A few people on Facebook mentioned on the eleventh that it was "National Coming Out Day". I couldn't help noticing that all the people who mentioned it.......are female.



But when you think about it, lesbianism makes sense. The female form, and the average female mind, are attractive. Who the hell's attracted to this lumpy, hairy shit? (gestures to own genitalia)


Of course, the phenomenon of gay guys remains unexplained by this.........but I will not deny them the right to be that way.


Equal rights for all.


Peace and love.

I'm now on Google+.

...for all it's worth.

Cheshire Adams - Sweet Release

At last! A new song (as of 9-20-11)!

One take. Edited out a couple bits of the intro that caused it to go on a bit longer than appealed to my aesthetics, and ever slightly faded out ending (I'd tried mimicking the "fade out" trick manually as I was playing, but it still needed a bit of a finishing touch in Audacity, IMO).

As always, comments are welcome. And indeed encouraged.

(P.S. I moved "It's Psych" back a ways in the blog, around its approximate recording date.)



A strange new pulse possesses me
All my might won't break me free
I'm helpless here in Nature's grip
Which tightens still at the sight of your hips
You've got that shape that casts a spell
Perhaps you're in that grip as well

Any time you wanna
We can reach Nirvana
Put our troubles on our
Fire

'Cause it's built up like a great big wall
I need your touch to make it fall
So let's make love, let's make peace
Let's induce this sweet release

Those jeans would surely tell no lies
They advertise, they hypnotize
So snug around your perfect thighs
And so this pulse shall onward rise
I want to elicit complicit sighs
And shoot us up into the skies

So come on Girl
We're gonna ditch this world
Let it all unfurl
Higher

We shall fuse our energy
To take on this whole galaxy
And so expand, and so increase
Destined for that sweet release

You know that I can't help but see
Your obvious femality
It seems to scream, Hey look at me
I'm in charge here. Glory be!
And I'm just sat here helplessly
Got no choice but to agree

So whaddaya say
We're gonna do this today
Let whatever may,
Transpire

'Cause it's built up like a great big wall
I need your touch to make it fall
So let's make love, let's make peace
Let's induce
This sweet release

Why, when we're upset with or just really don't like someone, we say "Fuck them"? Isn't the last thing we want for them to reproduce?

On 3D Printers

Apparently, these things are becoming a real phenomenon now. They can essentially create duplicates of objects, such as household tools. It got me thinking:

In the Twilight Zone fourth season episode "Valley of the Shadow", a reporter finds himself basically held hostage in a remoter-than-remote town where such technology and beyond exists. The town can't let knowledge of the technology escape to the outside world where it will certainly be used for evil.

The reporter tries to escape. He does this at one point by "printing" up an object — a gun.

....Even after being told the reason that the technology can't be let loose on the world.

So, the question I want to ask about this 3D printer thing is: Which will it be used for first: printing up food (à la Star Trek) for the poor, or printing up weapons to eliminate competition for food (and other things; clean water, perhaps)?

Place your bets, folks.

(And yes, I did see the xkcd strip about this. There'll be plenty of that, too.)

How 'bout a lesbian in a man's body? Is that a possibility?

A status turned down from my Facebook

At some time, someone, somewhere, who ran a porn site, must have thought to himself, "Why should people having actual sex be the only ones who get viruses?"

No, there's no particular reason why this thought occurred to me. Why do you ask?

I'll gladly give more love when I get some.

Jerk off all trades,
Masturbate none

My father is kind of a jerk.

Selections from Seven Months of a Second Facebook Account

(Some of these are slightly edited from the originals.)

Enjoy!

Someone in my family subscribes to a catalog called "Woman Within". Does this sound to anyone else like a service for transgender men?

You are what you ingest. My father's favorite type of tea happens to be called "Constant Comment".

The French word for "cat" sounds like the Persian word for "supreme ruler". Coincidence? I think not.

Nothing ever goes according to plan with me. This is probably because there is never a plan to which things can go according.

No wonder I thought the TV was on. Someone's playing a Morricone album in the other room.

I've always loved desserts. In kindergarten, we sang "My Country 'Tis of Thee", and I always thought the line was "...of the icing". What modern kindergartener knows from eighteenth century grammar?

