I can't do this I can't do this I can't do this I can't do this I can't do this.
Okay, I feel better.
I'm at work and it's getting to me.
I was talking to the receptionist on my way out to lunch. She's pretty cute but she acts young. I think she is. She was telling me how bored she gets up there. I asked her if she emailed her friends or played games on the internet. She said yes and it doesn't help. I was about to suggest she visit Consumption Junction when some mid-level manager rudely interrupted our conversation to ask if the mail had gone out. I left without saying anything. I only wish I could have told him that one day, if I ever become a mid-level manager, I shall have my revenge. Not by doing what he does, but by doing exactly the opposite: showing my "subordinates" respect and what should be common human courtesy.
Experience has shown me that people like him are not born that way. Someone treated him the way he now treats others. When it's my turn, I will eliminate the possibility of inadvertantly creating another one like him by not establishing the conditions in which people like him come into existence.
It's nothing humanitarian on my part. It's not so much that I don't want people to have to suffer poorly house-trained people like him. In a cosmic sense, it's simply the best revenge I can think of, served ice cold. I think of Michael Corleone: "It's nothing personal Sonny. It's strictly business." You make my day unpleasant, I will eliminate you. And others like you. Whenever, wherever I can.
20030723
I am a failure... again.
I failed to do my work
I could not control it
My predecessor did not do his job
The product's company did not do their job
I assumed the parts were good
Why should I think otherwise?
My excuses are worthless
Terrorists can shake our tallest buildings
But I cannot vibrate my unit
Or else it will fail
I will fail
I failed to do my work
I could not control it
My predecessor did not do his job
The product's company did not do their job
I assumed the parts were good
Why should I think otherwise?
My excuses are worthless
Terrorists can shake our tallest buildings
But I cannot vibrate my unit
Or else it will fail
I will fail
Moral Objections to the Casual Use of Marijuana (Or Lack Thereof)
Exterior:
Fade into shot of mass produced office building. Boxes representing important offices stacked on top of other boxes, bleached white walls, and stupid looking "Southwestern" trim dominate shot.
Interior:
Slowly enter lobby. Typical: fake plants, stupid "Welcome!" rug, smiling plastic receptionist.
Move into hallway past serious looking people moving very quickly.
Round corner. Cut to shot of back of woman's head. Woman typing quickly at a keyboard.
Slowly zoom out until we see the entire cubicle. Man rounds the corner and enters after slightest knock. Women turns around.
Jill:
Hey Steve. What's up?
Steve:
Jill, do you smoke marijuana?
Jill:
[Looks around] Well, yes. Yes I occasionally enjoy a bowl or two. Why do you ask?
Steve:
[Scrunches up face] It seemed like maybe you did, and I was just wondering why you smoke marijuana.
Jill:
Well, Steve. I suppose I smoke weed because it makes me feel good. I think it's fun and interesting. Do you have a problem with that?
Steve:
Well...yeah...I mean, it's bad.
Jill:
It's "bad?"
Steve:
Yeah, it's illegal.
[to be continued...]
Exterior:
Fade into shot of mass produced office building. Boxes representing important offices stacked on top of other boxes, bleached white walls, and stupid looking "Southwestern" trim dominate shot.
Interior:
Slowly enter lobby. Typical: fake plants, stupid "Welcome!" rug, smiling plastic receptionist.
Move into hallway past serious looking people moving very quickly.
Round corner. Cut to shot of back of woman's head. Woman typing quickly at a keyboard.
Slowly zoom out until we see the entire cubicle. Man rounds the corner and enters after slightest knock. Women turns around.
Jill:
Hey Steve. What's up?
Steve:
Jill, do you smoke marijuana?
Jill:
[Looks around] Well, yes. Yes I occasionally enjoy a bowl or two. Why do you ask?
Steve:
[Scrunches up face] It seemed like maybe you did, and I was just wondering why you smoke marijuana.
Jill:
Well, Steve. I suppose I smoke weed because it makes me feel good. I think it's fun and interesting. Do you have a problem with that?
Steve:
Well...yeah...I mean, it's bad.
Jill:
It's "bad?"
Steve:
Yeah, it's illegal.
[to be continued...]
I sit here, giddy with excitement, as I have just spent the last hour or so mentally beating the shit out of myself. I managed to convince myself that the person that is me is pathetic and weak. So why am I so happy? Well, after I admitted to myself that the above statement was true, I realized it was true only to an extent.
