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Dec. 2nd, 2005 @ 11:49 pm
We got a pack of smokes and through our shadows we threw the wrapper away... it's been a long couple days.

But a very knowledgeable couple of days too. I've learned theories theories theories, many a theories.

Notice that repetition - see it dance! Dancin' to James Brown!

Anybody know that Twilight Zone Episode feeling? Yeah, I got through that too.

And about seventy milligrams of amphetamines in the past two days.

Still no caffeine pills.

Still no dextromethorphan.

I write letters for a living. I mean, I live. You know about THAT funkiness?

I also had a therapist appointment this week: writing letters, I've somewhat discerned, is, for me, all about response. I've got trust issues. Long story... I'll tell you over a smoke next time I see you.

Nov. 28th, 2005 @ 08:47 am

I think that's it.

Quite a bit for a few days in Maine, I suppose.

Nov. 20th, 2005 @ 04:07 pm
Today's been a bastardization of plans, where I meant to get a heap of things done but fell through and woke up late, took a nap, and essentially proved to myself that I can still be uselessly lazy.

But I did work on my Aesthetics project.

And I did read a few chapters in Thompson.

And it's only 4:09pm, so there's plenty of time still!

I think about all the things I have to get done, and they all fly right past me. I haven't taken any caffeine or amphetamines as of yet today; last night I decided against doing adderall at 10:00pm because I figured it would benefit me more to go to sleep early - which I did.

But alas, I'll probably take some tonight, and I'll probably write my modular design story, which will be good; and I'm planning on getting together with my group for Serpents to work on our Blake project, which will be good.

I'm dropping out Neurocam. It was a pleasant experience, and it would be pleasant to continue doing it, but the state of Neurocam at this point does not seem structured or ordered enough for my tastes. I'd rather put my efforts into something a little bit more sturdy.

And so I will. And it'll be good. Alright. I'll do it. Yep.

My Resident Advisor did not make me take down the five boxes of Christmas lights I put up in my room yesterday, even though they go every which-way across the ceiling and that's against the rules. It makes me happy knowing this crazed room accessory is at least partially allowed. You should see them light up!

I want to install a computer game and play it. Perhaps Tropico... I miss the craziness of being a despot.

Mmm... despotism.

Maine in t-minus two days. It'll be glorious. If Austin and myself make it...

Nov. 19th, 2005 @ 04:10 pm
My fault, I should have known I don't like Pall Mall Lights anymore.

I'd been wondering about this for sometime, but never got around to doing it until just now:


That makes things interesting, doesn't it?

Nov. 19th, 2005 @ 01:22 pm

Me and Cait prove to you that toys these days... well, they sure didn't make 'em then like they do now.

Nov. 19th, 2005 @ 09:40 am
I wrote this earlier this morning, but it wouldn't let me post it then, so here it is:

The Laramie Project was equally funny and depressing and powerful and contemplativistic and provocative and well put-on. Thanks to Cait and her friend Tracy I was able to experience it.

Rule^n: know that which you might hate before you decide to hate it; know that which you might love before you decide to love it.

A cold freeze of weather hurtles me through the evening by numbing my toes and blanketing my lips in a dryness fit for a chapstick king.

My car works and I am but relieved, for I can bring it home in three days and leave it home for many more; that was the only reason I was stressing over it as of late... interesting, that is, to note that I stress over getting rid of the generally supposed material convenience.

The Spongebob Squarepants flick reminds me how hearty a laugh can be when in sobriety. Not even caffeine or stimulation provided these laughs, although I did take it before the previously mentioned performance.

Austin's radio show was impressive and all the while the moment was shared with Chris, of whom I figured I would be inspired to feel awkward around. But alas, no suffering commenced, and perhaps Austin and Cait's combined presence contributed to that.

Post-radiosity I indulged in ten milligrams of red-powder adderall, as I call it - I wish I could announce the amphetamines in a more descript fashion, but I've have yet to get the knack of such a skillful technique. Alas, the results of taking that adderall are thus:

Talked to Matt about freedom of drug use and subjectivity being a positive thing in the allowance of others to do those drugs which they wish to do and of one's own drug use being their own and their own alone, for which no other should contribute an opinion against it with unmoderated tone and stature; my favorite quote of mine, and I indulge in this perhaps too highly, was: "I say, take what you want when you want. It's your decision. You can deal with the effects and the outcome - people who fall down can pick themselves up again." Perhaps that's too general a statement, for it's not true that everyone can get out of a habit that actually prove inhibiting of them and of a negative presentation. I suppose that one who picks himself up again might not revert to sobriety or allow the self to become freed of the habit or general use, but at the least, the experience and the learned implications of such experiences allow glimpses into the possiblity of other options, oppurtunities, or wayward shifts. I suppose it's an emotional strength that is consistently subconscious in us all. Just because we don't see it at first, or ever - note Bukowski as a primary example - doesn't mean that the knowledge isn't somewhere inside us, boiling away and brewing in some deep crevice. For the process is always in our becomings, and a human being will at some point become attracted to the linear mental vapour of the thoughts and ideas that spark up within us - a flame to heat the cold and numb, so to speak. I can't say when that attraction will commence, but I can say that perhaps death will release all the information and solve all the quandries that are either seemingly hopeless or, at another level, invisibly present.

I then ventured on to Krissy's where I watched her and Kristina get drunk on gin and tonic. I wrote Krissy a poem entitled Fuerte Passage Amore (revised title, of which I'm almost certain - almost - is incorrect, but probably a cross between Latin and Spanish) that I promised to write her prior to spending the moment with her. As I wrote this three-quatrain piece, she danced and sung to nineties alternative rock, such as the song "Little Black Backpack" (the artist escapes my room mate and I's attention) and "Enjoy the Silence" by Depeche Mode and "Wait and Bleed" by Slipknot. One thing to note was her uncontrollable shaking of the legs, her wildly manic behavior - smiles of course! - her dancing that reminded me of a puppet (connection to the alcohol intake and perhaps a metaphor if looked at in a conceited light), and several wild drinking games including a form of poker in which a duration of seconds of drinking were the bets on the line. The poem came out as I expected to, for I was writing it in a special meter (of which the name escapes me as well), and therefore somewhat constricted to word choice. I was also highly distracted - remember the above actions stated about Krissy and apply them to Kristina as well - a dual force of visual distraction. But the poem did finish, and I noticed I made much alliteration and repetition with the letters "s", "p", and "w". An interesting combination, but I still have no reasoning behind it. Upon reading the poem to her, as she sat on my lap in an inebriated frenzy, she paid attention but, afterwards, claimed that she "didn't get it." Alas, I was still aroused with my own pleasure and pride that I wrote a poem about her and for her and was able to read it to her.

The same Matt I mentioned then sold me some adderall, and I then smoked some cigarettes with Krissy and Kristina, as well as Michelle and her boyfriend (Josh, is it?), and took many-a-photograph with my digital camera (which has returned its use to me). The pictures I will probably decide to not host and post due to the dramatic and exploitive nature of them, but I am assured that they will reimburse on occasion the fond memory of this evening.

In any case, the night turned out to be a wild ride into poetics as I sat in the corner of Krissy's room and wrote one or two pages in my black notebook on subjects far from those of blackness. Now I sit here, in the wee (sic) hours of the morning, later than I've been up for several weeks now, and I feel refreshed and subtle - subtle in the sense of a passive and calm feeling, where my actions are meaningful, my words pleasantly pungent, and my stance lean and casual. This weekend seems to be posing itself as a giant pasture for getting work done ahead of time. I do not have many academic priorites on Monday or Tuesday, but there still exists many projects of grand size that will be required of me by the end of the semester, and to get them done over this weekend would hold off my conscience through Thanksgiving Break, and continue through the remaining weeks that follow.

I am quite happy with the assignment I will be completing this weekend - a modular design story. I have already typed a page of notes on it, and this is startling because I am excited knowing it is my first form of pre-writing that I have ever done for aesthetic value, and it seems to have helped the thought process dearly. Startling it is, because I've always been disposed to progressive improvisation in my writing style and being quite spontaneous. But this is not the case, for a modular design is heavy in logic and is of a rational, almost mathematical aesthetic. The notes, therefore, serve as a beam of balance in which I can choose to lean my mind towards in case I run out of ideas or fall into a slump of progress.

