Hey Shawn, Welcome back. See you this summer. (can't believe it's been two years...)

Tuesday, March 9, 2004-08:59 p.m. People sometimes tell me I should have more respect - to them, I have this reply:

To have respect, you must have patience (for a lack of respect)

To have patience, you must have understanding (to find the cause) and a sense of humor (to treat the effect)

To have understanding and a sense of humor, one must look for the rest of their life to the one light shining above us all for inspiration

Maybe now you'll respect me if I get pissed off sometimes!

Thursday, March 4, 2004-11:35 p.m. From a Jim Garrison interview in Playboy:

Over the years, I guess I've developed a somewhat conservative attitude --- in the traditional libertarian sense of conservatism, as opposed to the thumbscrew-and-rack conservatism of the paramilitary right --- particularly in regard to the importance of the individual as opposed to the state and the individual's own responsibilities to humanity. I don't think I've ever tried to formulate this into a coherent political philosophy, but at the root of my concern is the conviction that a human being is not a digit; he's not a digit in regard to the state and he's not a digit in the sense that he can ignore his fellow men and his obligations to society.

I was with the artillery supporting the division that took Dachau; I arrived there the day after it was taken, when bulldozers were making pyramids of human bodies outside the camp. What I saw there has haunted me ever since. Because the law is my profession, I've always wondered about the judges throughout Germany who sentenced men to jail for picking pockets at a time when their own government was jerking gold from the teeth of men murdered in gas chambers. I'm concerned about all of this because it isn't a German phenomenon; it's a human phenomenon. It can happen here, because there has been no change and there has been no progress and there has been no increase of understanding on the part of men for their fellow man.

What worries me deeply, and I have seen it exemplified in this case, is that we in America are in great danger of slowly evolving into a proto-fascist state. It will be a different kind of fascist state from the one of the Germans evolved; theirs grew out of depression and promised bread and work, while ours, curiously enough, seems to be emerging from prosperity. But in the final analysis, it's based on power and on the inability to put human goals and human conscience above the dictates of the state. Its origins can be traced in the tremendous war machine we've built since 1945, the "military-industrial complex" that Eisenhower vainly warned us about, which now dominates every aspect of our life. The power of the states and Congress has gradually been abandoned to the Executive Department, because of war conditions; and we've seen the creation of an arrogant, swollen bureaucratic complex totally unfettered by the checks and balances of the Constitution.

In a very real and terrifying sense, our Government is the CIA and the Pentagon, with Congress reduced to a debating society. Of course, you can't spot this trend to fascism by casually looking around. You can't look for such familiar signs as the swastika, because they won't be there. We won't build Dachaus and Auschwitzes; the clever manipulation of the mass media is creating a concentration camp of the mind that promises to be far more effective in keeping the populace in line. We're not going to wake up one morning and suddenly find ourselves in gray uniforms goose-stepping off to work. But this isn't the test. The test is: What happens to the individual who dissents? In Nazi Germany, he was physically destroyed; here, the process is more subtle, but the end results can be the same.

I've learned enough about the machinations of the CIA in the past year to know that this is no longer the dreamworld America I once believed in. The imperatives of the population explosion, which almost inevitably will lessen our belief in the sanctity of the individual human life, combined with the awesome power of the CIA and the defense establishment, seem destined to seal the fate of the America I knew as a child and bring us into a new Orwellian world where the citizen exists for the state and where raw power justifies any and every immoral act. I've always had a kind of knee-jerk trust in my Government's basic integrity, whatever political blunders it may make. But I've come to realize that in Washington, deceiving and manipulating the public are viewed by some as the natural prerogatives of office. Huey Long once said, "Fascism will come to America in the name of anti-fascism." I'm afraid, based on my own experience, that fascism will come to America in the name of national security.

Fascinating, no? And this was published in October of 1967. Maybe I shouldn't post this, maybe I'm being watched...but one thing I've learned from my civil rights class is, you just can't be afraid of the government, even if they're right on top of you. You've got to set an example for the next person.

Tuesday, January 6, 2004-02:32 p.m. Looking down from the apple tree, both my hands tied in back of me, with this rope below my chin, don't fear death my adrien.
And trust me son that one day soon, you'll be on the bottom when the boat breaks through, let our freedom live again, don't fear death my adrien.
From now on I am part of you, I am the story that you'll tell. Let my life empower you, let my troubles teach you well.
As I let my last breath free, turn your face but don't fail to see, the love you feel inside your skin. Don't fear death my adrien.

Sunday, April 6, 2003-03:53 p.m.

So you're the expert, huh?

It's been a while, I suppose, since my last entry. Not since shawn went off to california last year, and I've just seen him since then, a year later, and done some other stuff that I can't remember. The absence of my own memory drives me mad sometimes, and not just because I require it for a grade in my current class...The whole point of living life is to look back on it, to tweak it, to paint a portrait of yourself that you are constantly refining, but how can I do that if I'm drawing lines in the sand on a beach with the water coming up all the time and washing it and stuff, kind of an extended metaphor but you get the idea. So I can't remember jack. But I do know that it's possible to get hypnotized to bring all that shit back. Or I guess I could start a journal. But, well, hmm...it doesn't seem as though there's that much interesting stuff going on in a given day. But apparently it accumulates.

Thursday, February 28, 2002-05:49 p.m. Stuff to do...complete application to carolina, fucking carolina, the school with the name carolina, i can't fucking believe I'm trying to go there...it feels like my last option in a tangled web of opinions and choices. i don't want to go to carolina, i don't want to do anything. i want to live, just fucking live, is that too much to fucking ask? leave me alone, with your questions and your opinion polls, i don't want to scratch out a living farming or panhandling for gold, nor do i want to get a big job and provide a secure environment for my family, nor do i want to go to college. i hate college. it's all a bullshit machine that's part of a larger bullshit machine that accepts the credible gradutes from the former bullshit machine in the analogy. is it ok if i just hang out here? i don't want to do anything with my life. is that fine? I don't want to be asked any questions pertaining to how I am, or what i want to be or do, i want to live a daily life, not a planned one, i like burritos and falling in love, not coding a webpage or writing or reading or talking to people at parties or in my room or fucking filling out college tranfer applications. i'm fucking stuck here if i don't. i'm fucking stuck no matter where I go. After my 4pm class i stood on the top floor of the science building looking at the beautiful sunset over the mountains and felt like a dead man. i don't have much time left, i said to myself. i seriously feel the vice of life closing in on me, the same reason people either end up confused and misguided and assholes, generally speaking. i haven't met an old person i've liked. i don't want to become them. the time is now for me to escape and i can't do it, i can't runaway or say no, i'm so so stuck. stuck in the bullshit world my parents have created for me and put on my shoulders for me to continue. who gives a fuck. if college is so fucking great then i'd like to give my place to some of the under-represented blacks and latinos that just need "proper education" to fucking get whatever foot the want to stick in the fucking door. i don't give a shit, i just wish i had a choice. there are no options.

Monday, February 25, 2002-06:25 p.m. What an interesting time we all live in. The year 2002, with all the shit that's going on, most of which we don't even know about. On top of that are all of our individual lives, carrying on in co-habitation with the people around us, giving their lives lip service or perhaps even the full affair, but I'd wager most of us are most highly concerned with the shit going on inside all our heads. I've got new people coming at me like cheez-wiz, all my friends back home are pretty settled in, all except my friend Shawn. Shawn is taking the biggest leap of anyone I've ever been friends with. He's not dropping out of school, or getting a job instead of going to college, he's spreading his beliefs with someone he doesn't know, walking and biking door to door for two years. I don't know if I would agree to do something like that, but he's been waiting to do it and soon he will be off. Ain't that some shit? For something like this all the things you've told people, the "I'll miss you" stuff and all the promises of visitations will fade soon enough, as you are living on the other side of the country with only you're loose connection of your new church congregation and the book in your hand that holds your faith. It will be a true test, and it will change Shawn. I hope it's for the better, I hope he knows that whatever happens he's still got the friends at home who love him for who he is and look to see who he will become.

Tuesday, January 22, 2002-07:53 p.m. I never really had a problem, because of leaving. But everything reminds me of her this evening. So if I seem a little out of it, sorry. Why should I lie? Everything reminds me of her.

Spending the afternoon sitting in the silloutte of the steeple, and I gotta hear the same sermon all the time from you people. Why are you staring into outer space, crying, just because you came across it and lost it? Everything reminds me of her. Everything reminds me of her. Everything reminds me of her.

Sunday, December 16, 2001-03:39 p.m. That didn't go so well. I meant to get somewhere but now I just feel like I've got more explaining to do. I've actually got a lot of work to do, I need to memorize about a hundered chinese characters and find a ride to Denver on Wendsday. Be nice to have a car right now. I'm considering blowing off all responsibility and going downtown to get falafel, maybe you know who(vanessa)could come with me, or some other you know who(I don't know who, I like to pretend I've got a bunch of girls on hold, but I got nothing.) I'm going to call that falafel place...