IKEA products are not designed by engineers.

I tried clicking the Help button. It didn't work. I'm still a wreck.

(in response to some car company's holiday season TV ad claiming that "Nobody ever asked for a smaller gift") Not true. My mother got pretty mad when the dress we got her was too big.

Life's simple pleasures: Licking the bowl while baking.

Of all the things the university has stolen from me, I miss my mind the most.

Cheshire Adams walks into a bar. OW!, he grimaces, walking on, clutching his head in pain.

You rarely hear about male contortionists.

A cartoon caption in search of an illustration: Skeletons coming out of the closet

♪♫♪ One of these things is not like the others
One of these things belongs anyway ♪♫♪

(New Year's morning) This is it?

I got ten new compact discs this past holiday. Now I can spend many happy hours listening to other stuff while I try to get these bloody things open.

Our new smoke/carbon monoxide detector has a mute button.

This Facebook thing is great. If I poked people I weren't close with in real life, I'd probably land in a correctional facility.

If radio is going to play the Rare Earth version of "Get Ready", they should play all twenty minutes of it.

Well, I don't know. You think optimism might help?

To my knowledge, the Museum of Science and Industry in Chicago is the only museum groovy enough to have its own built-in ice cream parlor.

Your overzealous advertising of your anti-spam product has backfired.

I GOT A BLACKBERRY!!!!!

.....and then I ate it. I was very hungry.

(a source that will remain unidentified to protect me, on Dr. King Day) "I don't give a fuck why we have a day off."

Lit match. Incensed. ☮

Either that, or the window needs to be cleaned. (Or both.)

nervous-compulsive at "work"

I suppose with a name like Winehouse, it was inevitable.

If the line between comedy and truth were any blurrier, it wouldn't exist at all.

I made this comment to someone and was immediately de-friended by that person.

Cold weather may be a pain at first, but you get numb to it after a while.

You might be a Chicagoan if you wear the same old sneakers in this kind of deep snow and think nothing of it.

It's not necessarily pro or con. It just is.

solace, not soulless

I looked up Mark Zuckerberg on here, just on a whim. Friending him isn't an option.

You know what they say.....therefore, there's no need for me to repeat it.

It is, in fact, something else entirely.

I'm so far out of the Loop, I cannot even be said to be in Elgin.

Words that sound weird when heard completely at random: Fallaciously.

Academic FAIL.

I may be a little hazy on my Greek and Latin word roots, but I believe "academics" comes from "aca", "up and/or forward", and "demic", "of the people". Up and/or forward to what, I wonder.....

Regarding spicy food: It is merely my personal opinion that food — that thing we depend upon for sustenance — should not be physically painful to eat.

I was always a bit self-absorbed. It took me years to figure out that the meaty bits of clam chowder weren't chicken.

I was always a bit self-absorbed. For years, I thought WD-40 was a tax form.

True stuff: I never finished kindergarten. I left a couple weeks early to visit distant (in more ways than one) family in Sarasota, Florida.

You know you've grown up when you have the pharmacy's phone number memorized.

Could be interpreted a couple different ways dept. : (my father, on being retired) "There's no more work days and off-days. They're all off-days."

I see where, at least until they're two, we refer to kids' age in months. How much longer can we do that before people start looking at us oddly?

To reflect my own youthful mind, I'll be turning 299 months in a little over a week! Yay! Cake for everybody!

BetSomewhereween

Me dear ol' mum on our family: "We put the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'!"

Don't think with your brain full!

I wouldn't give my troubles to a Letterman fan on a rock!

I heard my alarm, turned it off, and proceeded to DREAM ABOUT getting up and going about my day like I was supposed to.

Lemon juice: A tool for discovering cuts on one's hand of which one was previously unaware.

The seventh inning stretch at Wrigley: Harry Karaoke. (It only took me a bit short of 25 years to realize this.)

N is for Non-sequitur.

I hope that the enemy comes in a form where they are inexplicably destroyed when two or more of them bearing the same color are hit with a replica of that form and color. We the masses will be fully prepared.

Mom: "Why does it have to be sports ALL THE TIME?!" Dad: "It doesn't! Just when they're on!"