Other items of note that I am planning on working on throughout the weekend are as follows: I must finish reading The Good Earth, and then begin to pre-write for my final project on the book, which will be an 'epic' poem of no more than one thousand words in total. This, I am sure, fails to fit the requirements of the title 'epic', but alas, I still will consider it to be one of my longest poems ever written. The poem's lines will be short, as to be running parallel to the surface simplicity of the novel, and therefore the page number will be quite long if I am not mistaken. One thousand words. Yes, that seems like quite a long poem indeed! I must also - and by 'must' I mean for complete and necesarry benefit of myself educationally - begin to work on my final Aesthetics project, which is a Power Point Presentation (on a side note - I had to read the book 'Creatures of Habit' for my Narrative in Design course and the author was Jill McCorkle. This last name sparked my eye - to notice a name with inward use of alliteration does not happen often, and is quite brilliant as I am concerned!) consisting of using the artistic knowledge I've gained through the scope of the course as a medium for representing a part of myself. I am going to incorporate a small, self-composed and self-created 'film' into it, set to the music of either Radiohead or Neutral Milk Hotel, but I must wait to do that aspect of the project until after I've downloaded video-editing software from the firewall-free Internet service back at home. I can still do other parts of the Power Point Presentation though, and with that I choose to regardless of the fact that I don't need to turn in this project until December fifth. I'd also like to finish my personal reading, which is Hunter S. Thompson's Hey Rube. Why, you ask? Why am I in such a hurry to finish this book that I've just recently begun? Well, for one, I ordered two books by Miller that will be coming soon, and seeing that I loved Tropic of Cancer, I believe I want to get to those as soon as possible. I also have a stack of personal reading that is sitting on the bookshelf to my right, and a stack of books that I have yet to order. There is so much literature, and new doorways into the literary world have been since opened upon the courses I've taken this semester.

Alas, I will be returning to Maine in several days, and this is very exciting. I plan on doing more of my work there - anything that escapes this weekend - and I plan on meeting so many people of which I have missed for so long, including but not limited to: Amy, Neil, Marcel, and Casey. There are others obviously, but these 'close friends' have become a memory that I want to renew and keep as being not-so-distant and vague and growingly fuzzy - fuzzy like the pencil writings that smudge on the crinkled base through time periods of being set aside. This is not just the people that I refer to as the benefits of return - many-a-landscape, building, and lifestyles I miss with a heart heavy and strong-holding. Both Gorham and Portland have the influence on me that continue on through my writings and I am constantly thinking of. I must not fail to mention my own home, in the heart of the rural area of Northern Gorham, and the family I have not seen in several months. I miss my mother, my sister Katherine, my brother Kevin, the family dog Birdy, and hell, I even miss the grump'd-up stepfather that he is, Roberto. Yes, I call him that - but with jest, because he is indeed as the name describes - a Spanish drunkard type who lives life care-free in the sense that he forgets the value of others' emotions, opinions, and liberated lifestyles. I can't wait to show him my own, and live in harmony knowing I have power over him and his despotically-ruling mentality.

It's very frigid here, in Rhode Island, weather-wise, but I wonder as to how cold it is in Southern Maine. From what I've heard through way of voice and impression of others, Maine is, on average, ten degrees colder than Rhode Island. That means that the weather in Maine is below freezing, if not very far below it. I can only remember the cold weather of Maine vaguely, but I do remember that although it is startling, especially in contrast (note my venture from Dallas, Texas to Portland, Maine last year) with warmer areas, Maine weather and temperature is also peaceful, passive, and subtle, and makes for great times spent looking for modes of entertainment and comfort indoors - especially at place of which I adore, like coffeeshops and warm houses with woodstoves and brilliant smiles and chapped lips.

On a final note for this entry, I must express that I have chosen to cancel my plans for going to Greece during Spring Break. To provide an explanation, I find that although I was once very excited with Greece, the more I think about it, the more I find that I would rather spend the same amount of money visiting a place I am extremely infatuated with, such as South or Central America, or Iceland, or New Zealand, or some part of Africa. Greece simply is not providing the excitement now as it was before, and considering the warm fact that my mother is my benefactor when it comes to these trips (Greece AND Japan), I want to take my mood and view towards the trips into consideration, and if it falters more than slightly, such as I feel towards Greece now, I want to make appropriate changes. Fortunately, I have been informed that the money already spent on the trip (prior to the trip's occurence) can be transferred to a different trip, or even redeemed (this particular being unconfirmed) and reimbursed. In any case, I have yet to tell my mother, but I will do so after I make the call to the official office of the concerned affairs.

I write this still being in a passive mood, and although I feel I could continue writing for many more minutes, I also feel I must retire into the night of sleep. Who knows if that will be attained on the stimulants I took two hours ago, but I am inclined to try. In the words of Melville's Bartleby, 'I prefer not to' stay awake longer. And yes, that's all that will be said.

Nov. 18th, 2005 @ 09:15 am
Google has a service called "local" and it's sweet. That's all I have to say. Just type in a location and a name and it'll give you a list of addresses and phone numbers. Not bad, eh?

I found the garage my car's at.

I've got a headache.

Took two Ibuprofen (sic) and it's still not going away.

But it's nice. I like it. I'll keep it I suppose.

Nov. 17th, 2005 @ 10:01 pm
Somebody tell me that I shouldn't be ordering books online and it's bad because I have too many to read as it is...


No, wait - shut up.

I like ordering books online.

I just ordered two more selections by Miller. Tropic of Capricorn and Colussus Maroussi. Delicious!

Nov. 17th, 2005 @ 05:32 am
I've still got about ten chapters of "John" to read from the New Testament, and if I hear one more thing about Jesus I'll...

wait. Let me calm down. I can approach this logically and rationally. I'm reading the gospels because it's educational and for class. It doesn't matter that the same story is repeated numerous times. It doesn't matter that there's so much egotism and selfishness going on among everyone throughout the story. It doesn't matter that the only thing they eat is bread and "fishes". No - this can be beaten. I will prevail - yes, I will prevail over Jesus!


It's 5:30am and I'm drinking a bottle of water and I just got out of the shower and I already took a caffeine pill and my anti-depp pill and I feel somewhat alright. Like I said, I've got some New Testament to read, and that's where this morning comes in. It's quite suicidal, or at least considered that, to wake up anytime before 8:00am on this campus, but lookette me mah, I'm awake and breathing.

Debating the stimulants...

and debating taking robitussin tonight for the first time in a couple weeks and watching Spongebob with Cait...

and I'm debating eating the rest of that Peanut Butter Cup Ice Cream in the freezer - the only problem with that is that I don't have a spoon and its too early to go find one.

Damn. Reading Jesus excites hunger.

Nov. 16th, 2005 @ 04:21 pm
I haven't done caffeine pills for a few days now. It's nice. I don't really miss it. I'll probably go back to them when I can't afford amphetamines.

Today I went back to therapy for the first time in just over a month. It was nice. It was expected to be nice. I twas nice.

Today I picked up my car. Well, it turns on. That's a start. However... it makes very bad noises when I drive it. I'm pretty sure some of its vitals have become rusted or something, or the breaks are damaged. All in all, I think I'm going to drive it to a shop tomorrow and see if they can fix the "check engine" light and see if anything else is wrong with it, before I go back to Maine on Tuesday.

I currently can't find my cell phone. Lovely, aint it?

Nov. 15th, 2005 @ 09:54 pm
Good shtuff bad shtuff loads o' fluff in the airwaves tonight:

My car's been towed. You expect that a bad thing, but I must inform you bad it is not! It was rusting and rotting and as the tow-truck pulled it away, the wheels made this delightful grinding sound that really panged my heart. My Tracer's my babe, you know? A car's a car, no matter how much I won't let it stress me out.

But it looks like I'll make it home for Thanksgiving.