Sunday, December 16, 2001-03:10 p.m. I had a night with Vanessa last night. Well, more like half a night. We did the thing were we sit with each other for like three and a half hours and don't get sick of each other, in fact we delve into each other's souls. While we were delving it snowed outside, and I'm almost sure that when I see her again I'll be able to crank out at least one inside joke from last night. I'm a little preoccupied about it, as you can tell. Last night I had this impenetrable attitude about things, girls, the world, myself. I seemed to click, and I think that came off on Vanessa. But the old song is ringing true again, now that I've created this impression I've lost all ability to maintain it through impassitivity. After we finished dining we took the walk back and gingerly stepped across a frozen pond(a fucking frozen pond!). We chatted some more about this and that, did an acapella jam session(what fun) and went to the liquor store to see if it was closed yet(fun evening, hot chick, and LIQUOR!!! what could go better?). But it was closed, and from then on the chances of having a magic evening with vanessa for the rest of the night were diminishing. We came back to her room and sat there while playing guitar in the dark. I was high strung off the coffee and had at this point(is it me? is it college? is it natural for any guy?) lost all good feeling and proceeded to start wondering when I would finally start having sex with vanessa. So the old psychological traps started kicking in, making me try and play witty mind games to somehow convince her that this was the night. I've never been good at pushing that rock up that hill, though lord knows I've had enough practice. So we came back to my room to smoke out a little and watch nick play some amazing guitar, and then watched big daddy. Getting stoned put me on auto-pilot, if I hadn't convinced her to have sex with me yet I couldn't now. But that didn't stop me from eyeballing her every five minutes hoping for some romantic gazing embrace. Didn't happen, and everything I tried to say that might rekindle some male to female comradarie was either stupid or misunderstood. Sad sad sad. By this point it was around five thirty in the morning, I was all out of tricks and made the mistake, or maybe the blessing, of playing a beta band song she really liked, prompting her to try and tab it out while I slowly passed out in bed. I don't know what I was trying to stay awake for, my plans were obviously shot by this point. I'm just a little disappointed that I went from feeling so, not even in the zone, but more so comfortable and right(right! RIGHT!) about what was going on and what I was doing. That's not true, back at denny's I laid my head down and considered that even though I'd explained a lot to her I didn't stop feeling that I was somehow in the wrong. I can't tell if that was just a thought or a permanent feeling semi constantly present in my mind somewhere. We even talked about that, I told her that you should assume you're right until it's obviously you're wrong. She seemed impressed by my ability to crank out philosophies to combat any problem, and maybe a little impressed by everything last night.

Now's the time when I discuss everything that was written badly in that last paragraph. Except I don't have the time, I just wish it were better written and I had something to brag about. Actually, bragging and whining and explaining and trying to get groovy girls in bed and calling girls groovy and pretending to be something I'm not and WORRYING about being something I'm not, that's what I wish I didn't have to put up with. I know I can't act impassive all the time, but...

Wednesday, December 12, 2001-11:02 p.m. I went to see a hypnotist tonight, and it made me sort of upset with myself. It was a stage performance, and I volunteered to get hypnotized with a bunch of other people, but it didn't take and I got off the stage after about five minutes of pretending I was under this guy's control. I think the turning point in the hypnosis was when he said "relax your body and your mind" I have no trouble pretending that my body is relaxed, but I definitly can't pretend I'm not thinking. The beach, the boat, the blue blue blue everything was interupted constantly by the nagging thoughts that pop up so consistently, and I was dissappointed. I watched the rest of the show, and it was a hoot. But what I really wanted was to be something different, to be transformed, make myself believe that I'm out of the rut of my thoughts. I can't quiet my mind, and it's destroying my concept of tranquility. If I lay in bed I can't go to sleep, and if I'm doing my homework I can't stay awake. If I'm talking to a girl I think I'm just leading her on, and if I'm not around her I want to be so I can put on a show. Everything else is just background, class, walking, eating, thinking...but the thinking is the loudest thing, and I wish I could just tune it out. Relax my mind...what a fucking joke.

Tuesday, December 11, 2001-09:38 p.m. Same old shit, drama with girls, can't seem to find the right answer to any of the old problems, maintaining thought, getting pretty good grades, learnin sheeyat, that sort of thing. I'd like to fall in love though, any takers?

Tuesday, November 20, 2001-09:48 p.m. A shout out to james, who usually inspires me to type something. Today I'm going to talk about what I do all day. It's a list, in three parts, of generalities that are surprisingly true. Do you think it's a bad thing to know what you're going to do everyday? I guess it depends on how much of it you look forward to. Everyday I smoke cigarettes, play Diablo 2, do my homework very late at night(I fall asleep if I try to do it before then), hit on a girl, or girls, eat at one of the three on campus places where I don't need cash, scratch my balls(I do this a lot, I'm starting to worry), think about jerking off, and sit back in a chair and feel tired. On some days I do jerk off, I go to concerts, go to a party, go see a movie, feel like I might have just enticed a girl with my charms, have a good conversation with someone I find interesting, and do well in class. Rarely do I ever not worry about things, not try and guess my next move, read a book, not smoke cigarettes, feel fine if I see a girl I hit on talking to another guy, feel a little sad that I lack things such as motivation, emotion (or maybe just inflection), a girlfriend, drink coffee, want to call my parents, or my friends, do laundry (especially the fucking folding), feel content about my place and my time, and decide that I truly deserve it, not think there might be something wrong with the way I handle things, feel full after a meal, and finally look forward to what's going to happen tomorrow. I also haven't had sex in maybe two years.

If I tell myself that I'm going to work on these things, I know I'm lying to myself, because I like who I am better than who the voice that tells me to get off my lazy ass tells me to be. I know that any change I make in my lifestyle will be both deserved and unforced, which I do not think is a bad thing. Sometimes I do things without thinking about them and I get them just right, sometimes things slip out of my mouth without me thinking about not saying them, and they're exactly what I wanted to say. If I could feel right about changing a part of my life, I would want to end all the times I wonder what the best way to put things was and the best way to get something done, and I would multiply the number of times I bypassed these obstacles and simply reached out and took what was being handed to me.

Sometimes it did get lonely but it taught me how to cry, and the laughter came too easy cause the laughter passed me by. I never had a dollar that I didn't earn with pride, cause I had a million daydreams to keep me satisfied. And will ye gather day dreams or will ye gather wealth, how can you find your fortune if you cannot find yourself. The answer is not easy for souls are not reborn, to wear the crown of peace you must wear the crown of thorns. If jesus had a reason I'm sure he would not tell, they treated him so badly how could he wish them well. There's rockets in the meadows and ships out on the sea, the answers in the forest carved upon a tree: John loves Mary. Does any one love me?

Monday, November 12, 2001-02:56 a.m. My friend James Dempsey has for a while now been documenting his random actions and thoughts on his webpage, jamesdempsey.com. In a similar vein I think for a while I'll try documenting the things I haven't done yet but might in an attempt to see how ordered my life truly is or maybe just how smart I really am, so therefore:

I went to sleep tonight doing my homework. I didn't last very long, because I got discouraged by being so distracted by my roommate nick's video games. I woke up at six when the alarm went off because nick asked me if I wanted to change it and I said no, I've got some studying to do and I want to get up early to do it. He says fine as long as I turn the alarm off and I bunk down to sleep. The noise and lights keep me up for a while but since it is so late and the homework has already made me a little sleepy it doesn't take so long. When the alarm goes off in the morning I wake up quickly and then realize how tired I am, and if it is indeed worth it to study for chinese. At this point a decision has to be made, whether to tempt fate by dozing off again or getting up to take a shower and maybe a run too. As I enjoy pretending to do things I might not for lack of will power and inner motivation I will go for a run, a quick thirty minute jog do the bridge and back. It will be cold but I know this, so I'll wear my christmas pajama pants and a long sleeve tee shirt I got for working at Wellsprings. The run is good, I am tired but I get through it, happy to be doing anything that makes me seem fit and also anything that is not my homework. After I shower the moment of truth is again upon me, I must finish studying as I have a test in two hours. I decide to go some place quiet, maybe outside if it's not too cold, and start to pratice the characters I know I will not remember in two months but hope to remember for the next two hours. It is a success, I go outside and study, with the aid of my motivational pills I am able to concentrate enough to feel confident about my performance. When I arrive in class I will sometimes look towards Sayo, the beautiful japanese student who I can't help but admire and resent at the same time. She is beautiful and interesting, and has a solid background in characters, so Chinese is a breeze for her as it was for me during the first week of class. She will not look back at my coy glances, being the picture of scholarly concentration. After class she will become approachable again and we will walk early across the street towards the dorms. As it is early we will wonder what the other will want us to do, actually I will wonder if I can come up with something interesting enough to buy her time. Perhaps I will, and we will do it before 12:15 when she usually meets her roommate Caroline for lunch. If we go to play pool or fall asleep at the library together I will join them for lunch and perhaps suggest bemis, a fancy dining hall that will soon go out of buisness. I will feel squimish about this, since the food usually isn't that good but I'm friends with the head chef so he encourages me to get my friends to come. Once in a while they have a good dish or soup so I give him the benefit of the doubt, besides the food at the main dining hall leaves a longing emptyness in one's stomach that has certain emotional parallels. After lunch Sayo will most definetly have something to do, some meeting or another, or perhaps she and Caroline have scheduled a trip downtown that I can join them on, as has happened before. In any case the thing I might want to do more than sit beside Sayo is go back to my room and smoke a cigarette and make the decision between a nap and video games. Whatever may be she or I will remind the other that we have tickets to a paranormalist tonight and that it should be very interesting. At this point the rest of the day is uncertain, but it will most likely end too fast for me to remark how slow the time goes here at college. The deadline for me to start my homework will rapidly approach, and in the meanwhile I will wonder what the next thing I have to look forward to is.

Friday, November 9, 2001-12:27 a.m. It snowed yesterday. I am listening to elliott smith. I am also smoking a cigarette. And I feel kind of lonely tonight.

Saturday, November 3, 2001-01:42 a.m. Tonight I had to laugh at myself, in a hardy way. I was dumping all the butts from my cigerettes into a paper to roll and smoke, and for some reason it reminded me of all the stupid shit I've been doing and thinking for the past two months, being at college in general and trying to do SOMETHING so hard, with no idea which thing I truly want. I step outside and I take a deep breath and I get real high and I scream at the top of my lungs what's going on? I don't know, but it all seems very silly sometimes.

Friday, September 21, 2001-03:53 p.m. I remember sleeping in James's car somewhere in God awful Connecticut, or maybe it was Jersey. The car got hot and sweaty, making me hot and sweaty, but I found that if I cracked the window just a little bit not only would I get really paranoid but also the mosquitos would come in and keep me up past one, which was late enough. I guess it didn't matter since I'd be sitting in a car smoking cigerretes all day anyway. But I must have listened to Fold Your Hands Child about three times in a row, and I didn't get sick of it. I didn't enjoy it either, it was that "sad old bastard music" described so adequetly in High Fidelity. I don't know why I'm telling you this. I think I just want to talk, and be loved, and know I'm loved.

Thursday, September 20, 2001-01:13 a.m. This post is in hope of good things to all who wait.

