tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34340882011-04-21T14:55:54.234-07:00Tripping On Near-Life ExperianceNo room for excuses, only time for the facts: Raised by PBS, mettle tested in online gaming, well practiced in the art of zombieness during the unmentionable time between then and now, currently a bohemian darklord-superstar, the grand social experiment of an introvert playing at being extrovert has ended in catastrophic success. Mushrooms put it all in perspective. Yes, and the face-eating space monkeys were informative.IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.comBlogger831100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-1074476020584328082004-01-18T17:33:00.000-08:002004-01-18T17:35:04.746-08:00I've always thought that the most important thing in life, the key ingrediant to a full life, is experiance. I know, by contrasting a period in my life when I did absolutely nothing (before high-school graduation, playing computer games in my suburban home, sheltered from the world around me, numb to all) to this year and now (even though some would say I'm doing nothing now as well, this periodIMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-1063119091012998582003-09-09T07:51:00.000-07:002003-09-09T07:51:30.913-07:00All things being equal, showering at a friend's house is like life. You stand there, paranoid from being naked in omeone elses home, striken with guilt at the possibility that the host may need to use the bathroom while taking the shower of the near future, overcome with thankfullness for the opportunity to shower at all, and paralyzed in general by the lack of a national standard for showers. IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-1062450668441604142003-09-01T14:11:00.000-07:002003-09-01T14:11:08.480-07:00Everyone is crazy except me. More laterIMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-942923992003-05-13T15:43:00.000-07:002003-05-13T15:43:24.760-07:00May 14 or something - Portland Coffee House on Belmont (in Portland, of course)
And so it begins, or rebegins. The rebeginning of my posting, of my typing, of my most cherished and polished of journals.
I just killed a very small yet dangerous looking bug and am reminded that scabies is going around.
But in the more important news, Portland is all well and good, but watch out for the IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-848874872002-11-21T13:05:00.000-08:002002-11-21T13:09:11.000-08:00 Once again, stuck in here, wasting money I don't have in a city that isn't mine. Seattle already digested me and rejected me from it's wet, concrete body, and yet I'm here, again. Posting. Why? I scream out to the world to acknowledge my existance, and it gives me the same nod everyone gives a bum as they walk by, pretending they have no change.
Powered by caffeine and bitterness,IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-846942882002-11-17T21:54:00.000-08:002002-11-17T21:54:04.103-08:00My cellphone... I can never get over the effect loosing my first cellphone while travelling in California had on me. It really fucked me up, that paranoid dellusion where I thought I hadn't really lost it, that really I had been placed in a copy of reality, a version without that cellphone, or worse, that I myself was a copy. And then that premonition that my not having that cellphone would IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-828623512002-10-11T15:57:00.000-07:002002-10-11T15:57:37.663-07:00An ulcer
On my mind?
A tumor
In my soul?
I am the cancer with an ulcer, adrenaline washing over open sores
The energy, the fright; the passion, the pain
Post-teen angst with a chemical push
No use to complain, no need for drug stores
Everything I need is replaceable, everything I want is impossible
Acceptance is the key to take life’s rejection with a flush
“Hit hard, and don’t stop coming” An’IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-826285482002-10-07T01:34:00.000-07:002002-10-07T01:34:15.390-07:00 I’ve smoked so much in the last few days that it’s hurting my stomach. As I’m writing, I realize it might actually be the fact that I haven’t eaten more than a few slices of cold pizza in the last couple days, but I don’t care. Lack of food and hunger aren’t the same thing.
I’m hungry for life, and in a bucket-full of days, I’ll be out. Finally, the end of it all is right on top ofIMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-818575382002-09-19T22:05:00.000-07:002002-09-19T22:06:04.000-07:00A New Drug Of Choice and The Necessary Death Of Who I Am
Yellow Jackets look like the new drug of choice. Soothing and uplifting like alcohol, energizing and empowering like caffeine. I’m letting my antidepressant prescription run out. It’s better this way.
They were driving me insane. One hour I would be as happy as I ever thought I could be, cleaning up the smoking area out of IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-811261822002-09-03T21:51:00.000-07:002002-09-03T21:51:03.486-07:00 My cravings are satiated after the first cigarette of the day and I even get a little bit of the nicotine high, but I still don’t get the calm I hope for. Citaloprams give me some kind of calm, but it’s just a band-aid, like the christian girl at a local coffee shop was telling me. She is always calm because she believes in god. I bet it doesn’t really feel much different than the IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-804625812002-08-19T22:07:00.000-07:002002-08-19T22:07:04.636-07:00An Observation On Life powered by Withdrawals(tm)
The left side of my head is a happy field of springtime flowers. The right side of my head is a single point of an endlessly speeding bullet, constantly in the process of explosively burrowing it’s molten led tip into my unsuspecting and fragile skull. Oh the horror.
