Cut-ups

The question is: where to put one's foot?

At such moments

I heard in myself something

Like a tocsin, a strange admonition:

``In this world, progress is for our descendants alone.''

In myself, I began reproducing the person I wanted to see.

Gray is all Theory

Unless perhaps in dreams

In the rhythmics of slumber

Where words by turns spurr on conversation

And symptoms of technology are not accepted

Everything had changed by effect of a single conviction

And their contempt for us will have no end on the worlds to come

Who begins to write with me

The great dice game of existence?

Men could enter, but air could not

Men had replaced the prehistoric water

Where violence organizes itself into a scene

And shades of erotic meaning in a woman's hat are virtually incalculable

The spontaneous impulses of the individual sensiblility

Bores the ordinary man more than the cosmos

Which is the emphatic and aligned

Business knows how to make use of the threshold

With the aid of electric light

So good so far

Today has been at least as productive as yesterday.

It was all I could do to clean the bathroom and straighten up. But that made it easier to mop and clean the kitchen this morning. And I've read a tiny bit.

If this keeps up, I may even do a clean system sweep, and then I'll be able to log the painful details.

Maybe it will be inspiring.

One thing I'm thinking of doing is keeping discipline over my projects list. Only keeping the things that actually need doing on it, for this week. Then keeping the some-day list big and reviewing it weekly, so that I (hopefully) move things over when I've accomplished something.

Wish me luck!

Tips and Tricks

What do you do to get going?

For me, I find that I frequently can't leave the house if it's a wreck. Cleaning, ironically enough, helps me get out of the apartment. Maybe it's something about coming back to a less depressing place, like I experience every time it's out of shape.

Telling myself repeatedly that it doesn't have to be perfect. Just better. Helps when I'm working on a project that I've been getting obsessive about, like writing.

Have to do a distasteful task? Set a time. Give yourself 20 minutes and then take a 5 or 10 minute break. Go shorter on the timer, if you need to. A little bit at a time is better than nothing. Just accept the small steps.

Accept that you cycle. This one I'm not so good at. I want revolution, to move from nothing to tackling everything all at once. Sometimes small steps are all I can take. Just accept it. And learn to shorten the oscillations.

What do you do?

Lethargy

I feel really lazy. But relaxed.

Just got back from a vacation with the family and it was really fun. No talk of school. No Christmas fight.

My system is so out of whack.

Maybe if I clean the apartment.

Most of all, I feel lonely.

a kind of freezing dread

There's a certain feeling I get.

And I'm getting it right now.

I haven't taken my medication today, and that usually makes it go away.

It's a kind of paralysis. A kind of dread and embarrassment for my life.

I really don't know why I keep postponing taking my drugs.

Sometimes I'm afraid they'll work too well.

Sometimes I'm afraid they won't work at all.

Sometimes I like feeling depressed.

Time

Well, I wasted another day yesterday.

And am trying to make up for it today.

Who knows. Maybe I'll even go to the library, see the concrete lions.

God knows, I have enough to do.

This sucks

I feel so terrible.

In some ways, worse than when I lost the job.

But really, I should be happy.

I tried.

Both the job and getting it back. Really, I did nothing wrong. If someone else did what I did, I'd be happy for them.

But I feel so ashamed of myself. And so guilty.

I feel like someone hit me.

Not a good experience when I'm about to go and disclose my madness to my advisor.

Grievance denied

Well, a while back I filed a greivance for loosing my job without warning.

I lost.

Should have prepaired myself for opening that letter. Shouldn't have read as much as I did.

I never had much hope. But it still hurts.

Looks like I'll quit drinking another day.

Where to begin

I frequently feel this way.

I've updated the system and now I'm directionless.

What to do now.

It's all laid out for me, but anxiety about a beginning.

Well, I suppose I should just start.

Support

Hi all.

I went to a bipolar support group in Manhattan.

Wow.

My head was spinning after I left.

Good people. Both supportive and scary. If that's the future, I'm in trouble.

But it was nice to hear other people's problems. And nice to hear I wasn't alone with my own problems.

Some were very intense.

I feel a little awkward talking about specifics, because it's other people's lives here. Maybe I'll just leave it alone.

Hey

Know I haven't updated in a while.

Stay tuned.

Hey

Know I haven't updated in a while.

Stay tuned.

How much of this is on me

You know how alcoholism and obesity have genetic components.

But behavior--i mean, if you never drink, you're not an alcoholic, no matter your genes?

And if you make a real effort, your weight problem will not be as bad as if you have the same genes and eat at mcdonalds all your life.

Does bipolar work the same way?

If I had tried earlier to have better mental health. Had not taken acid. Worked harder in therapy.

I don't know... Not acted as crazy, would I be where I am today?

Freegan smoking--the problem of papers

It can be a problem.

If you're like me, you hold onto each left-over pack of papers from your favorite handroll.

but say you don't. Or say you ran out (like I did today). Or say you want a totally free smoke.

Bible pages.

I'm totally serious. One, the pages are really thin. And the ink is likely non-toxic. And you look like a bad ass with paul's epistol to the romans hanging out the corner of your mouth.

And bibles are free. Just call the gideons.

Any other thin paper is good too. Right now, i'm smoking the collected works of plato. But shakespear works as well.

Cut the pages into 1" * 2.5". 3hen roll with quite a bit of saliva. Like you're rolling a blunt.

And you'll feel like a cowboy.

Fear of menus

This is an odd one that I forgot about the depression: paranoia.

Sometimes, when the depression's at it's worst... Well, all to frequently, paranoia rears its ugly head.

I grow fearful of everything but one world government and black helecopters.

I guess I don't wear tinfoil hats, but I do begin to think about strong crypto, which is similar.

What can I say. It's my own agression I see as persecution.

And it sucks.

depression

I'm sure we all have our own ways of being depressed. Here are a few of mine:

lethargy

numbness

doubt

isolation

insulation

procrastination

playing stupid video games

melancholia

And here are my ways of getting out of it:

medication

movement

seeing friends

cleaning

getting angry at things

The therapist is always saying that depression is anger turned inward. And I believe it. That's one of the things I have to do, stop doing that.

But anger sure can be scary--my own and other peoples.

Blogs blogs blogs

I now see this has turned into a diary, sort of.

It wasn't really my intention to do so.

I'm not sure everyone wants to read every detail of my rather boring life.

There were a few things I wanted to share--my experiences with gtd (which i hope to get back on, today or tomorrow--expect a post about that, or maybe not), drinking and other drugs, and bipolar.

I suppose, in some ways, the journal tracks the ups and (mostly) the downs, but maybe it's better to be specific about them than to trace events.

Anyway, at the doctor's recommendation, I've been looking at some blogs and sites that talk about abilify.

It's a little scary-- akasthenia (i.e. shaking, tightness of muscles, affects about 25% of people), possible death, hallucinations. Good stuff.

I sometimes wonder if reading about side effects makes you feel them

Some good, some bad

Been spending money like I have it. But I honestly don't.

if you don't count that sack of tobacco I bought on keith's dime, it's been all family obligations.

And been getting shit for it.

Shit for borrowing money I don't want to do things for others.

On a positive note, getting some poems published.

first ones I ever sent out.

Well, I know the editor.

Sometimes therapy sucks

So. I was frustrated. Brought in all this stuff I wanted help with.

And he's always offering to help me with little stupid things.

and I thought if I brought them he'd help me.

And we could't even get through the list. He wanted to talk about what they mean.

And he hammered at me.

Everyone wants to remind me what my role in creating these things is.

Which, if unsympathetic is probably more important than what I want--hand holding.

well. Everything else is going my way today. Even the trains.

Total luck

found 7 smokes in box on street. And with plenty of time to get to therapy.

On top of that, was able to get up at a reasonable hour after good sleep with odd dreams. Must be stressed ones.

Wonder what freud would make of them.

On top of all this, found my train ticket (7 rides left), a penny, and my MTA card still works.

Small things, to be sure, but i'm greatful. Maybe things are beginning to break both ways.

Maybe i'm making better decisions.

May my good luck continue and rub off on you.

not much doing

went out with cousins for my cousin's batchlor party. very tame, which was fine with me.

actually, a lot of fun. spoke with this little kid, son of my cousin--i know this means something like second cousin, or removed cousin or something, but i've never been good at this sort of thing.

and had lots of brazillian meat.

and today, kind of wasted it. for some reason, stayed up till five last night/morning. i could do it tonight, but that's always easier with five liters of beer. had some last night. first in a week.

hope things get better, but not holding my breath. ten cents short of a pound of flower. maybe one package of pasta. not much else.

see therapist tomorrow.

mom emailed me. apparently, it's over--in a good way. news to me.

wants me to go on vacation. feel pressure. hate taking things, but who am i.

already borrowed money from him. which is odd, but whatever.

took my seroquel and drinking coffee, so should be asleep soon.