The point is made
The tone is set.
If that's what you want,
That's what you'll get.

(on the Hitchhiker's Guide) Just the first two words alone are Far out.

looking for our glasses

My mother calls me into the other room to demonstrate my pronunciation of certain Hebrew and Yiddish words that feature that back-of-the-throat sound. She does this by saying: "Come in here! Let me see if you're Jewish!"

What does that sound like to you? I know what it sounds like to me......

I don't understand this fascination with putting things away. Things can't do any good if they're away.

Dark Star gazed out at the bizarre pattern of lights. Clearly there was something exciting and different out there, but was it real? Could it be reached at all?

She leapt down and made her way to the water bowl. That was one thing she knew she could rely on.

Room temperature water with bits of her own hair floating in it. But water nonetheless.

Ice cream knows no season.

I wonder how much of my life I've spent waiting for the "hot" water to get hot.

An only partially-working sign on a store in Bourbonnais one night: BUCKS COFFEE

Our suitcases all fit inside/around each other. Where does a company called American Tourister get off selling Russian suitcases?

Great moments in contemporary advertising: A close-up of the upper left of the Blue Screen of Death on one of those digital changing billboards overlooking the Jane Addams

Anyone else ever just lie there in the darkness with your eyes closed, gazing endlessly into the swirling green and purple before you? I'll bet that was the inspiration for the "Rock & Pop Swirl" flavor at Baskin Robbins.

Here's something I'd like explained to me: Illinois' alternate license plate design that prominently features mountains.

I am officially a full-fledged Facebooker. I wrote a status in the form of a cutesy letter to an entity that'll never perceive it.

You can take all the
Showers in the galaxy
And still not get clean.

Here's an obsolete word: Best. These days, it ought to be "Least bad".

I guess they're called "loaded questions" because we basically have to get loaded before we can try to answer them.

Idealistic
Unrealistic
Out of the mystic
Extra-simplistic
Masochistic?

Off-stylistic, anyway.

In Russia, song deletes YouTube!

Got air in my bicycle tires.

How's that? Nice, mainstream status update? Turn you folks on?

Seriously?

No. Not yet, I don't think.

I have these moods sometimes.

It's all good for now.

♪♫♪ Nobody likes me
Everybody hates me
Guess I'll let the worms eat me ♪♫♪

Logically....

....I've gotten to thinking that the humane thing to do with miserable people is to put them out of their misery.

No more deadlines, no more financial worries, no more ability to perceive others and consequently disdain them. No more ice cream either, but if the negative sufficiently outweighs the positive.....

Just end it.

(Not me. I believe I'm capable of not being miserable, long as the misery creators around me cease.)

I want to stab the father
And do the yorkie in
And if it comes to it
See Dr. Kevorkian.

Edit 6-3-11: R.I.P. Jack.

They make a perfect couple. He's a prick, and she's a cunt.

THIS BLOG IS RATED WWW-MA.

Update 2020-12-16: (True sticky posts banned; click to read.) So, owing to the evolution of the internet, or at least my own approach to it, the purpose of this blog has basically become to be the repository of all my song lyrics. Maybe once in a while, I'll write something longform like in days of yore. But in the meantime, I've managed to view the blog on a mobile device, and so henceforth I shall no longer use white fonts. Might even change some of the existing ones over.

You can hear my existing recorded songs on SoundCloud or YouTube.

Lest anyone not from the old days (i.e. circa 2012/13) has popped over here, I shall caution you: the farther back you go in this blog, the more winceful, dark stuff from my relative youth you'll find. I'm not proud of it. But I'm also not the sort to hide what I once was. We are human. We evolve. Anyway, on to the intro as I wrote it eight years minus one day ago, and with the Google+ link removed now, because, I mean, really.

****

Lucy in Cyberspace is by no means chicken soup for the mind. At best, it's a butternut squash loaded with spice, very much an "acquired taste" and not for everyone. Sometimes you may encounter some particularly strong spice, and you may be irked and perhaps offended by it. Should that happen, I urge you to not give up on digesting what I have to offer, but rather to keep going and hopefully come to have enjoyed it when you've finished, or at least have gained a certain degree of nourishment from it.

