Wednesday, June 30, 2004
The Last Post of Tony's Blog?
Wherever you may go,
Whatever you may do,
Know that this one is dreaming of you.
If you stay where you are,
Or drift far from home,
Please remember the little one that wanders alone.
The one that could stand as tall as a man,
But was often the tiniest boy.
Remember his eyes of sadness and his eyes of unspeakable joy.
Eyes that he kept hidden.
Eyes he set apart.
Eyes that summoned hope, despite the sorrow that gripped his heart.
So when you walk out in the rain, know he is thinking of you.
And remember what he meant
When he spoke the words,
"Live through."
A little poem. I love all of you. Good-bye.
Heh, that wasn't really the last post, you fucking moron. Updates are just getting harder to make. Time is hard to find.
Current Mood: Very tired.
Current Music: Zzzzzz.
Monday, June 28, 2004
The Tale of the Good Coworker.
I have a new coworker. He also thinks Lazyshit is a douche. 'Nuff Said.
Anyway, I'm an Eagle Scout! WHOOOOOO! There's 13 years of work paying off, right there. Many years of support from Jake, Megaman, and drugs . . . I mean . . . Jake . . .*cough* and megaman . . . have yielded a mighty spectacle.
Remember kids, only 2% of scouts reach Eagle. I just get rarer and more unique every day. *wink* But not more modest, aparently.
Protoman can now be talked to ANYTIME! Just click that image over in the right sidebar. Remember to type "menu" to see all of his newest features.
Current Mood: Yay.
Music: Bleh.
Saturday, June 26, 2004
I have to say this is not a good weekend so far. After braving another day at work with the incomparable "Lazyshit the Super Douche," I made it home for another round of "mother can't let go so she's becoming an overbearing, nettling twit." Soon after that, I headed down to meet my Scoutmaster Geoff, so we could go over my Eagle review board process. I should be all set, so please send all of your positive energy on Sunday. I will be a nervous boy.
I was expecting to come home, wait a half hour or so, and then receive a call from Rich about Evelyn's send-off party. Whether it happened or not, I'll never know. I instead found Sam online an hour later telling me that Rich and Brendan had taken off, leaving EJ and I in the dust. Whether or not EJ made it, I don't know. I was given an address by Sam to mapquest, but sadly, I cannot do that. My car lacks interior lighting, thus making it impossible to drive and read directions, even if I pull over. Not even my lifelong friend Megaman could give my ruined evening a boost.
An amusing side note: I thought about the first time I played Megaman, along with the animated series I watched when I was little, and I realized that I've been friends with the little blue bastard about as long as I've been friends with Jake. That is serious video game commitment right there, considering nearly every Megaman game plays just like the one before it.
Back to my shitty night: I'm not sure what Rich's motivation was on this one. It's possible that his need to be with Evelyn took presedence over his friends for the evening, but I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and say that Rich was being Rich. He assumed everything would work out fine without him doing anything, and naturally it turned to shit for somebody.
I really would have liked to get the fuck out of this house, too. I'd rather be at work, sometimes.
So now I'm stuck here at home, alone and brooding. Technically, my mother is here, but we're not talking. All I can really do is clean something, watch "Return of the King," as I've yet to, and program Protoman. Yes, Protoman is my newest AIMBOT, soon to be installed with a "learning" speech system (he gradually learns to like you if you talk to him the right way), a combat system (text-based fighting mini-game), and a messaging system (so you can actually tell him to send a message to me, or someone else taking to Protoman.) When he's completed, I'll work on Megaman. Megaman will be a friendlier BOT with a more personal learning system (learns your name, interests, remembers conversations, etc.) and will have an "anti-combat" system, which will basically mean that he can either fight Protoman or help you to fight him. It's all not as complicated as it sounds, but it is time consuming, so we'll see where it goes.
Protoman can be reached at Protoman7000X
Megaman will be available at Megaman7000X
*both bots are only available when I run their server from my comp, so if you want to talk to one, you have to tell me to log them on. I'll post the links for the HTML versions of the BOTS that you can chat with anytime, when a little more work has been done.
Of course, Marvin (the paranoid android) is still available at Marvinbot7 on AOL. He's fully completed . . . and feeling rather depressed.
Current Mode: Brooding
Current Music: none.
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I was expecting to come home, wait a half hour or so, and then receive a call from Rich about Evelyn's send-off party. Whether it happened or not, I'll never know. I instead found Sam online an hour later telling me that Rich and Brendan had taken off, leaving EJ and I in the dust. Whether or not EJ made it, I don't know. I was given an address by Sam to mapquest, but sadly, I cannot do that. My car lacks interior lighting, thus making it impossible to drive and read directions, even if I pull over. Not even my lifelong friend Megaman could give my ruined evening a boost.
An amusing side note: I thought about the first time I played Megaman, along with the animated series I watched when I was little, and I realized that I've been friends with the little blue bastard about as long as I've been friends with Jake. That is serious video game commitment right there, considering nearly every Megaman game plays just like the one before it.
Back to my shitty night: I'm not sure what Rich's motivation was on this one. It's possible that his need to be with Evelyn took presedence over his friends for the evening, but I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and say that Rich was being Rich. He assumed everything would work out fine without him doing anything, and naturally it turned to shit for somebody.