Further hints on freegan smoking

So, I've layed out the basics and thought about the variety of butts I've found in my neighborhood.

But here are some other hints:

If you don't want to directly bum a cigarette, pick-up your butts in a conspicuous space. Smokers will feel sorry for you and bum one, almost always.

Have a couple of routs. I've got two or three.

Manhattan, much to my supprise, hasn't panned out for me. Maybe it's the neighborhoods I've been in: mostly midtown. Perhaps the villages are better. But they're mostly conspicuous, and I get embarrased when too many people see what I'm doing. Perhaps the side streets would be better.

Find places where you're likely to find butts. The obvious ones are bars and outside apartment buildings. But there are less obvious ones. For me, the laundromat was a real find. I suppose that someone there smokes alot, but gets called in before he (I assume it's a he) can finish. Perhaps bodegas or Korean groceries work the same way.

Another important thing to consider is timing. It's probably best if scrownging in front of establishments to wait until they close. The exception may be bars, since here in nyc, some bars don't close until 4 am. And with any establishment, they may clean up. Say you hit a bar, perhaps they've emptied the ashtray--you're sol.

I like to hit bars before happy hour (unless you live in `billyburg, when happy hour can go from 11 to 7. It beats the rush, and the alcoholics who've been drinking all afternoon have left plenty of buts.

Another problem is rain. Rain-soaked butts will not yield smokable tobacco. Atleast not at first. I find that microwaving loose tobacdco for 30 seconds seems to dry them out. Another advantage to this is that the tobacco becomes puffier (for lack of a better word), meaning you can roll bigger smokes with less tobacco.

Anyway, I'll share more hints as I find them.

Good luck with your tobacco hunting, and may you find the tobacco of your dreams

food

of all things i think of out in the world that it would be nice to buy. anything, everything.

even at home, food never leaves me:

beer

whiskey

cheese

eggs

steak

chicken

pork

something new

something old

linguine with clam sauce

dark chocolate

i guess i just get sick of the same things: salad and a loaf of bread a day.

this is no way to live.

tired and low

i'm real low right now.

nothing, i mean nothing, seems sweet. either tired of it, or just don't want to do it because it seems worthless. no joy, barely even tolerable.

melancholy.

i don't want to go to therapy. i don't want to read. i don't want to computer. i certainly don't want to go out and pickup cigarette butts, but i do want to smoke.

nothing's working. there seems to be no point in doing anything; i'm fooling myself. about everything.

i do want to run, and not just for the exercise.

i want to run away.

start again.

because nothing seems to be working out for me.

suppose i'm lucky to be alive--i was a mistake. mom told me if i hadn't been born, she'd still be married to my father. well, i guess no longer. he's dead.

try living with that. but i'm sure you've got your own cross to bear and far be it for me to go and compare scars with anyone. we all have them.

and if you're like me or if you suffer depression, than you know what i mean.

looking for good news

but aren't we all.

cut my finger, hell on typing.

no cash, no bank, no loan.

bills from everywhere.

shit, i could be going to court for back rent.

loan check's almost spent before it's come in.

and i said to myself the last time was last time.

am i really that much of an asshole?

what is it with girls breaking up with me--through technology.

first the cousin with the text message (that was worse) but the recent one over the telephone.

at least when i did it to the psycho-girl-i-was-dating, i did it in person. not to brag or anything. i didn't act my best, though the best i felt i could in that situation. looking back on it, i wouldn't have brought the chicken wings.

anyway, this one hurts (don't they all).

and, of course, i have no money to drink.

endless summer

time.

so much of it.

too much. lost my way, i have.

going to meditation would be good, but i'm sure i'll find a reason not to. for instance, i could kid myself into thinking about doing homework.

there's a laugh.

well, atleast i've been cooking and cleaning. and doing a little writing for myself.

now i'm going to nap. hey, gotta be some benefit to being broke and unemployed

A Few

Gazing Upon the Mountain, Contemplating God's Work

Ridge at the mountain's edge:

a filet of rock. I

gaze like Argus from ledge

to ledge and thank, sigh,

and worry clasped to Hetty.

Huck and I

Huck and I used to

cheat corpses--their animal dread

in the gloom right through

the vacant plot, as threads

a needle in the psyche.

The Idle Student

Daises turning in the wind

across Malta. There gazes the

world-worn pupil in sin,

idleness, specifically. And sun be

the world, shining in situ.

Wolf Cub

Calm, they say, before the

blessed break. G-d above sent

a worf cub striking a

raw tendon, a freak accident

and the wound will scar.

Chloroform

But world half broke open,

after fifty-six huffs of chloroform.

And the scion of Hoboken,

stoned on the metro platform,

waiting, the train comes? No.

it's just nice not to have to pick up cigarette butts off the street.

not that i'll stop, just it's nice not to have to.

depression

didn't even know that's what's been happening.

just feel listless. melancholy, they used to call it.

there just ain't no pleasure in this life, and i'm too lazy to go to the other one.

and i'm not really that into pain. not that it has to be painful, but it's got to be at least a little uncomfortable.

feel like watching tv and drinking. but no tv and no beer here.

no tv and no beer make coward go crazy.

speaking of strong crypto

hate long and intricate passwords? after all, the best passwords aren't passwords at all, but random key combinations.

i hate 'em. one way around it, if the length of your password is arbitrarily long, is to use passphrases. you can achieve as many bits of protection as you may want. and a good solution to generating these phrases is diceware (for non-u.s., try this list--it's been internationalized).

i've used it myself, and while i don't know how successful an attacker would be (suppose i keep a low profile, but now that i've mentioned it, murphy's out to get me), but it makes me feel secure.

so, i'm paranoid

clinically so. confirmed by therapist. he's seen me go through it. talked me down some.

i check for the emergency exits. i don't like to sit with my back to the door. i believe in strong crypto, and for the most part, i know how to use it.

i believe in security through obscurity.

i've used tor, though i don't have it configured at the moment.

and lately, i've been working on a project: what would i want with me if i had to go, immediately.

the go bag, i call it.

it comes in two parts: the small and the large.

the small is between a toiletry bag and a tote bag. it contains the essentials that are hard/impossible to replace on the fly.

the large? all i need for urban camping.

here's an incomplete list of things i want. unfortunately, it's not yet separated into small and large.

gobag:

drugs

pens

alcohol

tobacco

coffee

water

cup

food

calling card

$100 cash

$100 visa card

mta card

passport

phone

voice recorder

keys--my own and other peoples

maps

compass

umbrella

clothes

toiletries

sowing kit

small tent

small sleeping bag

train schedules

notebooks

books to read

small, legal knife

medical supplies

shoes and boots

USB drive

GTD stuff

small toolkit

tape

work gloves

mace

winter stuff (hat, gloves, socks, etc)

dice

cards

cards keyed to a secret deck

usb w/ os for strong crypto

mres

gold

water

toughbook

so, what do you think? i know i'm missing things, would like to hear what else you think i may need.

What I got for 18 bucks

Letus, romain.
Tobacco, amsterdam shag, peter stokkebye.
A green pepper.
Yeast, 3 pack.
5 pork chops.
beans 1 lb.
Coffee 10 oz.

City's a harsh mistress.

how much protein can 59 cents buy you

not much. at least, not in this city.

thought i could get some beans or something. got to have something like ninety cents.

guess it's just a rich man's world.

at least i have enough to make some bread tomorrow.

Broken

It's tough, having no cash. You can't replace things.

Out without your tissues, your drugs, clean clothes, food, tobacco, your book... Well, that's too damn bad.

not really sure why i haven't been posting

i guess i feel like i don't have much to say.

which isn't exactly so. i'm the kind of asshole that could talk for years on a deserted island. even if there were no smoke monster.

and something humiliating but interesting did happen on monday. therapist lent me some cash, because i'm out.

and it sucks.

again.

and i thought we both wanted me to start the new meds--abilify. needed thirty bucks to get it. and we talked for a long time about it. made me feel better then, but not so good now.

then there's the procrastination. fear compounded, at this point. maybe finish up with the novel i'm reading for the nth time. then work? cleaning? baking?

we'll see.

Abilify

So, I finally started on abilify.

But the dose is low: 5 mg. I was hoping I'd feel different right away, but it's hard to tell. Maybe once I have my blood levels up. Maybe when we up the dose.

Still, the promise of no more seroquel by some point in November is exciting. I'm done with seroquel. The stuff knocks you out. And it's not quite the right drug for my condition, though not so unusual.

But, to be off it, that's the dream.

Confluence of money and love

Yes, can't buy love. Legally. Or, as a direct finantial transaction.

But there's always money involved. Needs must be.

and that's one of the most frustrating things about recurrant cycles of poverty.