You see when I first meet someone I am very afraid of hir. I have a problem with shallow social interaction. That is to say that I'm not very good with greetings, pleasantries, salutations, and compliments. But, once I get past that point of an interaction, and I begin to feel more comfortable, there is a part of me that begins to assert itself. I know this has to be true because I have more than a few very close friends, and I have also had girlfriends in the past.
A good example of what I'm trying to say is the gradual progression of my interactions with the people I work with. I work at Starbucks, and when I first started there, I was mortified of everybody and everything. I clung to my friend Mary (the manager). I tried to be polite to my co-workers, but I didn't dare ask them a question or get in their way.
A week after I started working there, Mary was transferred to another store, and I was stuck in a store I wasn't used to, with people I didn't know, and a new manager whom I knew nothing about. For someone like me, that is a fate worse than death.
But after a few weeks I began to get used to the processes, the people, and the customers. It was at this point, that I now notice, that I began to assert myself socially. It was a gradual process, but I eventually came to a point where I could start to fuck with people. I could make fun of them (in jest, of course) when they did something stupid. I could say weird things and see how they reacted. I could touch them casually (not to be confused with sexually). But, most importantly, I got to a point where I could make fun of myself for making stupid mistakes. I could listen to them say weird things and not feel uncomfortable. And, they could touch me casually and I wouldn't freak out.
Now that I have been there for a few months, I notice that I know how to act around each and every person I work with. That's not to say that I'm being fake around anybody, just that, when I'm around Alan, for instance, I know that I can keep him interested in a conversation if I talk about music, weed, or life's annoying little problems. Around Beth I can talk about philosophy, Radiohead, and Lord of the Rings. With Tommy I have to be a practical joker, full of sarcasm, and courageous enough to drink the disgusting concoction that Nancy whipped up for a dare.
This brings me to the point of my essay, and that is, when I meet somebody, I am afraid. I am weak and pathetic in front of them. But once I get to know them, I learn how to cater to them. And after I've known them for quite a long time, I learn to control them. Just like all of my friends. Ha! Ha! Little bitches. I control you all. I am your master. You are my slaves. One day I will rule the world!
Damn, I love apples.
You see when I first meet someone I am very afraid of hir. I have a problem with shallow social interaction. That is to say that I'm not very good with greetings, pleasantries, salutations, and compliments. But, once I get past that point of an interaction, and I begin to feel more comfortable, there is a part of me that begins to assert itself. I know this has to be true because I have more than a few very close friends, and I have also had girlfriends in the past.
A good example of what I'm trying to say is the gradual progression of my interactions with the people I work with. I work at Starbucks, and when I first started there, I was mortified of everybody and everything. I clung to my friend Mary (the manager). I tried to be polite to my co-workers, but I didn't dare ask them a question or get in their way.
A week after I started working there, Mary was transferred to another store, and I was stuck in a store I wasn't used to, with people I didn't know, and a new manager whom I knew nothing about. For someone like me, that is a fate worse than death.
But after a few weeks I began to get used to the processes, the people, and the customers. It was at this point, that I now notice, that I began to assert myself socially. It was a gradual process, but I eventually came to a point where I could start to fuck with people. I could make fun of them (in jest, of course) when they did something stupid. I could say weird things and see how they reacted. I could touch them casually (not to be confused with sexually). But, most importantly, I got to a point where I could make fun of myself for making stupid mistakes. I could listen to them say weird things and not feel uncomfortable. And, they could touch me casually and I wouldn't freak out.
Now that I have been there for a few months, I notice that I know how to act around each and every person I work with. That's not to say that I'm being fake around anybody, just that, when I'm around Alan, for instance, I know that I can keep him interested in a conversation if I talk about music, weed, or life's annoying little problems. Around Beth I can talk about philosophy, Radiohead, and Lord of the Rings. With Tommy I have to be a practical joker, full of sarcasm, and courageous enough to drink the disgusting concoction that Nancy whipped up for a dare.
This brings me to the point of my essay, and that is, when I meet somebody, I am afraid. I am weak and pathetic in front of them. But once I get to know them, I learn how to cater to them. And after I've known them for quite a long time, I learn to control them. Just like all of my friends. Ha! Ha! Little bitches. I control you all. I am your master. You are my slaves. One day I will rule the world!
Damn, I love apples.