But on the upside, the combined experience of a sugar crash, IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-801642532002-08-12T18:47:00.000-07:002002-08-12T18:47:17.126-07:00Will vs Citalopram
Enrique won’t leave me alone. He’s a great guy, I enjoy his company and am glad that he is a friend of mine, but he spends way too much time with me. I’m a victim of my own friendliness. I strove to be more extroverted, and now this guy is latched onto me like if he lets go, he’ll fall into some kind of bottomless pit. I’m starting to hate him. He’s in my room now, IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-799191692002-08-06T20:03:00.000-07:002002-08-06T20:03:33.000-07:00(legal) Drugs Are Fun
The sleeping pill intoxicated me more completely than alcohol ever has. I stumbled into the computer room, every nerve in my body screaming a death scream of total exhaustion, even my eyes were unable to cooperate with my simple commands, so that the few things that were in focus, I saw in triplicate. I could think coherently enough, but beyond that, I was useless.
IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-797666512002-08-03T00:02:00.000-07:002002-08-03T00:04:15.000-07:00A Workday Musing
powered by Heartburn(tm)
My supervisor’s job was not hard to learn. There are things I can not do, but the things I am allowed to do, I do faster and more efficiently than she ever has. Today, with her gone, we managed to finish her job, working around her battle-zone of a desk, in record time. All of her administrative work completed, the last half of the day I spent IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-793256962002-07-23T18:21:00.000-07:002002-07-23T18:24:03.000-07:00Smoking, The Skatepark of Love Analogy, Jaci, Angi, And A Conclusion During A Professional Development Class
In all her streetsmart wisdom, Angi declares that I’m only trying to look cool when I smoke, and tries to make fun of me for doing it.
She’s not stupid and she knows smoking is bad for her and yet she smoked anyway, for years, until not less than a week ago. My reason to IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-792428342002-07-21T21:41:00.000-07:002002-07-21T21:41:29.076-07:00-So it occurs to me that I haven't posted here my Life Analogy-
You wake up, and you see you're in what seems to be a basement. You don't know how you got there, though you're hurt and bruised so it probably involved a struggle. But beyond that, you can't remember anything before your waking up in that basement, and all you know is that you need to get out, because one look at the place IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-792144282002-07-21T01:56:00.000-07:002002-07-21T01:56:38.683-07:00 Returned from Seattle. I wanted to call Jaci while I was on the ferry back, to patch things up dual facts of my rejection of the search for love and my thousand dollar phone bill (More like 2 easy payments of $517. Yeah. Fuck.) I ran into Jackie and MLE, faces of the past. Highly caffeinated, smoking myself sick, my buzz and the nice day kept my emotions highly volitile. I wrote a IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-791753402002-07-19T20:17:00.000-07:002002-07-19T20:17:25.963-07:00I have unovered the secret of the non-broken space, and utilized it to create an indent, thusly:
So I was hanging out with my good friend the pregnant girl. The way we act and talk to eachother, one would assume we were married. Some days we will be asked how long we've been seeing eachother, or how I feel about becoming a father. We enjoy eachother's company and we do nice things for IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-790992162002-07-18T00:29:00.000-07:002002-07-19T19:32:47.000-07:00 Even people that exist solely as an opposition to everything that I hold dear have a contribution to make to my life – someone we will call Mitch is a classic case of this.
Now, it’s not that I don’t like him, it’s just that he defends everything I oppose, and hypocritically opposes everything I steadfastly defend. (that’s too harsh. I have a hard time refraining from harshness sinceIMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-787557082002-07-09T18:37:00.000-07:002002-07-19T19:43:45.000-07:00 On the bus, bound for Portland. I didn’t know that was where I was going until I ended up going there. My bag was above me and Home was ahead of me, so that was just the way it was going to be. I was going home.
At first I was angry at myself. Years ago, when I was crossing the Burnside bridge on the MAX light rail, and I was watching the heart of Portland over the starry IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-784899912002-07-02T19:50:00.000-07:002002-07-02T19:50:07.910-07:00My lips are chapped. My pedietrician comitted suicide when I was 11. My day went well.