I really would have liked to get the fuck out of this house, too. I'd rather be at work, sometimes.
So now I'm stuck here at home, alone and brooding. Technically, my mother is here, but we're not talking. All I can really do is clean something, watch "Return of the King," as I've yet to, and program Protoman. Yes, Protoman is my newest AIMBOT, soon to be installed with a "learning" speech system (he gradually learns to like you if you talk to him the right way), a combat system (text-based fighting mini-game), and a messaging system (so you can actually tell him to send a message to me, or someone else taking to Protoman.) When he's completed, I'll work on Megaman. Megaman will be a friendlier BOT with a more personal learning system (learns your name, interests, remembers conversations, etc.) and will have an "anti-combat" system, which will basically mean that he can either fight Protoman or help you to fight him. It's all not as complicated as it sounds, but it is time consuming, so we'll see where it goes.
Protoman can be reached at Protoman7000X
Megaman will be available at Megaman7000X
*both bots are only available when I run their server from my comp, so if you want to talk to one, you have to tell me to log them on. I'll post the links for the HTML versions of the BOTS that you can chat with anytime, when a little more work has been done.
Of course, Marvin (the paranoid android) is still available at Marvinbot7 on AOL. He's fully completed . . . and feeling rather depressed.
Current Mode: Brooding
Current Music: none.
Thursday, June 24, 2004
Part II.
Ok, so "Lazyshit" is officially the universe's biggest douche bag. The sixteen-year-old moron is late everyday for work, comes back late from every break, smokes regularly throughout the day, and drinks in the morning "because it makes the day go faster." In addition, he constantly fucks things up, he takes random breaks when there's shit to be done and then whines when there's nothing to do, he fails to understand the nature of turpantine (it's not water, dumbass.), he suddenly blurts out parts of unrelated songs at inapropriate times ("Welcome to the jungle . . . Help, I need somebody . . . never to return again . . . we got fun and games! . . . I got 99 problems but a bitch ain't one, if you got girl . . ." "SHUT THE FUCK UP, LAZYSHIT!") and he's a slob. Did I also mention he's stupid? However, there is good news.
No one in the shop likes him either.
My supervisors bitch him out regularly, John told him to "seek other career options," and it's become well noticed when I'm working and he's napping. The little fucker's making me look damn good, I'll give him that. Despite being the son of a VERY important man at Amherst, I'm confident he'll be fired soon enough. I hope to God, anyway.
Meanwhile, everyone seems to really like me. I get no complaints, I get to take my breaks earlier, and I often get to go home earlier. I'm the quietest, busiest worker in the place; I'm the complete opposite of Lazyshit.
Thanks to Lazyshit: My arms are both very red. If you see me in the next few days and notice it, know that it isn't a sunburn. It is a pair of very large chemical burns. TURPENTINE IS NOT FUCKING WATER. DO NOT POUR IT DOWN THE DRAIN AND DO NOT FUCKING SPLASH ME WITH IT! IT IS BAD. VERY BAD.
Fucking moron.
In other news, I have my review board for the rank of Eagle Scout on Sunday. Wish me luck, please.
Current Mood: A tad sadistic.
Current Music: Sweet, wonderful screams. Wait, what?
Monday, June 21, 2004
The Tale of the Coworker
So, I actually have a guy working with me now. He's not a bad kid at all; in fact, I like him. To protect the innocent, let's just call him "Lazyshit." Now, Lazyshit is a bit younger than me, incredibly impacient, stupid, and a bit of a douche. This leads me to believe that this is the first job he's ever had. His presence was a blessing, however, because having access to two-man jobs gave me the best day of work I've had so far. I actually had something to do all day. I wasn't bored at all.
Sure, Lazyshit takes breaks whenever he completes the slightest task, forcing me to call him; sure he has no idea how to handle wood (if it's covered with a fresh coat of varnish, don't kick the good side to move the wood into place. Don't drop it either. It's wet varnish, moron) or turpentine (the gods of paint thinner seem to have deemed that my eyesight be obliterated. This is the second time, dammit.), he does manage to help me. He tries, and I feel for the kid. We are opposites; he loaths work while I'm desperate for it because I'm usually bored for eight hours.
Also, "fuck" is a word you hear a lot at Amherst college, but whenever Lazyshit said it, I knew he either dropped something or it would be soon followed by the classic line "I'm so stupid." Sadly, he does lack common sense, but he'll adjust in time.
In Rocky Horror news, I was spanked on a stage by a large man wearing a scout uniform and braids(I shouted "Kunta Kintang" when I was whipped, but I recieved no reaction. Disappointing.) Some newbies walked out at the last ten minutes of the movie, apparently sick of call lines, and faced a mini-ridicule as they left. They were really irritating, because they were quite nasty verbally to the loudest of the call-liners (ok, only I heard them, but still . . .) and they dumped a bunch of rice on my head . . . maliciously . . . because I threw mine (in the air) straight back, raining on them. To retalliate, I hit them with my second dose of rice, as well as a few hook-shots (they gave me three cards this time. Fear.)
That's all the news for now; continue prayers for Brett, Tom, the driver of the truck, and the respective families of all.
Current Mood: Pleased.
