fuck!

it hurts like hell. there's something stuck inside me and i can't get it out. it's pissing me off at every moment of my life. it tends to be all i can think about. i want it to go away... right now.



....



i have some acne growing in the left corner of my lips .

ha! i bet you thought that was something deep and profound! nope i just have some god damn little pimple forming at the left side of my upper lip and it is so fricking painful that it's not funny! i can't open my mouth right!



............



in other news; i rather hate math. i think it is potentially the stupidest thing in the world. a computer can do it, screw math class! i want to have a bath. what do you think? wise idea?

this is why i'm happy that english is my skill. when computers become such a big part of our lives that they do everything they can for us; every half-assed weenie math kid will be useless. us arts and humanities people though ... we have nothing to worry about! show me a computer that can simulate Dali's vision, Mozart's talent, or Kerouac's inspiration! yet Deep Blue could kick Pythagoras' ass, no questions asked.

neener neener math weenies! fuck you all!



....................................



update! there are a specific few people in my life who kick so much ass that it's not funny! not to name any names.. but those four or five people should know who they are!



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keep it real, HOMIES.
*sighs*

fuck the overwrought sentimentality!
i'm a happy kid!

i'm a superficial bastard!
ask me about it!

die kunst is toten, dada über alles!

mwrargh

this is what happens when a fear of closeness becomes a little excessive and i can't appreciate sentimentality or emotion without having to make fun of it in some way. you alienate people and become a thorough ass.

i'm becoming my dad and it's a fucking tragedy ... i coulda been a good kid.

maybe it's a good thing. maybe the emo kids can't cope with the world, and i will do far better if i just laugh at everything anyone tries to do in their lives. things can't hurt me if i make fun of them.

i'm tragically superficial, too - did i mention that?

alright i am going to admit to myself that i am a pretty good person. i try my best to be nice to as many people as i can and make a difference for a few people once in a while, and as far as i believe that's all a person can accomplish in their lives. but in the end my two most tragic flaws are thus: i can't be serious. ever. if i do, i fucking hate myself for doing it 20 minutes later. the only things i can appreciate in life are the meaningless and profane. i can appreciate depth of emotion and feeling in a good song, but when it comes to experiencing it in my own life, i just can't cope. secondly, i am entirely superficial. there are people i don't even get to know because they're ugly. i don't have a single ugly female friend. even my male friends are generally pretty good looking. i judge so much based on appearance that it's hideous. i may try to be as feminine as i can, but in the end i am a hardcore MAN. nice to the pretty girls. thanks dad. you're a great guy with so many qualities that amaze me day in and day out, but in the end you're a penis with good social skills.

my hormones and my cynicism do my thinking for me.

if you just sit back and make fun of things, you'll never be obliged to become emotionally involved.

all i want to do is be able to speak with the skill of a novelist; to be able to say the most beautiful things in the most subtle ways. *sighs* one day, maybe.

ha! none of those posts got posted when they should have.
*sighs*

tonight is "flamboyantly gay night"
i just repainted my nails and i am wearing glitter.
just call me "glam"

DANCE magic dance... it's the magic da-ance!

i dedicate this post to krystal who kicks ass whose birthday is today... and to ian whose birthday is also today and who has been a great kid since i met him in kindergarten :)

i'm in a good mood tonight!
but still no melodrama.
i think i may permanently have given it up! woohoo!
for you kassya... (insert tacky sentimentality here)

i'm an ASS! yeah!

christ, fuck the poetic melodrama!
i can't even read it right now!
my unkillable ability to tolerate tacky sentimentality has been killed earlier this week. sorry.

*sighs*
this is what we call .. FRICKING MELODRAMA
this is what happens when you give an immature kid a bit of writing talent and some strange thoughts.. he goes crazy and becomes a soap opera.

everything currently happening in my life is just your average teenage angst and lack of joie-de-vivre! i am not special!

i shudder seeing what i have written recently! it's overwrought tripe ... a poor facsimile of the stream of consciousness style of foster wallace or dave eggers *sighs again*

i would like to henceforth apologize for becoming such a weepy ass ... even though nobody actually reads this site. it won't happen again.

i laugh at myself . i am mildly tragic! but i am not king lear, for chrissakes.

contemporary poetry is shit ! it's a pitiful excuse for people who can't use metre ... the same way abstract expressionism is an excuse for people who can't paint a banana to save their lives. jackson pollock, fuck you!