Neutral Milk Hotel couldn't make my smile wider - for Chrissakes, jus' calm down guys, the world's not THAT happy, is it? It's not THAT boo-tee-filled is it? Yeah, I suppose you're right - it is. And I like that. I think it's neat.

A professor to not be named gave out an assignment today: print off the following selections from the New Testament and read them for Thursday. I printed off about forty GOD forSAKEn pages and now I feel like a 'two-headed boy' for not making them smaller font. Screw "good literature" or "religious service" - I think I value my ink cartridge more than any of that fluff.

Thompson makes me laugh, and so does Austin, and so does Sam, and so does Joe aka. Mad 'J', and so does his friend Lindsay whom was more epically conversational than any other guy or girl on the campus - well, aside from the closer folks.

Not going to the concert tonight did several things:
Allowed me to realize that smoking so many cigarettes in a day make for physical sickness - -
Allowed me to play through a level of Return to Castle Wolfenstein and realize how boring it is, yet I'm constantly reminded that I want to BEAT the damn thing AGAIN because it's POINTLESS yet I'm doing it ANYway - -
Allowed me to learn Chinese Caligraphy - -
Allowed me to come up with some ideas for my modular design story that I'll be writing over the weekend - -
Allowed me to chat with Rebecca, Cait, Laurie, Austin, and Stacy (?) (Portland girl I've never met), and Michelle - -
Allowed me to re-rip Neutral Milk Hotel onto this hog of a computer - -
Allowed me to remember details about my past sex life and how I wish I could have sex more constantly without committing or over-indulging - -

Water and pizza, boys. Bring out dem crones.

As Whitman used, I'm wending waywards and finding the sky in the palm of my hand...

Nov. 15th, 2005 @ 07:52 pm
I'm going to beat Return to Castle Wolfenstein tonight.

I'm printing out selections from the New Testament of the King James Version of the holy Bible.

I'm on twenty milligrams of adderall via a type I've never taken before - I made sure to identify it on a drug identify site prior to taking it. Didn't want to snort no heroin or aspirin or nothin'.

I'm going to have a good, relaxed night, even though I'm not going to that concert.

I'm not going to worry about it.

Nov. 15th, 2005 @ 07:28 am
Looking back, it appears I smoked sixteen cigarettes yesterday.

Combine that with science and you've got yourself one gleam of a party.

It's interesting - getting sleep I mean, but it's also base and I doh-noh if I want to touch on it.

But I will touch on the following:

I'm reading Thompson's "Hey Rube" right now. And it's good. Damn good. Made me realize I had forgotten how recent the Bush / Gore Presidential battle was. Surprising... five years... gasp'd.

Nov. 14th, 2005 @ 08:32 pm
I have a question for you all, and hopefully you can answer it or at least provide your opinion!

The question is thus:

Tomorrow evening I am planning, ticket in hand, already purchased, to go to the Coheed and Cambria, Blood Brothers, Dredg, and mewithoutYou concert at Lupo's. The doors to the show open at 6:00pm, and the concert probably starts at 7:00pm. Seeing that there are four bands, it probably won't get out until after midnight. I have class the next morning at 8:00am. I also have a lot of work I have to get done for school. The question is this: should I go to the concert - by myself mind you, because I did not manage to find someone who would go with me - or should I not go to it and be a more responsible student? The ticket was twenty-two dollars, and I'm not worried about throwing that money away; also, the bands are all contemporary, and I've seen Coheed before, and I'm sure I'll have the chance to see these bands again on a more convenient date in the future. I don't know what I should do. I would benefit from both options.

Try not to let the specific bands influence your opinion, because this isn't a question about whether or not you like the bands who will be playing.

Also try not to let the fact that I would be taking stimulants the next morning influence your opinion. You can easily see that I'll be doing that regardless of whether or not I go to the show.

But anyway, thanks for your help in advance - PLEASE RESPOND WITH YOUR THOUGHTS.

Nov. 14th, 2005 @ 02:30 pm
I got dreams man, dreams! You know, wanting to write all that epic poetry you see the greats do back in the ages, when they had their pants around their ankles and the sun was shining red in the afternoon. I got those same dreams - I want to run free into the woods and sit around with a pallette and figure out how to sound out the words I've been writing for years. The same words man, the same words... just gotta figure out the order of 'em to make 'em come out good. Everybody's got to read 'em and then they gotta say, "You know, this stuff... this is interesting" - and it hasn't been done before, and it won't be done. That's why I gots to tries it. And you'll all be like, what's going on in there, and the bathroom door'll be locked, and no I won't be shaving and I won't be hanging with the shower curtains, I'll be takin' a literary shower. Words'll come down and I'll scream black change and you'll be diving for your pocket quarters tryin' to reassure yourself it was HIS face on the back of the coin. Take it for a walk, why don't-cha. It's got to come someday or night or whore or whatever.

Eliot and Pound and Miller and Ginsberg knew it all right when they bounced their legs up and down up and down, no FROWN in SIGHT but the GLASSES all let down their noses and the sniffles began like muses on the fencepost...

Nov. 14th, 2005 @ 02:01 pm
Thirty milligrams of adderall makes me feel like I'm a secret agent and there's a bomb set on a timer that's going to go off, and I only have so long to get certain things done. It makes me rush, which in turn makes me feel like I'm not wasting a single second.

Nov. 13th, 2005 @ 10:11 pm
It's always odd when you take too much caffeine and it fucks with your nervous system and makes your hands and finger-tips feel like they're "asleep". No, it's NOT a good thing. But it's still interesting.

Nov. 13th, 2005 @ 06:51 pm
You sat down on the chimney sweep;
it was marble and glass - like
the fuzz in your belly-buh-loon.
Mounted the saddle of Univerities,
You did! You did! you Did!
Did I ever tell you the moons joined?
They crashed into the sun,
and like rocketships they 'poofed' -
it was amazing you should have been
Where all the things roamed free
I sent your card marked in life-water;
cha-ching went the cash registrar,
set in deep pains of mud and bristle.
Shouted out, 'twas a'blasted, lasting
forty five million six five million
years - times a minus'd pussey plus,
wounds of battle riddling our eyes.
We were serpents.
Now we're landscapes, moulding...
moulding state houses and dining halls -
and the way we say 'cheers' goes like this:
I hate this fucking maniacal suitcase more-
No I won't shut up you say this has got-
Johnny's dead kid, and so's your mutha.
I never shot a gun in my life,
but I did type on a black keyboard,
and I think the kick is just as Strong.

Nov. 13th, 2005 @ 02:19 pm
It's so fun, finding so much to do all the time.

And reading about dictators brings out the kid in me.

So does laundry.

And bowel movements.

Nov. 11th, 2005 @ 11:03 pm
Question addiction, for in addiction
the sun rises truth from the sewers.

I am an addict - an addict, addict.

Addicted to what?

What am I, man, addicted to?

Truth - life, living - multiplication.

"He's an addict!"

"More, shit - son, more shit, son."

- - - - - - Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow - - - -

I say, "Let it blow, up the nose, oh! let it blow!"

Spoken like a true addict.

A slave to productivity.

A hater of laziness.

A bearer of good will - and addiction. But good will. No, addiction.

Addicted to smiles, even if they're wet because I drink so much water to keep my heart in check.

"Excuse me sir, but you seemed to have cashed a 'bad cheque' - and now your heart's going to exPLODE!"

"Excuse ME you, sir - for I have seen the heart explode and the bad cheque's written in the beating blood."

- chime, smile, wake up tomorrow - masturbate the mind with nasal fixation and a few solid pills that provide progression privy to private pickings.

I'll shock that, I will.

- no, I'm not an addict to sleep - I'm a slave to ... sleep.

Nov. 11th, 2005 @ 01:20 pm
'Tis a beautiful day!

I missed my Aesthetics class, but IN THE NAME OF LITERARY APPRECIATION - thus, 'tis ok.

Much to do - what about you?

Nov. 11th, 2005 @ 08:50 am
So I was looking back at one of my first online journals today, and I came across this quiz. I've decided to "retake" the quiz so the answers can be compared. I originally did the quiz during June of 2003. It's been awhile. Bolded bands are "yes".

