| Oct. 25th, 2007 | 05:02 pm | ||||||
So. I set up a blogspot. I guess we all have to grow up at some point. Plus I can post media easier there. Here's the page. |
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2 chemical reactions... shit should I be worried? - Just a drop of sulfuric acid will do it... | |||||
| Oct. 25th, 2007 | 05:02 pm | ||||||
So. I set up a blogspot. I guess we all have to grow up at some point. Plus I can post media easier there. |
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Just a drop of sulfuric acid will do it... | |||||
| Sep. 29th, 2007 | 09:00 pm | ||||||
Maybe tomorrow. |
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2 chemical reactions... shit should I be worried? - Just a drop of sulfuric acid will do it... | |||||
| Sep. 22nd, 2007 | 10:41 am | ||||||
Perhaps breakfast will be awesome. |
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1 chemical reaction - Just a drop of sulfuric acid will do it... | |||||
| Sep. 13th, 2007 | 09:26 am | ||||||
Feeling - basic. Neutral. Grey. Day off tomorrow. I need to find something to do. |
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1 chemical reaction - Just a drop of sulfuric acid will do it... | |||||
| Sep. 12th, 2007 | 10:02 am | ||||||
I e-mailed it instead. It became too private, too intimate in the writing. No one else had to see it. I haven't cried like this in years. |
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1 chemical reaction - Just a drop of sulfuric acid will do it... | |||||
| Sep. 11th, 2007 | 11:33 am | ||||||
I'm thinking of traveling home for a few days. I can swing it maybe for next weekend. This town is awesome, but it's beginning to wear on me just a bit. Plus I haven't been home since, April or May, I'm not sure which, so it will be nice to see some people for a bit. I want to date a magician. Not a stage one, however. Real magic exists somewhere in this world, I'm certain of it. |
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Just a drop of sulfuric acid will do it... | |||||
| Sep. 8th, 2007 | 06:10 pm | ||||||
To those of us who've read the graphic novel anyway. |
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Just a drop of sulfuric acid will do it... | |||||
| Sep. 7th, 2007 | 11:35 am | ||||||
While I think he's completely adorable, part of me is hoping that the next few months go by quickly. The kitten mode is cute, but I'll love the mellow-ness of adulthood a lot more. Right now it's a lot of attention, and vocal dissatisfaction if I can't give it. But enough of Howl. I'm talking to my mother on the phone. "...Come to think of it, apparently your brother has been hearing about what you write about your family online." She says it like this, like she's not a part of my family, like she's my conscience or something. It's lame, and quite vulgar. "...Because," she continues, "I guess his girlfriend reads it, and she tells him, and then he tells your father... I'm just saying you should be careful about what you write." I'm stunned. "Alright," I say, with no real emotion. I don't even know what to say to her. Just "alright" is all I can manage. She tells me she has to go and so I just say good-bye and hang up. I'm not sure what to think. So let me switch from talking generally to a specific person. I've had it up to here with all this lame-ass bullshit. You of all people should know not to take into account anything that is said in a blog. You remember how all this shit got out of hand last year with Kelsey. So yes. I feel like this is mine, this is my place to write, I'm going to write whatever I feel like. So I'm sorry if I have things to say about some people that might make them uncomfortable. But we all deal with it. If you don't want to read it, you don't have to. There's no need to start childish telephone games. Just - I don't know. Maybe I'm blowing it out of proportion. I really hope so. I just think it's a bit invasive when my mother starts telling me to "watch" what I write in my blog. I'm sure you'd feel the same way. And that's my soapbox. Night. |
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1 chemical reaction - Just a drop of sulfuric acid will do it... | |||||
| Aug. 28th, 2007 | 08:16 pm | ||||||
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3 chemical reactions... shit should I be worried? - Just a drop of sulfuric acid will do it... | |||||
| Aug. 28th, 2007 | 07:26 pm | ||||||
"Newton Pulsifer had never had a cause in his life. Nor had he, as far as he knew, ever believed in anything. It had been embarrassing, because he quite wanted to believe in something, since he recognized that belief was the lifebelt that got most people through the choppy waters of Life. He'd have liked to believe in a supreme God, although he'd have preferred a half-hour's chat with Him before committing himself, to clear up one or two points. He'd sat in all sorts of churches, waiting for that single flash of blue light, and it hadn't come. And then he'd tried to become an official Atheist and hadn't got the rock-hard, self-satisfied strength of belief even for that. And every single political party seemed to him equally dishonest. And he'd given up on ecology when the ecology magazine he'd been subscribing