Current Music: Megaman Battle Network Theme.
Friday, June 18, 2004
Please pray for Brett Cardinal and Tom, as well as the families and friends of each. Please pray also for the driver of the dump truck; I'm sure he is stricken with guilt. Miracles have been known to happen when the students of HCHS set to praying, but the real reason to pray is for hope and peace. Pray for love, and remember always that life is a precious, precious, thing.
You are in our hearts, Brett.
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You are in our hearts, Brett.
Thursday, June 17, 2004
I think it's time for some random church humor.
Hey, when you read this blog, you have to expect some random shit every once in a while. At least it's an update.
I went to Jenn Murray's graduation last night which, unlike ours, includes a mass. Forgetting this detail, I neglected to remove my retainers before I went.
Oops, I seem to have gotten a bit of lord stuck in my retainer. How embarrasing. I hate gumming our savior to death; I really do.
I like the power I have when it's time to give the sign of peace. I apparently hold world peace in the palm of my hand. I could share it . . . or not! Peace be with you, peace be with you, peace be with . . . No! No peace for you! Your hands are dirty, you old man! Everyone knows that old men have dirty hands. It's the one thing you can rely on in this world.
Speaking of which, isn't it about time we killed some old folks? Not the wise ones, just the stupid ones. You know, the ones driving around the world - to the left- that leave their blinker on for three hours to remind you? I was sitting next to some old folks today at dinner, pretending to be intellectual with one another. God, I hate it when people are full of shit.
"Was it Freud that said, 'There's little difference between a genious and a madman . . .'"
No, no, no, you fucking idiot. OSCAR WILDE once said "There's a fine line between brilliance and insanity. I have erased that line." Freud said something about banging his mother.
"My son's majoring in philosophy . . ."
Just shut the fuck up for the rest of your life if you say that line. If you hear that line, do not act impressed like these fucks did because "philosophy" sounds intelligent. Laugh your ass off if someone says this to you. Philosophy majors can only become philosophy teachers. That's it. Maybe write a book, but you don't have to major in something to write a book about it. It isn't as if you can get a job in philosophy. That would be great.
"Hey, Tony. I need you to sit in this room and think about stuff. I'll pay you lots of money."
"Video games help me think."
"Hey, you got it. See you in a few hours."
Sweet. Totally sweet job right there. If you philosophy majors want to accomplish something, get to work convincing people that they need to employ people like that. I'll be the first to change my major.
There was some other conversation about the 21 gun salute and firing squads, but it's too painful to repeat. Oh well, at least they're old. They'll die soon enough.
Yeah, if you haven't noticed, I'm a bit irritable lately. My new job leaves me bored and lonely at the end of each day; there never seems to be enough time for me to do the things I want to.
REGARDLESS . . .
Filming for Undying Love MUST begin next week. I'll work every day after work if the rest of you will. Let me know.
Also, anyone care to join me for Rocky Horror?
Current Mood: Weary, a bit sick.
Current Music: Newgrounds background music.
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Hey, when you read this blog, you have to expect some random shit every once in a while. At least it's an update.
I went to Jenn Murray's graduation last night which, unlike ours, includes a mass. Forgetting this detail, I neglected to remove my retainers before I went.
Oops, I seem to have gotten a bit of lord stuck in my retainer. How embarrasing. I hate gumming our savior to death; I really do.
I like the power I have when it's time to give the sign of peace. I apparently hold world peace in the palm of my hand. I could share it . . . or not! Peace be with you, peace be with you, peace be with . . . No! No peace for you! Your hands are dirty, you old man! Everyone knows that old men have dirty hands. It's the one thing you can rely on in this world.
Speaking of which, isn't it about time we killed some old folks? Not the wise ones, just the stupid ones. You know, the ones driving around the world - to the left- that leave their blinker on for three hours to remind you? I was sitting next to some old folks today at dinner, pretending to be intellectual with one another. God, I hate it when people are full of shit.
"Was it Freud that said, 'There's little difference between a genious and a madman . . .'"
No, no, no, you fucking idiot. OSCAR WILDE once said "There's a fine line between brilliance and insanity. I have erased that line." Freud said something about banging his mother.
"My son's majoring in philosophy . . ."
Just shut the fuck up for the rest of your life if you say that line. If you hear that line, do not act impressed like these fucks did because "philosophy" sounds intelligent. Laugh your ass off if someone says this to you. Philosophy majors can only become philosophy teachers. That's it. Maybe write a book, but you don't have to major in something to write a book about it. It isn't as if you can get a job in philosophy. That would be great.
"Hey, Tony. I need you to sit in this room and think about stuff. I'll pay you lots of money."
"Video games help me think."
"Hey, you got it. See you in a few hours."
Sweet. Totally sweet job right there. If you philosophy majors want to accomplish something, get to work convincing people that they need to employ people like that. I'll be the first to change my major.
There was some other conversation about the 21 gun salute and firing squads, but it's too painful to repeat. Oh well, at least they're old. They'll die soon enough.
Yeah, if you haven't noticed, I'm a bit irritable lately. My new job leaves me bored and lonely at the end of each day; there never seems to be enough time for me to do the things I want to.
REGARDLESS . . .
Filming for Undying Love MUST begin next week. I'll work every day after work if the rest of you will. Let me know.