Difficult to maintain romantic relationships.

sorry i dropped the ball a little bit

haven't been posting lately.

been busy. had that interview for my grievance. remember when i lost my job? well, it went pretty well, but don't have much hope.

well, gotta run. gotta see this girl i'm dating. it's going pretty well. and good god damn she's sexy.

see you on the flipside.

Ugh

So i'm dating in another secret relationship. First the cousin. Now this. Makes me wonder. Will I ever have a normal, as far as any relationship can be, ewlationship?

or must it always be doubly occulted.

feels good man

so, i got re-ups on my tobacco, coffee, food, beer, cash, phone.

that first pull on bud, that first pull on the peter stokkebye, that first text from the phone... starting to feel human again.

reminds me, once heard from a grey beard re:fucking up while teaching, "it humanizes ya"

well, the humiliation of being in a capitalist world, walking up and down the isles of plenty, having a few nickles to scratch together, but amounting to nothing... it humanizes ya. humiliates ya. it's between the two deaths--yes, you're alive, but for all intents and purposes, you're dead.

sort of the inverse of the soviet system.

i found a stash of drugs. kept me like human. only went a couple of days off the meds.

maybe doc and i can talk about abilify.

imagine i will before that hearing friday.

haven't been hitting the ativan, things have cooled since the summer. and it will feel good not to sleep as long as humanly possible.

shit, i could sleep right now.

i know this post's all over the place.

but i got things to do.

can't believe i was that careless

lost a week to worrying.

but the money's clear.

and i'm spending it as fast as i can.

but things build up. imagine going a week without any money.

it's amaizing i could do it.

of course, it involved a lot of scrownging. picking up cigarettes was the worst.

so it really wasn't that bad

stupidity compounded

so i been waiting on funds to clear my bank.

thought i had deposited it over a week ago.

and i had. on the 10th, in fact.

shit should have cleared on the 14th.

but i never checked the on-line statement.

so i should have been on their case over a week ago.

so it's both my bad and my banks. but... well, i think there's enough blame to go around for everyone.

new to me tobacco

bond street? top (pre-rolled, not rolling top)? this plus?

what the hell are these cigarettes?

dieing, one day at a time

but aren't we all.

still, a drink would make it easier.

not that i'm an alcoholic. yet.

but i haven't had one for five or six days. and i'm stressed.

but who isn't.

on the smoking habbits of queens

if you look hard, are lucky and patient, you can find the cigarette butts of your favorite kind of tobacco. i don't mean brand--that's too much to ask for, but menthol or regular.

and the variety of brands surprised me. malboro lights i expected, but parlerments? and of course reds, camels, newports, the usual characters

and that's not even the improbable ones: american spirit, lucky strike filters (haven't seen those in years), kents (what my therapist smokes), djarums, merits, benson & hedges, rollies, malboro menthol, the odd european or russian, just to name a few.

and as long as no one says anything to me, i don't feel the burn of shame.

but what it leaves me with, besides the odd smoke, is sorrow.

another day

as usual, the therapist gave me some things to think about. says i don't deserve this--rings true, no one deserves this. but all to many people live it.

i'm playing games with poverty. i don't have to live like this. resources are available. if i feel like i deserve it.

i wonder when i'll turn it around.

i think a lot about my case on friday. want to say something like:

i'm grateful i even got a chance. but in the grand scheme of things, this is barely a speed bump. i'll get by with or without your help. and you can make this waste of time meaningful by helping me out. the ball's in your court.

i've got nothing but time. and if this road doesn't take me where i want to go, i'll look into other options. i've got the time and it'll be well worth it to feel i've made my best effort. but the real deal is to live well. and i'm already half way there. i've got no ill will towards you people.

never had.

a new thought, and not a pleasant one

maybe momster stopped payment on that check.

which would put me back to square zero

freegan smoking

so, as you may know, out of my own tobacco.

been almost 24 hours since i ran out (and days ago ran out of alcohol).

so i'm left with a difficulty: how to smoke for free (since I've had $.88 for most of the week).

so, i've figured out a variant to hobo shorts.

still working with rerolling shorts, but this time i find them out in the streets.

now, if you can't roll (and i strongly recommend picking up this skill. you're sure to find a mentor when you go to jail, but some say it's not worth it.

Anyway, if you don't roll, you're limited to shorts from bigger cigarettes. and the little ones really do add up, because they're much more plentiful.

But there's another disadvantage to pulling shorts found on the ground: you're putting your mouth where someone else's was. And while you won't get the bug this way, there is something disgusting about it.

well, gotta roll. got to enjoy the fruits of my labor.

went for a little jog

been leafing through James Fixx's book on running.

sure, it's from the 70's, but a lot of the information is still good. and he's a good writer, whenever i look through it, it makes me want to run again.

so, getting back on that horse, smoking over a pack a day, which is a smallish handicap. and the effort was weak. around 1.5 miles.

but i do know that if you keep it up, time and distance take care of themselves.

it wasn't so long ago that i was running 6 or 7 miles, usually daily.

and i'm sure i can push it harder, but later, much later.

found some cool blogs

was searching for some good blogs.

found some new to me:

wild abandon

bipolar supporter blog

bipolar happens

bipolar connect (this one seems more technical/advicey)

pendulum.com

let me know if you know other ones.

little help

hey gmail gurus.

having a little trouble with gmail.

i finished a draft of an email, sent it along, now i'm having trouble removing that email from drafts.

i'd like to archive it. failing that, remove it from drafts. failing that i'd like to contact someone at google that can help me out.

no luck.

if you have any advice, i'd greatly appreciate it.

my contact info

i've noticed a couple of people have searched for my contact info, so i put my email to the right. just below medication and the search box.

i've tried to disguise it a little, writing ``AT'' instead of @, which i hope people can figure out and will trick the spam.

if the inbox gets too spammy, will have to find some other way.

but, if you like, feel free to contact me. i'll respect your privacy.

and if you want to remain anomymous, there are several remailers around the interweb:

Anonymous speach

My trash mail

Anonymous email

Anonymous

Trashmail

Mailinator

i've never gotten mailinator to work, but i've had good luck with my trash mail. the others, i've never tried. for most of these, you can set-up a password so you can check and see if i've replied yet.

i haven't set-up pgp yet for this account, so i can't cryptographically sign or encrypt. if this becomes an issue, i'll gladly set it up (if you're posting from outside the US, there's international pgp, which pretty much works the same way).

another lonely night

left for a minute, twice, actually.

scavenged for tobac, which i spoke of a few minutes ago.

then, down to the mailbox to send my girl in maryland a postcard.

was good, saw my bodega guy.

for all the difficulties, do love this life.

somedays, i think i'm only posting to get something in my inbox

maybe i should send myself letters.

god knows i have enough postage. if only it were money. wouldn't be rolling other people's butts. and if that ain't a double entendre, well, i need to brush up on my poetics.

most of all, i remember the quiet

washington heights, about two years ago.

drugged out of my mind on geodone. eighty mg, twice a day.

new psychiatrist did a double-take when i told him that one.

and up there, above the street--something like 130th and broadway.

it was dark but the lights from the street, bright.

and the reggaton--didn't get to me.

just smoking, out on the fire escape, not thinking a god damn thing.

i could almost see the river.

and the days. see, i had the bed bugs.

so most my stuff--trashed.

pure white addedas, blue jeans, white shirt.

looked like a b-boy. and the folks treated me that way--always asking if i was holding, or if i wanted some smoke. course, i thought i looked like a mental patient. and i suppose someone kicking that style in 2007, well, they'd have to be a mental patient. at least in that hood.

but me, i was just cold, distant, and quiet

pretty tricky, no

so, no smoke.

but i roll. so all i need is some tobac. and where do you find it?

the streets, of course.

outside bars is good. hotels too, but none to close to me.

and main drags also be good.

people putting out tobac all over. no need to even pull shorts--just reroll.

and if anybody asks--you're cleanin' up the hood.

scoring

so walked down to the atm to make sure i had no money.

and i don't.

but found three longish butts. now i ain't going to pull shorts from them. naw, that's nasty.

going to break 'em up and roll the shit

ain't got a pot to piss in

if only i lived in a hood that sold loosies.

now that'd be something.

as it is, all or nothing neighborhood. that's what you get for moving up in this world.

so down to my last smoke, and regus already burned all my lifelines.

well, serves me.

life sucks sometimes

i finally got a time and date for my grievance hearing.

but it's impossible to go and to make my psychiatry appointment, which is a little later that afternoon.

why must things suck like this.

it's almost like i'm cursed.

it makes me feel like giving up.

anxiety of procrastination

so last night it hits me.

being off the lamictal doesn't help.

probably should have bought it yesterday, when i still seemed to be covered by empire.

now that i haven't been paid, i'm pretty sure that empire is over.

so back to paying for drugs and holding my breath while i wait for them to reimburse me.

which, of course, sucks.

so, tommorrow about $450 bucks will clear the bank, but it's already spent. $200 to at&t (need phone) $150 to utilities (need power). And now I'm going to have to lay out something like $200 to get the lamictal.

if only i had that $5 a few days ago.

of course i had it, but two things--one, took too many by mistake, so short, so insurance wouldn't pick it up for a few days. two, had it again, but wanted to see lara, so blew what little money i had ($10) on food to make her dinner.

should have picked up the meds and gotten something cheaper, smaller.

why do things have to suck so much.

whew

wow. did that take forever.

but i'm glad i did it now, before it got totally out of control.

now, everything is labeled and the labels work. though they add quite a bit of visual clutter.

too many one-offs.

well, in attempts to ballance this new clutter, i've tried to pare down the things on the left--blogs that I really don't read, reference material that's no that useful, that sort of thing.

hope the new design works better.

let me know

Labels finished

So, I guess it will be easier to find things, if you're so interested.