i don't know what happened to me but i have become that sick creature i used to despise .. you know, the starving-artist trendy-poet overly dramatic type? with the little goatee and the black rim glasses and the long college-style cigarrettes living in a fourth-floor walk-up with no windows and a shared bath?

you're going to detest this i know but honestly! you're a great person kassya ... one of the only truly amazing people i have ever had the virtue of knowing; but you're not the Second Coming of Christ and you're not the leader of an authoritarian dictatorship. you don't kill jewish people and you can't turn water into wine, so i think that i am far overdoing this.

my life is NOT hard! screw it ... the only things that are difficult are things that i force myself to believe are difficult so that i have something to write about!

jesus ... i'm a pathetic git at times. sometimes i can even amaze myself with depth of feeling and empathy, but sometimes i just fucking miss the mark by SO much it's not even funny. rhetoric does not a good piece of writing make. i think i will stick to essays, newspaper articles, and cooking, okay?

sweatshop workers can whine, the truly depressed can whine, but i am damn well happy enough that i should show it.

have a great time kids ... peace love unity and respect all the way.

beethoven once dedicated a manuscript to his 'immortal beloved'
people were so capitivated by this mystery,
this mysterious true love of a man without romance,
that they have considered the identity of this 'beloved'
since the death of the great composer

people will never have that problem after my own death

i dedicate my life to my immortal beloved ... a true friend upon this shifting mortal coil

an experiment in poetry

caruso

Tosti could not reason with the tenor in his mood of hysterical self-pity but gently reminded him of his obvligations to his concert managers, fellow singers and, above all, the public to whom he owed everything

One may not always comprehend
the significance
of the random
for it is in chaos that one may find meaning
Humanity often holds truth
mangles
organizes
subjugates
conjugates?
When a person thinks a person may not be
truly
unbiassed
For one may decide to tell the truth or to lie
but when one makes no decision
only the truth can be told
As Caruso withers in denial
I sit
reveling in the beauty of
utter
incomprehensibility
The abstruse is telling me to run
it smells coherency

christ jesus, i'm a trendy fucker

regret?

a rumination

there is no centre but yourself, there is no truth but what you choose to see

a poem

inference

when the poet speaks
to the beggar
he speaks as though he speaks
to the love of his life

when the kind soul breathes
he feels guilt for stealing
the breath
of another

when a small boy cries
life may proceed
when the poet cries
the world is held fast

life in a fishbowl. it's been an interesting weekend to say the least ... one of my best friends and i were entangled in a little car accident dilemma, i was consequently heckled by my parents, i discovered several little difficulties relating to some of my family members, my parents heckled the aforementioned friend and her parents and the parents of someone else who was involved, my dad had surgery ... and to top it all off, my usual friend that i vent my difficulties upon and i are taking a "week off" so we can resolve some of our own 'difficulties.' or something. and then if she breaks the little "week off," and calls me after 11, i get heckled some more because she just woke my dad up by calling just before 12:00.

plus i have, what, four projects going on? it's not pleasant.

but on the upside i did have a lovely dance on saturday night. any time when i can dance is a thoroughly freeing experience, regardless of who i am with, the environment, whether i am by myself or with hundreds of other people, when i dance i forget everything else; especially the fact that i can't really dance very well. when i am dancing, i am beautiful and golden and pure - i know it's the epitome of cheesy raver-tackdom to say things like this. as the Jungle Brothers like to say, free your ass, and your mind will follow. when my ass is free, my mind is freer than it ever will be at any other time. i will talk to anyone, and despite some little details w/r/t "appearances" that almost have to be maintained and can't quite be forgotten by the nerdy kid when you live in a small town at a small school, i will dance with anyone.

i don't know, maybe not everyone can understand my peace love unity respect bullshit. to some people it's tacky, but to me it is honestly a way of life. my life, my loves, and my hopes and dreams, none of them matter when i can dance.

moshing at a punk show; same deal. when i can punch someone in the face, have them knock me down on the concrete and pick me right back up again, i am the most 'together' i will ever be - the ravers and the punk rockers are not so different; the punkers are just ravers who haven't quite gotten in touch with their touchy-feely side.

when some guy at a show can hand me a cup of water and i instinctively know i don't have to worry what's in it, when i can be crushed between four of the most beautiful women i have ever seen and not think of anything but what a god jonny greenwood is, when i can forget about my homework and my parents and my diverse unrequited love interests and no longer have any desire to vent or to cry or bitch; this is when i can be happy.

i am poor .. but life is good