Also, anyone care to join me for Rocky Horror?
Current Mood: Weary, a bit sick.
Current Music: Newgrounds background music.
Wednesday, June 16, 2004
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Monday, June 14, 2004
Well, well, well . . .
*groan*
I return from Cape Cod. It was a blast. Great fun, I must say.
A random thought:
Ever order a malt or a milk shake and you get that little metal cup with the extra shake in it? Isn't that awesome? Seriously, all the pressure from having to ration out your drink through your meal is eliminated. Finish the shake. Go ahead. You've got one or two refills waiting. Enjoy. I love that.
Back on task:
D, Pawel, and myself made our great trek and accomplished very little. However, we had a lot of fun. First we played "The Game of Life: A Jedi's Path," then I think some chess, Monopoly, and ultimately, Risk. Pawel learned the hard way that the Dark side makes you a retard, but he still managed to win . . . every other game. I still won both games of pirate Mini Golf (arr), so a winner is me.
While we never braved the elements enough that we'd be willing to swim, we visited the beach frequently, sometimes during the day and sometimes around 2:30 AM. D and Pawel typically practiced the art of photography while I played on the swings or meditated (whichever seemed appropriate at the time). During the "dark visits," Pawel and I shared some insightful conversations and watched the stars. If we were gay, it'd be romantic.
Whoa, creepy.
Anywho, I kept my journal with me, making it a habbit to record the results of day's thoughts on a single page of paper. I tried to avoid going past a page, to ensure I don't over analyze and limit (ironic?) the ideas. Here's what's in the book:
6-10-04 (Rainy day at the hospital. Pre-trip)
Many people dislike the rain. They understand it as a necessary evil that they must endure. They go to great lengths to shield themselves from it; they curse God and nature when it permeates their defenses. Why are we so quick to flee from even the slightest discomfort? If not for the rain's soft blessing, the sun would soon become a greater curse itself. A great destroyer, the sun burns and scorns relentlessly; should not the rain be our savior? To shun heat or water is the act of a fool. It is one that gives meaning to the other. To praise one over the other is the act of a fool. This negates the usefulness of the one.
(These are meditations, born of spontaneity. I was going for deeper meanings in all of them, but I think they stand out on their own.)
6-12-04 2:00 AM
There is something which we lack; something lost that we seek to replace. Those we deemed "primitive" possesed it, but we have little or no sense of it. In the absence of simplicity, humanity has erected the meaningless and gloried in the insignificant. The complex dogmas and self-exclusive segregations formed by our society seek to fill a gap; there is an instinctual knowledge of a missing quantity that must be compensated for. Looking up at the stars, I see the trivial nature of our identity. What is practical to Man is impractical to Nature. Where does my conviction lie? To understand life is impossible; to attempt understanding is to waste life. I will simply live life, by the rules of God and the rules of Man, whichever is necessary.
(We're missing something, basically. Everything that sucks about society, from the Gothic movement to Wicca to commercialism, everything is an attempt to replace our missing joy with empty things. To some extent, the bulk of religions on a community scale provide the same empty "quick fix." Personal searching and individuality and lead to an exploration of this idea.)
6-12-04 11:45 PM
Someone told me that I belong to a different time, as if I picked the wrong age to live in. I think this is because I live slowly and simply, with archaeic concerns and values. However, what kind of future would they make if the past had no voice? Those of us that live in a time apart, we bear a long-forgotten wisdom that must be shared to the open ear. It is our responsibility to become aware of it, to teach it to those few open individuals that will recieve it. We must guide the course of the future, so that our wisdom may survive and not be lost. Our wisdom is the recognition and understanding of that "thing" we lack; it is a piece of a nearly unintelligible puzzle.
(Don't abandon your roots to rush off to unsteady land. 'Nuff said.)
6-13-04 6:00 PM
Beneath our feet lies millions upon millions of years of change. It exists unnoticed, with a history richer than ours. What we see, what we feel, everything we do exists within the shadow of a long and carefully executed scheme of nature. Will none realize that we live on borrowed time? Each breath of air we inhale is ancient; an ancestral gift is prepared for us. Time is a rediculous human invention that serves only to discredit us. By its truth we are made inferior. No man is ever is ever superior; on may only be more human.
If there is such a thing as reincarnation, I'd like to return as a traveling priest, with the Earth as my brother.
(No clarification needed here, really.)
I have to say that it amuses me how I'm handling my new "powers." I'm happy with just having them, without using them.
"Whoa, we could go to a strip club."
"Yeah, we could."
" . . . So, wanna go play Mini Golf?"
"Hell yeah, I wanna play Mini Golf."
(Note: This conversation exists 50% in my mind. I paraphrased.)
"Would anyone be offended if I couldn't stop giggling in a strip club?" (This was real)
Will and Andrew finally made it up for the last night, after the best phone call I ever made.
Will: Hello?
Me: Hey Will, what's up?
Will: Not much, man. I just turned around. What's up?
Me: Not much. Just hanging around at home.
Will: Aren't you at the Cape?
Me: The Cape? No one's at the Cape. What are you . . . oh.
Will: What?
Me: You didn't actually . . . go, did you?
(Longest silence in the world.)