Wow. What a pain. First, had to reread every post and put labels on them.

But it was exciting, in a way.

Then had to go back through them and put commas between them, because I wasn't paying enough attention to how they wanted them--made each post's list of labels one label. Which kind of defeats the point.

And the predictive text, it threw me for a loop. Had to sleep and realized this was a job for cut and paste.

Could have written a perl script, but as I'm only going to do this once, and the perl script wouldn't make it that much faster, just went with cut and paste.

labels

i know, they're all screwed up.

i'll fix them, eventually. but in the past twenty-four hours i've read and labeled every post thus far--almost 250 of them.

so i'm a little tired of hearing myself.

might toon out a little.

drat

so, i've spent all this time trying to label everything and i was wondering why it doesn't list the labels independently.

that's when i notice that they have to be separated by commas.

drat

say what you will

but the music always came first for gg.

sure, there was blood and other bodily functions.

but he was about the music.

tagging

man.

it's something else to go through all the posts on the blog you've made.

not to complain.

more humbling.

little help?

hey.

been trying to tag my posts this evening.

have the dream of tagging them all.

goes well with wine and punk (gg allin--new obsesion. good one, by the way. if you're into punk, strongly recommend it. if you're into old school rock (read between rock around the clock and elvis, try punk. or, if you're into polka, punk works as well 2/4 time signiture (more england school))).

anyway, rereading posts. lots of typos. some intentional. don't feel like the ones i wrote truely, profoundly drunk should be edited.

unexpurgated here.

anyway, any help on mispelling or typos greatly appreciated

have you ever noticed

that gg allin sometimes sounds like nick cave?

maybe it's just me.

drinking rather shitty wine.

A hard one

Been working on a new poem. Proving difficult.

Need to do some more research.

Tell me, guys, do you like it when I post them?

I can stop if it's a distraction. If not, I can pull some out of the ol' archive.

the poor thing about gg

been watchin too much youtoob.

and what i can of gg allin.

when you look at the crowds, you realize that he's a revival. revival of punk. at the same time that he's the logical progression of it.

then end is... well, in his case, frayed stone washed blue jeans.

a liberal, in the sense of js mill, not democrats.

so onto poverty

of which i only have peripheral knowledge.

but i do know this. it ispires madness. and i mean urban poverty here. i don't know much about rural poverty, but i imagine the vastness of space and the inability to effect it in a capitalist world would also inspire madness, but of a different sort than the urban.

it has to do with noise.

just one anecdote.

i was living in a basement. and it opened up on an airshaft between the tenaments. garbage piled eight feet high.

bottles were thrown and i used to fear shards would pierce my window.

there was a man, i knew so by his voice, who used to yell. and just when you thought it was over, he'd yell again. this went on for hours. neighbors used to yell back, "shut the fuck up." but he just kept on yelling this voul sound.

and that was in addition to the cars with their reggeaton.

and those on the stoop.

shit was live.

and imagine the young scholar trying to get his studies done.

long excursus. and i can't get away from myself.

but i've seen it. i've been to east new york and talked to the young bloods. and i've been to north philadelphia and talked to the young bloods. and i've lived in neighborhoods. i've seen it. bombed out houses. i've had cops stop me for no reason other than i was in the wrong place.

and i've heard them saying that the only reason they stopped me was what would my mom say.

and what would my mom say? she was teaching in those neighborhoods.

teaching young bloods.

and the stories.

gunfire. whisk the children inside. phone call to the principle. gang appologizing. they were only trying out their new weapons. didn't mean to upset the school.

and it goes on.

but when you listen to the churches. when you listen to the blues clubs.

when you see the communities.

shit. i lived in one of the most racially charged neighborhoods in america. and i heard abuse when i went among the periphery. and when i was in trouble. and i was in trouble. a car load of youths offered to pick me up and take me on my way no questions asked.

they could see i was in trouble.

so when people, and i know i'm on a rant, talk about the problems of the urban, i just wish they knew more about it.

like our current president does.

instant coffee and fresh bread

so. i've had less than sixty cents in my pocket for about three days.

but more than fifty.

which buys you less than half a small coffee in this town.

and i ran out of coffee and lamictal yesterday.

but wait. the white horse appears, unbidden.

brother. whom i was upset with when last we met.

well, $100 dollars later and about a quart of coffee on his dime, and all is forgiven. mostly because he didn't bring up the obvious.

fuck this. i feel like i'm just narrating for my own purpose. more and better to stick to topics.

pro cras

I've been putting off working on my advisor's assignment.

I know this is bad. It's been for several reasons. The latest, I coupled my attempts to get in touch with mom with finishing the assignment. But I've done that.

The worry, she'd respond immediately. And in a way that would get me all riled up such that I couldn't work on it.

But there's no response. Meaning she's either thinking about it, or she's away from the email. I can't decide.

But there's a third alternative--she's giving back to me what I was giving to her.

Which is possible.

And I don't know what's worse, a response or no.

Anyway, it leaves me with no excuses other than I have some problem with the assignment, which I do...

I'm afraid. Afraid it's not good enough.

Well, time to face those fears.

Oh, the review

yeah. it went pretty well. tried to cull some of the things i'm never going to do.

was moderately successful.

projects: 60

someday-maybe: 350

todo: 140

I know those numbers are a little high, but I've been procrastinating.

On to the paper for my advisor.

And substance abuse. I know I haven't been posting on that lately. It's because I haven't been able to aford it.

religion and madness and bipolar blogs

Bipolar guy has an interesting video up at his sight. An anthropologist talking about the relationship between bipolar and religion.

I'm only kind of interested in it, but if you are, here we go (http://bipolardaily.blogspot.com/).

I really like his blog, as I've said before. I only wish he'd post more.

If you want to read another bipolar blog, but this one's a little while, I can recommend (http://armybp.blogspot.com/). I'm not really sure he updates it anymore, but the archives are... different.

I feel for the guy.

I just want to say that posting to this blog really helps me. It relieves stress in some kind of way. Maybe it's fun being such an exhibitionist (though an anonymous, if that's possible). Maybe it's just sharing some of the stress in my life.

It's neat that some people have read it, and from all over the world (don't mean to brag).

And if you haven't done it, I think you should give it a try.

If you do, send me the link. I'd really like to see it.

Just wrote mom

whew.

That sucked. Not as much as the phone call I'll inevitably make, once the phone is turned on again. Once Ma Bell gets her two hundred.

It was good I had a game plan--worked it out with the therapist. It was mostly a good one.

I'm afraid I wasn't contrite enough. Oh well, how much can you grovel before it becomes repetitive.

And I no longer feel bad that I have to appologize for something she essentially started. But I did take it too far.

It does show me one thing: our relationship must not be so tight if I can go so long without calling. To be honest, except for the last few days, I didn't think of it at all.

Which says something. Not to get over dramatic, but it's kind of like being an orphan--not relating to either parent.

The sibs have interesting relations with them. Sister always felt close to dad. Brother with mom. Sister fought Mom, but through that fighting, they grew closer. Brother hated dad and I sometimes wonder if he's gotten over it (bronther, not dad. Dad's dead.)

Me, I never understood either one.

fast cash and review

So, I finally have a positive ballance, something like $450, which is good, but none of it is accessible.

Damned out of state checks.

Now, I should be getting paid, wednesday. Need some money before then. can't get by on 65 cents forever. And i'm running out of instant coffee, which, once you get used to the flavor, can be quite wonderful. Haven't had it in...no. there was that time with Sylvia. And should you put in the right amount of milk, it turns this beautiful orange, like just after dawn.

Well, going to the check cashing place. Maybe they'll let me post-date a check for surely an exorbanent price.