I get intensely personal at times, stroking intimacy in remote and utter darkness. Once in a while, I'll reinforce my thoughts with the sort of words that the creators of the FCC would prefer to have stricken from existence. I realize this is not everybody's cup of tea, or indeed, bowl of butternut squash; I hope nonetheless that enough people will at least signal to me somehow their acknowledgement of my transmissions that I may feel not so remote and dark.

This blog also doubles for me as a general opportunity for me to display my writing skills to the world in the hopes that somebody new may find them, consider them valuable, and in some way employ them (and me). In an effort to seem more "professional" than I am, I present three documents from my days in academia. May they appeal and endear.

Spacial Frame: A Poetry Anthology

C'est la Feline: A Short Story

And For Some of Us, the Only Way: A Creative Nonfiction Essay



I encourage you to contact me with anything you might have to say. You can e-mail me here, here, or here, follow me here, befriend me here, or simply comment on any post where you are now.


(This introductory post composed on 2012-12-17, save for the first bit as marked.)

(P.S. Lest any veteran readers miss the old video post, don't panic; it's in the archive.)

Hear Me on SoundCloud!

I shall also claim here an opportunity to flaunt my musical skills. I create on an ordinary acoustic six-string a neatly decorated and flourished array of simple structures, emulating styles ranging from rock to space. I've also written a handful of my own pop-style compositions — a songbook that I hope to expand soon and often. Meanwhile, I submit for your consideration and approval these three collections of recordings, featuring eighteen original songs and a cover of a timeless radio staple about western life best known for its soaring sax (naturally absent here).





Click each original song for lyrics:

Going on Noon
Screens
Purpetule Haze
So Far From Home
Sweet Release
Thirst (Ambrosia)
A House With No Walls
Drive On
Society's Waste
Large Outside, Kitten Inside
Frequent Flyer
Down From Me (instrumental)
Blue Ballots (originally lyric-only "Pseudo-improv for a Grey, Post-Election Wednesday")
Beckoned (instrumental)
Vicious (not my image, but yes my music and lyrical embellishments)
Colds Suck
Objectionism (instrumental)
Now What
Baker Street (Rafferty)
Spin
Pointless Lament
Unemployed on Labor Day
[instrumental]

Right.

MLK Jr. Day Observed. I have no idea when his actual birthday is, but the man is nonetheless groovy. After all the civil rights activism, he spoke out about/against the Vietnam War and was criticized for it by civil rights supporters. Bizarre. Anyway, lovely that we have a day set aside to be thankful for equal opportunity, wholly independent of physical qualities, to wallow in the mire. C'est la vie.

*~*~*~*

Some of you may have noticed a decline in blog material of late. I sense it's connected to my mid-October signing on to Facebook. I actually have two accounts on Facebook — Cheshire Adams (who has actually been on Facebook rather longer, just not that actively), and then one under my real name. The latter was initially intended to get back in touch with people I used to know — old high school classmates, for instance (see Eruption Pending), 'cause they never heard of Cheshire Adams. If Cheshire Adams tells these people they know me, I'll probably be mass-blocked to the point of my account being axed by the man (or, more likely, the bot). But I got some three-hundred-forty-ish "friends" under my real name (apparently there's a fairly big difference between "Facebook friends" and actual friends), and so, since there's a pretty good sample of real people there — more varied than Cheshire's 48 friends — that account, in addition to being a reconnection tool, has kind of become my scratch paper — a launching pad for the sort of thoughts that would otherwise be posted here.

That said, I prefer to be polite on that account and stay away from the expletives. But in this increasingly frustrating world, I gotta let loose with those expletives someplace, and it would appear that this blog is the destination for my more explosive catharses.

That's right, Lucy in Cyberspace is gettin' artsy. So, since I have a couple short poems I wish to digitally scrawl down quickly, I'll put a bit of a warning somewhere near the top of this thing, and those of you who are turned off by this sort of material can catch up with me on Facebook. Or via e-mail. Or on the music fora through which you know me. And, those of you who don't know my real name: you can find it on the 'Book if you're clever.....

Well, another semester starts today.....joy.....