Something is horribly wrong, but all is well. There is some quality in the All of my life that is not right, some kind of problem that sits unsolved among the huge collection of tied up loose ends, and that one problem is breeding more. A major problem, the first spawn of the first problem, is that I IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-784089062002-06-30T23:51:00.000-07:002002-06-30T23:51:33.720-07:00But I could be wrong. Somehow, lately, I'm getting the impression that I'm being watched and followed.
Some higher powers have been at work against me for a long time, and I have a feeling that they have a hand in every development in every facet of my life. The miraculous recoveries from near deaths, the calculated timing of alarm clock malfunctions, the reaccuring theme of girls I am IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-783738992002-06-29T22:51:00.000-07:002002-06-29T22:51:25.593-07:00Nice guys do not always finish last, because the smart ones can alter the definition of first. --me
Loyal fans and readers of this great webrealm will surely have noticed a sharp decline in the frequency of posts. I've been distracted. I've been falling in love at least once every two days with a girl who I can't see. IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-780571052002-06-21T23:36:00.000-07:002002-06-21T23:36:43.000-07:00WORK
Copy. Chat. Mostly chat. I've been adopted by a fellow worker. Still no luck in getting to meet her daughters, my new sisters.
Copy. Stop chatting, because one of the volunteers come in. Chat in hushed tones, because the volunteer is a perfect candidate for the Reality TV miniseries "son of rainman." The guy is really nice (especially to the person who isn't really there), wears latexIMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-777293482002-06-13T22:49:00.000-07:002002-06-13T22:49:43.280-07:00Craziness. I've been condemned to at least another 6 months here, a prison with paper-work bars and mirror-image wardens. I serve my sentance with a smile, a nod to the copy machine, and a gesture with my new stapler (hand-held Bostich (tm) standard with seperately purchased red and blue staples).
I have been dubbed a black belt Copy Ninja, a master of the martial copying arts. Neither the IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-775568232002-06-10T00:33:00.000-07:002002-06-10T00:33:33.690-07:00I'm really thirsty and hungry, but the machines won't take my dimes, for some reason. I have a dillar bill, but I don't want to use it. I'm not sure exactly why.
Restless, frustrated, thirsty, but mostly happy.
I'm restless because I've been inside for the last two weekends in a row and I've been in bed all day.
I'm frustrated just a little because things have been going so well with Jaci, IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-774929632002-06-08T00:11:00.000-07:002002-06-08T00:11:09.313-07:00Two slightly drunk guys are hitting on a slightly pregnant smoker, who's boyfriend's mom passed away.
But meanwhile, a guy is typing. Typing about how on
Tuesday, I did not go to sleep, since talking on the phone with a certain girl I will call Jaci is more important than sleeping. So wednesday, when I go to work, I was... not fully operational. Did I go to sleep after working 2 full days IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-773664562002-06-05T00:24:00.000-07:002002-06-05T00:25:41.000-07:00Betrayal of an identity
I was in the car with the girl who would be my saviour, but preferred to be my surrogate sister. This girl, this pregnant, lonely, emotional, confused girl who appreciated the support that I gave her, as a surrogate brother, was pissed because she wanted to smoke so bad, but she didn't have any cigarrettes.
I wanted to help her quit once before. I still do, just like IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-772437212002-06-01T23:30:00.000-07:002002-06-01T23:30:36.203-07:00Music: today? NoFX and The Randys.
Clothes: oversized dress jacket, skinny tie, dress shirt, black jeanes.
Self inflicted wounds: 3. no, um, 4.
the Seattle area goths (seagoths! Heheh) are no help. Somehow I thought just by joining a message board I would have friends or something. My only friend is a girl who is pregnant and should have been with me instead of the bastard that got her IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-772388572002-06-01T20:31:00.000-07:002002-06-01T20:31:02.940-07:00The point of the day, the conclusion of the essay that is the 'day in the life of me' story, is that sleep can be good to, sometimes.
Lately I've been opposed to sleep because every second asleep is countless opportunities lost. But I ran out of givashit, and I slept for 20 hours. Now I can't sleep. But I feel good, and I'm not too hungry, so I suppose it's ok.
I'm just bored. Not really IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-772115602002-05-31T22:47:00.000-07:002002-05-31T22:47:46.210-07:00More evidence to refute the once irrefutable idea that love matters, at least in reference to my life.
The girl who I had a dehibilitating crush on toward the end of highschool and beyond, was offended by me today when I mentioned, in the context of the events of the weekend, that I might be attracted to messed up girls. I said that because for me it's just a darker way of saying interesting. IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-771926352002-05-31T11:59:00.000-07:002002-05-31T11:59:49.463-07:00(I had to cut short on the last post because I decided to show up at work on time.)