The Original:

Yes or No -
1: The Beatles?: yes
2: Silverchair?: no
3: Janis Joplin?: no
4: Limp Bizkit?: no
5: Deftones?: yes
6: Radiohead?: yes
7: Everclear?: no
8: Shaggy?: no
9: Pink Floyd?: no
10: Crazy Town?: no
11: Tom Petty?: no
12: Blink 182?: yes
13: The Bloodhound Gang?: yes
14: Our Lady Peace?: no
15: Foo Fighters?: yes
16: Sublime?: no
17: Grateful Dead?: no
18: Marcy Playground?: no
20: The Doors?: no
22: Weezer?: maybe?
23: Marilyn Manson?: yes
24: Cold?: no
25: Alien Ant Farm?: no
26: Static X?: no
27: Pearl Jam?: yes
28: The Beach boys?: sometimes
29: Queen?: no
30: Elton John?: yes
31: Alice in Chains?: yes
32: KISS?: no!
33: Ozzy?: NO!
34: KoRn?: no
35: Nirvana?: yes
36: LIT?: wait... aren't they a one-hit-wonder?
37: Jimmy Eat World?: yes
38: No Doubt?: no
39: Matchbox 20?: hannaford musaik...
40: Fuel?: no
41: System Of A Down?: yes
42: Disturbed?: sometimes
43: Garbage?: sometimes
44: Bush?: no
45: Linkin Park?: tolerable
46: Green Day?: yes
47: The Goo Goo Dolls?: no
48: Slipknot?: on occasion
49: Kittie?: no
50. Metallica?: old metallica
51. Bob Marley?: no
52. Nine Inch Nails?: yes
53. Rammstein?: yes
54. Scratching Post?: who?
55. Type O Negative?: no
56. Wide Mouth Mason?: wait, who?
57. Big Sugar?: no
58. The Ramones?: no
59. Bare Naked Ladies?: not really
60. Tea Party?: no
61. Rolling Stones?: no
62. Sisters of Mercy?: no
63. KMFDM?: sure
64. Sex Pistols?: no
65. The Cure?: yes
66. The Smiths?: no
67. Good Charlotte?: hahahahaHAHAHAHA
68. Avril Lavingne?: see above
69. Aqua?: no
70. Fiona Apple?: no but i respect her
71. Led Zeppelin?: no


Yes or No -
1: The Beatles?:
2: Silverchair?:
3: Janis Joplin?:
4: Limp Bizkit?:
5: Deftones?:
6: Radiohead?:
7: Everclear?:
8: Shaggy?:
9: Pink Floyd?:
10: Crazy Town?:
11: Tom Petty?:
12: Blink 182?:
13: The Bloodhound Gang?:
14: Our Lady Peace?:
15: Foo Fighters?:
16: Sublime?:
17: Grateful Dead?:
18: Marcy Playground?:
20: The Doors?:
22: Weezer?:
23: Marilyn Manson?:
24: Cold?:
25: Alien Ant Farm?:
26: Static X?:
27: Pearl Jam?:
28: The Beach boys?:
29: Queen?:
30: Elton John?:
31: Alice in Chains?:
32: KISS?:
33: Ozzy?:
34: KoRn?:
35: Nirvana?:
36: LIT?:
37: Jimmy Eat World?:
38: No Doubt?:
39: Matchbox 20?:
40: Fuel?:
41: System Of A Down?:
42: Disturbed?:
43: Garbage?:
44: Bush?:
45: Linkin Park?:
46: Green Day?:
47: The Goo Goo Dolls?:
48: Slipknot?:
49: Kittie?:
50. Metallica?:
51. Bob Marley?:
52. Nine Inch Nails?:
53. Rammstein?:
54. Scratching Post?:
55. Type O Negative?:
56. Wide Mouth Mason?:
57. Big Sugar?:
58. The Ramones?:
59. Bare Naked Ladies?:
60. Tea Party?:
61. Rolling Stones?:
62. Sisters of Mercy?:
63. KMFDM?:
64. Sex Pistols?:
65. The Cure?:
66. The Smiths?:
67. Good Charlotte?:
68. Avril Lavingne?:
69. Aqua?:
70. Fiona Apple?:
71. Led Zeppelin?:

Nov. 10th, 2005 @ 12:09 am
Somehow I gathered up this great idea last night to go to bed relatively early, as you may remember from my previous post, and that great idea showed great results: this morning I had a lot of energy and did not snort or orally take any caffeine pills, and further I did not take adderall or ritalin (until later in the day when I wanted a boost in focus). But tonight I somehow managed to disregard this great idea and it's now past midnight and I still haven't gone to bed, although I'm still planning on waking up early. I don't work until eight in the morning, but I enjoy getting up prior to that so as to "adjust" myself to consciousness. Yeah, this is a simple foreshadow into the stimulant use of tomorrow morning, and oh how lovely and pointless a foreshadow this is!

But alas, today I received a Western Action / Adventure game called "GUN" in the mail. I played it for a total of about three hours throughout the course of the day, and might I say that it's sparked a lot of delights I haven't seen previously in computer gaming? The concept of a free-range and loosened-boundary game taking place in the West is lovely, and it doesn't seem like the game producers forgot much. Included: cattle-ranching, gold-mining, The Pony Express, bounty-hunting, scalping, drinking alcohol, Texas Hold 'Em, horses, buffalo, Apache natives, quick-drawing, whores, Asian immigrants, et cetera et cetera. Action-packed? Why yessiree!

I'm more than halfway through Ginsberg. At this rate it'll be in Rebecca's hands by the weekend. Don't-cha love that sort of feeling? Spread the good word I say! I still haven't gotten my copy of Miller's "Tropic of Cancer" back from Laura yet, but I'm in now hurry - no hurry at all. I think I lent out Fear and Loathing too... but to whom?? My mind wanders. Perhaps I should make up a spreadsheet covering who I lend my materials out to? Paranoia? I'm a "paranoiac", if it's okay to quote A.G. ...

I ordered a black ink cartridge for my computer yesterday with one-day-shipping, because I'm desperately in need, and it cost far more than it should have, but alas! Guess what amazon.com decided to treat me with. Guess. I'll tell you: a travel-size stick of deodorant. That's right folks, they sent me scent - perhaps to make up for the arid stench of the inkiness. Bah - random events always gives me muse.

Tomorrow I'm having my first radio show since a few weeks ago... Cait and Austin will be joining me, I hope. It's featuring post-rock / prog-rock - or whatever you want to call it. Godspeed!, Silver Mt. Zion, Explosions in the Sky, and a few other goodies... Y'all love twenty minute songs? Thought so - tune in to 88.3 WQRI from 1-3pm tomorrow, or feel the wrath of underexposed aural genitals.

Masked magician, writing sonnets during Aesthetics to cover up my apathy for "Doll's House" VHS viewing.

And my American Literature teacher's one of the hardest people I've ever had to hold a conversation with. Don't cross his path unless you want a challenge that most definitely won't hold any positive results.

The curtains close, the act ended - charge up them spotlights boys, we've got a performance to continue!

Nov. 8th, 2005 @ 09:37 pm
I feel strange getting ready to go to bed now, and having already done so much work today.

But maybe this will make it easier to get along tomorrow without the aid of stimulants?

We'll see.

Oh yeah - reading Ginsberg's Journales out loud is hard as fuck. As a very rigid fuck.

Damn, rigid fucking - I miss it.

Nov. 8th, 2005 @ 05:00 pm
Reflection and Memory:

Today I remembered two things about stimulant use:

- The effects of caffeine as a liquid form, although not the best in terms of physical feeling, are great for paying attention and staying upright. I missed them.

- I forgot the great advantages of ritalin when used for personal use in a secluded and motivated environment. I sat outside my dorm chain-smoking and reading Ginsberg's Journals, underlining and annotating, and everything felt wonderful. It felt like progress - the excitement of it all!

Nov. 8th, 2005 @ 03:23 pm
I've decided to do it. Ginsberg. NOW. I'm starting from the beginning - reverse by thirty pages. And this time I'm going to use a pen.