*~*~*~*

Mom, if you're reading this, Hi there! and, Some kind of social awakening has happened within me of late, and perhaps all of this explains everything. Now careful you don't get too nosy with the other account.

Sums it Up

Have yourself
the most incredible
awesome
explosive
mind-blowing
out-of-this-world
Orgasm anyone ever had
as you go fuck yourself.

Well-Meaning Male

I sometimes want to
rape these people just to see
their fears justified.

Hope this isn't just the Prozac talking.....

Sorry about that last post. It wasn't personal. My situation — family, financial, societal, and most anything else one can think of — has had me quite frustrated lately. Hats off to my cousin, a handful of university contacts, and the occasional friendly face in cyberspace and beyond for being kind and as helpful as possible.

There's a basic human need to belong, and, as long as I'm feeling that, I think I'm okay.

Peace, love, happiness, all that good stuff,
~C.A.~

This is kind of important.

I ain't interested in your fucking money games. If the only alternative is to knock myself off, then so be it.

Yeah, I'm not even bothering with warning about the expletives anymore. This competition culture ain't taking me alive. I'll sooner sit in a dank cell until AARP targets me than get involved in this shit. Selfish motherfuckers, the lot of you.

I don't have recordings of them, but I should go ahead and at least post the lyrics to two of my songs....... (they'll appear under this post)

Cheshire Adams - Society's Waste (lyrics)

(completed early this past Tuesday evening)


Set me aflame
On somebody's porch
Stamp me flat
Tryin' to put out the scorch
Hose me down
Wash me to the curb
Down the sewer
Where I shall not disturb

'Cause I'm society's waste
Created by man, given no plan
Society's taste is
Just do me away, however they can

All on this earth
Got a purpose to serve
Somewhere, someone
Got a hell of a nerve
To say I ain't got
Nor do I deserve
And so, with that
Down the toilet I curve

'Cause I'm society's waste
Got my own special zeus, gave me no use
Society's taste is
Gather the juice, and just let it loose on me

Leave me alone
Where nobody goes
Where I can just lie
And decompose
I'll just give way
To whatever grows
Could be a fungus
Or a nice bright rose
Or maybe I'm just dog food
Who knows? Who cares? Why should they?

'Cause I'm society's waste
Got creators who gave me nothing to do
Society's taste is
To have me just go POOF right into the blue
Society's waste, babe
Created by man, given no plan
Society's taste is
Just do me away, however they can

Cheshire Adams - Conundrum (lyrics)

(dated the end of September of 9)


People who don’t want to share
Impose their rules on those who do
If you just want to take it easy,
Well that’s just too bad for you
We gotta run like a pack of sled dogs
You step out of sync, get cast into the cold
If you survive until the end, you’ll be set free
To be pain-wracked, worn and old

It makes me not too keen on living
But I sure don’t want to die
Life could just be so much better
It makes me cry

Soulless sheep forsake the world
For goods that appeal to them
They see a member of their own kind
And somehow mistake them for an ATM
But I ain’t no bank or mint now
Never was, and I’ll never be
But they wear their legal shades ‘round
So that they don’t have to see

It makes me not too keen on living
But I sure don’t want to die
It makes me stew in stupefaction
And wonder why

I’ve learned of societies of yesteryear
Who could join their hands in song
They worked together and got on just fine
Until the white man came along
No antidepressant can bury the angst
Brought on by what we’ve become
Is there a chance at all for humanity
Or shall we beat the funeral drum?

It makes me not too keen on living
But a good life need not die
We can drown here in our sewage
Or we can fly

Actual Sign

Of course, much to my disappointment, they've changed it since I took this picture of it. The location is/was right on the outskirts of the town in which I make my home.

Maybe so many people are into "reality" shows as much as they are because their real lives are so bloody plastic and fake.

Honey I Shrunk the Attention Span

Here's a thought about the belief of the shortened attention span of the average person today....