Will: I'm going to stab you guys in the face.
(Forgotten dialogue)
Me: I'm just fucking with you, we're on our way.
Will: Oh my God, I hate you all so much.
When they finally got here, we drank some Bawls and played Risk.
And played Risk . . .
And played Risk . . .
And played more Risk . . .
My God, it was the closet game ever. It was anyone's game. I wiped out Will, using the force I gained to drive Pawel back to his last legs . . . and then he sprang back, obliterating my tried troops. Each of us failed to smite the other in one quick turn, but in the end I was the first to not have a counter-attack possible. At 5:00 AM, we went to bed.
All in all, it was a great trip. When I recover, I'll remember more details about it.
Current Mood: TIRED
Current Music: Witty retor . . . whoa, my eyes are going blurry.
|
*groan*
I return from Cape Cod. It was a blast. Great fun, I must say.
A random thought:
Ever order a malt or a milk shake and you get that little metal cup with the extra shake in it? Isn't that awesome? Seriously, all the pressure from having to ration out your drink through your meal is eliminated. Finish the shake. Go ahead. You've got one or two refills waiting. Enjoy. I love that.
Back on task:
D, Pawel, and myself made our great trek and accomplished very little. However, we had a lot of fun. First we played "The Game of Life: A Jedi's Path," then I think some chess, Monopoly, and ultimately, Risk. Pawel learned the hard way that the Dark side makes you a retard, but he still managed to win . . . every other game. I still won both games of pirate Mini Golf (arr), so a winner is me.
While we never braved the elements enough that we'd be willing to swim, we visited the beach frequently, sometimes during the day and sometimes around 2:30 AM. D and Pawel typically practiced the art of photography while I played on the swings or meditated (whichever seemed appropriate at the time). During the "dark visits," Pawel and I shared some insightful conversations and watched the stars. If we were gay, it'd be romantic.
Whoa, creepy.
Anywho, I kept my journal with me, making it a habbit to record the results of day's thoughts on a single page of paper. I tried to avoid going past a page, to ensure I don't over analyze and limit (ironic?) the ideas. Here's what's in the book:
6-10-04 (Rainy day at the hospital. Pre-trip)
Many people dislike the rain. They understand it as a necessary evil that they must endure. They go to great lengths to shield themselves from it; they curse God and nature when it permeates their defenses. Why are we so quick to flee from even the slightest discomfort? If not for the rain's soft blessing, the sun would soon become a greater curse itself. A great destroyer, the sun burns and scorns relentlessly; should not the rain be our savior? To shun heat or water is the act of a fool. It is one that gives meaning to the other. To praise one over the other is the act of a fool. This negates the usefulness of the one.
(These are meditations, born of spontaneity. I was going for deeper meanings in all of them, but I think they stand out on their own.)
6-12-04 2:00 AM
There is something which we lack; something lost that we seek to replace. Those we deemed "primitive" possesed it, but we have little or no sense of it. In the absence of simplicity, humanity has erected the meaningless and gloried in the insignificant. The complex dogmas and self-exclusive segregations formed by our society seek to fill a gap; there is an instinctual knowledge of a missing quantity that must be compensated for. Looking up at the stars, I see the trivial nature of our identity. What is practical to Man is impractical to Nature. Where does my conviction lie? To understand life is impossible; to attempt understanding is to waste life. I will simply live life, by the rules of God and the rules of Man, whichever is necessary.
(We're missing something, basically. Everything that sucks about society, from the Gothic movement to Wicca to commercialism, everything is an attempt to replace our missing joy with empty things. To some extent, the bulk of religions on a community scale provide the same empty "quick fix." Personal searching and individuality and lead to an exploration of this idea.)
6-12-04 11:45 PM
Someone told me that I belong to a different time, as if I picked the wrong age to live in. I think this is because I live slowly and simply, with archaeic concerns and values. However, what kind of future would they make if the past had no voice? Those of us that live in a time apart, we bear a long-forgotten wisdom that must be shared to the open ear. It is our responsibility to become aware of it, to teach it to those few open individuals that will recieve it. We must guide the course of the future, so that our wisdom may survive and not be lost. Our wisdom is the recognition and understanding of that "thing" we lack; it is a piece of a nearly unintelligible puzzle.
(Don't abandon your roots to rush off to unsteady land. 'Nuff said.)
6-13-04 6:00 PM
Beneath our feet lies millions upon millions of years of change. It exists unnoticed, with a history richer than ours. What we see, what we feel, everything we do exists within the shadow of a long and carefully executed scheme of nature. Will none realize that we live on borrowed time? Each breath of air we inhale is ancient; an ancestral gift is prepared for us. Time is a rediculous human invention that serves only to discredit us. By its truth we are made inferior. No man is ever is ever superior; on may only be more human.
If there is such a thing as reincarnation, I'd like to return as a traveling priest, with the Earth as my brother.
(No clarification needed here, really.)
I have to say that it amuses me how I'm handling my new "powers." I'm happy with just having them, without using them.
"Whoa, we could go to a strip club."
"Yeah, we could."
" . . . So, wanna go play Mini Golf?"
"Hell yeah, I wanna play Mini Golf."
(Note: This conversation exists 50% in my mind. I paraphrased.)