But first, the review. then money. then down to work.

Vamoosing the Maser

fiat alone will not do

it's crap this world, though

a wopper junior would stew

inside your... a wreck of

your delicate constitution. A cousin's

hunch that lint trapped within

a vent by static alone

measuring capacitance--farads myriad, mainfold

ultimately vamoosing the maser, thrown

across your kitchen hellbent, comet

shiny in the night sky

above Vaduz. And au francaise:

la vie, non merci. Try

and miss the withe as

as it larups. You, exult

grasp and gasp for word,

words loll discontented from above

the ruined Ruanda sky, absurd

it is. The age of

the world more than blonde

urea. Without a grand oley!

in loci parentis that tyke

will wonder why would a

a circle be unary like

a whip across your torso

one day this will all be over

when you don't have enough for candy or beer, what do you do with yourself?

and you watch the utilities get shut off one by one.

the one i fear the most is electricity. i believe i have 10 days. i should be able to make it. with any luck. if they keep paying me.

one day, this will all be over. and perhaps we will remember it, fondly. well, parts, anyway.

the hole

well, aside from a few as yet unacounted expenses (internet bill, various fees, dry cleaning i may or may not have, drugs i need to pay the co-pay on, that sort of thing), the hole is not as big as i feared, $4,446.81.

add on maybe $200 more for thing left unaccounted, maybe a couple hundred to get through the month and i'm only looking at 5 grand. plus about 50k in student loans.

it doesn't look too bad, really.

doable.

man do i wish i had that ativan

so, i need to have five bucks before sunday so i can refill the lamictal.

and i need fifteen for the ativan before they send it back. it'd be real embarrasing to tell the psychiatrist i couldn't pick it up because i didn't have the money.

wonder if he'd believe me.

i don't know if i believe me.

trying to get a handle on the finances. got gnu money, which, aside from some minor annoyances--which i'm sure are my fault, seems sweet.

but it produces anxiety like a mofo. to see where you stand, how many thousands you owe.

and all my dreams of the vacation melt into air, to steal from berman stealing from marx.

haven't been posting

yeah, i've slowed down a little bit.

don't think it will be forever. two reasons. one, my phone's been turned off. i like posting from the road, something reckless and impulsive about it. perhaps compulsive, but that's another post.

second, well, i've been procrastinating like a mofo. two thing i don't want to do and i grind to a hault. never used to be like this. i always pulled something out of my ass at the last minute. sure, i was often ashamed of what i produced, but who cares, it's done.

not in grad school. extensions. the devil's tool, that is. they're right evil.

i need to learn to respect deadlines again. it's effecting my whole life.

how do you deal with the impulse to procrastinate?

fourty six cents

i was wondering how much coffee a dollar sixty five could buy.

one cup at the bodega, sure, but how far would it go if i went to the grocery store.

thought i could get more, and i did.

instant coffee, generic, two ounces.

all for a dollar nineteen.

you can get anything you want here, if you're willing to pay for it.

lives

see most people only get to live one life. at a time, at least.

those other lives, their just watching.

gnu cash

so, getting serious. about how little money i have. but it's difficult.

seems the free software--can't get it to recognize how far in debt i am. it seems to flip it to a positive.

so, instead of being under $1100 bucks (except loans, bills, etc)...it seems to think i have some $900.

if only that were the case.

maybe i have to wait 'till i have a positive ballance.

poverty redux

One of the frustrating things is the time/money axis.

I've got the time for an afternoon beer. it's a lovely day.

but of course, no money.

racisism

some ice cubes tried to escape!

if you know what i'm talking about

then you know what i'm talking about

doctors are the true christians

they believe in life.

at any cost.

a doctor has no part in funerals.

A fun game

Rules:
1) five words per line
2) five lines
3) one word, determined at random by diceware http://world.std.com/~reinhold/dicewarewordlist.pdf (if you get an abrieviation or a word not in the dictionary, roll again (don't use the oed, unless you're on expert mode)); that word goes into the position of the line number (i.e. on the fourth line, the random word is in the fourth position)
4) the order of the five digit number is determined by position along the box's larger dimension, if rolling five dice in a box, or one at a time, if rolling one die outside a box
5) rhyme every other line (slant rhyme allowed) (i.e. ababc)

corollery--each word determined at random is exactly five words away from the next random word

examples:

sloe jin fizz bought by
a cop eyeing refuse that
he'd easily slag until mystery
and world did bite, spat
blood and all that's known

Geese dance, I find it
as lewd as those monkeys
when they unite in public
on a yoga mat, absurd
it is like insomniac junkies
earning by pedling their hineys

Mite who takes a piss
like papa brought into this
world, a hue ungodly like curdled
milk. A cookie batch. bliss:
it's more chunky than gawky.

Crack in the glass would
infrequently converge toward the path
of landed gentry. They should
fuck off, take soma, math
the unforgiven world and wince.

speaking of porn

no bidets over there, but pornhounds has an excellent set of girl copy examples.

even if you don't really go for this kind of thing, it's not terribly explicit, and hysterical.

twice

so, i get this statistical report every week, letting me know things about the readers, like ssns, credit card numbers, sexual orientations, astrological signs, that sort of thing.

but it also tells me if people are searching and find my blog what they are searching for. not surprisingly, gtd and unemployed gtd are up there.

but also is bidet porn. not once, but twice.

wacky world we live in. i don't even think i've seen a bidet in real life. but now i know what my next letter to barely legal is about.

Penny dreadfulls

Off to see lara.

Would love to make out. See her panties. Run them through my mouth like dental floss. Kiss her starfish. Shuck her clam and many other much more kinky things.

Well here's to hope. One day.

memories of the old man

hey.

just thinking of my dad. weird. i remember wanting to kiss him, open mouthed. didn't do it. i think.

still odd. maybe as odd as when i asked my girlfriend to hit me in the face. which she did.

wasn't as much fun as i hoped, but still hot.

and jill, smoking dope and fucking. great afternoon.

though, hard to beet making out with waxman and eating chocolate chips.

then again, what is

On the vocabulary of anne rice and road side slush

Odd vocab in pecular places.

And lists transendental.

What is it with lesbians and luffas

Don't know where to begin with this one.

Hope it's not offensive to my strong feminist sisters.

Hobo Shorts

And by that, i mean, the shorts from a cigarette. Not questionably clean boxers.

Trying to clean.

At times, it's overwhelming. But one thing I learned from zen master Grass--clean to clear your mind.

Who knows, a day late and a dollar short I may actually get something done and turned in.

This week, on the scholastic front--and I suppose most others--my performance has been weak.

Though, I'm truly shocked that I don't feel worse, given that I drank almost five liters of beer.

I'm slow to forgive, slower yet to apologize, slowest to admit my faults; which are myriad.

I too know what it is to lie, cheat, steal, the criminal, the late-knight onanist, the fiend not wanting. I too have seen the gates of hell with my own eyes, and know I deserve it.

But for all that, I say with Calvin, that it is by grace of god that I am allowed a moment in this fallen world.

Grace, it seems a theme lately.

Weintraub (also a theme) always admired Burke's formulation "the unbought grace of life", which seemed to me always a tautology. But Zizek says that there-in lies profound truth.

Well, the spirit is a bone

the imaculate piece

it's one of these things.

that one creates a perfect piece and nothing else.

well, for some, it doesn't work that way.

creation begats creation.

and if there is an edge

well, that's just the way things roll.

yes, i'm angry.

and wouldn't you be. if things went the way things have been going for me. just one fucked up thing after another.

and i know that i haven't been dealt the worst hand.

yet it's trying me. i haven't been telling that many people this lately, but it's just too much for me.

too much humanity.

and maybe i deserve it. maybe it's just my deserts.

and i don't even know what to say.

man, is it right?

fuck right.

is it....

well, fuckit.

there ain't nothing to say.

and that just gets me madder.

mad as a hatter, this one.

and i don't give a good god damn if you...

well, all i can ask for is absolution.

all i can ask for is grace. and it's grace, in it's purist form. smacking me in the face.

all that comes my way is grace.

not that i am one

but every one is always telling writers what to feel.

because they are supposed to record what they feel.

what they are.

even in fiction.

which is why everyone calls them whores.

just an idea

and one i might run with.

an author imagining the imaginings of what an author's life is like.

though too metafictional.

when you've got nothing to live for

there's always duty.

you can because you must.

and i wish i knew the german for it.

the whole thing makes me so enradged i can't find my lighter.

so much for the impersonal style. maybe when i'm sober.

but it does make me think. what is the audience. just someone to vent to, some ego project?

well, what would be the harm in that.

with the occasional visitor.

but what is wanted?

what?

craptastic!

here i keep watching these movies.

and keep going to these apartments.

and everyone has the bookcases of dreams.