Sunday, September 16, 2001-01:39 p.m. Big paper due today. Need to do it bad. Don't feel like it right now, Nick is playing some soft country sounding stuff and it makes me want to just sit here and watch the sun look like it's setting, even though it isn't. Being in college can make you miss all the time you wasted before, but I'm not preoccupied by that right now. I'm just enjoying the time before I start to get worried about things, myself and what I have to do to make everything right.

Friday, September 14, 2001-12:16 p.m. I don't remember why I was excited, but you know that feeling when things start to really move, in a direction you like, and you feel things culminating into something you've been waiting for for a while? I felt that way, but I don't remember why. It was just for a moment. Maybe I was dreaming.

Friday, September 14, 2001-11:55 a.m. I am sort of excited right now.

Wednesday, September 5, 2001-08:34 p.m. What's been bothering me lately is the people I'm finding myself talking to in my new place of residence, Colorado College. It's not the people themselves, because I think I've got a problem seeing people as people, instead I kind of see them as extensions of myself that I deal with. This happens because I(and I'm not alone here) act a little differently around different people. Like a sage little by little I've been trying to unify my different fronts into one easy to swallow person, but this morning I crashed and decided I couldn't talk to everyone the way I wanted to. What I'd like is someone that I feel comfortable around, and I don't have someone like that, I don't even feel that comfortable around myself. This is my root problem, and it's hard to change. If you don't talk to yourself and don't like it, but you are unwilling to change into a person you'd much rather identify with, you're stuck aren't you? So many times a day I condemn myself for who I'm pretending to be, and then I feel like I'm too hard on myself. I guess I'm just a dichatomy of people that can't be forced under one regieme, and that's why I long for the tranquility of magis softly concentrating near babbling brooks deep in a bamboo forest.

Sunday, September 2, 2001-05:05 p.m. Sitting in the room I'll live in for the next nine months. So far things are pretty good, but not nice enough to jar me from my sad and cynical view of the world. But I don't have it as bad as some people, and I don't have any place I'd rather be, except maybe more on the move. I was thinking about spending a year in a tent on some mountain sometime, I think I could enjoy that. Meeting people, girls, but I wonder about them and worry too that I'll not be able to satisfy the ones who like me...I just don't feel good about relationships. I'll start one as soon as I stop worrying about things, I'd rather just do nice things for people until then. "Always do good, you will please some people and astonish the rest."

Tuesday, August 21, 2001-02:34 p.m. I'm in the UNC-W bookstore, for probably the last time. A lot of things I'm doing here are for the last time. Last time I'll see james and kenneth before thanksgiving, the last time I'll spent a week, or more like a summer, or more like a year doing nothing. I'd like to say that I'm glad and it's all been worth it, but unfortunately I'm not that realistic. People ask me if I'm nervous, or scared about moving out west. I just hope that whoever's out there won't hold me to judgement, I'm ready to not be asked how I'm doing for a while, I'm ready to end up somewhere instead of standing in the same place. I'm ready to lose friends and family. I guess I am scared.

Tuesday, August 21, 2001-02:34 p.m. I'm in the UNC-W bookstore, for probably the last time. A lot of things I'm doing here are for the last time. Last time I'll see james and kenneth before thanksgiving, the last time I'll spent a week, or more like a summer, or more like a year doing nothing. I'd like to say that I'm glad and it's all been worth it, but unfortunately I'm not that realistic. People ask me if I'm nervous, or scared about moving out west. I just hope that whoever's out there won't hold me to judgement, I'm ready to not be asked how I'm doing for a while, I'm ready to end up somewhere instead of standing in the same place. I'm ready to lose friends and family. I guess I am scared.

Thursday, August 16, 2001-05:18 p.m. Hmm...what did I do today? I woke up at tenish, something I do NOT usually do but I did today since I felt guilty about never waking up before noon, and told myself that today might be the day that I clean the basement. I've been needleing away at it much the same way that a prisioner takes tiny handfulls of dirt out to the yard, cautious to not appear to be too motivated. I've got carefully laid out rules about these sorts of things, and I mustn't exert myself if I don't feel up to it. Oh, yes, college will be a blast, but I can't see the me I am getting to class on time, seeing how class starts at nine and all. Fuckity fuck, well perhaps some sense of survival will kick in and save my ass, it always worked on late night homework assignments. I know noone is looking but for those of you who don't know yet I make my big move on friday the twenty fourth, me and pops will be making the long haul together in a rented ford explorer, I'm kind of thinking the time we spend together will be strained and awkward, but only because I've never let my dad in on anything and have it feel like a relief. I'm just too deep for explanation.

Thursday, August 9, 2001-10:12 p.m. I feel rushed, so much to do, the world is changing for me, how about you? I just want to be loved, I just want to be left alone, I just want to play, I just want to put down the phone. I've got a meeting with someone I've never known before, but I'm hoping that this time around I'll enter through another door. Maybe this will be the big one, maybe my time has come, maybe I'll find my perfect time for fun.

I like little boys.

Thursday, July 19, 2001-06:14 p.m. I feel like the people I'm supposed to know I don't know at all

Wednesday, July 11, 2001-11:52 p.m. I spent a lot of time at third place today, like eleven hours. I don't know why, I just knew that I ended up there and pretty soon I didn't feel like going home. I also knew that I could, that maybe I'd learn something, and that I could get a lot of work done. I also bought into a huge cigerrette deal and made friends with people I'd never see again. The best ones are the ones who think you're perfect I think, that are constantly amazed by your impeccable and original character traits. But something tells me that the best friends are the ones that see the side of you that you don't and put up with your showy bullshit. I wish I could make my whole side one that I don't see, I'd like to forget about myself for a while, forget about what people may or may not think about me, and forget about what I think about them. And while I'm at it I'd also like each moment to enjoy each moment, not remind but remember, or maybe just do. Cut out the middle man and just be in the moment every step I take. Conversations I highly overrate, unintentionally, and I regret it afterwards. I'm not the carefree son of a bitch some people think I am, I'd just like to be and think maybe if I try hard enough a sufficient number of people will convince me that I am. Could that be how it works? Make people reflect the image you want to see yourself in, I think we all kind of know what I'm talking about. Treat others the way you'd like to be seen, or something. Ahh fuck I just want attention. Attention is my poison, it defeats whatever I feel I've accomplished, and makes a compliment seem like one of those gold stars you got in pre school, only it makes you look like a fool cause you keep them all on your forehead. Perfect scenario: I know I'm the shit and everyone agrees with me, no questions asked, no humility felt. Or maybe I can be humble as pie and still feel fine whenever someone says something nice about me; that I won't feel like I was just showing off. The yippie skippy care free shit I do doesn't feel right for some reason, is it forced or does it just feel that way? But I don't want to admit that I'm just some depressed bastard that forgot how to have a good time. This is why I need a girlfriend, a taker and giver, leader and follower, critic and complimentor, all bundled up in a perfect little package with a nice tight ass. Every girl has potential but most aren't good enough which is why I have such a problem talking to them. Well well well, I'm not figuring anything out tonight so I might as well go to bed.

Thursday, June 28, 2001-10:10 a.m. Woke up damn early this morning, because mom was in a good mood she had to wake me up at seven and talk about all my college choices in two months. She's lucky I got to bed at seven, otherwise I would have pretended to sleep and keep farting until she left the room. Fortunatly I was in a pleasant spirit and we sort of talked about what classes I would want to do and maybe a title for her coming book on Poverty Law, which she is a professor of by the way. My idea for a book was "Ain't that some Shit: A History of Poverty in America", which I think is a pretty catchy title. I doubt she'll use it, but if she does, whoa, uh? Whooooooaaaaaaaa. Now I'd better finish my college stuff since it's due tomorrow, but I'm not looking forward to deciding to how great/hard the first seven weeks of college are going to be. But better today then tomorrow...

Tuesday, June 26, 2001-01:38 p.m. You know I'm pissed. I'm tired of people having expectations, expectations of me and expectations of bad news. People read shit in the paper everyday about who's died in a foreign country, people whose names we can't pronounce and wouldn't even know if they hadn't died and we only read about it because the media wants us to know all our limitations and that you can rest pretty assured that you'll not be car bombed because of religious preference in OUR country unless you're near a public school. The one place you hear about bombs and death and shit that's "wrong" here and abroad is in the media, isn't that kind of scary? You know the media has politics and policies, just like every buisness. Anyway, I just think it sucks how we all can't help but have this warped perception of the world because we don't know enough about infering information from all the unreliable sources that we hear it from everyday, and that the only thing we know is that we don't have it so bad. But I don't want to hear about all that stuff anyway, and I hate that some people think it's my responsibility, whether I am trying to be an informed citizen or a globally conscious person, I'd rather not hear it from the paper and just find it out for myself. I'd also like to not hear it from my mom, who seems intent on stopping me from doing anything.

Tuesday, June 26, 2001-02:34 a.m. There's a steel train coming through, I'm going to take it if I can, and I wouldn't not lie to you, because sunday morning soon will come and things will be much easier to say, upon the microphone like a boss D.J. and I go run up upon the sea like it was dry land, a Boss D.J. ain't nothing but a man, no trouble no fuss, I know why...I played confidential mission until I almost kicked it's entire non cheat code giving ass, but I'm afraid you'll need the gun to get any farther or be some sort of video game dynamo. Other stuff I did today: had dinner with my parents, had some nice and some mean conversation. Also washed the windows on my car for a good twenty minutes, trying and failing to get all the bird poop off, that shit really sticks. I sat online for a while after that but forget what I did, and then I went to bed only to discover that I've not a chance of sleeping before three in the morning anymore, so I came downstairs to play some guitar and maybe yell at the hotties on my computer. If only they'd yell back. I also did not have a single cigerrette today, even though I could have plenty of times. And I did absolutly nothing productive, which felt really good, really good. It reminded me of who I really am and what this summer, fuck it this year was really for. I took this year off to jerk off in the face of productivity, and while my intentions may have become muddled in the face of saving face in front of my parents and whonot, I'm able to say that now my aim is true. I only hope I don't fuck up my future too much by being myself. But like He Man says: I have the power(raise your hand if you think that was a gay quote). Oh yes and if there are any girls out there that want to have sex but don't really care who, please email me at right here. Thanks and enjoy.