But:
The night before I left for the impactfull San Jose trip where I aged considerably, to the emtional equivalent of a 16 year old, I had done some introspection. Legs aching from walking 19 city blocks, uphill, with a full and very large backpack on my back, I had a 4 shot mocha, and sat in a coffee shop IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-771828982002-05-31T07:11:00.000-07:002002-05-31T07:11:18.430-07:00The day before yesterday, I wasn't exactly rested, but I stayed up all night anyway, putting off doing a report, chatting, web browsing, talking to a girl I met online. I eventually did the report, but instead of going to sleep for a good 2 hour nap before work, the online girl wanted to call me. I decided good company was more important than sleep, and I agreed to take the call.
That day at IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-771311532002-05-29T21:59:00.000-07:002002-05-29T21:59:29.070-07:00-OK-
Of And Concerning Joanna
So there's this girl. Yeah. And she told me she loved me and for a week she said she didn't because she really loved her boyfriend and she didn't believe you could love two people at the same time. But then she broke up with him because it turned out that he was a total cock, and she was saying she loved me again.
By this point, I'm thinking "oooo-kaaaaayyy... IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-771298862002-05-29T21:20:00.000-07:002002-05-29T21:20:15.573-07:00A Press Release From The Office of Dr. Yoho Lungfish
People of earth, know this! Verily, for created have I the great Dr. Yoho Lungfish Advice Column, taking much time away from my busy, cataclysmic, galaxy shaking work, devoting energy much needed for the salvation of man-kind to the salvation of the problems of a few people; yae, for it was good.IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-767907062002-05-21T00:43:00.000-07:002002-05-21T01:25:32.000-07:00-lunch-
stopped back to the computer lounge, checked email. A girl I knew in highschool who... aw nevermind, it's too long of a story and too complicated for me to articulate, especially since I'm just so exhausted. I went to sleep on Sunday and got a good, solid 10 hours. I even ate lunch, though it made me feel nausous. So even though I slept and ate, I still feel too tired to go into my IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-767278812002-05-19T11:06:00.000-07:002002-05-19T11:06:34.840-07:00sleep. no, I mean, no sleep. yeah.
Exactly.
So I wonder, if I feel obligated to challenge people to ask themselves about basic assumptions they make, like why stealing is wrong, then what about me?
I mean, why do I not sleep sometimes? I don't have insomnia, though I wish I did. It would make not sleeping much easier.
It's not for the hallucinations, certainly, since those only come after aIMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-767160132002-05-18T23:31:00.000-07:002002-05-18T23:31:32.176-07:00The Safeway Adventure:
Friend of mine was going to Safeway to get bread and stuff. I accompanied her, because I was bored, and she asked. She said she was just going to be a second so I might as well just wait. But it was a sunny day, so after a few seconds of baking in car-window amplified sun, I stepped out and enjoyed a breeze.
But I wasn't feeling right. Maybe it was the sun, or that IIMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-766833482002-05-17T20:53:00.000-07:002002-05-17T20:53:39.896-07:00-Two hours after work-
Whatever? Forget all that, I was trying too hard. The last post was the death sigh of my political energy and purposefullness.
I used to care a great deal, and for a few hours I at least cared about not caring. But it's all such a joke. Whatever.
I've been talking to the girl every night for the last week or so. Every night we hang up later and I walk away a little IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-766442092002-05-16T20:42:00.000-07:002002-05-16T20:43:35.000-07:00Whatever
The Antigyvafuckaroli Manifesto
the past
In the 60s the voice of civil rights needed a body, in the 70s the feeling of disagreement with war abroad needed a fist. An attempt was made to provide for these needs, in part, by the days generation, but primarily by the overwhelming needs themselves.
today
The generation of today has no such great cause(*). There is a collection of IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-766413362002-05-16T19:25:00.000-07:002002-05-16T19:26:16.000-07:00the sum of all my thoughts and experiances up to May 16:
(minus those of May 15, which will forever be left to the whims of the information age's own special kind of oblivion.)
Coming in early every day, working extra hard, missing nearly half of my lunch almost all the time. By going the extra mile, I have brought upon myself the wrath of a job well done, the fury of a completed work: the fruitsIMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-764784552002-05-12T18:58:00.000-07:002002-05-12T21:26:29.000-07:00The 737 Of Doom
Setting: a park, and an airplane. Time of day is optional.
Two capitalist elite rulers of the elite ruling class (CIGAR and TOPHAT) are setting up for a picnic. Two well dressed counter-culture youths (GOTH and PUNK) pass by, enjoying the scenery or maybe playing frisbee or something.