Nov. 8th, 2005 @ 01:45 pm

- can CNN.com be any more vague? -

- the world's vague, get over it Greg -

Nov. 8th, 2005 @ 01:35 pm
Anonymous - if you could be, would you? The update and the enfolding of the notebooks, the blank stares moving upwards towards eyes, mirrors... frigid but trance energy combining, fusing, shaping a whole of clay and oppurtunity.

I spell therefore I am.

The female is progress over all such delights - the flower, petals coming unattached and unadorned; the smile is a simple and silken sheet.

If you started wearing purple, more would notice you. It would be feminine and glorious.

I smiled for the lamps, but all I got in return was this nose - I thought it bloody and beautiful, but courage isn't a virtue anymore. We look at bold behavior as being obscene. I'll show you what my gloved fist has to offer when the ears are ringing and the thumping of the crowd is one amoebic mass.

Sweat, clinging, rubbing, pressing into essences and life-forces. Take away the crime and you'll take away the excitement.

Coffee-cup eyes, hollow and infinite - this rabbit hole's a gameplay, suave and of hypnotic style.

Move, sway with the beat of the trees cracking.

Nov. 7th, 2005 @ 09:49 pm
I'm running low on cigarettes, I'm running high on speed and caffeine, and Thoreau's casting me this dissapointed look. It's like he's saying, "Turn off your phone, turn of your priorities, turn off your LIFE, and listen to me. Just let me hug you, let me embrace you. Screw writing in my margins, screw underlining favorable quotes - that's not the point. The point is to simply read and envelope. You understand compassion, but set that aside too. You've written a poem to a friend, you've written a letter to a grandmother, you've had a talk with your brother on the phone, you've talked to your drunken stepfather on the phone who can't even understand the phrase "Guess what we're reading in American Literature?", you've taken time to put things up your nose - set all of that aside and embrace me. For once. Just do it. Don't even think." I want to turn off the monitors and turn on the fun.

Tomorrow's going to be hazy and beautiful - did anyone notice the leaves today? I sure did. They inspired me to make a short film set to the music of the band Oxes, and the film will be random videos taken from my crappy digital camera and compiled into some mess.

I still haven't even touched Ginsberg. Perhaps tomorrow? I keep saying that.

I'm finally beginning to agree with my room mate: I drink too much water.

Nov. 6th, 2005 @ 11:00 pm
The evening's sweltering with raindrops and candy-coated peanut butter. I just finished Thoreau's Walden - well, Chapter One anyway! A delightful read. It should be required reading, but alas, no it shouldn't. Definitely would shy off many-a-reader, and become as underappreciated as it is today. Regardless, it is at the least still read and taught, but is it taught? It's simply analyzed, which is far from being "taught"! A wise instructor on the text would take a group of those learners and bring them to an isolated wood and have those read it there, out loud, in a circle or somesuch arrangement, and not force, but insist the ways of the reading and not only speak but SHOW what Thoreau meant.

Minimalism - simplicity - anti-materialism - naturalism - transcendence!

Thus the story goes, where the rain is pitched! I feel as though I've written this entry before. Perhaps? Perhaps not. Do I speak word for word? Do I say these things with the constant philosophy ringing in the back of my mind? Gosh, I feel as though this is my identity's bell echoing!

There are pictures of Amy on the wall; my bowels are clinging to my mind - shake, rumble, POOF; I feel mad and awake, released and constricted; I am the Rain God, hearing the powdered thunder crashing outside the thick glass of my room.

I want love, but I can't handle it - the focus - it's not directed - it's a string of pearls being shrugged about and dangling and slashing across the skin on my neck, like a booming sensation, like a bolt of lightning. There is light, but it's doing more to dim the situation than to bring it clear about me.

Tomorrow, yes, tomorrow - oh what tomorrow will bring! Lo! Shake these mannerisms and let's all rejoice at the futile ornamentation again! I want poetry! I want men's hearts! I want a cigarette that will never stop burning! Baggage? I'll give you baggage! I'll make it clear that the fat on my waste is vulgar and unsanitary and senile and a sin!

My sins are better than your's. What's that? You've got a letter for me? Check the post-script - it's sure to be a winner!

Nov. 6th, 2005 @ 07:03 pm
Yesterday I didn't use any stimulants - including caffeine.

Smoked only four cigarettes today.

Only took one caffeine pill today.

Taking a couple ritalin soon.

I feel strange, numb... a bit calm and tranquil. It's a nice feeling. I still have done a lot of work - read three History readings, reviewed four CDs, reading the twelve pages for aesthetics - and I'm still planning on doing the Thoreau work and read a few chapters in The Magician's Nephew.

Ah friends, strangers, beings from the fan-light - I delay the quenching for you.

I'm not planning on using dextromethorphan for a long time. This past weekend's experience was far too surreal and beyond understandable. I'm still trying to figure out what happened on Saturday.

We grow ourselves changes so that we never find answers. Even when we think we've grasped what we want, signals cloud and we move ourselves away... 'tis fortunate? I'm not sure yet, and life's maze will give insurance that I continue a bit longer in the dark... each corner provides each adventure.

Nov. 6th, 2005 @ 05:47 pm

Gogol Bordello


Dextromethorphan without any stimulation









Nov. 5th, 2005 @ 02:22 am
Yeah so there so there so there so there globally there so there so there and I'm snow there snow there snow there and there and there and there and there and when and there and when and there and when and when and why and why and then and then and why and why and oops and fun and jugged the pug of course the score is course the purse the loose is cut and then it's over and I and I and I and I and I and I and why and why and why and why and I've got no energy but I have soul like the clown on the highway I've got a soul course and its groove aint what I got and I got what I am and then there's a lot and why then there's a lot then and then the then goes there and fine with the knows where and I'm just a typing typer and its just a typist and noise noise noise noise noise noise noise like a nose dropping bomb brigade zoomed through the town and I know the plane charade shower like candles sitting alone in the dark oh somebody grab a lighter we need to get lit we need to get need to need to get need to find to find where to need to find where to find where to need to need where to need where to why the need is just a lighter and I'm just a sentence formed structure along the way and it's crazy like a babe dying sucking razor blade moping and when does it end and when does it end and I need to fall asleep no I don't no I don't no I no I don't don't let me swallow a grasp of clamping clamps like clamped clamps a-clamping away and look there the smile brigade makes itself elongay and then we swerve this way unhappy like the pay booth the booth just shut the booth window and I'm like a cryptograph just a little picture and optilogically and then they get the nissles and the nissles and the nissles hit the nipples and the missiles hit the nipples and nipples hit the coagulated goal like a fasting ferret fast out of the bowl and into the mouth like frying and there it is the frying man holding butter and just a little shudder bugger with a studder litter fixed up and sympathy for the devil there aint none here there aint none clear and it's only time to shine the time like time on lime and aid the lime and lime the aid and aid the aid of the aid of the aid of the cricket booth center of cetrum of artichoke get none get some get none get cloning services to breed the flowers of the denile and shout out look at the person jacking off miles and miles of pavement and then the golden sunrise won't shine like it should and maybe I'm stupid like wood and wood and wooden and hard and wooden and brown and sleak and steak and peep the prey and look a nigger a nigger goes by like a high rise word flying across Atlantic shyness and maybe it's not this and maybe it's that and maybe and maybe but maybe and maybe that is that with the fool of the son of the son of the father of the hit of the makeshift patron and maybe it's not the book keeper's majestical majesty streaking acrost the midnight turmoil like teeth hurting and zits forming and shocks running across the lumber of booming problems and I'm a booming problem of a gun of a son and I want to get fucked up and fucked and fucked up and all the wash saming the mask of no creator just a little drop of cherry and the flavor erupts the esophigusical beauty and childish blood and smiles and mail and nobody wants the key but me and that's not good enough mister because I got no gun and the gun wouldn't be good if I had it and the had would not have but it would be past and text scrolls across like a maze of clouds on a stupid day because nothing's stupid and I'm just a chimp of an imp and the pimp limped up like a gun going off and my hands being free tied to vacancy and I want to snort something fun and I want to snort snort snort snort away just like today and tomorrow and tonight and yesterday and like everyday and I want to become the sky and become the freeman and no one will read this and not even I will read this and I think that this is pointless because it shows I'm still awake which I am and there isn't any fun fun fun showering over these eyes glazed over in sweat and stinging from stimulaxitives and the prima persona is making his knife across not his but the ridge of the skin and the drunkards want fun so give them no sun except for the shine of the bloodhound wine and I'll eat the and I'll make the and I'll criss-cross blanket it and that will be it or won't be if you know the need of no need like a wrong right wrong of wrong wright wrong and maybe that's it and maybe it's not but I want to pass out doing this like I wanted to pass out doing that and it won't work no it won't and it won't work no it won't and it won't work no it won't and it won't work no it won't but release me release me stupid emotions release me I don't want to be together with people just me just me and my smelling fixation because me and the speed man we've got it all no friends just friends no friends or friends and friends are on a balance singing like pirates and it's rising high because I think it's high like a neck brace and freedom and scorning swooped shifting and I need more words like bivoac and shanty and moon-a-long dancing please no please yes no please no no no no nonono nonono nononono and yes three times like a golden dime washed in acid and baked into a pie of coins that make me rich and make me poor because I'm challenged and fail the test and that's all there is to it and I'm not living through this because this is mortal weakness and I'm not weak I'm one strong child if I do say so myself and it's a boy and that's me and I won't grow up and I won't get your job and I won't have your children and I won't make my money and I won't live alone and I won't live together and I want to divorce and I want to divorce myself from myself like a separating parrot who can't understand his repetitive conversation because he only knows one kind and that's me not you you see and no you don't because you don't and you won't and I won't and I won't but I want to won't and tomorrow I'm waking and I'm taking the pills and they are actually gelatin and that's alright with me and you won't know that I'm going to be falling under its spell and I'm going to fall in love and commit adultery and have lots of synthetic children and it won't be beautiful and it won't be a small creation and it won't like what's coming to it and it won't like the new home of death and it won't be thrown in a trash can and it won't turn into baby goop and it won't get the scoop that I never loved it and I never loved it and I never wanted it because all I wanted was just some nothingness and all I wanted was just a handgun so I could rob a seashore and all I wanted was a smile from the other and all I wanted was a small pill to go undercover in a place without consistency and that's when they all said lights out you've got me.