Friday, June 22, 2001-11:35 p.m. Strange how time passes. Today it seemed the strangest thing to me that I was already a year out of high school. I've been driving for three years. I feel like I haven't grown up at all. One day the transition will be complete, I'll be an old man, but I'm sure I still won't feel like one. The only difference between me and all the new young punks out there is that they've got all their stereotypes to back them up, and I'll be the fogety old individual everyone hopes will live happily in the nice nursing home I am to die in. Well let me just let everyone know right now that I intend to die fucking.

Thursday, June 21, 2001-01:35 a.m. I'm standin' in the doorway My head bowed in my hands Not knowin' where to sit Not knowin' where to stand My father looms above me For him there is no rest My mother's arms enfold me And hold me to her breast They say you been a wandrin' They say you travelled far Sit down young stranger And tell us who you are I've been up to the mountain I've walked down by the sea I never questioned no one And no one questioned me My love was given freely And oftimes was returned I never came to borrow I only came to learn Sometimes it would get lonely But it taught me how to cry And laughter came too easy For life to pass me by I never had a dollar That I didn't earn with pride Cause I had a million daydreams To keep me satisfied And will you gather daydreams Or will you gather wealth How can you find your fortune When you cannot find yourself My mother's eyes grow misty There's a tremblin' in her hand Sit down young stranger I do not understand Now will you try to tell us You been too long at school That knowledge is not needed That power does not rule That war is not the answer That young men should not die Sit down young stranger I wait for your reply The answer is not easy For souls are not reborn To wear the crown of peace You must wear the crown of thorns If Jesus had a reason I'm sure he would not tell We treated him so badly How could he wish us well The parlor now is empty There's nothin' left to say My father has departed My mother's gone to pray There's rockets in the meadows And ships out on the sea The answer's in the forest Carved upon a tree John loves Mary Does anyone love me

Saturday, June 2, 2001-06:41 p.m. This page is for all the people that I have soft contacts with. Soft contacts are people that I care about enough to not be able to walk away from my responsiblities with them. These people include everyone from my parents to people I've talked with more than five times. I don't know if I feel love for these people, whatever love is there is overburden by my oppressive sense of responsibility, to go out, to be happy, to try hard, to not smoke, use drugs, consider God plausible, etc...After much time I've realized that I can't make myself happy trying to divide my time and interests between all these different people, and I can't choose some over others without feeling a corresponding sense of guilt, so I'm just going to try being myself for awhile, if that makes me a "bitch" please understand, I am only trying to be happy, and not so tired all the time.

Sunday, May 6, 2001-08:01 p.m. I took a shit today and only had to flush the toilet once, a major victory in the ongoing battle between my intestines and costa rica´s low pressure toilets. Did you know that the shitty papers go in the trash can next to the toilet? Gross...

Sunday, May 6, 2001-03:45 p.m. Guess it´s time to update, although for some reason I´m really tired, I hope this internet cafe takes all the money I´m giving them and buys some big couches to sit in, that would really finish this place off. Sometimes they give me free coffee. You know, I don´t want to make my webpage jealous, but I´m writing a journal of shit at home, whenever I feel inspired, for free, and it´s going great. I´m thinking about posting it but I don´t want to share with everybody, I´m not able to trust everyone I know with everything I think(esp. mom and dad)(hey I quit smoking dad, just to remind you, I think it counts the first time you´re drunk and you don´t have a cigerette, so). I hate this keyboard, and I love being on a tear when I´m writing, which I am not, so I think I´ll stop.

Wednesday, May 2, 2001-02:39 p.m. Greetings from San Joaquin. That is where I am, San Joaquin de Flores. Named for the patron saint of famous types of cheese, it houses over fifty percent of the "tico" population. The lives of these gently people hangs in the balance, stability is found in their pratice sacrificing one tenth of their most valuable trade, this year being tourism, to the God of the Volcano. Straws are being drawn amongst all the "gringos" on Sabado, which is the local word for Saturday. Guess who has his fingers crossed! Currently I'm in the library of the local school, translating childrens short stories into English, not because I enjoy it but because if I don't I'll never know what these people are saying, which after a while, starts to get you down. My classes aren't very hard, since all I have to do is talk, and I've actually been asking my teacher for more homework, since in the time between dinner and school in the morning I have nothing to do besides sleep, which is also something that takes some pratice. (It's really hot here.) But I have no doubt in my mind that by the time I return to my genteel land, my hair will definetly be longer. And I might smell a little like beans. Pura Vida!

Friday, April 27, 2001-02:44 a.m. A million and one things to do before I touch the sun crusted sands of Costa Rica, but first and Foremost is to have fun while my heart still ticks. I know I should sleep, but there's a concert to go to, and even if it's bad impulse control dad, who ever said I had impulse control to begin with? (Thanks ADD!) But fear not, for though I shall be taken prisoner once I get off the airplane (did I tell you guys I set up this whole thing using only email, without even calling the place to see if they exist) I know my parents who love me madly will gladly pay whatever ransom is necessary. Plus the fresh air will do me good. I'll try to update this as much as possible, but maybe hard pressed either because I have nothing to say (as usual) or I'll be tied up (as expected). Maybe both. But if it IS the best vacation of my life and I DO fill all of your email boxes with warm sugar coated emails, I know the world will be happy with me, which is all I really want anyway. So off I go, with these words ringing in my ears:
Oh shit,
Oh shit,
Oh shit,
Oh shit, Oh shit,
Oh shit,
Oh shit,
Oh shit
Son-of-a bitch, son-of-a bitch, come on!

Sunday, April 22, 2001-12:59 a.m. Never, ever go to Jacksonville(city of Suck) on a whim.

Thursday, April 19, 2001-12:43 a.m. Welp, it's thursday, April 19, 2001, and I'm still alive. I wonder how long I can keep this up? It's hard to die these days, considering how advanced we are as a species and a society. I don't have anything I really feel like saying right now, but check in with me later for a great idea I had that james is looking into.(oh, the mystery!)

Monday, April 16, 2001-08:59 p.m. Step on a crack, break your mother's heart. Red light green light black. Suicide emails...start to be what they want you to be, and you'll see yourself as they see you. Do do do doo doo doo do do doo doo. Watch the day disentegrate so I can stay up late and wait. Do do do doo doo doo do do doo doo.

Sunday, April 15, 2001-01:49 a.m. And I say wobble wobble, and I say shake it shake it...

Wednesday, April 11, 2001-01:21 p.m. I woke up this morning with a bird on my face. I was sleeping in the attic, and had left the windows off. It's quite nice up there, once you get over the smell. It's a smell I'm trying to do something about. How do you get out the stains of adolescence? Think about it, all the stuff you've remembered doing and haven't, too. It can get messy, but there me and N.P. were scrubbing it like nobody's buisness. We tried mopping it with some crappy mops and then wiping it clean with some towels and then letting it dry. It looks exactly like it did before we started. I don't think we were generous enough with the water and the mops and the towels, or maybe there's just too much dirt up there. Wouldn't it be great if there was none? I'd like to see that too.

Wednesday, March 21, 2001-08:35 p.m.

Well, what did I do today? Hmm...nothing. Not that I didn't have lunch with shawn and visit Jenni(from Raleigh) over at Wellsprings, it's just I didn't feel like I really did anything to day. It's a luxury most people that have jobs or go to college take for granted. They are indisputably doing something, whereas I am forced to whince and stab at satisfying answers to a very conversational question. (I did read some Tom Wolfe, can you tell?)

But seriously, I would like to do something with my life, but I REALLY lack the motivation. Some people think this is because I'm depressed, and I think they're right. I am depressed, but merrily so, HA HA!! Well shit, I don't know, I just know that the things I should be doing I don't really feel like doing, like running or preparing for college. In fact all I really feel like doing is sitting around trying to make myself feel better, and sometimes I get sick of that. Perhaps I'm too self-indulgent. I'm beginning to worry that depression is just an excuse to be lazy, wouldn't that make me a selfish asshole? But to be too lazy to want to do anything, is there a fate worse than that? It's not that I don't want to be out climbing mountains or saving children or sticking my fingers in dikes.(sp?;) It's just that I don't really feel like it, and nothing in this world is going to help me it seems.

Tuesday, March 20, 2001-06:56 p.m.

My stomach hurts. Perhaps it's because I don't like who I am. The other night in Denver I was walking around smoking cigerettes furiously trying to get a buzz; I went through four and still didn't get it. I did come up with some Kerouac type poetry made out of Eels type lyrics, which was kind of fun but I felt like shit in the morning anyway, what with me being bored as hell and sort of dissappointing myself all the time. Don't get me wrong, I'm no wreck, I'm not always on pins and needles. It's just that whenever I seem to give myself a break I seem to fuck things up for myself and those around me. BUT I DON'T WANT TO GIVE IN TO THE FUCKING BASTARDS!!!Anyway, I hope things work out for me soon, you know that I get the feeling that everything is based on the conditions around you that are so common you fail to notice them. All that eastern wisdom about placement of objects and channeling of energies might not be far off. If I'm pent up about something, like no one liking me or my parents thinking of me as a failure, it's usually because my back hurts, or I'm hungry or tired, not because it's true. That's how shit goes down, because we accept the stupid things are brain tells us without realizing we need a nap. Notice that Pooh Bear never gets into any trouble, with his 14-hour a day sleep schedule. Or George Walker, for that matter.

Sunday, March 11, 2001-05:36 p.m.
Status report for today:

5:00am - Went to sleep.
1:00pm - Parents came home from church, attempted to speak to me. After they left promptly went back to sleep.
2:30pm - Woke up, rolled around in bed for a few minutes, then went to bathroom. Brushed, flossed, took a fifteen minute shower, shaved, cliped the fingernails on my left hand, and went back to room.
3:05pm - Sat in bed reading until I decided to make the most of the playstation dave apparently forgot to take back to UNC-W. Played Timespliters for about two hours.
5:35pm - Got up to see how much of my life I've wasted. Satisfied with the results, decided to post them on the webpage.

