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.