last night (well, one and one third) but it seems insufficient cause, especially since I was fine for a few hours after waking up.
And it didn't feel at all like dehydration sickness/hangover - I didn't even have a headache.
my stomach is delicate. If I eat dinner out, I almost always throw up or feel I have to afterwards. and once I get started it's like there's some kind of throwing up machine in there that just kicks into high gear.
perhaps I shouldn't have eaten the grapefruit that was in the fridge for a few weeks, but could it do this to me while showing no signs of rot?
I am officially tired of this season of sickness and injury. I've had a cold for weeks, hurt first one leg then the other foot in ice falls, had one bad kidney infection - oh. that could be causing this, it now occurs to me. a new one.
IT IS VERY MUCH TIME TO GET A DAMN DOCTOR.
I'm off to drink water very, very slowly and hope the yurking is really over, instead of just pretending to be gone for a moment to lull me into a false sense of normalcy.
|Thursday, February 5th, 2004|
|love is not a victory march
Life is down to a strange dream these days. I don't so much have a sleep schedule as a nap schedule. I sleep for a few hours here and there, I'm up through midnight and noon more often than not. Lance works from 12:30a to 8:30a - I work from 6p to 12a. The day tumbles around those anchors, and we struggle to remember what day it is, not because we don't know but because our days always take place on two dates.
We had another of our cyclic times of trouble, now resolved. It starts with a series of little spats that escalate in emotional intensity, until it becomes obvious that the reactions are well out of proportion with the immediate causes. Eventually we hammer away at it enough that the real problem surfaces - at which point hostilities almost completely vanish, since it's usually something reasonable. We end up better off than we started. We've pulled it off consistently from the start, somehow. It's one of our best tricks, and each time it comes around again the duration of confusion is shorter, the efficiency is greater, and the whole thing is less worrysome.
The above applies to more than one definition of 'we'.
Wide awake in the early morning. Cuppa tea. Barefoot with a hat on. Listening to Jeff Buckley and watching it get light outside. Lance'll be home in an hour or so.
Everything's coming up Milhouse. Current Mood: happy
|Friday, January 9th, 2004|
Lance got a job.
HE GOT A JOB!
If I didn't make myself clear, Lance is now employed. He starts in a week or so.
Now we are so happy, we do the dance of joy.
|Thursday, January 8th, 2004|
You are my beloved friend, until the end of time.
But you are wrong about Hail to the Thief
Part of me is still there. "There's nothing you can do," he said, or something like it: "You can't stop me."
And, before: "Why are you so mean?"
And, far before: "I have socks."
I can't deal with this right now. I still think about it every goddamn day, isn't that enough? Isn't it for crying out loud enough yet? Can't I just please go on?
Everywhere I turn my head I hear his voice.
I didn't commit a fucking crime. I just moved on. I saw someone else, someone who was absolutely the anti-Rich. I had my reasons and my needs. I'd tried so hard for a long time; I did my part. One day I came home, and he'd fallen asleep with ramen on the stove. A huge cloud of smoke when I opened the door, a smoldering fire in the kitchen, and him asleep. I mean what can you fucking do? What was I supposed to do? It was one thing after many others. I realized then, in a way I didn't even when he left the bruises on my arms. What could be done?
It was already too late.
I loved him so much. But what could be done? There were a few of us there that night before in Boston, for the game, when we talked about cutting the cord: what I never told you was that he brought it up again, the next day. He said he knew he had to cut the cord.
I think really he was trying to do the right thing, in Boston, he just...chickened out at the last moment. Which is, of course, the same thing he did in the end.
I wrote about the feeling, when he pulled me out of the party to say he was going to go kill himself. I never managed to capture it just right, and I imagine I never will. I knew he was going to die and that he was right: there was nothing I could do to stop him. It turned out to be a little later, but I was waiting ever since then. 'I have something to tell you', Kyir said, and I said 'What did I do?' and he said 'It's Rich' and I said
'Is he dead?'
So you see I knew. I knew from that moment in the hallway. His mind was made up.
So I let him.
'Do you ever miss me' he said and I said 'of course I do' and he said
'Well, I don't believe you, but I'll take it. Goodbye.'
So I decided he was moving on with his life. But really, inside, I knew. I even told Shirley. But I thought he'd do something at his best friend's wedding; he fooled me. He waited.