Saturday, March 10, 2001-01:18 a.m. My Body All Over Yo Body, Yo Body, Yo Body body, rock yo muthafuckin body, allaroundda WORLD!!!

Friday, March 9, 2001-09:42 p.m. I'm thinking of writing a book called HOW TO BULLSHIT YOURSELF INTO TOTAL BLISS. All I need now is the material.

Monday, March 5, 2001-05:03 p.m.
Hmm...

I've just had a realization. It's pretty big for me, but it might not seem like much to YOU PEOPLE. I really give a shit about how I talk to people. What I say, how I come off. Like in a big way, it shapes my entire day. And though I've never let it totally affect my relationship with anyone(minus all the girls I've gone out with), it makes all the difference on my present mood. That's why whenever someone asks me how I am, I don't have a good answer(meaning "GOOD!") unless I've just finished a glowing conversation with someone else, or they ask me at the end of a glowing conversation. I can change this, I think I will change this. So if you are reading this, and the next time the two of us talk you think that I'm not giving a shit about anything you're saying, just be patient with me because I'm bettering myself, for the good of myself and the rest of humanity.

Thursday, March 1, 2001-11:49 a.m.

Laying on the bathroom floor.

Kitty licks my cheek once more

And I, I could try.

But waking up is harder when you wanna die.

Walter’s on the telephone.

Tell him I am not at home.

Cause I think that I

Am going to a place where I am always high.

My name is Elisabeth.

My life is shit and piss.

Thursday, March 1, 2001-01:15 a.m. Ahh...There's nothing like a good run. I'm back, from whereever I've been, away from this webpage anyway. Nothing's changed, but I've got a renewed sense of hope; it's always important for you to believe that you can do the things you want to do. It's easy to do, just imagine what you would do if you couldn't. You'd mope around all day wishing you were doing something else, something fun. Hmm, that sounds vaguely familiar. I still have problems, questions I shouldn't be asking, but I've got escape too, which seems to balance things out nicely. Music and excercise, two sources of energy that seem very at home in my body; I welcome them most any time. Conversation and food for me has become tainted; like I'm trying to taste or talk about something I'm not. Then there is the boredom, the lack of motivation that had dominated my entire life, the almost Who Gives A Fuck attitude. I'm trying to lose this, I just have to find out what for. This is my checklist for a well balanced life, and I think I'm on my way. Now for a big glass of water and some Tony Hawk.

Wednesday, February 14, 2001-02:06 p.m. All the memories I'm not a part of, all the people I've left and will leave behind, make me wonder why I bother, what there is to hold dear. Hopefully nothing, since I hold nothing dearly. Except my pain; my bitter confused pain that isn't even there. All I seem to have are my objections, and after a while those don't amount to anything. I'm not the person I wish I was, nor am I the person others want me to be, nor am I willing to change. I'm in a corner, basically. I don't know when I'm going to get out.

Thursday, February 8, 2001-01:55 a.m. I like the Eels, they're a little down and out(who am I kidding, they're downright suicidal) but their perspective deserves enough attention as all the others, even if they're a little teen angsty. I played them tonight at work, putting aside the notion that some of the lyrics were shallow and superficial("They say I'm mental but I'm just confused, they say I'm mental but I've been abused") but I told myself that the instrumentation was wonderful and that no one really gave a damn anyway. Which was true. I think I've gotten the hang of this "people" thing, meaning the thing where I talk to people. I've worried about it less recently because I realized that no matter what I'm trying to sell myself, so I might as well make a good impression. Now I know that some of you might be thinking "Well dammit charles you should just be yourself" but fuck that because I've tried it and it only makes you come out superficial and confused, both of which are very uncool. "So I'm leaving the ways that are making me be, what I really don't want to be" and I'm sticking with the way I am. I'm happier for it, at least for now. I've realized that with people, especially your friends, you really do find that connection you're constantly looking for if you just open up and listen to each other, and I think I'm figuring that out. But maybe sometimes you don't feel like it, or you just have nothing to say, and that's perfectly alright too, in fact it's good, because we don't want life getting too gushy. The important thing(I think)is that you don't feel the need to turn on and off these feelings and connections like you feel the need to laugh at a joke that isn't funny, just to make the person you are talking to feel better. Because there are reasons for the ways you feel, whether they're nice or ill, they are your guide for dealing with people. Mad props to Nick Papadapolous for helping me realize that.

Tuesday, February 6, 2001-07:05 p.m.

Hi there. Charles is currently neglecting the salad bar and snacking on candy canes that were "damaged". There are some perks to working at wellsprings, but I think I'd be getting fat pretty soon with all the sweets I eat. Give a vegan a tub of vegan chocolate fudge and see how long he stays skinny. But it's all good; me and nick are starting our running programs pretty soon, as soon as I get over having to drive over to his house just to go running in the morning. Maybe we should agree to run to some place like Putt Putt off Tryon or Hillsborough street, hi five and run back home. That would be environmental. It sucks how a lot of the time the things that are environmental aren't the things that are cool or convienent. I'd blame the environment, but it was here first. Me and Nick are steadily becoming better friends as he shows up at my house late at night to engage in philasophical conversation about what's cool and what sucks. We've been doing ok so far, at least on my behalf, and I think pretty soon we'll get him over that Liz hump he's on. Girls, don't fuck another guy right after you dump your old boyfriend, no matter how you guys broke up it just makes things harder. No offense Liz.

I had a conversation with jenni today. I won't give it an adjective because I never do stuff like that when I deal with jenni; and I don't know why. Maybe it's because I'm afraid of how I feel about her, or mabye I just odn't know. Either way, we're planning on doing some stuff for her spring break, which is in March. Unfortunately that's how long it will be before I get my toenails cut(don't ask me why), unless an intermediate visit is scheduled. Life is like the feelings that are so flimsy between your head and your heart. You want to do what you feel but don't know if you really want to or if it's just an excuse to do something you shouldn't. If that's confusing to you then the two of us should get drunk sometime.

Tuesday, February 6, 2001-12:26 a.m. Hey guys. Hmm. I've nothing important to say. I get the feeling that this site is degenerating the same way friends do when they have nothing left to say to each other. It's such a slow, numb, exhausting experience, when you just look for reasons to do what you don't even enjoy anymore. It can hurt. But this site, I don't know, I have very little to say anymore, I'm sick of it looking dumb as soon as it hits the screen. I know that there's substance out there in the world, but it must be allergic to attention because as soon as you spot something that seems real it dissolves into the same superficial bullshit that you are sick of. I want to just push the restart button on this moment in time, like with the old nintendo when it froze up. Maybe someone should remove my cartridge and give it a good blow, I never figured out what it did but it sure made a difference. Those things that matter even though they don't make sense, maybe they're the answer, but let's not think too hard about it.

Friday, February 2, 2001-03:04 p.m. Everyone go download Cello Song by Nick Drake and hug themselves while wearing something warm and fuzzy. Hi mom.

Thursday, February 1, 2001-07:08 p.m. Hey everyone. Charles is at work right now. It's weird to quit your job, feeling like all the things you've paid attention to don't matter anymore. But that's nice in a way too. I've realized that it's not so hard to keep a job, it's having to keep a job that's the hard part. And I'm blessed in that domain, so I'm going to take full advantage of my time off. "What will he do?" you may be asking yourselves. Well the answer is whatever I feel like. I hate doing what I or others feel like I should do; that's what this whole work fiasco was about. Not to mention money, but I've lost all of it(don't ask me how). Now my intentions have turned to cultivating my mind body and spirit, not to mention my inner fat lazy self. I think it'll be good, and if you want to see me, chuck an email my way and I'll be there.

Thursday, February 1, 2001-03:15 a.m. It's getting to the point where I'm no fun anymore. I am sorry. Sometimes it hurts so badly I have to cry out loud. I am lonely. But I am yours, you are mine, and you are what you are; you make it hard...Can I tell it like is??? Listen to me baby, it's my heart that's a sufferin', it's a dyin'. That's what I have to lose. But I've got an answer. I'm gonna fly away. What have I got to lose? Will you come see me? Thursdays and Saturdays? What have we got to lose? Do do do do do, do do do do do do, do do do do do, do do do do do do. Que linda me la traiga Cuba, la reina de la Mar Caribe. Cielo sol no tiene sangreahi, y que triste que no puedo vaya, oh va, oh va, va!!!

Thursday, February 1, 2001-12:32 a.m.
Sup world, we gonna spread a little love here...
This is night two of me updating from a weird location. Tonight I'm in the five o, which is a hip blend of a dance club and an internet cafe. And if you come early enough, everything besides the drinks are free(I'm having coffee). I'm here with Kate, and some other Welspring thugs, which is steadily getting better. I wonder how you rate things, like how your night is going. For me it's a problem because the methods I use to judge things change from day to day, because I judge the methods I use to judge things. I guess it just is left up to how much fun I have without trying, or maybe just how much fun I have. I think I'm having fun. But instead of talking about it, I'm gonna go do it. Peace, and live large.

Tuesday, January 30, 2001-01:14 p.m. I'm at "The Abbey", which is this apartment complex off Tryon road. Me and nick were driving around smoking when we found it and decided to see if any parties were going on. I thought it was stupid but I complied. We discovered an internet terminal and decided to hunker down for a while. Kind of cool, I know, but at the same time kind of stupid, like so many parts of my life. Can you run from the stupid parts of your life? Or cover them up? Or do you just have to turn and face them. I think that's what I must do, to be cool, one day. Speaking of cool, Kenneth as presented by his homemade website is pretty fucking cool, and it makes me sad. Not because I think it's bad for him, I think it's great, but it makes me look bad in comparison. Sigh, maybe I've got high standards of myself, or maybe I'm just a dork.