20030722
So my cousin sends me this link. I thought it was funny for a few seconds. Then it dawned on me that the article seems to be lementing the recent loss of sodomy laws, albeit in a humorous way. As if getting the government out of our bedrooms is a bad thing.
Then I thought, "What about me?" I don't consider myself homosexual, but I love sodomy. It's one of the coolest things I've ever done in bed. The anal ring is pretty darn tight and it feels different than the vagina, in a most pleasing way. I will always love the vagina; speaking from a strictly physiological standpoint, it feels very good and stimulating it seems far more likely to induce orgasm in a woman than sodomy. But I really don't see anything wrong with buttstuff. If I meet someone I jive with, I wanna do everything with them. If I ever get married, you can damn well bet that any wife of mine is gonna take it up the butt AND on her chin. I would go to any lengths to keep my beloved happy. Am I wrong to hope for the same in return? Stick your fingers up my butt, stick a dildo up there; I'll let you know what feels good. Let's get to know each other, baby.
I think that only when something is put on a shameful, mysterious pedestal, given an old testament label like "sodomy", demanded by callow guys, and denied by frightened, inexperienced women would it become the taboo that sodomy is.
So fuck you, Bob from accounting. Fat guys with tattoos in big trucks spit at me because they think I'm gay anyways; what do I have to hide?
Besides, your daughters got an ass and a cunt too; be nice or I'll fill them both. AT THE SAME TIME.
Then I thought, "What about me?" I don't consider myself homosexual, but I love sodomy. It's one of the coolest things I've ever done in bed. The anal ring is pretty darn tight and it feels different than the vagina, in a most pleasing way. I will always love the vagina; speaking from a strictly physiological standpoint, it feels very good and stimulating it seems far more likely to induce orgasm in a woman than sodomy. But I really don't see anything wrong with buttstuff. If I meet someone I jive with, I wanna do everything with them. If I ever get married, you can damn well bet that any wife of mine is gonna take it up the butt AND on her chin. I would go to any lengths to keep my beloved happy. Am I wrong to hope for the same in return? Stick your fingers up my butt, stick a dildo up there; I'll let you know what feels good. Let's get to know each other, baby.
I think that only when something is put on a shameful, mysterious pedestal, given an old testament label like "sodomy", demanded by callow guys, and denied by frightened, inexperienced women would it become the taboo that sodomy is.
So fuck you, Bob from accounting. Fat guys with tattoos in big trucks spit at me because they think I'm gay anyways; what do I have to hide?
Besides, your daughters got an ass and a cunt too; be nice or I'll fill them both. AT THE SAME TIME.
20030721
THANKS FOR PLAYING!
you need cash for wheels,
and your microwave meals.
you're dressed up like a tool,
like your parents want you to.
you don't like the game,
but you play it everyday.
your hair is short and straight,
to help you get a date.
but they never seem to work,
you've got to many quirks.
you don't feel you can win,
too late to start again.
and if you do not place
at least you get a taste.
try being a part of a team
and take comfort in routine.
at least you get some pay,
at the end of the business day.
and doctor says
"cut back on fats,
or the next one that hits
will be your last!"
and you'll loose the game.
(but you will anyway)
so thanks for playing our game,
that you can't win at all,
so you might as well stall,
but don't look down
if you fall.
when you fail.
you need cash for wheels,
and your microwave meals.
you're dressed up like a tool,
like your parents want you to.
you don't like the game,
but you play it everyday.
your hair is short and straight,
to help you get a date.
but they never seem to work,
you've got to many quirks.
you don't feel you can win,
too late to start again.
and if you do not place
at least you get a taste.
try being a part of a team
and take comfort in routine.
at least you get some pay,
at the end of the business day.
and doctor says
"cut back on fats,
or the next one that hits
will be your last!"
and you'll loose the game.
(but you will anyway)
so thanks for playing our game,
that you can't win at all,
so you might as well stall,
but don't look down
if you fall.
when you fail.
Virds
Words, words, words
Just like little turds
Floating through my head.
Do I have the time
To attempt a stupid rhyme?
Poetry has long since been dead.
Thoughts, thoughts, thoughts
Thinking that they ought
To afford my daily bread.
But life is very fun.
Just look at everyone
Waiting to be told what to dread.
Words, words, words
Just like little turds
Floating through my head.
Do I have the time
To attempt a stupid rhyme?
Poetry has long since been dead.
Thoughts, thoughts, thoughts
Thinking that they ought
To afford my daily bread.