I'd better stop now.
|Wednesday, January 7th, 2004|
|Saturday, January 3rd, 2004|
|I am the pansy thug
( which dysfunctional care bear am I?Collapse )
Things are good. We got a fridge, thanks to Lance's mother. I'm working, playing games, getting my MUX ready to open for playtesting. Anyone interested in a Mage/Changeling/human game of enormous potential, please do contact me.
It's been so goddamn nice out I could punch somebody. I can smell spring sneaking in under the door, and it's making me antsy.
Next day off: Tuesday. Plans: half-price bookstore, RotK!
I love the smell of used books. Combined with gentle, unobtrusive music, it lulls me into a dream like a memory, and I can spend hours on my knees sorting through dusty paperbacks for the Good Stuff.
I'll be looking for this book
has been on about. The last time I heard him this excited about a book, it was...well, Braunbeck's Fear in a Handful of Dust
, but the time before that was when he was editing Stan Goff's Hideous Dream
, reading it chapter by chapter as it arrived.
Someone I know is very happy right now, which makes me very happy.
Almost two years since Boston. Here I am, I'm here, I'm not there. Sitting in the hallway, thinking fast. My head is full of memories like ghosts, but I do my best to keep them quiet.
I'm getting better at it.
|Monday, December 29th, 2003|
|gotta sing on the beats they bring us
Bret Easton Ellis
Gary A. Braunbeck
"Grandpa" Al Lewis
It's like a game, see...
|Tuesday, December 9th, 2003|
|The beauty of inflections Or the beauty of innuendoes
The wedding was beautiful. I don't think I've told you about it yet. There's not much I can say; things like that, so pressing and immediate for so long, float away in a bubble twenty-four hours later. A whole experience, given its own territory in which to slowly unfold again. Like tripping does.
The image I return to is that of shirleym
putting the ear rings in the top part of each other's ear. How gentle and careful they were, how precise. How they murmured to each other - are you all right, yes that's it, okay it's done.
And so they were married.
I gotta tell you - those cats know how to throw a party.
Also I went back to Jersey for a little while. Saw some people I was glad to see, though not NK - the next time I see him may be in the midwest, which is hilarious to me. The very idea. His new book, Move Under Ground
is now available for pre-order in hardcover or limited editions. I have read it. You should buy it.
I miss people. But about once a week we'll be driving around and I'll just burst out laughing. I made it. I'm out.
|Sunday, December 7th, 2003|
|well honey you always wanted to be famous
Browsing the web this morning, I found a link on monkeyfilter
to a journal which collects links to ljs of people who died
So this is a life. What it comes to. Strangers get depressed early in the morning, browsing through it, and go off to have coffee and look at pictures of bunnies. They think about the people they love, lost or not, and how they would feel. How they do feel. They think about the people they will never know. They add sugar. They walk around.
This is a life.
At the funeral, his aunt said she was surprised, that he had so many friends. Because he didn't know.
There are a lot of things he will never know, including that strangers have him with their coffee. That the book he closed the cover on passes hand to hand, until the pages are worn blank, and everybody knows the story. That it cannot be obliterated; it can't be undone. That nothing ends simply.
That nothing ends at all.
You lose, sweetheart.
But nice try.
|Wednesday, December 3rd, 2003|
|Pomegrantes are the slutty princess of fruit.
sometimes writes...research for college students.
NK: did i tell you about the dumbest paper ever
NK: 6 pages on why apples are the best.
me: ...the fruit?
me: ...why are they the best?
NK: They rule.
Everybody likes them.
The ancient Greeks. Henry David Thoreau. Johnny Appleseed.
They can be cooked in many ways or eaten raw.
Apples are the Queen of Fruit!
|Tuesday, December 2nd, 2003|
|turn or burn!
Right, so here's the thing. Nonsense exists because sense exits. We can all get on that page, I expect. We make patterns - we perceive and create patterns like nobody's business, which may be one of the fundaments of what distinguishes human thought from any other kind of thought, quantitatively at least. Exploring the environment as a pattern-making creature, we find ourselves retaining positive correlations. If I see a snake bite you, then you die, it behooves my survival to recall these two things in conjunction. Those who aren't so keen on the whole bridge-concept hit-making thing don't live long enough to breed, on the whole, which is why everything on the planet is s'damn smart.
But it's a tricky thing. We're too good at it. We, somewhere along the way, began to operate at an astonishing level of pattern-making. We traded some mental efficiency for some mental flexibility. We are not designed to operate at maximum mental efficiency, to be creatures of perfect logic - that's for coral. Our strength lies elsewhere.