Tuesday, January 30, 2001-12:17 a.m. Man work was horrible today. It seemed like a reality where fucking up was a sure bet. I put my faith in my fuck ups, and while it made my commitment to my job less strenuous, it didn't make my day any easier. Just when I was starting to figure out how to get comfortable around all these other people, everything I said got misheard or just scoffed at. You'd think it was some sad movie if you were there watching it. God, it made me want to silently scream, if you know what I mean. Good thing I didn't loose it, and that I'm quitting. I'm ass tired. Goodnight.

Monday, January 29, 2001-11:31 a.m.

I quit my job the other day.

I also learned how to do html TAGS, courtesy of my brainy friend James Dempsey. But I guess you want to hear about my job. What can I say, except that I didn't like it, for a variety of reasons, and felt that I was missing out on better things. Nick Drake said it best:"I'm leaving the things that are making me be, what I really don't want to be. I'm leaving the things that are making me love, what I really don't want to love."

Since then I've been pretty down and out, over a number of things, but now I'd like to announce my intentions for the next month over the internet. By this date in Febuary(or whatever), I will have run forty miles, learned at least one nick drake song on the guitar(and a shitload of chords), read five different books, one of which will be of a taoist influence, spent at least an hour in meditation, and will have learned the words to wooly bully. So far I've done one out of the five, with twenty nine and a half days to go.

Tuesday, January 23, 2001-11:55 p.m. Well, what a confusing day. I slept until one thirty and got to work late at three. Once at work I instantly felt oppressed by the social considerations of my co workers. If there was anyone I could pinpoint as using the maximum amount of manipulation of my social anxieties(what?), it would be Chris Rupenstien. Kind of sounds like the names of bullies that got called to the office, doesn't it? Well, that probably happened to him too, but right now he's my quasi boss. All afternoon and into the evening I couldn't shake the feeling that he was involved in a competition to make me shit my pants. I'd always feel like he was glaring at me, sending out little discomfort rays. I resolved myself to fight discomfort only to find that my resolve was the root of my discomfort. Alas, he had won. I sank lower and lower into my abyss of gloom while Chris rose higher and higher on the list of people I wanted to hurt badly. After six hours of work with no break, I decided to take an emergency break. I hunkered down with a homemade cup of chai(quite good, ask me for one) and slowly felt better. For all your complaining woes just tap into either Erika or Jenni at the juice bar, and your aggression will slip away to indifference(god bless them). Feeling better I resumed work. On the way back to my salad prep table after rooting around in the back for some sprouts I came across Miranda, known to James as the hot girl I should go out with. Acknowledging the ancient proverb that you're never too busy to spend time with a hot chick, I immediatly kicked over a milk crate and sat down next to her. As I smoked her cigerrete we arrived rather quickly at the topic of Chris. I told her that I didn't like him and she told me he had wondered why, out loud, to her. This made me think, perhaps my giant nemesis was a gentle person after all. Right on time to test the theory was Chris, who too knew the ancient proverb and kicked over a milk crate on the other side of miranda. After she left it was just the two of us. Fearing an uncomfortable silence I asked him why he didn't do drugs. He told me that he'd seen too many of his friends go down the wrong path. I knew this was one of those times where my experience with things, which amounts to very little, amounted to very little. After mumbling some reply I got up to leave, but somehow was drawn back into talking about why I was felt so oppressed at work. Chris sounded confrontational, but concerned. It was a confusing feeling, and I later realized that the only thing I felt weird about was not talking to Chris like a normal guy, and the lingering feeling that he was trying to get me fired. After that fell to pieces I had nothing to confront him on. Which meant I couldn't answer his question. Which leaves the current work situation with a lingering atmosphere of mature complexity I don't feel ready to deal with. Towards the end of the night Chris came up to my table and said that I did a good job as a salad guy(his first compliment; not a natural one but I'll take what I can get). Later Miranda told me what Chris had said just in case Chris decided not to tell me himself, and I instantly felt like a little emotional baby again, always needing positive reinforcement. I want to get away from it, to get back into that quiet understanding again, but that's in the future. Sometimes dealing with people can be really tricky.

Saturday, January 20, 2001-04:20 p.m. oh jenni, jenni, jenni jenni jenni jenni. How can I explain the way I feel? The best way is to sing your name, that's why I want mountains to climb, so that they're beneath me when I sing your name in worship: Jenni Jenni Jenni Jenni Jenni, la la la, Jenni Jenni Jenni Jenni, la la la...

Saturday, January 20, 2001-03:55 p.m. Well, I just got finished reading Kenneth's website, and I have to admit I'm impressed, too impressed. His words combine a quiet confidence with a passive thoughtfulness. Something must be done, so from now on this website will be a vehicle of deterrance against his. We'll see if his youthful babble will continue for much longer. My current list of corrections for his page include: A supply of apostrophes; a synonym for the word down to replace the double usage found in sentence seven(7) of entry eight(8); and of course content, in replacement of the facist demand of what music we as followers of Kenneth should like. Be on the lookout for more assasinations against Kenneth's ruthless tirade towards quality websites

Friday, January 19, 2001-07:53 p.m. I never felt magic crazy as this I never saw moons knew the meaning of the sea I never held emotion in the palm of my hand Or felt sweet breezes in the top of a tree But now you're here Brighten my northern sky.

Thursday, January 18, 2001-09:34 p.m. Hang a fucking sign around my head that says successful or bust. Once again I've spent the whole day loathing my job. Good lord, you'd think I'd quit. It's better to quit than be fired, right? There's something about this place, something dark and sinister that lurks in the corner of your eye but when you turn to face it it's gone. And you wonder if you're right, or if it's just you. It's true, I like doing things the hard way; I like to remain stoic. But I'm also an idealist, and ideally I'd like to be happy. This job carries none of that for me, in fact it has brought me nothing but indifference for health regulations and a bad back. I have to go now, the boss is looking.

Tuesday, January 16, 2001-01:38 p.m. Entry smentry sentry enntree. I have to go to work soon, and don't have time to let the creative bubbles float to the surface. There was a man at work yesterday who often cursed; he'd say fuck every chance he got. Like once a sentence, just like the Big Lebowski. It made him distinguished. Some people have a lot to say, I sure don't. All the time in the world and nothing to do with it. If you haven't already heard, I think once a day about quitting my job, most people don't apparently. I'd find something else to do, but the reasons to quit don't yet outweigh the reasons to stay. I wish they would, sometimes work is pure hell. And as for my friends(the people reading this) we aren't as close as we were supposed to be. I've suspected this for a while, but would rather be wrong about it. Sometimes I think I say too much, but I usually talk less then I should. For all my friends, I'm sorry I feel the way I do. I am sorry I don't feel what you do. I'm sorry I can't feel more, better. The song telling me when to go to work is over. I'll talk to you guys later.

Monday, January 15, 2001-03:20 a.m. Goodnight!

Friday, January 12, 2001-02:06 p.m. Here's an example of a pretty good forward(you see, they're not all evil): We convince ourselves that life will be better after we get married, have a baby, then another. Then we are frustrated that the kids aren't old enough and we'll be more content when they are. After that we're frustrated that we have teenagers to deal with. We will certainly be happy when they are out of that stage. We tell ourselves that our life will be complete when our spouse gets his or her act together, when we get a nicer car, are able to go on nice vacation, when we retire. The truth is, there's no better time to be happy than right now. If not now, when? Your life will always be filled with challenges. It's best to admit this to yourself and decide to be happy anyway. One of my favorite quotes comes from Alfred D Souza. He said, "For a long time it had seemed to me that life was about to begin - real life. But there was always some obstacle in the way, something to be gotten through first, some unfinished business, time still to be served, a debt to be paid. Then life would begin. At last it dawned on me that these obstacles were my life." This perspective has helped me to see that there is no way to happiness. Happiness is the way. So, treasure every moment that you have. And treasure it more because you shared it with someone special, special enough to spend your time...and remember that time waits for no one... So stop waiting until you finish school, until you go back to school, until you lose ten pounds, until you gain ten pounds, until you have kids, until your kids leave the house, until you start work, until you retire, until you get married, until you get divorced, until Friday night, until Sunday morning, until you get a new car or home, until your car or home is paid off, until spring, until summer, until fall, until winter, until you are off welfare, until the first or fifteenth, until your song comes on, until you've had a drink, until you've sobered up,until you die, until you are born again to decide that there is no better time than right now to be happy...Happiness is a journey, not a destination. Thought for the day: Work like you don't need money, Love like you've never been hurt, And dance like no one's watching.

Thursday, January 11, 2001-02:33 p.m. If you were to take all the arguments in the world, and assign them all numbers based on their positiveness and negativeness, would the final number come out to zero? I think it would. I've had a number of arguments, with other people and myself, and they all seem to come to no effect, no net force. I wonder, since I spend most of my time either arguing with myself or others, whether I will ever get anywhere with nothing to take me there.

Sunday, January 7, 2001-04:57 p.m. Sad or happy? happy or sad. One is good while the other is bad. If you don't know which one to be, you can just wait on bended knees, waiting and praying for the answer to come, and once it arrives your life will be done, so I hope I've had fun.

Thursday, December 28, 2000-04:41 p.m. Will this entry be composed entirely of questions? Will I have anything relevant to ask? How will it end? What will it entail? How many licks does it take to get off DAVE'S MOM??? I'd better take that down.

Thursday, December 21, 2000-12:12 a.m. So here's my update. Not much to tell. I am in a room that has only been lit from the glow of a computer monitor for some time. I haven't been in the room for the whole time, but the room has been lit only from the glow of the monitor for some time. It's funny in a queer sort of way how time strips humor down until there is nothing left. I must ask, what is humor? Is there such a thing as timeless humor? Is humor only good for making the moments pass? As a diversion? Perhaps that's why I'm so keen on humor, I use it merely to divert myself. Do I want to be diverted, or do I want to get on with things? If I get on with things, does that mean that they get over with sooner, and if so what does that mean? What I'm really worried about is what's important. I don't know what is important, but I realize that there are two kinds of importances: things I care about and things that I should care about. In the end, which means more? I am careful to pay much attention to what I should care about, does that mean that I'm diverting myself from what is truly important, what I truly care about? I wonder if everyone is at this moment wondering what's important to them, as if the question is contagious spread by the air, infecting everyone at once. Doesn't it seem that way sometimes? Like everyone's in a good mood, or everyone's in a bad mood, or at least the same kind of mood. Hmm. Seriously, there could be powers controlling us that we can't even begin to imagine. I've got to go, the endless cycle of work and rest waits for no one.