"Would anyone be offended if I couldn't stop giggling in a strip club?" (This was real)
Will and Andrew finally made it up for the last night, after the best phone call I ever made.
Will: Hello?
Me: Hey Will, what's up?
Will: Not much, man. I just turned around. What's up?
Me: Not much. Just hanging around at home.
Will: Aren't you at the Cape?
Me: The Cape? No one's at the Cape. What are you . . . oh.
Will: What?
Me: You didn't actually . . . go, did you?
(Longest silence in the world.)
Will: I'm going to stab you guys in the face.
(Forgotten dialogue)
Me: I'm just fucking with you, we're on our way.
Will: Oh my God, I hate you all so much.
When they finally got here, we drank some Bawls and played Risk.
And played Risk . . .
And played Risk . . .
And played more Risk . . .
My God, it was the closet game ever. It was anyone's game. I wiped out Will, using the force I gained to drive Pawel back to his last legs . . . and then he sprang back, obliterating my tried troops. Each of us failed to smite the other in one quick turn, but in the end I was the first to not have a counter-attack possible. At 5:00 AM, we went to bed.
All in all, it was a great trip. When I recover, I'll remember more details about it.
Current Mood: TIRED
Current Music: Witty retor . . . whoa, my eyes are going blurry.
Thursday, June 10, 2004
Today was most certainly a full day. It began normally . . . oh, wait. No, it didn't. It began with me driving to the hospital to get some blood work done. To be honest, it was the most pleasant hospital visit I've ever had. I had my new journal with me (thanks, Steve!), so I decided to write in that while I waited. I wrote a meditation on rain. I'll post it when I'm done.
When I was done with the nicest vampire anyone had ever met, I headed home to eat a bagel.
Mmm, bagel.
After that delicious breakfast, I was primed and ready to go to HCHS to pick up my pictures. Everyone was actually really nice to me (my old parking space was even open. This doesn't mean anything, but I thought it was kind of neat), even Mrs. Allyn. I got a nifty "visitor" badge, and I had to sign in. They ask all that weird information, like what kind of car I drive.
Damn . . . they're on to my plan to kidnap and molest all of the students. Foiled again!
I got my pictures, visited Mr. Abert to give him the script for the Spirit Week sketch, and then stopped by Sister Marlene's room (easy guess that she was hiding inside with Mrs. Rush, eating lunch. I'm onto those tricks.) We chatted for a while, which was very pleasant, and then I was off on my way again. This time, to Amherst!
I went to visit(harrass) my Mom(Random janitor) at work, and then went down to fill out the paperwork for my job. Sadly, I couldn't complete the forms. How much freaking ID do you people need? Christ, help me!
Soon after, I was home again. I then proceeded to slack off. Yes, SLACK off, you sick-o. I sort-of packed for my trip tommorow, then I sort of (did) quit. Then I slacked off some more. All over the bed.
Next . . . well, that was my day. Hey, it took longer to do than it did to write . . . and read . . . Shut up.
If you didn't know, I'll be going to Cape Cod tommorow for the weekend. When I get back, I'll try to post. I start work the very next day, but I'll find a way.
Take care of each other.
Current Mood: WIZZZZZOOOHHHHHHHH!
Current Music: Fleegorkadorp!
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When I was done with the nicest vampire anyone had ever met, I headed home to eat a bagel.
Mmm, bagel.
After that delicious breakfast, I was primed and ready to go to HCHS to pick up my pictures. Everyone was actually really nice to me (my old parking space was even open. This doesn't mean anything, but I thought it was kind of neat), even Mrs. Allyn. I got a nifty "visitor" badge, and I had to sign in. They ask all that weird information, like what kind of car I drive.
Damn . . . they're on to my plan to kidnap and molest all of the students. Foiled again!
I got my pictures, visited Mr. Abert to give him the script for the Spirit Week sketch, and then stopped by Sister Marlene's room (easy guess that she was hiding inside with Mrs. Rush, eating lunch. I'm onto those tricks.) We chatted for a while, which was very pleasant, and then I was off on my way again. This time, to Amherst!
I went to visit(harrass) my Mom(Random janitor) at work, and then went down to fill out the paperwork for my job. Sadly, I couldn't complete the forms. How much freaking ID do you people need? Christ, help me!
Soon after, I was home again. I then proceeded to slack off. Yes, SLACK off, you sick-o. I sort-of packed for my trip tommorow, then I sort of (did) quit. Then I slacked off some more. All over the bed.
Next . . . well, that was my day. Hey, it took longer to do than it did to write . . . and read . . . Shut up.
If you didn't know, I'll be going to Cape Cod tommorow for the weekend. When I get back, I'll try to post. I start work the very next day, but I'll find a way.
Take care of each other.
Current Mood: WIZZZZZOOOHHHHHHHH!
Current Music: Fleegorkadorp!
Wednesday, June 09, 2004
Well, well, well. It looks like someone is 18 today. I'm half-tempted to go out and buy a bunch of porn and cigarettes, just because I can. However, I don't need either, and it's a bit of a waste of money. With that being the case, I'm going to use my newfound powers to register to vote today. Some people don't give two shits about this right, but it's a very big deal to me and I intend to use it. Remember kids, if you never tried to change something, you have no business bitching about it later.