to had shown its readers a plan of a self-sufficient garden, and had drawn the ecological goat tethered within three feet of the ecological beehive. Newt had spent a lot of time at his grandmother's house in the country and thought he knew something about the habits of both goats and bees, and concluded therefore that the magazine was run by a bunch of bib-overalled maniacs. Besides, it used the word "community" too often; Newt had always suspected that people who regularly used the word "community" were using it in a very specific sense that excluded him and everyone he knew. Then he'd tried believing in the Universe, which seemed sound enough until he innocently started reading new books with words like Chaos and Time and Quantum in the titles. He'd found that even the people whose job of work was, so to speak, the Universe, didn't really believe in it and were actually quite proud of not knowing what it really was or even if it could theoretically exist. To Newt's straightforward mind this was intolerable. Newt had not believed in the Cub Scouts and then, when he was old enough, not in the Scouts either. He was prepared to believe, though, that the job of wages clerk at United Holdings [Holdings] PLC, was possibly the most boring work in the world. This is how Newton Pulsifer looked as a man: if he went into a phone booth and changed, he might come out looking like Clark Kent." I've never really read something that spoke to me so deeply, and I really feel for this character. Though, now that I'm reflecting on it, it is the only description in the story that that goes into this much depth. I think on it some more and realize that Newton Pulsifer is the Everyday Man of this tale. This is the average human in a book about the Apocalypse, chock-filled with Angels and Devils and Horsemen and an Antichrist and a hellhound. I am completely average. What a bore. |
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Just a drop of sulfuric acid will do it... | |||||
| Aug. 26th, 2007 | 07:53 pm | ||||||
We're packing the last of my stuff into Blake's car; Blake, Katie and I. It's the last trip and we stop. "Who's got the keys?" Blake asks. I had them last. "I have them," I say, plunging my hand into my front pocket. Only keys to the apartment oh god no. "Are you sure I didn't give them to you?" I am desperate. I don't have them. I hope that I had given them to someone else. Neither Katie or Blake have them. I must have left them upstairs in the apartment. Blake and Katie travel upstairs. Nothing. We can't see keys through the windows at all, but there is a lot of stuff in the back and front seats. Blake tries to call OnStar, hoping that his Saturn dealer would cover the fee to unlock his car. Not a chance. He isn't a "current subscriber" and to do this one service, he'd have to subscribe to a monthly fee. Which is something OnStar conveniently leaves out of their commercials. In the end Blake decides he's going to take a taxi back to his house across town and retrieve the spare key, and return. So. Standstill. I've been offered a job at Cuppa Java, next door to Bloomsbury. That takes care of my job dilemma. I move in Friday. Whee. |
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Just a drop of sulfuric acid will do it... | |||||
| Aug. 22nd, 2007 | 08:29 am | ||||||
It's sitting on my desktop. Need to print. Speaking of, I need ink. I'll bring it to them today. Maybe get a book. Definitely pack. Last night was fantastic. |
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Just a drop of sulfuric acid will do it... | |||||
| Aug. 20th, 2007 | 08:59 am | ||||||
I mean, let's just take a look at the facts, okay? I'm broke, I'm in debt, I'm about to sign a contract for a twenty thousand dollar loan on a school that I'm becoming less and less excited about. I used to think that whatever I did with my career, whatever it happened to be, I would always choose happiness over money. I'd rather love my job than do something monotonous and make millions. I'm beginning to wonder if that is all bullshit. Hollywood ramblings. All these young adults, wanting to make music and be artists or actors - it's all a façade. There's no hope for 95% of us, and if you bank on the fact that you'll be in that elusive 5%, you've already failed. Megalomania gets us nowhere. So should I just say screw it to art school, start at an entry-level full-time job and make $15 an hour? Make money, pay for my awesome apartment, get out of debt, save, and then what? Photography on the side? I don't know if I'll even want it then. I don't necessarily think I'm very good at it now, there's no way I'll pick it up again in five years. But I'll be financially safe and secure. The problem is that the job I've loved more than school, more than being at home, is being snatched away from me. Which is colorful language to say I'm being phased out come September. I need to find another job (or two) fast. I'm done though with this part-time bullshit. I've been making ten dollars an hour for the past six months, I see no reason for me to drop down to seven for anyone, or any job. The only salvation I can see is in temp work for various companies. Sign on with a temp agency and do projects for computer companies and build my résumé. I may give Bob a call and see if there's any hope for a part-time position at the police department. That would be cool. Is there nobility in failure? As long as my head is high, is it noble to give up my dreams in art school and photography to keep my parents and myself out of financial ruin? Will the struggle in giving it all up be the ultimate work of art? And then, with that realization that I have beaten the system, then will I become my own masterpiece? |