Monday, December 18, 2000-07:12 p.m. There's nothing worse than getting back on the salad bar with a bunch of stuff to make and fill. Make and fill, it sucks. If you aren't making, you're filling, and if you are done filling you probably have something you need to make. Sucky suck suck. I wish someone would come along during the tough parts of my job and do it for me. Don't you think? They do it in basketball, why can't they do it for everything? Just have some guy sitting in a corner with some snap pants on, ready to whip up some Lemon Tahini Dressing for me when I'm just getting pissed off. I could hi five him and run out to my car and listen to some music, or read something, or update. The problem is that usually when you are taking a break the stuff you have to do just waits for you to do it, while more stuff needing to be done develops. So you end up really busy, and you have to finish it all by twelve. AAAhhh. I'm going to lay down for a while.

Saturday, December 16, 2000-04:35 p.m. Hey everyone. I'm at the library right now. I've been wandering around Raleigh on my bicycle, meeting people I know and doing little tricks. I'm sorry to inform everyone that Pam's grandmother is sick, which is why she's not at work. Such a shame. I wish that we youth would have something to look forward to physically, but apparently life is just a bite in the ass in that department. Do you believe that we are optimistic about the future because it makes the present easier, or because there is actually something to look forward to? I'm just wondering what our optimism is based on, whether it can be based on an actual order to thinks or whether it is only a self imposed perception. Who enjoy's all these thoughtful flights of fancy? I do, and quite a few friends of mine, including my friend Ms. Eirman and her whatever, Jeff. They are both nice people who remind me of myself. Let's consider something else, some more of my friends. Have you ever been in a situation where you are friends with someone but don't like them at the moment or feel like talking to them? Why does that happen? If you are friends you should get along, without many distractions. So many times I have felt like my friends are actually the cause for mental anguish; whose fault is that? Probably both, neither person is willing to make a concession, so that in time the issues become woven into the tapestry of the relationship. Some guy just went EEEEMMMM very loudly, in the sort of way that makes you wonder if he has something important to say. He was just clearing his throat, but he was doing it in a very important way, so that you thought it might be occumpanied by a speech. "Pardon me, all you good people. I was merely clearing my throat. I thank you all for your attention, and ask you to continue as if you were unhindered." Everyone nods and turns back to their previous expressions. I have to go see if my bike has been stolen yet. I should get a lock for it.

Saturday, December 16, 2000-12:21 p.m. Hello everyone. This is just an update to inform you of a typography error in my last update. The spelling of "Sie la vie" is actually C'est la vie. I apologize for this error, and am sorry for any confusion or hysteria it may have caused. Any questions on how to pronounce this nostalgic froggy phrase should be directed towards James Dempsey, whose website you can find at the top of the page, next to this coloumn. Again, thanks.

Wednesday, December 13, 2000-08:08 p.m. Man, it just occured to me. Bush won. Shrub is our president. Funny that the thing to make that hit home was a junk mail sex guide, with "My BUSH is a Winner Too" as the subject. But really, lets take a look at where we stand. WE'RE FUCKED. At least, we can't be hopeful. Democrats are currently running around, either hanging their heads or writing angry letters to the supreme court which will have a special recycling bin just for them, or they are sitting and staring wide eyed wondering just how fucked we really are. I wonder too, and am considering residency in Canada if worse comes to worse. Not very patriotic, but who wants to stay on a sinking ship? Well, as long as I'm here, on break, I want to take this second to remind everyone how much I hate my job. "They say they want you successful but then they make it stressful. You start keeping pace they start changing up the tempo." In my case I worked hard all day and then decided to take my break. I decided an hour ago, but people keep bringing me shit, and if I don't knock it out I get swamped at close. Which means I don't breathe fresh air until ten thirty, when no one else is here but the janitor(burglars take heed.) Not only that, but I get the feeling that no one likes me. It's been forming for a while. I think it's the way I ask how to do things; I try to sound part idiot part damsel in distress so they'll feel like helping me, but I think I come out as a patronizing asshole. Se la vie. The reason I'm on break is that some of my co workers that don't hate me asked how things were going, and I grumbled about break, so they got my shiftee(boss) and started asking if someone will take up the slack. This resulted in my break, and one of two other things. Either the kitchen crew hates me now, or they hate me more. Fucking a. Chris is the big problem, he talks shit a lot and plays loud punk rock to drown out the insaneitizing christmas r&b. But every once in a while he plays some underground hip hop, like black star or Jurrasic 5, so I ask him, any Mos Def? Want to play some De La? But it all sounds to him like I'm asking if I can blow him. Anyway...I realized today that the most important thing in my life is how I come off to people. My day is measured in the number of honest, revealing, and insightful conversations I have every day. For some reason this cheapens the quality of them, so I'm never satisfied. I'm never satisfied, and my job sucks. Well, back to work.

Tuesday, December 12, 2000-01:09 p.m. Hey people I know. I'd just like to highly suggest that all you good people visit the landmine site and other places today, they're giving away big time money. Be sure to hit them all up, and thanks.

Monday, December 11, 2000-08:07 p.m. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Work blows. Back to work.

Monday, December 11, 2000-01:05 a.m. I've realized something. (again). I'm not great at anything. At most things I'm only average. If this is not true, please tell me what I'm good at, so that I can practice it to perfection. Otherwise I'm going to learn guitar until I'm as good as Nick Drake, as sure as I'm going to hike the whole AT :)

Friday, December 8, 2000-01:30 p.m. I guess you guys are visiting this to see how I'm doing. I'm ok. I still feel like I'm missing something, like the point of life. My friend James insist that it has everything to do with treating my true friends better and acknowledging something between Sally and myself. I can't fathom anything he tells me, I continue to miss all his points, and drift farther from the truth. My biggest fear is that one day I'll wake up and see things, but they'll be so far away that it will all be too late. No, my biggest fear is that I'll never see what I truly want, and all my life I'll wonder from this to that, just wasting the time I've been given. There is an answer out there, isn't there? We can't just live our lives like this, can we? Waiting for something? Or maybe all of you have given up on waiting, and are just doing, but what are you doing? What is the difference between what you are all doing and what I'm doing? In short, what am I doing WRONG? And if I'm not doing anything wrong, why don't I feel right? It's all very twisted and confusing, and I don't see it making any sense very soon. Perhaps it's all too much to explain.

Tuesday, December 5, 2000-12:11 p.m. This morning in the bathroom I tried for ten minutes to put my underwear on without using my hands. Just thought you'd like to know.

Sunday, December 3, 2000-05:48 p.m. It's so damn cold in my study. I can't wait to have a computer in the basement. It will probably begin to fuzz by that august, but at least I can put on a heater, or something. And I'll be that much closer to Perfect Dark. I've been thinking about things, and decided that the time I have I don't do that much with. Mostly I amuse myself, but am I really amused? I hope so, otherwise my life doesn't have much going on. I'd have to say not really. And in the meantime, I'm not learing much either. I wouldn't want to rush off to college just so I can say I'm learing stuff. I'd prefer to be doing something that is: educational, helpful, productive, and fun. Then my life would be great. In the midst of my orgasmic daily life, time would make itself for a relationship, and then my life would be complete. But I guess it's not that easy, otherwise corporations would sell it. I guess life is all about the choices you make, before you know what you are supposed to do to make yourself happy. I'm sure we'll all figure something out...

Monday, November 27, 2000-07:13 p.m. Hey. I'm at work, doing the salad bar. Not much to talk about. I had to make feta cheese dressing tonight, what a pain in the ass. I'll be going to work again in a few minutes. Then I'll go home, go to sleep, get up at seven, and go back to work. It's no wonder people have mid life crisiss, or what ever crisis is plurally. And no wonder people go to college, seeing the alternative. Hm, well, back to work.

Tuesday, November 21, 2000-05:28 p.m. I'm enjoying some complimentary soup and smoothie, from the good people at Wellspring, God bless them all. All except maybe the guy keeps shaking my hand and calling me charlie. I don't wish him any ill will, but you know...I had to wrap turkeys today. Anyone who reads this please promise me you will never higher me to wrap turkeys, it's hard and I will always suck at it. Had some more quality convos, loosened up in the work place a little too. I spent most of the time today singing. I like this trend, I hope I can keep it up.

Monday, November 20, 2000-08:16 p.m. Monday, November 20, 2000-08:16 p.m. - A thought, in context to www.jamesdempsey.com 's piece of advice. What if, james, you feel obligated to spend time with the people you "love"? I don't mean to sound exisential or anything, but what if you'd rather do something else? What does that say, that you'd rather, oh say, play video games for eight hours than chat with a loved one? I don't know for certain, I'm just curious. I'm at work right now, which is pretty chill. No back busting foreign suited labor today, I handled the salad bar with a girl whose name I should remember but I forget. Anyone who's asked me how work's going and heard that I don't feel comfortable in the social atmosphere can be joyful at heart that I had some conversations today that didn't consist soley of a greeting and a how's it going? I think it's a good step, though I did get insanely bored twice today, the kind of bored where you wonder why you took this job and what you are really doing with your life. That was at five, three hours into the start of a day that will probably blend well into the next three months of my life. It's eight thirty now, about an hour and a half from close. I should be ok til then, but what about tomorrow, and the coming months? Will I be up to the task? Should I be? Who knows. Luckily I'll be with people I "love" tomorrow night; or at least people I enjoy hanging out with, whichever is more important.

Monday, November 20, 2000-01:05 a.m. Monday, November 20, 2000-01:05 a.m. - "Worker bees can leave Even drones can fly away The queen is their slave"

Monday, November 13, 2000-11:44 p.m. Monday, November 13, 2000-11:44 p.m. - Some zen from Charles: I was pouring sugar into my coffee. Out came a big clump, a very big clump. I hesitated, decided. I poured my coffee. It tasted good.

