things again

Hunger is a way to blunt feeling, the mind becomes obtuse and acidic.  

I'm tired of playing dumb for everybody.

But if I just tell the world everything I know right off I think I would seem like a cunt, to myself even.  

And I don't even know if I'd be able to.  I've fashioned myself into something socially acceptable but that does not make me socially capable.  

There are rhythms to conversation, there is talk and there is talk, a question and a statement and a reaction and a statement, we converse to learn about each other, to help each other, or to teach each other about ourselves.

I will not go on.  

How can I go on.

Why would I go on.

The opening ceremony in Beijing was something to behold, completely not what I was expecting.  

If I lived in China, I'd have some Chinese children.

I will mention that everything is going pretty great right now.  I'm hesitant to mention it, fearing jinx, like how Little Honda's speedometer will be working fine for a time and when I congratulate her for it it shudders and thuds back to zero.  Right now I'm looking at this happiness out of the corner of my eye, like she's got a knife in the folds of her skirt, but she's so so pretty and I want to dance with her so very much.

New bed.

There is a new bed where my old four-poster used to be, it is not really new, but it is sensational.  The new bed will make my joints happier, they pop and creak in the morning or when I stretch, I'm guessing under years and years of adolescent soccer and dance.  

I can't really write okay lately,

but it'll cycle back around here real soon.

Maybe I should just post pictures in the meantime.  

Here is a comic I did not draw please enjoy it.  It is tiny because blogger software is retarded, I am sorry.

funny

I mentioned the guy who sits in front of me with dreads and then I went to class this morning and he'd cut them all off.  This amused me and I decided we should have a conversation after class with cigarettes and it was awkward, and I forgot to ask the usual questions such as "What is your name" and etc.  

Mostly I was excited for him because while we watched the movie he would run his fingers through his short hair, feeling the strangeness of it.  

The nervousness in others is a comfort; I always see it from above even when I'm entangled in the thick of it and humanness is funny and cute for awhile.  

I am lucky it happens so often.

I saw a girl take on a blue mailbox today and it was really fantastic.  

ghhhhhhhh

Man sometimes it is the morning and I would just rather not deal, not with getting up and showering and drying and clothing myself and making coffee so strong it eats away at my stomach lining the way my other drugs eat at my liver and lungs and getting all my shit together and getting in the car and smoking a cigarette I don't enjoy and burning my mouth on the coffee and parking on Charleston and walking 10-15 minutes on the same route every day and sweating and being really bored by the people walking by and getting to class barely on-time and watching a really decent old movie and staring at the dread-y head of the guy in front of me who I think has a slow plan to strike up a conversation with me someday because he keeps borrowing my pen very cordially, very cordially, and when the movie's over I wander in a slow circle around Andrews and smoke and watch the buzzlebees and butterfrees who drone and meander in the flowerbeds, and some more people bore me, then I either go change in the bathroom and go to one job or I've gone home and changed and gone to the other, then I work, then I come home, then I cook food, then I sit around and eat and drink because during all this time I haven't eaten or drank (besides the coffee).   

This is really boring to read probably but man I don't know, for the past few days I keep sitting down to write something in this thing and I get going and going and pretty soon these entries turn into epic, detailed accounts of such as my childhood or stupid shit like this where far too many details are chronicled in attempts to (FOOTAGE LOST)

and it's boring, and stupid, so I just close the browser window.  But here's this one I guess.

trash anger

So we have some neighbors (possibly several different people) who, for the past few weeks, have decided that it's too taxing to lift the lid to one of the two dumpsters here and instead have started just dropping their garbage off right in front of the dumpsters.

WHAT THE FUCK.

STOP DOING THAT.

WHAT

WHAT THE FUCK.

How can I punish these people.  Throwing their trash away for them so I don't have to look at it doesn't teach them anything, and leaving a bitchy anonymous sign is... bitchy, as is talking to the apartment manager.  I SEE THEM DO IT.  They just stroll out there and toss their trash half-heartedly at the dumpster area.  FUCK YOU PEOPLE.

These are things I get really angry about before I've smoked.

breaking up

I just cleaned up cat puke that consisted of the neatly severed head and body of a wasp in thick, viscous mucous.  

The human is a stupid animal in that the brain can override the body, which is why so many people get off on painful stuff (jogging, tattoos, piercings, writing papers, s&m, etc.) because it is taboo in regards to nature.  Maybe.  I'm just saying shit.  I guess what I wanted to acknowledge was that the human puking mechanism still works pretty well; it is admirable.  You can work through some injuries but vomiting is never something you can really halt once the body has decided it would like to.  

But then there's bulimia.

(just kidding we're not going there right now)

Yesterday and today I've told people at the bakery that I'm quitting (last day is the 24th).  R.'s being a drama queen about it and doing his same Mr. I-Know-All schtick that would be more annoying if he weren't usually right about things.  I told my main boss today and made him so sad he couldn't look at me.  I'm not exactly "sad" to be leaving since that place is a dirty rule-laced minefield of corporate smiles and serious threats for minor uniform infractions, in short, I am not "down."  But I do feel a sadness for the bakery folk, those sticky warriors, los guerillas del pan.  I'm honestly sad to be leaving them, and a place where I'm comfortable with the routine and the people recognize my effort and are kind to me.  

I'm waxing too long on simple emotions.  I have to write a five-page paper by 10:30 a.m. tomorrow and still have to read some stuff, best get MOVING.  But first I will eat, a scramble, it goes like: you sautee chopped onions and garlic in butter or olive oil, then you throw in hash browns and brown them while adding seasoning (i like salt, pepper, a little curry powder, and cumin; sometimes rosemary).  Then: you put sausage in and let that brown.  Then: you scramble hell of eggs up in it and top it with shredded cheddar cheese.  I WILL DIE OF A HEART ATTACK no I will truly die by drowning, I don't know why I know this, it is just a feeling I have.  The the sweet, peaceful death of water appeals too strongly to my lazy nature.  There are plenty of pocket-stones readily available.  etc.

Siiiiick.

Yesterday at the bakery I was doing my thing when I heard this odd hissing noise, like Darth Vader, and looked up to see an extremely old man hobbling down the aisle in front of me with his respirator.  He stopped in front of the donut case and the following exchange occurred:

Old: What's a "fried cinnamon roll?!"

Me: Well sir it's like a donut, just a cinnamon bun that's been fried and we frost some of them!

Old: WHERE ARE THEY?

Me: (looks at case, where old man is pointing; the tray for them is empty) It looks like we've sold out of them for today sorry about that!  We have-

Old: Where do you get the price of NINETY-NINE CENTS?!

Me: Ha-ha-ha well the corporate office makes the prices and I'm not quite sure how they decide but the price for those is actually fifty-nine cents see that sign is for-

Old: That's SICK.

Me: ....

Old: (volume of voice rising) That's SICK.  That's just SICK how they think they can charge that for a DONUT who do they THINK THEY ARE?   THAT'S JUST SICK.

Me: Sorry about that sir. (walks abruptly away while he continues to yell at my back)

Old: SICK!  etc.

Doing pretty well other than old people hating me.

Putting in my notice at that job, decided today.  It's just impossible for me to keep working there once full-time classes start.  I like the people I work with but I'd much rather spend my time at the office, you know, helping people with disabilities, instead of being screamed at by them for minor inconveniences regarding baked goods.