and i've got maybe a dozen piles of books on the floor.

with more in the closets.

the novel that goes no where

it's all about how slow blogspot is.

and i write it here so that i never write it anywhere else.

yes, that's right, this is my garbage can.

it's like a diamond

or any other piece of shit that gets turned into something... else. i was going to say valuable. under preassure.

and i'd be nothing without spell-check.

the idea, perhaps recycled, perhaps believed to be original.

don't mean to grind on my cousins.

but it's time.

there's gotta be

something in two hundred posts.

probably shit.

bloggedity bloggity

sometimes, we wonder. both the coward and mm, who is forever here.

always.

we wonder what's to become of it.

and i know i'm deviating from the path of impersonal.

fuckit.

weather. sky. and if i havent laid it on you before:

caelum non animum mutat. sed caelum mutat.

the sky not the soul changes. but the sky changes.

my epitaph.

cry down

can't help it.

can't stop talking about him. taught me to read. in a history class, no less.

i know i bore you to tears with hugh miller.

well, to go onto a new topic.

the new novel.

it's about a new york apartment building. during the time of aids. and all these artsy people, who can't pay their rent.

seems genius. why hasn't anyone done it yet. even as a musical.

but that was cynic. and all the stars watching us. and what do we do. the hardest thing is to turn words into more than that. and by we, i don't include myself.

recalcatrant

it's a choose your own adventure. in a way. whichever way the wind's blowing.

as long as you're blowing.

oh.

and how soon it fails.

though, even self-indulgent, there's just that touch of the other.

and since i haven't gotten all lacian on you lately. it's the big one.

looking for an analyst. of the lacanian variety. if you can find it, it's in this city.

but i'm strictly bridge and tunnel.

manhatta's dead.

i don't know

and the list can go on enlessly.

well, i know some things.

avoidance, responsibilities met and evaded. the unenviable position.

well, haven't we all.

and into these things we all go. as if there were some choice.

life, precious, no matter how manifest. and we, the luckiest of all, what do we do with it?

i've never said something as true. as trite. but the water...along the surface, those dancing on the meniscus. well, we could learn.

water.

and the noun that goes here in the game of mad-libs.

there's nothing to say.

the autobiographic

this is not what you think it is.

far more borring.

Weintraub. the man with two watches.

the man who could lecture on a phrase. "and words had changed their meaning"; haven't they always.

well, he did it. and i can't remember what he said.

it's a shit-poor memorial to a great man. and i mean that, in spite of the gym placement test.

memories half remembered. time spent with him and not with dillan. well, you've got to do something, if you're not watching the mcgloclan group.

and words had changed their meaning. ninety minutes, he made it dance the way that lacan made petite object a dance.

the man, confusing. never understood. spqr, role playing games, romans on the moon. and how don't we know. the seas named in latin.

they say there's water there.

matt never should have left omaha

shout out, if you remember this one:

chicago delenda est.

oh, yuc. my alma mater.

and those times, writing papers.

and the dark haired wonder, who preferred me to the blowfish.

well, there's always the dunes. and memory.

not to get sentimental.

why is bidet porn always so dissapointing
so australian.
and that knife before you, a URL.

By the hour I watched VH1
no telling where this will go

and off in the middle distance
as always
the cry,
cri-de-cour, ineffable

three witches, sharing one eye
this is wretched stuff, terrance

girls

so, what's best to do for the broken hearted?

it's like that loose tooth--the one just starting to teeter. you push and you suck. can't leave it alone.

and all the while making things worse for yourself.

must say, like the new, non-personal style.

and if you must, can always infer.

sleep

have you ever done that thing where you wake and you think it's dawn but it's evening?

or have you ever had the kind of nap that is so disorienting that when you wake, not only don't you know when it is, but where you are; what state even?

i read a novel once, the title too pretentious to put here, where the main character remembers a nap. the best in his life.

we've all known that. if we haven't, then so much more to look forward to.

i feel like i should

and no doubt i should,

be more topic oriented. less personal. though i'm sure from time to time i'll dip into it.

it's really just a shift in perspective--take the object of concern and objectify it.

so, let's have at it.

lola, siento

i feel like i'm boring, which i no doubt am.

failing, as it were.

this space left intentionally blank.

feel like a schmuck

not calling the momster.

i'd a douche. it's that simple.

but i do have a small excuse.

and this time, it's intentional, which probably makes it worse.

oh well.

cash money never gonna play-out

got payed today.

low and behold.

things come to those who wait.

and i didn't even have to do anything for it.

of course, might not last. so let's spend it as quick as humanly possible.

can't take it

two messages from the momster.

and i just can't take it any more. would work better if i turned something into peter.

then i'd feel like i can do this.

so, taking the 9:25 train, so i can get away and so i can buy some coffee.

resolved the tobacco issue. returned a surge adapter to the pharmacy. bought tobacco.

might have been able to buy coffee as well, but didn't want to press my luck.

if only i had paid for it with cash originally.

but saving receipts finally came in handy, although i haven't been good about logging them.

it's amazing how one night's stupidity can ruin so many other days.

well, it seems like thoughtlessness is remembered long after thoughtfulness is forgotten.

out

well, i seem to have smoked the last of my tobacco.

now the suck begins. no booze. no tobacco.

and tomorrow, i'll have money.

but tomorrow is a long time away.

i really would have been better off going to that other credit union and depositing the check...

then again, it would have taken a week to clear and i'd be destitute.

oh life, what fun it is.

the butt ends of my days and ways

twice, thrice smoked cigarettes.

when you roll, you can take your butts and break them up and roll them again.

it isn't pretty.

but what is when you're impoverished.

the worst part--i don't have enough.

poverty

poverty, that's where i am.

walked down to buy some tobac, sweet demon tobacco, and insufficient funds.

so i know i'm in trouble. luckily, i got a check from the monster--$500, which does me jack today.

when i deposit it tomorrow, they'll front me $100. but not until then.

tried another fcu, no dice.

well, it's practice for real poverty. after all, this is more of a cash flow problem. and a poor judgment problem.

GTD and unemployment

hi.

i've noticed that most people who find this page through search are interested in gtd and unemployment.

being both unemployed and a gtd advocate, i think i'll write a few more posts about this.

and it's an interesting marriage.

Odi et amo

Pero, hay muchas moy problemas hoy. Pero, a havlat el poeta catullus, ''"obduara mente...obdura''. Paero el hable tambien ''fulserr qouddam candidi tibi soles.'' y ''pedicabo vos et irrumabo''. Sed mi ''favorite'l es de lucretius: ''caelum non animum mutat. Sed caelum mutat.'' the sky not the soul changes. But the sky changes. Con mi amor. Mi perdita, lo siento. Mea maxima culpa. Per christom et domimum... I'm sorry, mm.

Columbia and related matters (with a brief excursis on Straussianism)--oh, I make myself laugh

Used to hang at a Columbian hipster bar (you can find anything in NY).
Very good place. Had the wildest thing--a little terrace that hung
over the bar. Bands would play on it.

Went to a Halloween party there. My costume was Obe Won--the Ewen
McGreggor one. One day Sir Alec Guiness. He's my favorite.

Of course, the best one is Empire. Love the "you're not my father" bit.

And who doesn't like the incest aspect.

First day of class, if I make it. Have an afternoon appointment, and
school is 60 miles by train.

Well, if not today Thursday, which is the class i really want to take.
E. Ann Caplan--not that that means anything to you, but she's a kick
ass scholar. Real gem (and I don't mean the rock-star cartoon, though
she is that). She sent me to theory camp. One day I'll go again. Can't
get enough Dominic LaCapra. Who can?

What can I say, I was raised by a historicist (academically speaking).
Though, he misrepresented himself. Claimed to be a 19th century-style
german historicist. Which he was, in a way. But his training was as a
Straussian.

You might remember them. Very influential in the early Bush
administration. I believe Rumsfeld was one. Among others.

Scary stuff. Strauss believed in what's called the ``Straussian eye.''
Believed certain people could read right. Others only believed myth.
Undemocratic. But loved Gunsmoke.

Have you read the 9/11 commission report? Makes the Tower commission
report look like Aristotle's Nichomachian Ethics (yes, i've spent too
much time in school. studied greek and latin, no less. Read with David
Green, of the Committee on Social Thought (``we think in groups'').
I've studied too many things--classics, history, art history, writing,
20th century novel, 20th century poetry, briefly film (though i have a
kick-ass paper--terminator and aliens, both films about abortion),
critical theory, textuality, german idealism... the list goes on and
on).

Well, gotta let you go.

Enjoy Columbia. Good drugs there, though don't get caught up with the
Cali cartel.

Bogeta-- good avenues. Caracas--good beaches. The mountains to die for.

Gets chilly.