I remember reading somewhere that the average person today receives more "new information" in one day than, for instance, people of 1830 received in their entire lifetimes. I say that maybe, just maybe, there's a link here. All kinds of crud are being rapid-fired right into our brains with no way of stopping it. Our brains are now devoted to all this crud, leaving little, if any, space for extended indulgences in speeches, novels, plays, etc. If there's any hope for getting a point across to the masses, the point will basically need to be made in a short, digestible manner. Hour and half-hour commercial-broken increments on TV, three-to-five-minute pop songs, brief blog posts.....these are the things that will successfully get a point across to masses who are, by and large, involuntarily unable to handle any more. This may also explain my, and others', aversion to writing long professional or academic papers and similar works; clear and well-supported arguments though these things may contain, who's going to read it and be able to care?

Hour and half-hour segmented increments on TV, fairly short pop songs, brief blog posts, and maybe a meandering verbal conversation. The way of the future — the way of now.

With Halloween out of the way, we get to move on to something scarier: Election Day.

In my neighborhood, garbage pick-up is on Wednesdays, which means we prepare for it the day before. Isn't it nice how Election Day and Garbage Night coincide?

Some people seem to perceive not voting as a form of protest. I just posted this as a reply to someone on Facebook, and I think it's worth repeating here:

The problem with that is, as far as I can tell, "no votes" aren't counted. Unless that somehow changes, the status quo votes will simply proceed without the non-voters, and the system will carry on with or without them. It seems to me that our best hope is for gradual change within the established system. So, yes, I vote, even if it is a lesser-of-two-(or-more)-evils choice.

More Election Day thoughts as they occur to me.

God is a concept by which we measure our pain.

—John Lennon

We've been studying Dante's Inferno in my class, and so, not unnaturally, religion is kind of a big topic on our minds of late. Well, long story short, this thought has occurred to me.....

God is a scapegoat.

If things never went wrong for us, we'd not have to blame anyone for those things. As it is, though, far be it for us to take responsibility. It must be the responsibility of someone or something that we cannot control or fix.

Think about it: if everything always went well, would you feel any need to attribute it to someone else? The existence of God in good times is an afterthought — a cover-up, if you will.

John Lennon had a rather mixed-up sense of politics and the like, but he nailed this one. Probably.

Why is it called "taking a $#!^"? We're not acquiring the stuff, we're getting rid of it!

Edit: I guess it's because the expression "giving a $#!^" was already taken....

It can hardly be a coincidence that the name "Feta" cheese so closely resembles the word "fetid".

So if the purpose of soap is to get things clean, how can it leave "scum"?

The central theme of the class I'm taking this semester is forgiveness. Meanwhile, my mother is still refusing to speak to me.

Cheshire Adams - So Far From Home (acoustic)

One take. Slight fade-out at the end and noises chopped off either end.



Your comments are welcome.


Woke up
Thought I'd have a nice cup of tea
Turned out
I'd no clue what lay before me
Whisked off
From my home before I could think
Not even granted
So much as a drink

And I try to find peace of mind
Everywhere I roam
But it seems this crazy universe
Will not leave me alone
And it pains me so to blindly sail
Into this vast unknown
In the face of all this rampant madness
So far from home

Shot at, insulted
Battered and bruised
Hung up and weary,
Dazed and confused
Wondering
If all this is really necessary
Crying out
For help with this load I must carry

And I try to find peace of mind
Everywhere I roam
But it seems this crazy universe
Will not leave me alone
And it pains me so to blindly sail
Into this vast unknown
In the face of all this rampant madness
So far from home

I'd like to know
Just what all this is for
Is this all there is
Or is there something more?
I'd like to make peace
Before I am through
If only I knew
What to do

And I try to find peace of mind
Everywhere I roam
Over desert sand and tundra
Soil and foam
But it eludes me still just like a
Dove that has flown
And I could probably find it again
If only I could get home

Woke up
Thought I'd have a nice cup of tea
Turned out
I'd no clue what lay before me
Still don't
But I know that it don't look good
I'd be
Right back in your arms if I could

And I try to find peace of mind.....

Eruption Pending

Once again, I may use some "swear" words here. You've been warned.


I came to realize: as far as my own life goes, the present sucks, and the future holds all the promise of Lindsay Lohan claiming to enter rehab. So, that leaves....the past.