GOTH: (sneering) the source of all evil. Damn those capitalists
PUNK: (giggles) Yeah! IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-764535872002-05-12T00:44:00.000-07:002002-05-12T00:44:18.676-07:00Dispepsia my ass. 12 hours of sleep, 2 Red Hot Bean/Beef microwave burritos (with Vendrite Taco Sauce), and a two hour cellphone conversation in the shiver-inducing cold, and I feel great, in all ways.
She told me all the things I want to hear. I told her whatever I could think of that I thought that maybe she would want to hear but I have no idea what she wants, so it really was just IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-764211312002-05-10T21:31:00.000-07:002002-05-10T21:31:34.513-07:00I am hungry. On top of the slight pain of emptiness is the razor-burn pain on the ceiling of my stomach caused M&Ms on an empty stomach which is supposedly afflicted with Dispepsia.
(A woman sprints down the street, 20 random passerbys simultaneously think with a mental smirk, "she's not going to make it.")
All week people talk about not being able to wait for Friday, and I guess I get caught IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-763949782002-05-10T06:31:00.000-07:002002-05-10T06:32:11.000-07:00( )
The internet is slow today (haha).
Went to work an hour late today, that being Thursday. The alarm went off and I was wide awake, staring at the ceiling, and I wondered why should I even get up? Just so I won't get yelled at? I wasn't tired, but I went back to sleep anyway. My bastard room mate didn't even say anything... but who cares, I guess he respects my ability to wake up when I IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-763738992002-05-09T16:37:00.000-07:002002-05-09T16:37:10.866-07:00"Omega lead to command, do you read?"
"......"
"Omega lead to command, please respond!"
"......."
"Omega lead to all available units. I've encountered the enemy assault forces just beyond the inner-west wall. I will attempt to hold them off as long as I can"
Dramatic music. Omega Lead, played by a computer generated giant robot with a bunch of guns and missles, is destroyed, tragicly, by the IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-762845192002-05-07T18:03:00.000-07:002002-05-07T20:04:46.000-07:00Somewhere out there, there is a guy who decided to put "sorry, please try again" on the inside of bottle caps everywhere. He is out there, this captain of the bottlecap industry, he is out there getting ready for an early morning meeting, where they will discuss possibly begining work on production of a new "sorry, you almost won!" bottle cap, or something like that. He does not think about theIMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-761989582002-05-05T16:52:00.000-07:002002-05-05T16:52:33.490-07:00Friday, I went to Seattle, couldn't find Jackie, drank a lot of coffee, and decided to get a hotel instead of going back home. So I did.
And in the hotel, I'm wired from all the caffeine and I've got this monologue going on about me and my life and what is important and all that, and I make an appeal to God to give me a sign. I opened the Gideon Bible to a random page, and the first thing I IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-761288922002-05-03T12:18:00.000-07:002002-05-03T12:18:40.000-07:00Antigyvafuckaroli-ism (pronounced: anti give a fuckaroli ism)
That is the title of my current political philosophy, which I will explain in great detail some other time.
This has nothing to do with the rest of this post. pheer.
--recent office phenomenon--
I saw a small stack of papers that was an odd consistency, that was stapled together with what looked like copper staples, which even had a IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-760674282002-05-01T21:29:00.000-07:002002-05-01T21:30:55.000-07:00The Day.
Anyone know the myth of sysiphus? This cool dude is doomed in Hades to roll a boulder up a hill, and whenever it gets close to the top, it rolls back down.
"Why doesn't he just decide not to roll it up the hill?"
I don't know, I can't find any resource that says something about how his soul would be torn into a thousand painfull shreds and then pieced together with strings of the IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-760214482002-04-30T18:14:00.000-07:002002-04-30T18:16:06.000-07:00This is a parenthetical post. I think parenthesis(es?) are cool, like a picture in a picture is cool, as a way to show how something is happening at the same time something else is happening. A great literary tool to simulate simultaneousness.
But they're annoying. So I will not now begin describing 3 very seperate events of the day, the previous day, and the evening before it, in a sing IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-759541742002-04-29T00:19:00.000-07:002002-04-29T00:21:07.000-07:00Dear god, didn't I learn? Didn't I subject myself to enough when I drank 32 shots of espresso? What made me think my body was ready to appreciate 10 more? No matter. I ate a knish kashish to give the espresso something to kick around. And it's all good. So good in fact, that I wrote poetry. I hate poetry, like I hate sunny days and cheerfull couples walking down the street and holding IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-759140282002-04-27T20:47:00.000-07:002002-04-27T20:47:35.103-07:00All my archives seem to be gone. I don't care.
