June 2010
14 posts
Good liquor.
‘Well then, this rules out meningitis. We still aren’t quite sure what’s the situation.’
We went home hoping for less encouraging news in the morning.
What I noticed at first.
‘She blinked in a desynchronized manner, and in a sort of slow motion that made me a bit uneasy. Her right eyelid would lower down as her eyes rolled up into her head, but at this point the left lid would still be up and it looked like she was having a seizure. It didn’t help that even when the left did collapse in a robotic motion reminiscent of automatic doors at Kroger, that her...
when i grow up i want to be hopeless
like those people who hang out around abandoned construction sites and seem to not have much to do despite the clear availability of low-paying jobs in the immediately-surrounding region but its ok because in their mind they feel really lost and stuff and maybe they just dont have anything much better to do so they just hang out and look around and people-watch and make me wonder if maybe they...
Paint the black hole blacker, paint the black hole...
‘I was diagnosed as a problem child when I was around the age of five. Supposedly I found refuge in throwing books down hallways, then blaming my mother for the mess. The week I lost my voice from shrieking so fucking much, I was placed in “play” therapy with this strange woman who seemed to have a head wider than her torso. She made me “normal.”’
Like early-90s Mariah.
There’s a strange degree of ‘fauxtalgia’ inherent in snail-mail. It’s made even more pronounced when such mail is from somebody you don’t really know [that well], but still admire, ‘to some degree,’ and the envelope’s directly addressed, hand-written. This being said, look what I got:
Eeeeeeeeeeeeee!
Fail, the IInd.
Too late to make much of an excuse, but a promise is a promise. This’ll be steeped in subjectivity.
Few overused linguistic vices of contemporary society convey as legitimate a message as failure. Of which there are two kinds, I think:
The path-to-a-means kind: “Everything that is a failure is always a victory,” says DFW.
The label kind.
These two forms necessarily transcend...
Postpostpostpostpost...postpostpostmodernist...
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Holy fuck.
What I just now had in a bout of serendipitous inspiration of ridiculiciousness:
Home-made spearmint-chocolate pie “à la mode” with
Ben & Jerry’s Mud Pie on the side and
a shot of Midori.
I am not undergoing a midlife crisis, I promise.
Publishing scientific papers in The New Yorker.
It’s probably what I will end up doing if I don’t take better care of my word choice inclinations when writing technical things. (The solution really is as simple as dropping adjectives and adverbs from my vocabulary.)
But technical things are a ways away from me at this point, despite the constantly droning buzz of research promises in the back of my mind, as I struggle on a nearly...
High-five in the elevator shaft.
Neither is the idea of a lucid dream. Which tends to happen rather often these days, but not too often. I don’t really know, I don’t think, I’m not sure yet, if it’s gonna end up being a guy with d or a lady with extremely short hair in an artsy sort of way, the kind of hair that instantaneously takes on a frosty demeanor reminiscent of the mid-to-late forties, but during...
Insomnia now, abstraction later.
Hardly sleeping is not a concept foreign to him. But it’s bound to become an issue when the reason for why the sleep deprivation haunts and disturbs with greater perseverance than a male Schnauzer after a female in heat haunts and disturbs with greater perseverance than one of the genus Apis after that dude who stepped on its underground domicile, surprisingly. But considering that that...
Unsatisfied Wants et Regrettable Moments [Redux]
Hälloôo.
I have been contemplating on writing utensils. Throughout elementary school, I amassed a large-ish collection of gel pens, much to the amazement of my azn friends (even the dudes), but less so to the Americanos (who knew they were driven away by a girlish trait? iunno). A bit before that (~2 yurrs), I had a slightly less grown-up amassment of metallic pencils. Since then, I have...