We retain a tremendous amount of information, and there's some evidence to suggest that we even /remember/ through patterns, via a network of links, anchored in different ways for different people. We make hits left and right. It means we have penicillin, but it also means we have mysticism.
Evolution makes use of whatever is available. It's a very frugal mechanic. It too keeps all kinds of extra bits laying around, in junk DNA, just in case a special order comes in.
Humans likewise use everything, everything they have, towards advancement and survival. Give a human a rope and she'll fashion a ladder to heaven. Not all individual humans, but as a group, socially, mentally, we have always strived to understand more, to grow in wisdom and apply what we learn to every day life. As a race, we have retained the best hits and discarded the worst misses....more or less.
I too can think of plenty of pretty awful things we've retained - but very few are without any usefulness at all, but rather carry useful kernels which allow them to survive, along with a bunch of junk concepts that don't stop the breeding of the idea, but only slow it down, and sometimes speed it up in the short term.
History (the definition/understanding of which, always changing, is a barometer of racial [in the true sense, not this b.s. about skin tone] progress), philosophy, art, science, and religion, which is a combination of the other four. It is the human attempt to distill, to grand-theory unify all knowledge. As such, it is, if any one example is examined as a whole, a failure.
And, as someone on lj recently suggested to me, a potentially dangerous failure. Some false hits can be dangerous, especially when you're talking about concepts and not physical conditions. But this doesn't mean nonsense is bad. Nonsense is part of how we think and learn - we make patterns that are more than the sum of their parts, and come up with some truly astonishing developments.
Sometimes it's Nazism; sometimes it's a transistor.
So the answer is not to rid ourselves of nonsense, it's to develop better poison-nonsense rejection tools, which we develop through a study or practising of history, philosophy, art, science - and religion. By tolerating the belief of anyone in anything, we open the world up to an infinite amount of seed concepts. We increase the general pool of ideas. Community religions are better than individual ones, for the race, because better quality human crazy stuff is produced between people rather than within them - ideas competing breed better ideas. We also provide a testing ground for these ideas. Poison-nonsense flourishes nowhere so well as in an environment of oppression - or where people have lost all will to believe in anything but the stark reality before them.
The only conflict between science and religion is that imagined by some religionists and some atheists. Humans have both because human minds are geared toward both, and because the human race operates best with both in play
I will stand with you against the tyrants. I will stand with you against cruelty, ignorance, all the poison-nonsense. But yes, lovecrafty
, I do believe in fairy tales. I believe you and I wouldn't be able to sit around and argue on our fancy computers about reason and faith if we had none, if we weren't endowed with the ability to believe them.
And having conviction that one's own way is The Way is only dangerous in general if one both believes it's also your
has some way of making you comply, even if not directly. This means that certain religions' tactics are poison. It does not mean that the religions' entire content, their followers, or the very idea of religion are poison. It means we still have work to do. It's easy to want to throw the baby out with the bathwater, but that baby might grow up to find the perfect bridge between reason and magical thinking, and set the whole damn planet free.
|Sunday, November 30th, 2003|
|and it goes like this the fourth the fifth
Cold out tonight.Winter always takes me by surprise
someone says. Out the window little houses come and go. Everything is crisper when it's cold, as if the eye can see the rigidity of molecules. It's summer that takes me by surprise, I realize. Winter comes after fall, sure as anything. The sky is gray in Syracuse, all the time. That's how I think of it, even though it's not true.
Summer seems entirely improbable. I remember it only in a vague, dream-like way. My memories of encounters in winter are very strong.
I'd list some here, but I've come to hate relating any memories I have that are not already stories. Precious little gems, my brother would say. We all hold them so very fucking dear, whatever they happen to be. But one must have something to call one's own.Where are you?
Ohio. How did you get there?
I really don't know. It seems like...sometimes I forget where I am, like I'm home again, if you know what I mean.Is this that boring stuff about Syracuse again?
Well, I guess so. It is a college town, here. There's a similar mentality, though less of a depression.But that's not really what you meant.
I don't know what I meant. I'm in a kind of transition. Like something is coming to a conclusion. You always feel like that.
Maybe I only talk to you when I feel like that.Don't get weird, now.
I get twisted up inside. I get twisted up into the lightscape, and I can't let go. I can't say anything right, not just right. I'm always a little askew.
Little Askew would be a good name for a comic book character.
I have deleted everything too personal from this post.