I said that on Friday, in reference to something else entirely. I was stamping some papers, and a workmate pretended like he was going to shove a stack of ordered papers onto the floor, and I dared him to do it. I said "Go ahead, I'd do it myself. I don't care." Because all the work is the same and it doesn't matter if I am doing it for the firstIMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-759065382002-04-27T15:49:00.000-07:002002-04-27T15:51:25.000-07:00I wrote a post that had some kind of meaning in reference to other posts which happen to be here, but it's gone. Such is life.
I'm thinking of how I need to steal something from a best buy or some place like that. I figure I need two people. I can distract someone while the other guy does all the stealing. I could ask him questions about refridgerators, like
-Does it come with an ice IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-758679652002-04-26T17:44:00.000-07:002002-04-26T17:45:50.000-07:00Responsible? No. But it can not be said that I am habitually late, or even late at all, because regardless of how little sleep I allow myself, I am still at work at least 15 minutes early.
The 2 hour power nap I took at 3:45 am gave me the boost I needed for the first couple hours, but until my nap at lunch, it was an endless struggle to stay awake. Through the exhaustion and the caffeine, IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-758389432002-04-25T23:36:00.000-07:002002-04-25T23:36:26.936-07:00Caffeine, An Ode To
One of the symptoms of a caffeine overdose listed in a medical textbook I came accross, was incoherant and rambling speech and train of thought.
Caffeine stimulates the body, supplying more oxygen to all parts of the body, giving strength where there was none, lending endurance where there was exhaustion. The mind of an uncaffeinated person takes breaks, rests: a train of IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-758259012002-04-25T16:42:00.000-07:002002-04-25T16:42:16.590-07:00More hilarity from reality, surreality from the mundane: I come to work, and a workmate is going around with a serious look on his face and an envelope. He comes to me, tells me that so-and-so, the new girl, well, her 12 year old grandson died and she doesn't have quite enough money for the burial ceremony, and he's collecting donations. I don't really care. I give him a blank stare, which someIMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-758181812002-04-25T12:09:00.000-07:002002-04-25T12:09:28.583-07:00She called last night, we talked for 5 minutes, mostly about how She couldn't talk long. It was nice. It's made, and is making, today better than the ones before it.
I hit on an analogy that describes my feelings recently. When a monkey is trapped in a cage it struggles with the bars. When a wolf has it's leg caught in a trap, it will gnaw it off to get away. Well, I'm trapped the same way, IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-757921152002-04-24T19:20:00.000-07:002002-04-24T19:20:47.850-07:00My teeth were numb. I felt warm and good and my body was on fire from endomorphins, just a few rows of purple pixels forming a line of stylized text, and I was happy, I felt meaninglessness being evaporated, exhaled through my skin and into the electronic void, away, away from everything. It was just ascii, it was just characters and a couple astrisks, but I felt love and I felt loved, and for IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-757873652002-04-24T17:02:00.000-07:002002-04-24T17:02:51.856-07:00I wish for the sun, the sharp reminder of life of a sunburn... I would happily accept a burn on the hardy surface, a tangy badge of a day well spent, a tender reminder of a well lit-time enjoyed
My mind burns from floresence - loud workmates the only distraction from the constant attack of the machines, trying so hard to get in, always so close to victorious occupation; the ravages of this IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-757249862002-04-23T05:38:00.000-07:002002-04-23T05:38:20.080-07:00 My eyes are dfinately green.
I'm sitting here, checking my watch, making sure it isn't time to start getting ready for work, thinking about how I should have slept. Thinking about how I'm not hungry but I could eat a freaking Tour of Italy and I feel the same as when I'm starving but I really feel the same. It's like my stomach doesn't care what I do to it. It's daring me to eat glass. I IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-757211962002-04-23T01:43:00.000-07:002002-04-23T01:43:03.946-07:00 I have one meal in three days, I'm a little hungry, so I go for a tour of Italy - after some calamari of course. I guess that's what's called binge eating. And then I ordered cheescake. And then I finished my bowl-o-salad, and sprang for the leftovers that the girl I was eating with had boxed.
First she was like "damn, boy, how do you stay so thin?" Then she was like "Uh, when was the IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-757099782002-04-22T18:36:00.000-07:002002-04-22T18:36:48.833-07:00I won't be going on with the fiction; the epic tale of Ray Petkov's investigation of the corporate oligarchy, his ecoterrorist friend Jordan, the singular experiances of Zheff Gravely, the traumatic ordeals of Dr. Digishi, the world-endangering insanity of Dr. Lungfish, or the ambitious empire carving of Senator Veroux.