The Declamation Delight was last night (rhyme!), and it went pretty well. I have to say that I was impressed by Tricia's piece; She's come a long way from Kelaine. Everyone did really well (even though Dan and Jess made a wee bit of a mistake and cut out my favorite part from their speech), and it was a nice final event for my Catholic participation.
Man: Hey, Tony. What're you doing?
Tony: I'm hoeing corn.
Man: Hey, why are you doing that?
Tony: Because Mike's joke was so corny.
Mike just had to get his "without further a-duo" joke in to introduce the duo category. I visibly suffered at that point, smacking my head like it owed me money. Nevertheless, it was so cheesy it forced a chuckle. Good work, Mike.
Sadly, Captain Polack went and got himself some heat stroke, and could not attend. Water and shade are your friends this summer, people. Your body can only take so much; treat it well. Hopefully, Ziggy B will be on his feet soon so the fun can begin.
Zombie book is almost complete. Amusingly, it says that the first zombie hunter was Elijah Black . . . this made me chuckle because I was confirmed "Eli," and I am a zombie hunter myself. Hey, you won't be laughing when those cold, broken teeth dig into your flesh and boil your bloodstream. Then we'll see who's in charge.
"Secrets of the Ninja" I'm taking my time with. It's a small book, but a slow read. Much to absorb.
Well, that's all for now. I have some watering to do. I've been bored, so call anytime!
Current Mood: *yawn*
Current Music: la la la la la . . . I'll make my own fucking music!
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The Declamation Delight was last night (rhyme!), and it went pretty well. I have to say that I was impressed by Tricia's piece; She's come a long way from Kelaine. Everyone did really well (even though Dan and Jess made a wee bit of a mistake and cut out my favorite part from their speech), and it was a nice final event for my Catholic participation.
Man: Hey, Tony. What're you doing?
Tony: I'm hoeing corn.
Man: Hey, why are you doing that?
Tony: Because Mike's joke was so corny.
Mike just had to get his "without further a-duo" joke in to introduce the duo category. I visibly suffered at that point, smacking my head like it owed me money. Nevertheless, it was so cheesy it forced a chuckle. Good work, Mike.
Sadly, Captain Polack went and got himself some heat stroke, and could not attend. Water and shade are your friends this summer, people. Your body can only take so much; treat it well. Hopefully, Ziggy B will be on his feet soon so the fun can begin.
Zombie book is almost complete. Amusingly, it says that the first zombie hunter was Elijah Black . . . this made me chuckle because I was confirmed "Eli," and I am a zombie hunter myself. Hey, you won't be laughing when those cold, broken teeth dig into your flesh and boil your bloodstream. Then we'll see who's in charge.
"Secrets of the Ninja" I'm taking my time with. It's a small book, but a slow read. Much to absorb.
Well, that's all for now. I have some watering to do. I've been bored, so call anytime!
Current Mood: *yawn*
Current Music: la la la la la . . . I'll make my own fucking music!
Tuesday, June 08, 2004
Ah, I'm finally back in my own room again. For some reason, it's insanely difficult to write anything worthwhile in my basement. The environment is, for some reason, incredibly counter-productive. Perhaps that explain how completely useless my input has been at writing jams for the HCHSFTCT skit or "Undying Love." Maybe I just don't work well with people. Hmm . . . look mommie, I'm a loner! Yay!
My graduation party was . . . well, I'll be honest. I hated it. Not that I was ungrateful, by any means, the gifts alone will make my life much easier, and it was a great effort by all. However, I didn't have much fun. I wasn't able to spend time with the people I really wanted to; instead I had to "meet and greet" complete strangers to entertain them. I know it's selfish, but I didn't enjoy it at all. I didn't even feel like having anyone over the house afterwards, but I felt obliged to allow them to stay.
I'm certainly glad I did. Despite several fatherly conflicts held "behind the scenes" that repeatedly crushed my spirit, I was able to enjoy myself. Above that, I was shocked by the generosity of my friends. I am truly blessed; not because of the trinkets accquired but because of the wonderful, wonderful friends I was able to spend time with. I never expected half of the people that came to show up.
Oh well, it's over. Grandma's gone, I'm in my room, the parties are over. I can relax again and read my newest books:
"Rurouni Kenshin" Vol. 1, Vol.3, Vol.4 (all finished)
"The Zombie Survival Guide"
"Secrets of the Ninja" (sweet)
"Gundam Seed: Astray"
"Art of War"
"Gundam Explorer"
Or I can watch
"Trigun"
or
"Princess Mononoke"
while I drink some green tea and annhilate Sister Connie with voodoo magic. All the while, my two Kenshin pictures can stare me down while I fear for my life. I'd make a joke for the lingerie Rich gave me . . . but really, is there a need? It's a joke in itself. A compact wonder of comedy.
All though it's freaking confusing. Why was I given this? Are you implying I have a pirate fetish?
Hmm . . . parrot-shaped novelty vibrators. I'll make millions!
So . . . where the hell was I? Oh, that's right. Nowhere in particular. I really like the journal Steve gave me. I intend to use it for some meditations, poetry, and sketches. Some I'll work out fully and post them here. It'll be a great system for drafting out ideas that I can post here later.