Nov. 4th, 2005 @ 09:05 am
I highly doubt I'll be able to read any of Ginsberg this weekend.

For History I've got to read eight different writings - all on average of ten pages a piece.

For Serpents I've got to read more of the Magician's Nephew (oh Lewis - what a twit!).

For American Literature I've got to read more Thoreau.

For Aesthetics I've got to read twelve pages...

So let's just say I MIGHT have the ability to get to Ginsberg, but then I've got essays, projects, friends, et cetera.

Beat poets vs. Academics... hmm.

Nov. 4th, 2005 @ 07:08 am
A slump is just like it sounds - temporary. My grandmother appears to be recovering and supposedly will only need to be in therapy for a few days and then won't have to be in an assisted living home like that plan stated earlier. My brother, Bret, had to file for bankruptcy two weeks ago, but now he's gotten his shit together and should be getting his first salary job ever, which means he won't have to worry as much. I didn't snort caffeine all yesterday. I took one pill orally in the morning, ended up getting a cup of coffee at eleven in the morning, and I ended up getting a chai in the afternoon, but I didn't snort any caffeine.

Ok, so I snorted adderall at seven in the evening. That makes it so I currently don't have any in my possession, and I'm also wide awake today - WIDE awake. I'm going to make an attempt not to snort caffeine today either. My nose, of course, needs a break.

Tonight is Gogol Bordello at The Living Room in Providence. I know for sure that Austin and Cait will be going with me, but I don't know how many of those I've invited who've said "maybe", will actually go. I'll assume none. But I'm going to make myself a crazy get-up - if only it were summer and the temperature at night wasn't an issue! lo!

I've always wanted to say that.

My goal for the weekend is to get at least halfway through Ginsberg. I know - it's not happening, is it?

A guy can try, can't he?

The unfortunate part is that I have to edit four MOST LIKELY HORRIBLE peer works for Narrative. I'm going to start now. It won't be pretty. But I'll survive.

Nov. 4th, 2005 @ 07:02 am
I'm chomping away at these "Star Wars" Pop Tarts. There's nothing Star Wars about them.

They should be called oatmeal-looking things on red pastries.

Gogol Bordello tonight!

Nov. 2nd, 2005 @ 12:02 pm
Step: Address the action
Step: Determine both subjectively and objectively how close the action is to be a problem
Step: Determine the benefits and positive effects the action will have
Step: Determine the negative effects the action will have
Step: Adjust slightly or dramatically to improve oneself

- I've addressed the action, that I have increasingly been using various stimulants, including caffeine and amphetamines.

- Subjectively I see it as increasing use, although I would not consider it a problem as of yet. Thusfar it has come to my knowing that it may be a problem.

- The benefits: concentration, alertness, enhanced thought process, "opening the door" capability, various energy, elated moods

- The negatives: two major forms of addiction, both mental and physical; possibility of being emotionally addictive; economic factor; physical harm to brain, nose, stomach; increased heart-rate and other respitory / circulatory / muscular health issues; crashing syndrome - including hallucinations, increased negative health effects, extreme fatigue, altered mood - possibly negative, although not entirely proven

- Temporary conclusion: stop use for a day, recover from recent use, and take in cautious moderation for near future

Thoughts are welcome

Nov. 2nd, 2005 @ 05:59 am
It's beginning - that burning sensation in my fingers as I lose the feeling and the nerves start to get a little frisky and timid and don't know what they want.

Oh, and the vision: you should all know that when you are maintaining yourself through a night of no sleep with constant fixtures of caffeine and hardly any food - as long as you stay dehydrated, you will eventually get the same little flickering eyesight that you'd normally get when overtired and NOT on chemicals. No, it's not annoying. Annoying is the pain to lower right of my stomach, or the way my bowels want to do a cannonball out my... wait, this journal's for all audiences.

I've got aching eyes, and I'm pretty sure this vial of visine I have righ' here would do the trick, but I have a huge fear for visine, and the flickers out of the corner of my eyes aren't helping me stay focused enough to conquer my fear. Is that a shadow or my room mate moving his arm or my eyes chemically shifting my periphrial's focus without my command?

It might not help that I'm inducing myself with auditory hallucination by listening to "Microphones in the Trees" by A Silver Mount Zion. It might not help that I'm low on cigarettes - three to last me the whole day, plus anything I can muster from the friends who should give me some because I've bummed out so many in so many different times of need.

I don't understand people that don't abuse chemicals and are still neutral when I tell them about my stimulant use, my dextromethorphan use, and my cigarette addiction. Yeah, the majority of people I know who are straightedge or just non-users like to bark at me and yell about the complications of substance "abuse", but then there are the occasional few that really never voice anything against me in person... CAIT!!! In any case, it's an interesting concept that boggles my mind that I enjoy but feel I will never understand.

What happened?

Yesterday Afternoon >>> Evening:

- Didn't get my paper done.
- Was reading The Magician's Nephew by C.S. Lewis when I crashed from the caffeine.
- Took my first nap in a quite awhile - possibly three months. It was an hour and a half.
- Smoked a cigarette with Krissy.
- Saw The Good Earth for The Birss Lecture (see previous post).
- Talked to my brother for awhile - he's doing well.
- Krissy came over and I taught her Emerson.
- Developed just a few more ideas and opinions concerning my love for Emerson.
- Spent some time being consumed by the messenger of AOL.
- Chain smoked for about forty minutes with Rebecca and we talked.
- Decided to stay up.
- Wrote.
- Livejournal stuff.
- Wrote the paper.
- Went outside and read Cait my writings, smoked, talked.
- Made plans to meet her for breakfast.
- Took too much caffeine throughout the evening and morning.
- Took thirty milligrams of adderall at eleven in the evening.


