wrangled and wrinkled.

Friday, December 30, 2005

James:

James, black wash denim. Carries on down the street his crate of tools. One hammer, one saw, a crowbar and nails. He scuffs his shoes, he doesn't walk right, he continues on down the street. Taking his cargo on the left side of the road, James and his conscience think together. He can only be good or bad.

Maybe James can be a little of both.

People pass him, they stare. Sometimes they throw things. Sometimes they are insults, one time it was a can. He took it to the metal works and got 10 cents for it. James throws insults at himself too. Those, like the can are recycled. The same inadequacies fit each time.

Lack of smarts, James thinks. He thinks he lacks in a lot of areas. He thinks not like normal people do. Texture has a lot to do with it. Each situation is related to him by texture. If it is wrong, it rubs him the wrong way.

Nothing can prevent James from feeling what he feels, and he likes this most of the time. And he likes his hammer, his saw and the crowbar and nails.

The door swings wide.

He stops it with his right foot, which has an untied loosely hanging patent leather shoe on it. "Morning.", he greets. He remembers: Beth, John, Steve, Tom, Joyce, Al...Blond hair? He does not remember this one. Seemingly, with burning-iron red glowing eyes of imminent doom she turns to him.

Swing do his arms, he drops the crate of tools.

He takes care of his hands, and his feet. James' father, Job (Joe-b) told him to remember to do this. He can kinda remember a lot of what his dad did or said:

"Take care of your hands, so they can mend. Your feet, keep them dry. Keep clean socks beside the radiator during the winter, James."

James also remembers other things. Some of them are: Job's fondness for gumball machine gum, fishing caps, and pin ups. Those ladies now are 80. James' memories of his father are pinned up in his memory, but are now fading like the beautiful buxom ladies which then hung against the wall of the garage.

The tool box is empty. The tools are stocked on the hardware store's wall. They are the same tools, in a new environment. Usually they fly off the shelf. Now, however, they remain hung and left to shine. Maybe to display there value and their luster. Or maybe to hang.

James leaves the store, but first ties his shoe. He takes his crummy old crate and heads back up the road from where he came. He admits he would do it as many times as it takes.

Thursday, December 29, 2005

"I sleep light...on these drugs tonight."

Ok so now everything makes me want to get physically ill. I watched Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, like I may have said (previous update?) and when I was done, I felt as if I was on drugs. And when the room started spinning that same night I assumed I was. I also slept light that night, just like the song lyric. I just feel sick when I think how I it wasn't really a trip. If it were fake it would be over by now.

So I can only perceive this as an actual event.




You cannot change the past. Is CHANGE the only thing that can quell the burning in our hearts of our shortcomings?


Difference. Similarity = Mediocre. Similarity as an excuse, similarity is not perfection. Perfection is a haunting dream humans have. We can never achieve it. We will never have "perfection". Or what our tiny brains preconceive as "perfection". We can work until our bones literally bleed and our brains decompose and still never be happy. With friends, you take good, bad and (thank you Sergio Leone) the ugly.

Difference is what makes us long for Similarity, but once we think we have it, it turns out to be Difference again. Our idea of difference is an uncomfortable one. It (the idea of difference) EATS good qualities, feelings, passion, love, and forgiveness. It destroys true meaning.

The "Difference Monster" is man's real problem. We base Similarity on Difference, as if one was more important than the other. So when something isn't the same, it is bad. Difference does not equal bad, it equals evolution. A chance for our mind set to change for the better and to adapt with new knowledge.

We (should) celebrate our new knowledge.

The ONLY similar thing that exists is DIFFERENCE. If we cannot except difference we will never grow. We will never live outside ourselves. We will be concentrating on what makes things "similar" and comfortable to us. Difference is true comfort. Knowing nothing will be the same the next time said, spoken, or breathed. Knowledge in this should excite us, and invigorate us. Not seperate us.
"...I'm standing there and she's not talking to me. I couldn't stand it, so I just stepped up and said, "Patti" I put my hand out, doing our old thing, which was the boy handshake. She goes, "Wow Penny, man, wow man, you look exactly the same, man, you look the same." I said, "Yeah so do you." But I didn't feel any connection. I felt there was a Plexiglas screen up. And she goes, "Man, I gotta get a cigarette, I'll be right back." So she goes back to talking to Tom Verlaine, and she doesn't come back. She's not coming back. I'm standing there thinking, What the fuck am I doing here? I don't wanna be here. As soon as I heard it in my head, I went over to Pattu and said "Patti, I'm sorry, I'm gonna split. I really don't want to be here, I just came down to see you."