I must be off now. I really wish my parents would let me be for a day. Is it so much to ask to just not be busy? Leisure time is not wasted time . . . I'm preparing for those undead bastards.
Current Mood: Peaceful.
Current Music: Silence sounds so much nicer.
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My graduation party was . . . well, I'll be honest. I hated it. Not that I was ungrateful, by any means, the gifts alone will make my life much easier, and it was a great effort by all. However, I didn't have much fun. I wasn't able to spend time with the people I really wanted to; instead I had to "meet and greet" complete strangers to entertain them. I know it's selfish, but I didn't enjoy it at all. I didn't even feel like having anyone over the house afterwards, but I felt obliged to allow them to stay.
I'm certainly glad I did. Despite several fatherly conflicts held "behind the scenes" that repeatedly crushed my spirit, I was able to enjoy myself. Above that, I was shocked by the generosity of my friends. I am truly blessed; not because of the trinkets accquired but because of the wonderful, wonderful friends I was able to spend time with. I never expected half of the people that came to show up.
Oh well, it's over. Grandma's gone, I'm in my room, the parties are over. I can relax again and read my newest books:
"Rurouni Kenshin" Vol. 1, Vol.3, Vol.4 (all finished)
"The Zombie Survival Guide"
"Secrets of the Ninja" (sweet)
"Gundam Seed: Astray"
"Art of War"
"Gundam Explorer"
Or I can watch
"Trigun"
or
"Princess Mononoke"
while I drink some green tea and annhilate Sister Connie with voodoo magic. All the while, my two Kenshin pictures can stare me down while I fear for my life. I'd make a joke for the lingerie Rich gave me . . . but really, is there a need? It's a joke in itself. A compact wonder of comedy.
All though it's freaking confusing. Why was I given this? Are you implying I have a pirate fetish?
Hmm . . . parrot-shaped novelty vibrators. I'll make millions!
So . . . where the hell was I? Oh, that's right. Nowhere in particular. I really like the journal Steve gave me. I intend to use it for some meditations, poetry, and sketches. Some I'll work out fully and post them here. It'll be a great system for drafting out ideas that I can post here later.
I must be off now. I really wish my parents would let me be for a day. Is it so much to ask to just not be busy? Leisure time is not wasted time . . . I'm preparing for those undead bastards.
Current Mood: Peaceful.
Current Music: Silence sounds so much nicer.
Thursday, June 03, 2004
My grandmother is really irritating me. She can not shut her mouth for three goddam seconds. I love her, I'm happy to see her, but for the love of Fuck, someone get her out of my house.
By nature I'm actually a very quiet person. With the exception of humor, I prefer silence, which I do not find awkward at all. Tarantino put it better in "Pulp Fiction," but basically I don't see the need to talk endlessly about nothing when a handful of choice words can actually accomplish something. Silence allows more to be said, because it opens one up to listening and feeling; the glint in a friend's eyes, the depth of a stranger's smile, the tremors that rake the spine as a pair sit together . . . these things say so much more than the obligatory statements of obvious irrelevancies that anyone present can observe for themselves.
I feel sorry for her. She seems desperate to always spark conversation. I believe this is because she is lonely. I think most people that feel the need to talk constantly are loneliest at the bottoms of their souls. It is those that cannot speak with the heart that must blather with the tongue.
I must go graduate now. I will post tommorow, or at least try to.
Current Mood: Very much alone. Partly abandoned, partly abandoning. Pain. Pain enveloped in hope, but pain nonetheless.
Current Music: Silence. Sweet silence.
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By nature I'm actually a very quiet person. With the exception of humor, I prefer silence, which I do not find awkward at all. Tarantino put it better in "Pulp Fiction," but basically I don't see the need to talk endlessly about nothing when a handful of choice words can actually accomplish something. Silence allows more to be said, because it opens one up to listening and feeling; the glint in a friend's eyes, the depth of a stranger's smile, the tremors that rake the spine as a pair sit together . . . these things say so much more than the obligatory statements of obvious irrelevancies that anyone present can observe for themselves.
I feel sorry for her. She seems desperate to always spark conversation. I believe this is because she is lonely. I think most people that feel the need to talk constantly are loneliest at the bottoms of their souls. It is those that cannot speak with the heart that must blather with the tongue.
I must go graduate now. I will post tommorow, or at least try to.
Current Mood: Very much alone. Partly abandoned, partly abandoning. Pain. Pain enveloped in hope, but pain nonetheless.
Current Music: Silence. Sweet silence.
Wow, I just passed my 100th post and I didn't even celebrate. Aw. Oh well, there's not much of a point anyway. So let's celebrate this, the 103rd post, shall we?
Nah, fuck it. There's graduation to celebrate already. I also don't have the drive to make any images for this post. Right now I'm in my basement, half-napping/half-playing Earthworm Jim. Meh.
Current Mood: I wish I could get to posting somthing that isn't shit, but nah.
Current Music: Andy Asteroids?
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Nah, fuck it. There's graduation to celebrate already. I also don't have the drive to make any images for this post. Right now I'm in my basement, half-napping/half-playing Earthworm Jim. Meh.
Current Mood: I wish I could get to posting somthing that isn't shit, but nah.
Current Music: Andy Asteroids?