High school, naturally. A time and place where I felt at home. Loved. I wasn't all that actively social at the time, something they attribute to Asperger's Syndrome (also their chosen explanation for why I feel like my home planet has much longer days and years than this one), but, by golly, I was kind, smart (then), full of friendly vibes and jokes. Nary an unkind word was said to me.

In the past.....I don't know how long.....weeks? months?, I've seen two or three familiar faces for about a minute at a time, maybe longer if we're on the bus. (People at my old job at the text conversion office, it's nothing personal; I dig you, but I haven't been feeling like I've been meant to be there. Only today did I finally convert a document after who knows how long.) The rest of the time, as I think I mentioned here earlier this semester, I've been feeling like a spectre in a sea of unfamiliar, basically indistinguishable faces bathing in cell phones and headphones. I especially feel it when I get out on the quad and jam on my acoustic. Headphones and cell phones. People may physically be there, but they might as well not be. It's like the old iPod commercials. Completely black shadows of people in headphones. No actual people. Just shadows.

I got no drive and no recognizable future. I already dropped one class this semester for a failure to get along with the professor (first time that's been the reason). I've wanted to leave academia altogether for a few years now, but then I won't have my text conversion job, because I have to be a student to work there for some reason. I've been all over Craigslist and other classifieds outlets, but nothing's appealed to me. I'm cat-less and dessert-less, though I haven't been that hungry the past few days anyhow, my traditional sense of humor seems to be largely slipped away, and, some hours ago as I lay kind of three-quarters asleep, my mother.....my proudly white suburban American mother, making it clear that she, too, has more or less hit a breaking point, proclaimed as loudly as possible that she hates me. (Talking to my father: "I HATE HIM, AND I HATE YOU!!")

So, that's the bag I'm in. I'm willing, but I'm having trouble finding my ability. I keep having ideas for songs and then never get around to fully writing them. I equate success with happiness and consider them independent of social class or anything like that. Either way, I am not successful right now.

I'm just kind of here. I'm around. Around, in a square hole. Or sticking awkwardly out of it, because I don't fit. And so I'm here. I'm here. I am here. I....am.....



GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH! I'M SO ALONE! WHERE IS EVERYBODY? WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME? AAAAAUUUUGGGGHHH.......


*collapses in a heap of incoherence*

Found this in a drawer

Let me know if you can't read the sticker on the back, 'cause that's the reason I post this here.

Anyone else have that dream where you still remember the combination to one of your high school lockers, and you open it, and your stuff is still there, even though you're well aware that you're years beyond graduation? Lucky I don't actually remember any of my combinations.


Hmm, Firefox is telling me that "combinations" isn't a word. Odd. It's certainly not "combinatia."

#&¢% Censorship

We seem to have gotten to the point where it's become standard to give television shows names with expletives in them ("Who the Bleep Did I Marry", "Bleep My Dad Says"). I don't know about anyone else, but I see absolutely no point in making the censored words so blatantly obvious with bleeps, be they in audio form or visual (the latter called "grawlix", according to Dribbleglass). We're in the digital age, and, in short, I propose this:

We got standard-def and high-def versions of the channels on our systems; perhaps we should have censored and uncensored versions of the channels as well. The TV service can put an option in the guide for a "censored only" list to please the Christians. We got an HD-only list option on our system, we should be able to do a censored-only list. The puritan-descendants can use that list...put a lock on for the kids...and the rest of us can kick back and enjoy the shows as they were meant to be.

'Cause let's face it: some of these shows have characters speaking in sentences that are nearly completely made of obscenities, and we hear an occasionally interrupted beep. What's the point of airing these things in the first place? Viewers of these things know what they're watching and are perfectly comfortable with all the violence, sex and general dysfunction. What difference will a handful of (frequently used) four-letter words and their variations make?


Those are the [words] that'll infect your soul, curve your spine, and keep the country from winning the war.

—George Carlin

If you're happy and you know it, whoop-dee-doo
If you're happy and you know it, good for you
If you're happy and you know it, and you really want to show it,
Well I recommend you do it somewhere else.

You know you've grown up when you identify more with the coyote than the roadrunner.

The time at which you get to the bus stop is the additive inverse of the time at which the bus gets there.

I think I said that right.