- 7:30am - Breakfast with Cait
- 8:00am - History in the Modern World
- 9:00am - Revise Paper, Have it Edited, Do Other Homework
- 11:00am - American Literature I - Turn in Paper, Definite Quiz on Emerson's Self-Reliance
- 12:00am - Lunch and Homework and Homework and Homework - the oodles and oodles
- 5:00pm - Group Meeting for Serpents, Swords, and Symbols with Amanda and Jennifer
- 5:30pm - Work(!)
- 9:30pm - Homework Until Passing Out, or Just Passing Out

------------------- I've got a toothache, those bowels, that sight, and I need more caffeine. Or adderall. Or caffeine. Which to choose? Which to choose? Hmmm....

My Probable Schedule for Spring Semester of 2006:

- Science CORE
- Science CORE Lab
- Writers Reading Fiction
- Writers Reading Poetry
- American Literature II
- Humorous Nonfiction

I wonder if any of them have amphetamines as a prerequisite...

What the Hell am I talking about?

Nov. 2nd, 2005 @ 02:12 am
Instead of American Literature I's Ben Franklin essay, he chose to:

You’ve got to wonder what’s going on in my mind and what determination I have that is of the sort concerning staying awake throughout the Tuesday night and on through a Wednesday morning without sleep, when I know that I have an extremely packed schedule ahead of me throughout the upcoming day, and when I know that I could easily be getting several hours of sleep and have everything accomplished at some point tomorrow, or how I could have accomplished everything I desire at some previous point. It’s also interesting to note that this procrastination and spontaneous behavior has not exactly been occurring this semester, and that is quite the oddity, especially for someone who has transitioned into a more regular, adjusted, and organized lifestyle. I have myself propped up against the desk, the lamp light is on, one knee is on the floor, my ass is on the seat, and my room mate sleeps snugly to my left. I have been chain smoking with my friend Rebecca for about forty minutes, and before that I was teaching Emerson’s self-reliance to my friend Krissy. I’m constantly putting off an essay on Ben Franklin that I have due in nine hours from the time of this writing. I have been putting it off for some time. But oh the wind blows and the spirit is free and I feel as though life works in grooves to satisfy the self. There is no competition when motivation is known to eventually spark. I’m not dead, nor do I desire death, and the fact of this essence of life in my character is motivation enough. I get ideas of spontaneous writing, smoking cigarettes I don’t have enough of, and other distractions, and they lead me astray, but where they lead me isn’t negative. I find that the paths all end up in a nice place, and the place is always comfortable in one light or another. I question sleep. I question not being productive. I must be a speed addict. I must be biting my teeth and I must be jittery and I must be smiling and I must have itching eyes that I have eye drops to cure and I must have blackheads forming on my head even though I am starting to shower regularly and I must have these dirt molecules because my body doesn’t have enough time to clean itself. I love my friends. I want them to be happy and stressless, and I’m sure that can be considered impossible but I suppose I can try since I love trying, and if I fail I know I can try again because I love trying. It’s cyclic and most-likely non-progressive, but even a mentality like that shines and gleams like the eye of a storm bearing its gaze towards the sailors of time and rugged fashion. There is a slight drone and drown of communication and I want to talk to everyone. I want to understand them. I love academics but I understand they aren’t the only form of education. Life is education. Life is storytelling. It’s what I do. It’s what I am. It’s what we are, as a people. On the level of which I love most we don’t have to be a people who care for a particular story or belief, but we still listen, or at least hear the story. I want to learn and gain news and laugh and bellow and moan in the wind with a sigh of relief. I miss friends who I’ve lost connection with that I love or have once loved and wish to love again. I miss them but it seems like I gain new friends. That’s not to say the concept friends is disposable or that friends is a disposable curiosity. Every friend, like every story, affects differently, and should be valued differently. I don’t have enough cigarettes but the typing and the paper and the mindset and the tolerance and the moderation and the recommendation will steer me clear from that. I wonder about quitting nicotine, and stopping the addiction I’ve faced for a couple years. I’ve had such a focus on productivity recently that I wonder how much more time I would save if I quit cigarettes. But if I didn’t have cigarettes, I wouldn’t be taken to random experiences of storytelling as often as I am. A guy can go outside without a cigarette and hear a story or see a sight or appreciate a something, but he would never get an urge to via some physical agitation unless of an addiction or forced motive. I like that sort of dependency on caffeine. My wrists ache. I like the dependency because it makes me feel comfortable that there is a substance that will remind me of my values and keep my priorities in check. But at the same time I don’t know much about my priorities if I’m putting off this paper that’s going to be due in class whether I like it or not. But I know I will type a good paper, with or without sleep. I’m proud and even conceited with the fact that I can think a bit better through learned experiences and even the general education I’ve begun to receive and understand. These moments make me excel my thought process and remind me to drink some water because I don’t want to get dehydrated – that would impede progression. I’ve been writing this “entry” straight through in most ways, and it’s a lovely exercise. But yes, I am proud of my ability to write and although I might not get the best grade possible, and although I honestly don’t completely care about my grades, and although grades do make me happy and I like having grades because it makes me continue being proud in other ways, and although the conformity in grades is not entirely true to my persona, I still feel good right now. And by good I mean positive and true and forgoing into the aesthetic perpetuation that could only be spawned by creativity and mental enhancement. I wouldn’t mind addiction – the skunk is the same way – beautiful with a killer edge that doesn’t harm anyone unless provoked. I’m not provoked, I’m soothed – I’m tempted with bread and garbage and there’s a sense of beauty I see in it that makes me want to go smother myself in it – a bath in fowl, stinking material that will get me off my rocker. Where is the rocker? The rocker’s in the mental institution with the mercury pills, and the house has caved in, but we’ve already escaped – that was last chapter, remember? Now the forest holds its head high and holds our minds high and we’ve got enough substance to last us three billion chills and cheers and blinking task-bar buttons make my eyes ache. Thank my spiritual advisor for giving me those damn eye drops – without her I’d be just another poor, itchy-eyed, crotchy soul. I will glow in the wind, and mother will assist me, and I’ll forgive everyone for thinking they were correct when I knew they weren’t and I’ll forgive everyone for hating me when I thought I was correct and I wasn’t, and I’ll forgive myself and learn from myself and become myself out of myself. There is only this one character in the play through which the action matters, and that is the pro-antagonist. He has the ability to shift worlds, to shift the minds of the creators and destroyers and cause them to go into frenzies and fits and diamond-eyed stares, and the shaking will continue and the trembling will commence and the startling discoveries will be the most wondrous of all things, and everyone will gain what they thought lost. The world doesn’t have to be a utopia or a dystopia or a giant heap of anything. Make it what you will, for out of that act comes brilliance, and out of brilliance comes self-involvement. It’s a one-man band or a one-man circus act or a one-man crusade or a one-man junky fix, and it’s all becoming conglomerated and incorporated with surrealist qualities. I step into the midnight sky and already realize I’m two hours too late, and that it’s now the two-past-midnight sky and it’s already closer to the next midnight, which really isn’t a midnight at all since I believe in time and time is the only real omnipotent God – but it’s a God that’s subjective to one’s own desires and beliefs, and no one else’s time matters because we all have our own lifelines and make due with how we use them and incorporate them into the world around us. Damn imitation! Damn encouragement! Damn advising! I read my peer’s work and I want to help even though I know they need to learn on their own, but I still feel obligated and I still gain satisfaction out of reading my peer’s work and I wonder if they’ll make it and I wonder if I’ll make it and I don’t know and I don’t care but I still wonder, because sticky paper clings to the feet unless picked off, but tired wrists make for tired muses and if I keep saying “tired” I’ll eventually lead myself into believing it, when I shouldn’t be, because “tired” is contradictory and it’s a meaningless. Things that are tired are simply things that are underappreciated and even forgotten, and the fact that there is splendor in everything in existence around me and composed by me and of me means that things shouldn’t get tired. I’ll tire of them I’m sure but at least I can remember them and wake them up for a bombing parade. The avenue, when on fire, makes for a great show, and lights up the head like a balloon full of sulfuric acid, popping but also melting and encrusting into the skin of the beholder and marking a territory that’s been seen forever and ever, repeating on and on, remembered on an on, and this theme won’t be given out. Things like this can’t be given – cannot in that they are of permanence and a stature of statue that’s monumental and of great influence. Influence yourself, they say, and we will become like God himself and we will punish ourselves for what we consider our sins and we will praise ourselves for our individual duties and completions. I took away the substance, but I brought it back, because it’s my substance, and I’ll leave you with it too if you don’t bow the head in return for your own personal favor. Listen to me: if I make it out of this alive I will be a better person, and if I eventually die through this, I will be a better person. The last moment is the absolute truth, because it’s the compilation of everything gained, and the last moment is the absolute goodness that we thought couldn’t be reached – it’s goodness because it’s what we’ll know in our heads and it will be entirely composed of us. If what we believe is in our heads, then by the end of things, it all comes down to personal decisions and inclinations and beauty. I’m beautiful, but I won’t understand just how beautiful until I see the withering white hand of my lanky arms upon my chest, crossed and coarse and matching, when I’m bound for the lake of the dead. I don’t want to experience that yet, but if I do, it will be glorious.

