The Myth of Manhood
The myth of manhood
is that we want to fuck your pussies
that we need it to survive
like some gooey liquid elixir
of life
well,
we don't need it
at least
i don't
i'll be alright without it
although sometimes it's nice to meet you
somewhere in between
20021230
20021229
I heard somewhere that you've got to keep learning all through your life in order to stay young. I think I've narrowed it down even more than that: As I long as I keep learning languages, I'll always remember what it was like to be a child learning how to relate to the world.
As I continue to learn the French language I keep having these flashbacks of learning to read and write for the first time. I remember how things gradually fit into place, little by little. I remember the frustrated elation of learning how to express things I'd already been thinking about for a long time.
When learning to read and write became too tiresome I retreated into a world of my own where every made sense, instantly. Now, when French becomes too much for my brain to handle, I retreat back to English. I'm not sure it's an improvement over my childhood fantasy world; then again I'm not sure there's any difference. I think the difference is that then, there was a lot less of me to lose. I was a child with no defining experiences to fall back on, so I got lost easier. Here I sit now, still trying to figure things out.
As I continue to learn the French language I keep having these flashbacks of learning to read and write for the first time. I remember how things gradually fit into place, little by little. I remember the frustrated elation of learning how to express things I'd already been thinking about for a long time.
When learning to read and write became too tiresome I retreated into a world of my own where every made sense, instantly. Now, when French becomes too much for my brain to handle, I retreat back to English. I'm not sure it's an improvement over my childhood fantasy world; then again I'm not sure there's any difference. I think the difference is that then, there was a lot less of me to lose. I was a child with no defining experiences to fall back on, so I got lost easier. Here I sit now, still trying to figure things out.
20021227
Next post
I'm still working at a cardboard factory.
It's really quite magical in a way. That's why I keep talking about it, but I don't think anybody realizes. Maybe I don't want them too.
The "quality control guy". He's a riot. Sometimes I get in trouble because I lose myself imagining what his life might be like, imagining what he thinks about on a daily basis, minute by minute. For some reason I imagine him having spent a long time in some cold, large mid-western town, most likely Chicago. His uniform is the same every day: jeans and jacket of some unidentifiable discount brand and a baseball cap that seems to be a naturally occuring outgrowth of his head, so integral it looks on him. He walks around all day with a clipboard in his hands, pausing every once in a while to observe what's going on, making sure cardboard is being cut to the right length, ink printed in the right spot, etc. He doesn't have friends at the plant, even the managers seem not to like him for some reason. One night during lunch break I drove to a fast-food restaurant. As I was leaving he pulled up, got out of his car, and smiled at me. I glared at him, got on my motorcycle, and left.
I'm still working at a cardboard factory.
It's really quite magical in a way. That's why I keep talking about it, but I don't think anybody realizes. Maybe I don't want them too.
The "quality control guy". He's a riot. Sometimes I get in trouble because I lose myself imagining what his life might be like, imagining what he thinks about on a daily basis, minute by minute. For some reason I imagine him having spent a long time in some cold, large mid-western town, most likely Chicago. His uniform is the same every day: jeans and jacket of some unidentifiable discount brand and a baseball cap that seems to be a naturally occuring outgrowth of his head, so integral it looks on him. He walks around all day with a clipboard in his hands, pausing every once in a while to observe what's going on, making sure cardboard is being cut to the right length, ink printed in the right spot, etc. He doesn't have friends at the plant, even the managers seem not to like him for some reason. One night during lunch break I drove to a fast-food restaurant. As I was leaving he pulled up, got out of his car, and smiled at me. I glared at him, got on my motorcycle, and left.
Rage Against The Machine was one of my favorite bands in the whole world. So much so that it hurts to say was. Are they really dead? Yes, yes they are.
Audioslave is the proof. It's not that Audioslave is bad. They're exactly what they purport themselves to be: the first supergroup of the new millenium. I imagine myself going to one of the their shows and rocking out just like I used to rock out to RATM. How do I really feel? Well...
I was really drunk the other other night and decided I would watch MTV. I walked out to the living room, turned the TV on, and lo and behold the video for "Cochise" began. As the video played I noticed a rather tart, foul aroma had begun to linger about the living room, and soon realized that my cat had dropped a particularly pungent turd into the nearby catbox. Although I can't be exactly sure of the significance of these events, despite my drunken state I'm sure they mean something.
Audioslave is the proof. It's not that Audioslave is bad. They're exactly what they purport themselves to be: the first supergroup of the new millenium. I imagine myself going to one of the their shows and rocking out just like I used to rock out to RATM. How do I really feel? Well...
I was really drunk the other other night and decided I would watch MTV. I walked out to the living room, turned the TV on, and lo and behold the video for "Cochise" began. As the video played I noticed a rather tart, foul aroma had begun to linger about the living room, and soon realized that my cat had dropped a particularly pungent turd into the nearby catbox. Although I can't be exactly sure of the significance of these events, despite my drunken state I'm sure they mean something.
20021217
I'm almost finished with an 18 unit semster. I have two finals left- Essentials of Music and Piano 110C. I'm pretty sure I've gotten A's in everything else.
I hear that C's get degrees but I also hear that C's don't get you into famous graduate schools. The way I see it, going to an awesome graduate school is my way of getting the best possible instruction in music composition. I figure that if the teachers at a state college are pretty cool, they must really be something else at a famous graduate school. Thusly, I need to have a really, really, really high Grade Point Average. Right now it's a 3.64, which unfortunately means that from here on out if I get B's, my GPA goes down. I've been trying to study real hard for finals in order to prevent this from happening.
I didn't really have the intention of staying inside and having sex with Kelly all day today, but that's what happened. I finally made it to school at about 6:00 p.m. I think it's a reaction to the stress of finals.
Me so horny.
I hear that C's get degrees but I also hear that C's don't get you into famous graduate schools. The way I see it, going to an awesome graduate school is my way of getting the best possible instruction in music composition. I figure that if the teachers at a state college are pretty cool, they must really be something else at a famous graduate school. Thusly, I need to have a really, really, really high Grade Point Average. Right now it's a 3.64, which unfortunately means that from here on out if I get B's, my GPA goes down. I've been trying to study real hard for finals in order to prevent this from happening.
I didn't really have the intention of staying inside and having sex with Kelly all day today, but that's what happened. I finally made it to school at about 6:00 p.m. I think it's a reaction to the stress of finals.
Me so horny.
20021212
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