But life is very fun.
Just look at everyone
Waiting to be told what to dread.
People are promoted to their level of incompetence.
He was a great worker, so he was promoted to supervisor.
He was a fine supervisor, so he was promoted to foreman.
He was a decent foreman, so he was promoted to manager.
He is a shitty manager so he STAYS a manager. Who would promote such a shitty manager?
He was a great worker, so he was promoted to supervisor.
He was a fine supervisor, so he was promoted to foreman.
He was a decent foreman, so he was promoted to manager.
He is a shitty manager so he STAYS a manager. Who would promote such a shitty manager?
The Show
His eyes met her gleam from across the floor. Her pull was magnetic. He had to go to her; to touch her. To hold her.
The palm of his hand gently stroked the back of her neck, as if he was unsure of where to start. His fingers began to move slowly, mechanically. His other hand grazed her belly and sent electric signals up her spine.
She was at his command.
His fingers began to move wildly, yet always in intricate patterns. He began to shift his hand up her neck, increasing the tension. His other hand strummed and played more violently at her midsection.
They watched him in awe from afar. Amazement betrayed their composure as they realized the intensity with which he controlled her. It was a feat that surely, they themselves, could not perform.
His hand continued to creep up her neck. His fingers flying more violently with every heartbeat. Always moving. Always increasing the pressure. His other hand nearly pounded at her midsection. He began to grind his pelvis into her back, gyrating seductively.
His hand, still moving up her neck, flew quickly now. The tension was unbearable. She began to squeal a shrill tortured cry. His hand beat and banged, his groin still grinding into her back, as his other hand finally reached the top of her neck. He held her there as she let out an orgasmic scream, a sustained cry of pleasure. And then they collapsed together.
They clapped.
He bowed.
His eyes met her gleam from across the floor. Her pull was magnetic. He had to go to her; to touch her. To hold her.
The palm of his hand gently stroked the back of her neck, as if he was unsure of where to start. His fingers began to move slowly, mechanically. His other hand grazed her belly and sent electric signals up her spine.
She was at his command.
His fingers began to move wildly, yet always in intricate patterns. He began to shift his hand up her neck, increasing the tension. His other hand strummed and played more violently at her midsection.
They watched him in awe from afar. Amazement betrayed their composure as they realized the intensity with which he controlled her. It was a feat that surely, they themselves, could not perform.
His hand continued to creep up her neck. His fingers flying more violently with every heartbeat. Always moving. Always increasing the pressure. His other hand nearly pounded at her midsection. He began to grind his pelvis into her back, gyrating seductively.
His hand, still moving up her neck, flew quickly now. The tension was unbearable. She began to squeal a shrill tortured cry. His hand beat and banged, his groin still grinding into her back, as his other hand finally reached the top of her neck. He held her there as she let out an orgasmic scream, a sustained cry of pleasure. And then they collapsed together.
They clapped.
He bowed.
DOM ON DREAMS
I am much more interesting asleep than awake and here is why...
Whenever I dream it involves one of these main topics, many of them violent and/or disturbing:
Fighting a HUGE battle for my backyard.
Being chased by bad guys, hellecoptors or "robotic sharks"
Finding a place to live...underground.
Buying or getting something very interesting of monetary worth and only after the first minutes of being awake do I realize that I didn't really get it. For example: Neil Young's guitar with bottle caps stuck to it or that lunar rover with the lowrider wheels (1 of only 5 made mind you).
Music. Very pretty music played by very dirty people.
Being interviewed and vomiting on my interviewer because I'm supposed to be some artistic "genius".
There are certain things however that remain consistant:
I can fly if I really need to yet when I do most topography looks like MS Flight Simulator.
Somehow fish (robotic sharks) are involved usually in an aquarium or large body of water. Often I have to save them from dying by putting dried fish into a bucket of water. Just like reconstituted onions in a fine packaged broth.
I can't run normally, but if I move my legs slowly and push off very hard I can bound for great lenghts, thus outpacing my opponent/would be murderer.
I don't look anything like myself. Rather I am a much better looking person with a completely different voice.
I know kung fu.
I am much more interesting asleep than awake and here is why...
Whenever I dream it involves one of these main topics, many of them violent and/or disturbing:
Fighting a HUGE battle for my backyard.
Being chased by bad guys, hellecoptors or "robotic sharks"
Finding a place to live...underground.