I mean, I have more to write, and I will. But not here. Here will be a IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-756667302002-04-21T17:56:00.000-07:002002-04-21T17:56:49.600-07:00-So there I was, incredibly high on my first free hit of life, and I had a couple ideas and I ended up typing for a hell of a long time. And lo and behold, it was crap. But I was proud. Read on, if you dare.
Yeah, I said it before, I'll say it again. Yesterday was the best year of my life. Every minute felt like a week of fun-filled adventure. And I did less than usual. Crazy. I'm coming IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-756482582002-04-21T06:20:00.000-07:002002-04-21T06:20:38.810-07:00Dude... floodgates are fucking broken in the open position. There was a time when I had felt better than I had in my entire life. Now I feel better. I need someone to SEE all this! For the first time I have something going, something that I'm actually proud of... jesus christ, if anyone's reading this, email me or something. I have more! Jesus, so much more... want to see?! Huh, do ya? IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-756452092002-04-21T01:59:00.000-07:002002-04-21T01:59:00.423-07:00Powered by Blogger
Powered by blogger indeed. Settings button never seems to work for me, can't change the little about blurb that sits forever unchanged to the left, mocking me.
Caffein has always been the key. I've always had it. But the key is useless, it's a scrap of metal that takes up space and weighs 1000 percent more than it is worth. The key needs a lock. I've been carrying IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-756409222002-04-20T22:00:00.000-07:002002-04-20T22:00:22.410-07:00Coming to you live from a cyber cafe in downtown Seattle.
MLE, the barrista from the heavens, chatting with a gay guy from New York. She doesn't like Starbucks. He likes working as little as possible. Doctor for five years. What kind of music do you like? I mean, what CDs do you have in your bag there? Skin Puppies is my favorite, trip hop, tori amos....
Bits and pieces of conversation, IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-756150312002-04-20T01:40:00.000-07:002002-04-20T01:41:07.000-07:00So there's this one girl- (yeah, it's one of those posts. Anyway, this is the one I mentioned briefly that I'm totally totally into) and
I say: "hey, check out what defines me as a person at http://dryoholungfish.blogspot.com!" and
she sais:"that's alright."
I say: "this posting I do. Blogging. It's almost exhibitionist. Well, not exactly public, it's not a high traffic site, but posting IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-756122602002-04-19T22:50:00.000-07:002002-04-20T01:53:47.000-07:00The Lime Consortium and the Andromedean Mice representing two idealogical hemispheres fundamentaly at odds, joining at a single point of conflict, where a signle insignifigant organization rests nuetrally in the ballance, in its frailty hoping merely to survive amidst the chaos of potential and kinetic energies of galactic cataclysm, has nothing to do with what happened at the same time, IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-756044682002-04-19T18:03:00.000-07:002002-04-19T18:03:08.460-07:00I recently tried writing the defining novel of my generation. It was going to be the Catcher In The Rye of my time, something for the youth, my people, to rally behind and hold up as a flag to represent our plight and stuff. But I got bored and distracted. I didn't just not finish it, I barely even started it.
That's because I have no real motivation. And I think that is one of the definingIMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-755722822002-04-18T20:50:00.000-07:002002-04-20T01:55:34.000-07:00Day in the life of this one guy.
EXT DAY: some cold place with a hell of a lot of trees that are all wet, all the time
So wet infact, that even when it is not raining, people still tell other people that it is raining because they see water falling but do not realize that it is just water that is still making its way off the trees.
GUY is lieing on the floor, MGIRL is sitting in a chair against IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-755421432002-04-18T04:17:00.000-07:002002-04-18T04:19:44.000-07:00Epic Struggle Between Man And Machine Ends In Mutually Assured Destruction
A Dr. Yoho Lungfish Paradigm Shifter (prepare for shiftage, biatch)
-A light flashes on a printer. Is it the ready light, or the no paper light? It's not easy to tell, it's not a kind of printer our hero has seen before. Whatever.
-Our hero turns off the printer.
-The printer makes shutting down sounds, but the light is IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-755382242002-04-17T23:56:00.000-07:002002-04-18T00:01:47.000-07:00Dr. Yoho Lungfish Presents
The Fall of Dr. Digishi: A Dialogue
(with three different people, but the part with the third person is really just a second dialogue with one new character. This parenthetical description does not go into the totally random parts that are actual comments about an actual life.)