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2 chemical reactions... shit should I be worried? - Just a drop of sulfuric acid will do it... | |||||
| Aug. 19th, 2007 | 09:01 am | ||||||
Do this, do that. I had a dream last night in which my mother wanted me to do about five things for her before they left on vacation. She rattled them off really fast, and I wanted to write them down for myself, and every time I asked for them to be repeated she got more and more angry. Then my father came into the picture and yelled at me for making my mother upset. Then the other dream I had was about vampires. Again. Although I think this time I won, in a more accepted sense. The weather is getting to me. Maybe today I can make Bloomsbury into a more cozy place. Hmm. I miss cuddling with you. That was really nice. |
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1 chemical reaction - Just a drop of sulfuric acid will do it... | |||||
| Aug. 17th, 2007 | 08:35 pm | ||||||
Substances. I need to start communicate. So when I call you next, I may ask for an apology. Just don't flip out. I need for it to go through the process, and then I'll be okay. This is all vague for a reason. I like to think that you'll know this when you read it, but I'm sure I wouldn't know if the roles were reversed. I'm going to stop being retarded now. And call you. |
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Just a drop of sulfuric acid will do it... | |||||
| Aug. 14th, 2007 | 10:15 am | ||||||
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Just a drop of sulfuric acid will do it... | |||||
| Aug. 13th, 2007 | 05:23 pm | ||||||
I sometimes just want to shake his shoulders and look him in the eye. Do you think that you're the only one who's ever had their heart and feelings trampled on? It's happened more than we like to share. We are all broken inside, that's what we get as a species for throwing ourselves out there, staking our claim in the world, and being rejected and ridiculed, misunderstood and beaten down by a population of nameless faces. So I guess I'm asking to be given a chance. That's all. I want to make you whole, or erase the feelings of disconnectivity for a time. I don't want you to feel lonely, and it frustrates me when you tell me this, because I'm waving my arms on an empty grass-covered hill in my mind. I can see you sitting in the Waste a ways away and I'm yelling my head off, pleading with you to look at me, not just glance up and go back to staring off into space, but really look, and walk the hundred yards or so to where I'm sitting. It's a green space here, with a sunset and everything. I hear if you ask nice they serve cool drinks. I'm so close and it seems like you're not fully aware of who you are talking to. I will tell you all this one day, hopefully not too late. I will stop pussy-footing around long enough to lower my voice, and put my hand over your hand, or arm, and explain, using delicate and serious language, that I need you as much as you need me. Something something. More than likely. I will wait too long, you will meet someone, I will begin to distance myself until we have drifted far too much apart to even attempt staying in contact. I'll finally let you go and watch you fade from my thoughts. And every once in a while, I'll play the CD you made me, or someone will say, do, call to mind an aspect of your character, and I'll remember you with a sad smile. What Might Have Been. |
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1 chemical reaction - Just a drop of sulfuric acid will do it... | |||||
| Aug. 13th, 2007 | 10:39 am | ||||||
I pull out my laptop and open Deadjournal, and I make an entry in which I reassure everyone that I'm indeed alive, I've just been sick as a dog. I make it clear that while sympathy is not something I'm aiming for, it's not going to be thrown back in one's face. I smile as I realize that deep down we all crave sympathy for the smallest of hardships. The blanket stirs on my shoulders. "I don't think that's entirely accurate," it murmurs, its voice very reminiscent of ruffling cloth. "You can't speak for everyone. There are people, no doubt, who despise sympathies and feel weaker for it." "Quiet," I say flatly. It's my journal, after all. |
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2 chemical reactions... shit should I be worried? - Just a drop of sulfuric acid will do it... | |||||
| Aug. 10th, 2007 | 03:03 pm | ||||||
I'm also sick. It's not fun, at all. See you later. |
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2 chemical reactions... shit should I be worried? - Just a drop of sulfuric acid will do it... | |||||
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Jack Donahue |
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