Buying or getting something very interesting of monetary worth and only after the first minutes of being awake do I realize that I didn't really get it. For example: Neil Young's guitar with bottle caps stuck to it or that lunar rover with the lowrider wheels (1 of only 5 made mind you).
Music. Very pretty music played by very dirty people.
Being interviewed and vomiting on my interviewer because I'm supposed to be some artistic "genius".
There are certain things however that remain consistant:
I can fly if I really need to yet when I do most topography looks like MS Flight Simulator.
Somehow fish (robotic sharks) are involved usually in an aquarium or large body of water. Often I have to save them from dying by putting dried fish into a bucket of water. Just like reconstituted onions in a fine packaged broth.
I can't run normally, but if I move my legs slowly and push off very hard I can bound for great lenghts, thus outpacing my opponent/would be murderer.
I don't look anything like myself. Rather I am a much better looking person with a completely different voice.
I know kung fu.
Almost a week ago I broke up with my girlfriend. I am sad and lonely. I think it was the right thing to do.
A few days ago we did the mutual exchange of belongings. She gave me back a mix CD I made for her. I wrote "Chansons de l'amour pour ma petite amie, si belle..." on it.
It hurts to look at it, but the songs are so good I just can't help but be proud- Otis Redding, Al Green, Lauryn Hill, The Strokes, 50 Cent, The Doors, The Beatles...
A few days ago we did the mutual exchange of belongings. She gave me back a mix CD I made for her. I wrote "Chansons de l'amour pour ma petite amie, si belle..." on it.
It hurts to look at it, but the songs are so good I just can't help but be proud- Otis Redding, Al Green, Lauryn Hill, The Strokes, 50 Cent, The Doors, The Beatles...
This is my new "thrash metal" song. I'm quite proud of it. It's called:
Go To Hell
Kill yer dog; Drink its blood. (fast)
Masturbate; Pound yer pud.
Tell Jesus Christ to suck yer dick
And his flock of sheep to eat your shit.
GO TO HELL! (half time)
GO TO HELL!
Fuck yer brother; Fuck yer mom.
Hit a church with a home made bomb.
Drop acid every other night
Find a priest and pick a fight.
GO TO HELL!
GO TO HELL!
(Guitar solo)
Steal a car; Kill a cop.
Sit around and eat a lot.
Stab a child with a hunting knife.
Covet every neighbor's wife.
GO TO HELL!
GO TO HELL!
Go To Hell
Kill yer dog; Drink its blood. (fast)
Masturbate; Pound yer pud.
Tell Jesus Christ to suck yer dick
And his flock of sheep to eat your shit.
GO TO HELL! (half time)
GO TO HELL!
Fuck yer brother; Fuck yer mom.
Hit a church with a home made bomb.
Drop acid every other night
Find a priest and pick a fight.
GO TO HELL!
GO TO HELL!
(Guitar solo)
Steal a car; Kill a cop.
Sit around and eat a lot.
Stab a child with a hunting knife.
Covet every neighbor's wife.
GO TO HELL!
GO TO HELL!
20030720
"No longer empty and frantic like a cat tied to a stick"
My wife's friend was just dropped off at our house, crying as we met her. Her boyfriend had verbally assaulted her on the car drive over to the point where she jumped out of a (slowly) moving car. Her desire not to listen to Rage Against the Machine was the culprit this time. Instead of a weekend trip to the zoo, she is without a car, respect, and probably boyfriend and roommate. I once jumped out of a moving car from a verbal lashing. I got three cuts on my arms and shoulders, as well as ruined my wallet, a gift from my family. It really sucked, but life moved on. I never respected the person the same way though. The person was not my lover, but a long time friend. I don't know how much of a glutton for punishment this girl is, but this isn't the first time, and if given another chance, it probably won't be the last.
My wife's friend was just dropped off at our house, crying as we met her. Her boyfriend had verbally assaulted her on the car drive over to the point where she jumped out of a (slowly) moving car. Her desire not to listen to Rage Against the Machine was the culprit this time. Instead of a weekend trip to the zoo, she is without a car, respect, and probably boyfriend and roommate. I once jumped out of a moving car from a verbal lashing. I got three cuts on my arms and shoulders, as well as ruined my wallet, a gift from my family. It really sucked, but life moved on. I never respected the person the same way though. The person was not my lover, but a long time friend. I don't know how much of a glutton for punishment this girl is, but this isn't the first time, and if given another chance, it probably won't be the last.
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