She said, "Wait a minute, where are you going man? Where are you going?" I said, "Well I'm gonna split." So patti goes "Well where are you living man? Are you living in Spain? Or are you living in Maine? Where are you living man?"

I said, "I'm living in Maine." and she goes "Aw Penn, Penny, man I don't feel so good, I don't feel so good, my stomach hurts." I put my hand on her stomach, and I said, "What's the matter, Patti?" She was going, "Man you know..."

I looked at her and I suddenly realized who Patti had been--like who she'd been to her friends--she was now using that in this public way. So she couldn't be that to me anymore, because now it was for everyone. And I realized that Patti had sixteen people around her telling her that she was the best thing since sliced bread, and for her to see someone like me, who knew her, she just couldn't see me. And I felt really bad for her. But I didn't want to be there."

?

Tuesday, December 27, 2005

"I lived with Johnny in New York but it didn't work out. Johnny and I were going to get married. We were going to have a baby, too. I did get pregnant, but I had an abortion. Johnny tried to destroy my personality. He wanted to sit there and be quiet and tell him I loved him twenty-four hours a day. I liked to run around and have a good time, but I did change for him. I mean I was becoming the type of person he wanted me to be-just stay home everyday. After I was with him, I just wasn't Sable Starr anymore. He really destroyed the Sable Starr thing. He made me throw away all my diaries and all my phone numbers down the incinerator and he ripped up my scrapbook. It was a good one, too. It had everything in it. After that I was kind of destroyed. That's why I felt so bad, to have been such a hot shit and to be let down to such a low level."

Did I do this?
Do I have a prayer?

Friday, December 23, 2005

Yesterday at 7 I went for a long drive but made it back in time for the basketball game. Sam and Josh came over and watched as much as we could until 9:30 which was the time we were supposed to meet Ryan and Jamie at Cw's.

Then from 9:30 until 11 we watched this table of 7 drunk guys make fun of a highschooler in a letterman's jacket. It was pretty entertaining, and the Cavs won as well.

After Cw's we went back to Sam's and played Star Wars Monopoly. Sam got out first, then I saw myself wavering so I created a conglomerate with Josh to stop the juggernaut Ryan. We tried, but no prevail. All and all it was a good game.

Thursday, December 22, 2005

Last night I drew a tattoo on my hand and I woke up with a smeared version of it on my inner left knee. The version I drew on my hand was blurred, and since I have washed my hands it is almost totally gone. It had the autobot symbol in it too. Such a shame.

I took my sister's dog "Belle" with me to the bank. The teller didn't even give me a dog treat. LAME.

Monday, December 19, 2005

"There wasn't much to salvage from the wreck of Jamie Sommers."

Friday, December 16, 2005

I watched House of the Flying Daggers tonight with my parents. That and Hero are two really good kung fu movies. The people who made them have a great grasp of design and color scheme. Even if I didn't like kung fu I would still like these movies.

I don't understand why the words boobs and dick are bleeped out of TV, but they can say hell, damn and shit.

Saturday, December 10, 2005

The mess of my life.

Don't let selfishness become your vice.

Tuesday, December 06, 2005

Dayquil makes my head spin. For some reason, though, it helps me feel a little better than with no medicine at all. Thanks, Casey for the Dayquil.

Saturday, December 03, 2005

Graphics lab = San Quentin.

Friday, December 02, 2005

Finding a Nintendo during finals week isn't good. Especially with Super Mario Brothers 3. Luckily I have a majority of my work done for my final portfolios. SMB 3 is pretty addicting. I will regret saying I can't wait until this semester is over. Because it puts me one step closer to graduation. Graduation is going to be good, but I know it's going to be hard out there. Hopefully Max and I can find a good place to movie into. I wouldn't mind getting a manual labor job so I could paint and save money. Just hoping it all works out.

I need to open a savings account so I can learn to save money. With my next paycheck I should. I think you need $200 to start one however. With most of my money going to Christmas presents it doesn't look like it's going to happen. I really wish it could. I need to start saving the little money I have so I will save it when it is a large amount to.

So much to do.