Poetry of the every day

Tilapia, beer, french onion soup.

The everyday is inherently lyrical--the poet brings it out.

just a thought

but can one drown in one's own sink? depends on how big it is. kitchen, no problem. but bathroom... that's the challange.

thought about the future tonight. future of flirting. it's only getting better folks.

well, suppose i better sign off.

362880

they say, or rather, phill dick says, that you only need 9 indicators to unambiguously identify a person. that's less than 400,000, if taken factorially.

well, maybe it's exponential.

one thing you can say about the coward

he is prolific.

just add booze.

looking for a lacanian

well, i called columbia psych.

might as well do it right if you're going to do it at all. especially with the head shrinkers.

hopefully, they'll find me one that takes my insurance.

hugh millers

when we were studying the middle age, weintraub did the most amazing thing.

he took a will and made it move.

the main protagonist? hugh miller.

he was an ordinary guy. chopped wood or something. maybe wife and kids. little house, grew vegetables.

but then weintraub made him move. what happens should hugh die? what would become of his wife and lands?

it was incredible. we spent some time on that document, as we had on so many others. he could spend hours on mere words.

I remeber this one morning with lei.

We had such intense sex. It was not the only one. But it was so intense...

Well. That's over.

so i think about goofing off

and then what would i do?

dick and kant

i mean, common. it just writes itself.

how can it not be my first comp lit paper.

loaded to the gills

And ready, full bore.

well. this seems handy. full of beer. and ready to read some kant.

will that the maxum of your action were a universal law.

couldn't remember that one the other day.

age.

you can't beat it.

time

time is elusive. too much, not enough.

creapping endlessly. the pure product of apprehension.

imagine a being outside time. experiencing everything as the eternal now.

inhuman.

time has a face. janus. two, in fact. all that money spent on education--worthwhile, to speak of abstractions in unreal space.

it takes so long for some certifications. others come naturally.

just ask judge schreber.

borred

well, have to exist. work looking better and better.

that's the way these days. socializing, which i don't feel like doing, and working. it's looking good.

life--why do i have to be so pathetic.

down because no date

so, that stripper i picked up on sunday...she stopped calling me back.

don't know what happened. care to believe she lost her phone.
well, don't worry it. there will be strippers in your future. no doubt.

and maybe i can pick up that girl i talked to over the telephone... much easier to do when unaccompanied by a stripper.

but it's interesting. didn't seem to bother me that's what she did. we all do something, and you kid yourself if you think you're not trading your ass...

an unpleasant thought. well, maybe you're doing what you love. and if not, there's always your free time to do it.

Beer in the afternoon

Well, don't I feel accomplished. Got the dread letter out. Got Latex working on the ol' machine (2 kinds--Lyx and something else)...printed envelopes---that's something.

Now, if only I'd work on my homework. We'll see.

Delivery Confirmation

So, sent off that letter to the president et alii.

We'll see what happens. Not too optimistic. But feels good to move on this, and at least I have my bases covered, should I need it.

Now to find a job, which doesn't look good either.

latex and misery

and i don't mean the kind you wear. or sit on and it sticks to your legs as you try to climb out of your k-car.

i mean the software package based on donald knuth's tex.

yes, this one is going to be boring and geeky.

and i'm having trouble with it.

you wouldn't believe the junk you get whenever you prepend your google search with ``easy''.

And people wonder why more people don't use linux and latex.

girl copy

well, found this person writing on the internet, oddly enough.

he was reminiscing about writing girl copy back in the day. intrigued, i wrote him an electronic mail. asking is it possible to write girl copy these days.

well, he got back to me--and though possible, unlikely.

so i thanked him, said i'd follow his advice (be professional and sane) and get back and say how it all worked out.

well, he wrote me again. i guess even ex-pornographic writers get lonely.

harder than i expected

always surprised how much force required to remove delicate things.

letter

so i drafted a letter i'm sending to the president of the university.

seems i don't even have to file a grievance, just send a letter asking for a meeting. which doesn't seem to improve the situation or anything.

still, it's a chance to use certified mail!

what need have i of this world.

lamb, eggs, cheese if i need it.

coffee. tobacco.

roster sauce.

Days of Rage

Days of Rage

It's just been one thing after another.
These have been days of rage.
Brother.

I've lost so many friends and loves.
Paring it down to the divine core, the
love that passeth understanding. The
unbought grace of life for this sinner.

and peace be with you as with me as
we strive to make this hellish fallen
world into very heaven.

But more than anything
i'm bored with this life.

Tijuana Bible

tiajuana bible

something fucked
coming through
like she was talking to herself
and not that well.

The Lonely Philoligist

the lonely philologist

in place of feelings, topology.
Transformations hidden or misremembered. A landscape, formed from the
horizon-the literal one, the one always out of reach.

Now we enter the longest leg of our journey. No virgil, no dante, no
anchises to guide.

But the rails run straight. And the timetable, which long ago
standardized, well, no need to tell you that.

Clause consecutive or final, none the less. Some distinctions are only
made by the lonely philologist.

lamb chops.

succulent. medium rare. grilled.

and mint jelly, rosemary. wine.

mashed potatoes, with the skins, with gravy made of droppings and wine.

pearl onions. some with crab apples around them, sautéed in butter.

coffee ice cream with pure chocolate and butter.

some skin and fat roasted for the gods.

well, one can wish.

shall and will

in my letter, i'm using shall over will as to my representation.

fowler would be pleased.

apparently, shall represents a certain certainty that will fails.

will seems to be more of a wishing thing.

all of which are tecnicalities that i don't suppose anyone will (or shall) notice. yet...

one can never be too precise.

perhaps a bit premature

but i miss her.

haven't heard for a couple of days from the girl i'm supposed to date this saturday.

trying not to drive her crazy.

deleted her from phone book. but remember last 3 digits of her phone, so i should be able to recognize it.

should she call, right to voice mail.

pleasantly buzzed, latexing

well, i don't mean the plastic kind, if that's right.

i mean document processing. how boring. but if you don't latex, you should.

it's fun.

so, got a call from the rep. no grievance needed. just a letter via certified mail.

well, here goes. fewer words, the better.

so i'll be concise. as opposed to here.

reviewed

ok. so took a couple of hours. not surprising when i've been away from it for so long.

overwhelming but relieving at the same time, as ever.

like to be on top. sure, some things are slipping, but it's all i can remember at the moment...

like the audio recorder, which i just can't face, so it goes on the list. today.

Turning it off

Going in review. From scratch. So, tuning out for a few hours. Something tells me the world can function without me.

Ugh

gotta review today. it's been so long, it's like starting over.

but i know it pays off; already helped with the lawyer.

never used to do this sort of thing, hold onto documents and such.

turning over a new leaf.

i know it's bothering me because i feel overwhelmed, even though i know i don't have much.

and...

still the grogginess. thanks seroquel

slow day

i know i haven't been posting the way i have been.

can't keep it up forever.

but i guess it's going ok. met with the lawyer today, discussed my grievance. doesn't sound good, but doing it anyway.

he seems cool. thorough. like him. trust him. seems upfront, active.

need to be more like that. have been, lately..

other than than, not much. have a date saturday. looking forward to it.

well, time to sack out.

perhaps more tomorrow.

as long as i got a sink to piss in

i'm happy

talked to liz

hey, davidco rocks.

had a nice chat with liz. she's awesome. strongly recommend that strong women.

so much going right in my world.

Anyway

It's nice to see i'm still capable of the incomprehensible.

always a danger.

And, well, the world is getting bigger.

And i met a girl with booty. booty the likes of which god's never seen.

god knows why she speaks to me.

went to a (ashamed to say) strip club last night. picked up a stripper. not something you can say every day.

she's cute, and interesting. god knows when my old ass is going to do that again. they smell great, and you'd be surprised what you can get away with in the champaign room.

but as kris rock says, no sex in the champaign room. but lots of grinding, and some making out.

jebus, it was hot.

young blood

so, out last night. full moon. union squarish. certainly st. marks.

so, at the crosswalk. this youngblood. barely bar age, she's staring me down. beautiful. mohagnoy skin. deep brown eyes. egyptian make-up.

ask her if she wants a drink.

one day. later

drinking on a sunday afternoon

alcohol is my drug of choice, but if the next door neighbor could get me some halucinagins, i would not complain.

like them.

well, feeling fine. buzzed. could nap, could watch tv, could sit and listen to nirvana, which i am doing right now.

life is good. it's been good to me.

momentary victories

i moved my airconditioner. i know, seems like not much. but it opens a new world. the world of the fire escape.

i think i'm going to put a little grill out there. eventually, flower boxes. it's nice to have in a city where every square inch matters. i've added about five square feet og the great outdoors.

i keep worrying

worrying that my family will find this.

they say you only have to give nine markers and you are identifiable. i've given off more than that.

who else is single, manic-depressive, abuses substances (wine and beer today), is organized via gtd, broke, lonely.

well, here's to you should you figure it out.

one more, on greek

one of the most mysterious things to me, understanding. episteme.

both the same, both topic and metaphore: to get something one must stand under it. but why.

and where is the old nazi, heiddegger to make sense of it.

of prepositions

i am a philologist by training, and one of the most mysterious aspects of language is prepositions.

they can mean numerous things.

for instance:

de--on or of
apo--from or agency
by--beside of agency

and myriad other things.

the only competitor, particles. and the final authority, smyth, is surprisingly thin on the subject. though hackett has an edition of denniston, the author of the greek particles, a fascinating book. and on to the particles.

though, without them, greek would be so much more difficult. they convey emotion, irony, personality, and so many other things. it's surprising how many sentences hang on them. not to mention poetry.

well, one day. thus endeth the lecture.