"Excuse me sir, are you Dr. Digishi?"
"Why yes, how did you know?"
"We have to IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-755248652002-04-17T16:58:00.000-07:002002-04-17T16:59:28.000-07:00The Nigh is End. Thank god for plastic...
Yeah, plastic. Everything, everywhere, uses plastic. Without plastic, we would all be dead. I don't think I need to go into detail about the details of what would need going into if I were to go into the details of a world without plastic.
-forget all that. That is not what this post is about at all. This post is actually another classic impromptu IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-754857792002-04-16T18:17:00.000-07:002002-04-16T18:18:31.000-07:00Dr. Yoho Lungfish Presents: Rambling Ruminations on the Nature of Existance and Nothing
-Please disregard anything in quotes. I suck. Everything preceding this sentence is false, everything from now on is true, unless specifically noted to the contrary, or unless actually a lie, which will quite likely be the case.
You all need to understand something about Nothing. It's a big mofo.
I know whatIMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-754468442002-04-15T19:13:00.000-07:002002-04-18T00:03:31.000-07:00Dr. Yoho Lungfish Presents: Caffeine, The Definitive Impromptu Essay
Caffiene 1,3,7-trimethylxanthine, is a legal drug, and it beats the hell out of nicotine, which is more expensive, more addictive, more deadly, less socially acceptable, and just face it, the buzz sucks. All that smoke for a 2 second reflief from nicotine withdrawls? Lame.
Now, there has been a longstanding beliefe that IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-753496312002-04-12T20:54:00.000-07:002002-04-12T20:54:32.780-07:00Will the hilarity ever end?
The first event of the day needs a little history. There was a time, very recently in fact, when there was this woman who worked where I did, and everyone hated her, but she was sortof like the 2nd in command of the boss, and people had to do what she told them. Well, for whatever reason, she let me go home early pretty often. Well, she quit, changed jobs, left. IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-753192662002-04-12T02:04:00.000-07:002002-04-12T02:04:57.183-07:00So I've been hanging out with this girl pretty often the last couple weeks. We talk a lot, or sometimes we just hang out, doing our own thing in the same room. Whatever. We were both bored, so I took her to Target (yay!(?)). We shopped and generally enjoyed passing the time in one of the many enfranchised temples of institutionalized capitalism (ok, yes, I had some alcohol, excuse my BS). IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-753014962002-04-11T15:39:00.000-07:002002-04-11T15:39:30.353-07:00You may have noticed how abruptly the previous post ended. For some reason, sometimes when I make a post, part of it gets cut off. If I don't remember to cut and paste the text to something else, it is gone forever. Whatever, sometimes it's better that way.
I got a full three hours of sleep last night, and I was still tired today. Imagine that. I keep drifting to near-sleep in my chair. IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-752784952002-04-11T00:32:00.000-07:002002-04-11T00:32:36.496-07:00Great day at work. I could go into the reasons, but they are all work related, and even though it was great, it was still work. Whatever. I have 38 more pens.
So I got home from work, and I was in a good mood. Yesterday I was in the opposite mood, but I had a lot of energy, so I blamed my mood on my reset metabolism (refer to entry about 32 shots of espresso (32?!) yeah, 32). Today I had IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-752166332002-04-09T13:24:00.000-07:002002-04-09T13:24:12.413-07:00This webrealm is currently undergoing an identity crisis, which is fitting since this webrealm is really (metaphysically speaking) an extension of myself. The previous sentance implies, since I note that it is fitting, that I myself am going through an identity crisis. The previous sentance, not to be confused with the one prior to it, also implies this by calling attention to the implication IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-751875502002-04-08T19:24:00.000-07:002002-04-08T19:24:08.336-07:00*flashback sequence transports veiwers (readers with good imaginations, that is) to the distant past of last Saturday, April 06 2002.*
EXT. DAY setting: favorite coffee place on 1st and Seneca.
OUR HERO sits down at the little bar, across from MLE, the barista, who patiently waits for him to place his order.
HERO: I want 40 shots of espresso. Five cups with eight shots each.
MLE: Are you crazyIMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3434088.post-751028682002-04-06T02:18:00.000-08:002002-04-06T02:18:37.943-08:00This date is of no importance in any way except two; this is the first of a potentially long line of posts by myself, and this is the day in which I celebrate my birth. Actually, the last sentance was mostly false in the placement of importance, depending on your definition of importance.
Fortunately for me, though, I don't care about importance or placement, only that today is my birthday, and IMO, Xianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13920839170108922627noreply@blogger.com0