Monday, November 13, 2000-04:18 p.m. Monday, November 13, 2000-04:18 p.m. - Don't you just hate it when you have to take a piss but you're in a hurry so you don't want to take that long so you push it all out with your dick muscle and just when you think you're done and you've shaken it all out you start to put it back and a big drop just comes flyin out and lands right on your pants leg? I hate that shit.

Monday, November 13, 2000-03:25 p.m. Monday, November 13, 2000-03:25 p.m. - What's wrong with me?

Monday, November 13, 2000-02:20 a.m. Monday, November 13, 2000-02:20 a.m. - I just had the most vivid memory of something I used to eat when I was little. I remember LOVING this meal, I'd just wait around before dinner time for hours hoping it would be fixed. You steam broccoli until it has absolutely NO crunch, and then smother it in margerine you squeezed out of a large plastic bottle. In retrospect I should have put the butter into a little dish so that I could dip, but there was something magically enticing about slowly twirlying the little cleft of broccoli and layering on the butter like coats of paint. And OH GOD it tasted so good. Man. Well good night.

Wednesday, November 8, 2000-01:49 p.m. Wednesday, November 8, 2000-01:49 p.m. - Hi everyone. Right now I'm not particularily thoughtful, but I'd like to ask everyone something they can get back to me in their own time: should I only write when I have a developed thought, or try to write as much as possible, or does it matter? I'd like some input on this; I hear that all writing is good writing(in that it contributes to the experience of the writer), but I don't want the page full of boring stuff that no one would want to read. Not an easy issue to resolve. But let's talk about me. I'm hungry, and would like to eat something before I watch a movie on Kenneth's computer. I'll probably watch half baked, as I've never seen it yet have heard many a reference to it. Whether this will happen or not, no one can say.

Wednesday, November 8, 2000-12:59 p.m. Wednesday, November 8, 2000-12:59 p.m.-I just finished a fight with my dog's ass. If you've ever hung out in my basement with me, playing video games, reclining into the soft and sometimes damp green fabric, lost in the euphoric feeling of total vegetation, when suddenly a sharp odor hits your nose, and you look down at the ground, and there's my dog, rubbing his ass on your leg, and you say "Jesus Charles! Your dog smells like ass!" then you know what a joy it was for me. This was particularily repulsive work, seeing as I had to clip a vertical pile of doodie from my dog's butt hairs. Only for some reason he feels very attached to these butt hairs, so he tries to shield them from you against the side of the tub, smearing a little butt print into the white alabaster that faintly resembles modern art. One cannot help but curse. Then there is the constant threat of doodie-body contact, something particularily horrifying when a large clump of it slips off the butt hair and floats downstream towards you, leaving only a select few moments for you to react. In most cases I responded with a cry of "Doodie!" and tried my best to scurry out of the tub. Unfortuantely my dog would take this as a sign that fun time is over, commencing to hurdle the rim of the tub and rub against everything he can get his furry little ass on. I'm leaving that mess for the cleaning service. I wish I could say that there is something to be gained from wasting large portions of time, water, and toilet paper, dealing violently with a lower species, and a trophy collection of shit stained dog hair, but those seem to be the only consulations. At least my dog doesn't smell so pugnantly of his own ass.

Wednesday, November 8, 2000-10:14 a.m. Wednesday, November 8, 2000-10:14 a.m. - Standin on tha corner, suitcase in my hand. Sweet Jane! Yeah, it's me again. Charles that is. Song's over. Um, I've got a BUNCH of coffee running through my guts, along with an assortment of bread and potatoes(e no e?). I just got back from a buffet breakfast with mom, pop, granmom, granpop, and uncle bill. The conversation was mostly political, mostly censored. Don't you just hate that? Not that I can't stand a little oppression(it's healthy), but I don't see how anyone can prefer to vigorously nod with a strained expression on their face rather than just stare blankly at a person while their mind wanders, then all of the sudden pop back up like, OH! What? Yeah, I'm sure that would get on everyone's nerves after a while, but at least you won't get wrinkles. Bad wrinkles at that. Me and mom had this conversation quietly to ourselves over breakfast, she thought it was difficult to find ANY relationship where you were free to say what you wanted. I don't want one of those, but at least something where someone knows what I was thinking and understands where I'm coming from. Yeah, that could be even better, that way you wouldn't have to even say what you were thinking. I pointed out that I had spent a week around my friend Jen not saying what I wanted, and it was most unhealthy. I guess I'm just lucky to have friends who are friendly enough to stand what I have to say. You people know who you are(you're the ones with the vigourous nods and strained expressions). I'm gonna take a nap, then do some errands and take a little trip down to the beach.

Tuesday, November 7, 2000-01:32 a.m. Tuesday, November 7, 2000 - 01:32 a.m. - I can't sleep, I'm going for a long run. :-)

Tuesday, November 7, 2000-12:29 a.m. Tuesday, November 7, 2000 - So I'm back, and I'm updating. There's not much to say, which is alright. I was listening to my grandmother tonight, on my father's side, and she was telling my mother about a trip she just finished taking. She said there wasn't much to talk about, it was just a lot of relaxing. I can't say too much about my trip either, it wasn't a George Lucas film or anything. I might have learned some things, but I have SUCH a bad memory, it's too bad sometimes. Mostly it was a lot of internal conversation; stuff about how I should be a better person and talk to myself less and really START my life, I mean REALLY START IT. I've got a list of things to do. In the next few days I'm supposed to get a job, start excercising, begin a life long habit of meditating, learn spanish, the guitar, breakdancing, the art of making love, jiujitsu, plus reading a bunch of intelluctual books that will make me a hit at parties. I just hope I finally learn how to loosen up, to become the person a lot of people already envision me as. My friend James insist I'm in love with someone I don't know if I'm in love with, I wish I was, but wishful thinking can get you into places you don't really want to be. Or so I think. In the words of Stephen Jenkins, "I want someone to love me, maybe tell me who I am..." Yeah, I'm fighting down the demons, and crying out to a God I've never seen. But such is intellectual speculation. Who are you? that are reading my innermost thoughts? What gives me the right to proclaim what I think and feel to you? Am I wrong, am I right? Does it even matter? I don't want to waste a solid twenty year block of my life nursing children who might grow up to be something special but most definitely will end up like the rest of us, most of all, I don't want to spend the rest of my life convincing myself of something I was never sure of to begin with. Perhaps convincing ourselves of something is the one favor we can truly do for ourlselves, what do you think steph? And how does one become independent of the thoughts of others? How can one stop asking questions if they don't know the answers?

Saturday, November 4, 2000-11:29 a.m. Saturday, November 4, 2000 - Good Morning Everyone. It's eleven forty one here in Chicago, and I've just been awakened in the course of a wet dream(don't be grossed out, it's natural). The sad thing is that the wet dream was about me masturbating to the thought of a really hot girl who wasn't even in the same room with me or anything; the dream was I talked to this girl, got a thunderous erection, went into a bathroom and turned the water on, and started going at it. Then I wake up with a wet spot in my underwear. Very sad. I'm self conscious, of course. I have to run to the bathroom to clean up, but this being a frat house you are bound to run into someone, probably somebody you got drunk with in a manly way the night before. So to see some sissy running around with a wet spot holding his dick might prompt a mean name or two. But I did it anyway. I pass this guy talking on the phone with my johnson in tow, and quickly released it as soon as he shot me a look. Then I JUMPED into the bathroom, into the corner stall, and took stock of my life. I then had to devise a master plan for how to get back in the room without further embarrasment, but someone was getting out of the shower so I had to leave the confines of the bathroom. Fortunately no one was in the hallway; I quickly scooted over to Scott's room. As he was coming back from his shower, I threw a blanket over the wet one and me and politely listened while he went on about what he had to do today. Man, I feel like I need to redeem myself somehow, but how? There's not much room for redemption in Chicago, especially in a frat house where you walk around looking at all the guys and give a vigorous nod because you can't remember which one they are. I did run into this very passionate fellow with a desire to major in hip-hop, kenneth's soul mate. He was swooned when I told him I'd heard of some of the obscure bands he was used to peddling off on his sceptical friends(thanks for the background Kenny) so I got to listen to some of the greats plus his idea for a non fiction hip-hop bestseller. I felt kind of shabby during the part of the conversation where he identified the two types of people that listen to hip hop, the people that feel the CARTHARSIS of the modern poet mc's(him) and the posers that listen to it because their friends said it was cool (me). But what can you do? Sometimes I just feel the need to bunk down with some blind melon or Ben Folds Five instead of the Angry Ramblings of the Modern Poet. Pleh, oh yes, last night I met a girl from my childhood, purest fucking coincidence ever. She kept asking me how weird I thought it was, I replied not that, on account of me having forgotten her for what I'd deem to be the infinite chasm of time. She wasn't too happy to hear that, but we still shot the shit for a while over at a coffee place nearby. Good stuff, you can't knock coincidences like that. I've got to get her a call right now, more on everything in a while.

Sunday, October 29, 2000-05:42 p.m. Sunday, October 29, 2000 - Hey everyone. You ever heard the phrase now is the winter of our discontent? It's from Shakespeare, which I don't necessaily recommend, but it's kind of true, especially these days. Ten to one if I fall in love with any girl it will be in the next three months, based on an uncanny and immensely loveable sense of humor that will send tingles down my spine. Or maybe I'm just really sarcastic and no one can take a joke. Wonder why. But lying low is something I may be good at but don't necessarily enjoy, so it will be Rolaids relief when she shows up. Speakin of which, I've got a date tonight, the first in a while. Not an offical date, but we sarcastic assholes take what we can get. All sources point to the fact that she may dig me. I'm not fucking bonkers over her, but she's nice and pretty and hopefully I'll get something to remember her by.(Like a picture, of course.)

Sunday, October 29, 2000-01:03 p.m. Sunday, October 29, 2000 - Enough song lyrics. I'm feeling poopy. You know how you can feel poopy, and then a minute later not feel poopy, feel rip roarin ready to go, and will only remember how poopy you felt if you look back upon it? I guess I don't feel so poopy anymore.