Exhaustion

and the wine store doesn't even open for another 17 minutes.

wanted a glass, or a bottle with lunch.

just cleaning, which you can do drunk because you work off the booze.

like i've said before, only work and company seem to please me. and there's no more work, save working for myself.

and the wages aren't too good these days.

maybe they'll improve.

Of adventure frogs, and related matters

I've had the distinct pleasure to know and to travel these last few years with Jack, an adventure frog.

Adventure frogs are an unusual race, or species, rather.

And Jack is a most unusual adventure frog.

For loyalty is rare in any frog: since they all, to a certain extent, they're born with it.

Jack is naturally inclined to roam, but I believe that we've formed a bond, perhaps for life, should I be so lucky.

We've driven together vast distances and lived in many lands.

We've seen things scarcely believable and events experienced that were among the most troubling in my life. But we've had good times as well.

In the end, there's no telling what kind of trouble an adventure frog may get you in, but I believe that we balance each other. I am naturally cautions, and Jack recless. And so we balance each other kind of like yin and yang.

I've had the pleasure of knowing Jack quite some time, and he has added and improved my life emencely.

Perhaps one day you will know one. They frequently come when you dream of them and adventure.

Take time to develop a relationship, for they will show you many things.

Hello neighbors to the north

Hey Winnipeg. if you come back, drop me a line.

can't tell you how mad i am

"thanks, coward, hope everything goes well for you."

don't worry. it will. at your expense, if i have to.

makes me crazy. why do i have to be the one who is together, in control. those mofos get way more money and respect and i'm the one...

well, those at the bottom have always shoveled it.

and if benjamin's right, the revolution will vindicate all the blood spilled, congealed in the artworks of civilization.

i'm borred

you'd think, after all that's happened lately, i'd like a little free time.

but i'm borred. some small part of me must have enjoyed it.

Fits and Starts

it's not why i do it, but readers seem to come and go in fits and starts.

which is fine. again, it's not why i do it. i don't even know why i started, but it feels natural.

i've always been writing for the big Other. even in my personal journal--private stuff. always revising, always improving.

it feels good. somedays, when i'm breaking down, it feels like i've taken a bottle of ativan afterwards. not what i expected.

still, it will be nice when someone follows, when someone leaves comments.

good morning

first day of freedom.

kind of looking forward to meeting with the lawyer. will be good to start so i can get this out of the way.

glad i thanked everyone. it's a nice feeling.

so will cleaning the apartment. then i really feel like i can begin to feel better--get the files in shape, that sort of thing.

well, better get moving.

it ssucks.

if te union thing doesn't work out.

another semester. probably another year without funding. without healtcare.

paying fordrugs out of my pocket.


hand to mouth.

begging for money.

not that i'm not used to it.

but to get hopes of freedom so high.

dashed.

and even if it works, it's a matter of time before they find a way of deleting me perminantly.

but it's my best shot.

so i have to take it.

caution--geek post here

there's something about the way the doctor and his companions work.

and it's been a progression, i understand.

but lately... it is just too close.

basically, what i'm saying is the doctor is petite object a.

women and men fall in love with him. he cannot respond, for some reason. though he feels it.

yet he's onto another adventure. he cannot be. and those who fall in love with him, they find some thing else. some other reason. which separates them.

they don't betray their desire, even in the face of love.

they give up love for desire.

ethics at its finest.

if nothing else

i left this job the way that i wanted.

gracious. polite. expressing gratitude. and i fooled at least one person.

and if this union thing goes nowhere, at least i have that.

and if it does, they have some explaining to do.

They're so great

so, went on the interweb to see if the boss had responded to my email. the one asking him to spell out why i was fired.

unintentional consequences. there are some readers out there and not everyone you'd expect.

but they can read between the lines and know that i've been. well. they think it's of my own accord.

which is cute. and it's cute that they're so concerned.

see, i also sent out a carefully worded email thanking everyone for being such good coworkers. calculated risk. but didn't feel i could just leave without it. gotta give your people props.

well, not my problem. let the boss tell them.

he's really good at confrentation, from what i've seen. think of all those warnings he gave me.

oh. the fun's just started.

nervous and i've got no ativan

well, the day went.

and after i left i did two things.

i sent an email thanking everyone i work with. they really have been tremendous.

and i sent my boss en email asking him to send me a letter explaining why he fired me.

now i'm going to check my email. see if he sent anything.

and i don't think he has, but i'm nervous.

Got a friend at Davidco

No, it's not David. Though I have spoken with him on the phone.

She's wonderful. Started out working together on an order I made that was screwed up.

Now we write each other with a little frequency. In a weird way, it's kind of like this. I mean, I don't know this woman from Adam. Never spoken with her over the phone, even.

But she's married. All the good ones are.

a bit romantic

but still a nice line:

a million glasses
all filled with wine.

talked to beardlessly

awesome. going to finally talk about the romantics, and not the new ones.

sounds good, that man. can't remember. must be drunk.

he's going through it, but aren't we all.

another great link from lifehacker

Here's a great way to implement GTD in plain old text files, my favorite.


It's called txtGTD, and is a simple perl script to help generate and display all your projects and next actions list.

kickass. There's also Gina's overly complicated Bash script somewhere on the site. I'm just to lazy to find it.

Best.

it's unfair, but the world is unfair

i was told that i could retain my position if things turned around.

yet my responsibilities have been taken away from me by others.

i was never given a chance.

union does

just talked to my steward... he made a really good point. the best way to really get these guys is get the job back, do good work, pretend nothing happened.

make them regret it.

well, off to lunch. wonder what errands i'll run today.

so borring these days

well. another day, another dollar.

work was fine. didn't do shit.

took my spanish exam. seemed easy, but know i mixed up the perfect and the preterite. well. can't win them all. and the nice thing about the romanticists (linguistically speaking), they don't know the difference between tense and aspect. it's all past to them.

so maybe it will be ok. if not, then i'll look at tense and take it again. because that was the only thing tripping me up.

else, all is well.

certainly mad

Whew. Just got through going through the emails I've sent over the past few months of employment.

I really made an effort to be professional--to follow up on everything I did.

It would have been nice if these jokers could have been professional as well

Here we go

I was going to stay late to get things done, but I don't care.

Every minute here is special. And I don't want to spend another minute than I have to.

This hurts.

It's getting better

Must be the drugs.

Thanks lamictal.

this is hard

ugh.

yesterday, went in to the boss's to talk. because he didn't tell me what he wanted from me.

which is cool and everything. i just want to finish on a high note.

so i made him tell me.

and i asked what the last day was. he said it should be in my documentation, which i am sure of, but i got the feeling he hadn't even thought of it.

my last day is friday.

i know that leaving is hard under any circumstances. and better pull it off like a bandaid than let it drag on, but this is hard.

going to save the ativan for when i walk in the door.

and this is the hardest part

how to blow off steam without hurting myself.

not that i want to do anything stupid.

but it's humiliating. i mean, all i want to do is file something.

yes, i want to win.

but do i really have to answer all these questions before i even begin.

yes. because we are not the ones in power. all we have is law.

and i do believe that law is the recourse of the weak. a healthy society is a legalistic society. a litigious society. because if they're suing eachother, then they're not resorting to other means to sort out conflict.

i'm so pissed i can hardly see straight

what the fuck.

ok, i understand that they need to know why i failed. but it hurts.

i don't really feel like i have to explain myself. i mean, what does he have to do.

he'll have to answer. as god is my witness.

On the train

Wow. Done work come friday. What is that, a week's notice?

I'd have given atleast two, but who am I.

Well, that's life. Wonder whose going to replace me. But that's not my problem

almost gone

today didn't suck.

got my loan check. work was fine. even did some things.

and made sure i spent plenty of time goofing off.

i think going to the union had a lot to do with it, even if nothing comes of it.

at least i know i tried.

have a good one.