Nov. 1st, 2005 @ 09:44 pm

I just watched The Good Earth film rendition (based on the novel of which I'm currently reading for class), and I must say that it was quite possibly the most horrible thing I ever spent two hours of time watching. But we must see and learn of what we hate so we know of what we hate.

Alas, the film has one main point, and it's quite interesting and mind-boggling scientifically:

(One Caucasian Man) + (One Indian Woman) = Two Japanese Children

Understand the math? It's as easy as 2+2=5


And my grandmother has congestive heart failure. It's not comforting, considering she was one of the nicest women I've ever known.

And she'll be in an assisted living center if she makes it through the hospital. I feel morally obligated to be the one to assist her... alas, what's naturale is naturale. We all make it.

Nov. 1st, 2005 @ 06:59 am
Oh man oh man - I'm putting together my course schedule and I ran across a class called "Mime Workshop". God damn, I wonder if it has any requirements... and oddly enough, it's the lowest level Dance course listed...

Terrorist Mimes anyone?

Or am the only one that's played No One Lives Forever 2?

And what happened with the lack of people commenting on my journal? I'm growing dependent here, and feeling lack of love, or maybe just having an itch in my crotchy ego.

Nov. 1st, 2005 @ 12:28 am
This evening's events went well. Damn well if you ask me.

But: over one thousand milligrams of caffeine and thirty milligrams of adderall in a day doesn't really make for a happy feeling by the end of the night. Alas, I'm feeling alright currently, which makes me happy.

I picked up a lot of music to review:

Honeyhander - Woolly Mannerisms
Explosions in the Sky - How strange, innocence (remastered) (review for the paper)
Floetry - Flo'Ology
Below the Sea - Blame it on the Past
The Teeth - Carry the Wood

... and now Cait's on the committee ...

A lovely release party of the literary magazine occurred, and pictures will soon be posted, taken by Sam.

Now I'm simply doing work... so much...

Oct. 31st, 2005 @ 12:23 pm
Things I'd really love to do tonight that probably won't be happening due to Release Party, which in turn makes it ok:

- Visit HP Lovecraft's Grave in Providence.
- Go to KFC (Kevin's Funky Castle) outside of Providence for a thirty-band noise concert that will last eight-plus hours.
- Eat candy and pelt wrappers at trick-or-treating drunkards.
- Watch a great old-fashioned horror movie, like Bambi or Mary Poppins.
- Get in a circle with some people outside and read poetry using only moonlight to illuminate the pages.
- Rouse up a Gothic Chorus (French Erotic Film anyone?)
- Dress up elaborately.
- Hang out by the bridge and hope I see a ghost of one of the suicidees.

Well I'll be writing a Literature paper and I'll be reciting my Turpentine poem for an audience of size, which I suppose is scary enough.

Oct. 31st, 2005 @ 10:25 am
It's October 31st and I think it's a bit too warm here in Bristol for the ghosts to come out and play.

Clowns maybe, but not ghosts. I suppose clowns will suffice.

Look at me folks, no hat but plenty of pants!


Three hours of sleep + five hundred plus milligrams of caffeine = wide awake, wide alert


Oct. 31st, 2005 @ 06:00 am
I'm being careful not to freak out. It's 6:00am in the morning and I can't sleep, so I'm reviewing my music that I have to turn in at 6:30pm tonight. Yeah, twelve hours away, I'm fine with that.

But I'm reviewing this guy David Dondero... and his new CD sounds exactly like Conor from Bright Eyes.

And it's not funny.

He thanked him in the CD too.

But get this:


If you read what that has to say, you'll be just as stunned as I, and maybe even a bit humoured that Mishtah Bright Eyes himself isn't as original as we though he was. And the other humourous part of this story is that Dondero's CD is good. Damn good.

Oct. 30th, 2005 @ 09:42 pm
Because my last journale post does not do the show justice, I'm posting Cait's links so you can see pictures of the action:



Oct. 30th, 2005 @ 10:54 am
D-D-D-Dresdon Dolls and Devotchka and Dripping Wet with Dilligent Dreamers...

Me and Cait went to Providence and met up with Austin who bought a costume that was reflective of Hunter S. Thompson. I didn't find a hat, but I tried on a few, and I tried on some other stuff too other stuff too feel like a prude...

In any case, went to:

Tea Deluxe for some Black Vanilla Tea
Some smoke shop for some honey cigarettes
Three vintage stores
One gothic clothing store
One pot-culture store

Walked Austin to the bus, went to The Biltmore Hotel...

Floor 18... no one told us there were two weddings going on at the same time, but no one told them a guy in a sport's coat and a gruffy beard would steal one of the bride's flowers. Bum-bum-bum...

Rain, quite painful, but deliciously real.

Went by Lupo's - no line, surprising. Wet though, yeah.

Ditched the idea to eat at The Cuban Revolution after realizing there'd be a cheaper pizza place nearby.

Went to an art gallery. Beautiful.

Broken buildings, lots of rain, lots of favorites...

Went to zee pizzaria or something. Large cheesy pizza = five dollars. We were there.



More favorites, more rain, then waiting in a line that soaked us for the night.


Giant theatrical events and acts, and Devotchka and Dresdon Dolls ... amazing. Can't say how much I love it. No. I can't. I won't.

Oh. I met Jezzebelle... and she changed my life.

More on that later.

Oct. 29th, 2005 @ 02:39 pm

All jived up, suckahs!

Oct. 29th, 2005 @ 01:21 pm
Because you wanted to know my life as I wanted to know your family photo albums: we got everything we wanted and heated our bodies using lamplight and cigarette smoke.

- The Warrents. Adobe Photoshop and lame excuses for ghost hunting. Yeah, I believe, but I also believe it's glamourized to all hell.
- Radio show with Austin was dy-n'oh-might - hip hop for the lovelies, eight pages of poetry written.
- Hung out with: whipped-up Mallory, whipped-up Dani, Laurie...
- Post-radio show: Austin, Sam, Krissy, Katrina, Rebecca, Blake...
- Wrote Blake a letter concerning inspiration for writing...
- Rescued Krissy from an arachnid attack, appreciation was given...
- Stayed up until 4:30 in the morn with Krissy, planning on watching the sunrise...
- Went to sleep by five after talking to Gregory concerning Dextromethorphan.
- Woke up at 7:30 in the morn, missing the sunrise, but remembering dreams about having sex with three women at separate times.
- Came to the realization that I'm a horny bastard who thankfully has dreams to provide for what conscious reality does not.
- Brunch with Austin and Greg (and Tim) was delightful.
- Dresdon Dolls tonight, seeing with Cate. Look at www.livejournal.com/users/therwugreg for my experience from last year.
- You know I'll enjoy it, but will you? Cate will be taking the pictures... I hope.

Shit, is it Cate or Cait?

I hope the latter.

My room mate just discovered my copy of Esquire magazine, and I feel like a better person.

I'm reading The Burning Plane and other short stories by Juan Rulfo, which is delicious literarily...

Oct. 28th, 2005 @ 08:01 pm

And the best Halloween Costume Ever...Collapse )

Credits to Austin W. and Sandra B.
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