All week I've been preparing to move into our new house, and I keep coming across all sorts of neat stuff I had completely forgotten about. I was just in the attic, where I found a really nice looking spiral bound notebook. "I wonder what's in this?" I thought to myself as I opened it.
Before I show you what it contains I'd like to point out that if Jer '97 knew that Jer '06 was going to publish it on the internet, he'd probably not be terribly pleased. Luckily somewhere between '97 and '06 I learned the importance -- no, necessity -- of humor at your own expense.
What I found is sort of a hodgepodge of snippets of thought, some potential song lyrics (Jer '97 wanted to be a singer/songwriter), and what very seriously appears to be Bad Goth Poetry. I never really fell into the pit of Gothitude, but I teetered on the bone-strewn precipice for a while. I wish my scanner wasn't packed away so you could see it in its full glory, but you'll have to settle for a transcription of the best bits.
This first bit seems to be like, 'deep thoughts' or something that I wanted to expand upon later:
the bones you fear support your existence,
the skull that leers contains your hopes, fears and dreams
I have a vague memory of this, and what I was trying to get across is the idea that people find skeletons and bones and whatnot to be frightening, yet without them you wouldn't be terribly productive.
Potentially goth poem:
put your nose to the grind
you'll be surprised that you find
a hole where you once had a nose
definitely goth poem:
drowning, sinking. floundering about.
fight to stay atop, prolong as long as you can.
you wear tired, realizing that soon you will float.
another worse one, which was probably supposed to be lyrics eventually, based on the little rhyme in the middle:
you've got everything on a plate
your bubble tinted shades of pink
you've got life by the balls, or so you think
when in actuality you're in the ball,
a tinted lens between you and the world.
what happens when that bubble breaks?
I actually like this one, which might say a bit about me:
where can you go?
to whom can you run?
can you pursuade the whole world,
with that matte finished gun?
will they listen?
do they care?
will they follow you there?
This one is kind of a stream of consciousness thing, and judging by the degredation of my already horrible penmanship, I really got going towards the end:
mental images, not thought but told
flashing through consciousness in response
to emotion-controlling imagery, which
has been engineered to tell, to fool,
to confuse thinking with passively being told,
actively doing nothing, believing you feel
when you are simply responding to
(editor's note: this next bit is fuckin' awesome. emphasis is added now)
Spielbergian propagandist imagery designed to make money.
I got a chuckle out of this:
why do we fear that which we don't understand?
what is it that causes such intolerant behavior?
am I intolerant of the intolerance of others?
Then in awesomley nonplannedness, a page containing only the following:
In case that doesn't mean anything to you, you could google it. The fact that my little abandoned notebook ends with this is probably one of my most favorite things ever. I'm actually wondering now if I did that on purpose. I highly doubt I was that clever, but I'd really like to think I was.
Last night I went to Target to pick up some vacuum cleaner bags, and like always happens when I try to purchase something at Target, I was unable to locate them on my own. Fairly quickly I located a helpful sales associate, who said he'd be happy to help me find them as soon as he finished shelving the last 2 items from his pallet. We were quickly on our way to the vacuum cleaner section -- which I had obliviously walked right past, due to the fact that I was looking to the right and didn't even think to look to my left -- when a group of ruffians poorly groomed wannabe heavy metal teenagers stopped and asked if the store carried knives.
The helpful employee tried his best to answer, but required a little more information to point them in the right direction. "Like.. what kind of knives? Like.. pocket--"
"Like, you know," said Teenager One as he thoughtfully stroked his ill-conceived chinstrap. "'Stab a bitch' knives," not seeming to notice or care that he was interrupting Helpful Sales Associate, but pleased nonetheless that he had cracked up Teenagers Two through Four.
Helpful Sales Associate kind of scowled and said, "Yeah. That's the kind I expected. Pocket knives are two aisles over," and pointed to the right.
Once again we were on our way to the vacuum section, Helpful Sales Associate mumbling all the while about kids these days.
"I think it's 'The MTV'," I contributed helpfully.
Much to my amusement he didn't seem to notice that I was joking and actually argued my suggestion somewhat. "Well, it's definitely the age group. I'm not sure I'd blame it squarely on the music, the video games, the movies or the television, but something is definitely wrong with kids these days."
Thinking about it after the fact, I've decided that the problem lies in the role models today's youth choose to look up to. I mean think about it: every other day George Bush is on TV talking about kicking people's asses; it's really no wonder that kids who look up to him should try to emulate his behavior. Young people are very impressionable, and it's up to the people in positions of worship and amazement to make sure that they are being good role models for tomorrow's citizens.
From time to time I get amusing comments posted to past entries. I'd like to share my new favorite, from the entry about how I thought I got rabies, posted by someone using the name "other guy with rabies" :
thats cool. i has a simmiler thing happen... but i killed 9 people and blew up 4 cars...
First up was Panic Plane*, which I thought was pretty good. If you like thrillers but aren't bothered too much by unrealistic and predictable movies then this is your film.
Up next was Panic Plane 2*, which I didn't think was nearly as good as the first one. Nowhere near as good. Isn't that always the case? The two saving factors are: 1) Rachel McAdams is really, really hot, and 2) Brian Cox is thin and has a beard. (I love Brian Cox.)
Then it was time for Saw, which much to my surprise I really enjoyed. I'd heard people talking about this movie so much for nigh-on two years that I really didn't think I was going to like it. I like it when things work out that way.
Finally, it was time for Saw II, which admittedly breaks my sequel policy, but Travis insisted that it is not only better than the first one, but not really related. Well, I must say that once again, the first one is better. Waaaay better. Saw II is a very weak rip off of Cube (and its sequels) kind of grafted into the Saw universe. Lame. If I wanted to watch Cube, I would have rented it.
*: These titles are of course made up by me, but I feel they describe the movies better than the actual titles do.
I really hope you fucking appreciate what I go through for you.
Right about the point this shot was taken, my wonderful neighbor asked if I wanted to borrow her gas powered mower -- just to you know, knock it down and get me started with my pollution-free lawn care system. I took her up on it and spent the next 3 and a half hours cutting 3" strips out of the lawn, since the super tall growth would bog down the mower and kill it if I tried more than that. Know those little wheel marks you get on your lawn when you mow? I've got those every 3 inches. Awesome.
Hours and hours later, it's all knocked down and raked. Now I'm prepared to do future mowings with no pollution (mainly the noise pollution, but also the stinky air pollution) and no petroleum requrements, which I'm pretty excited about. We'll have to see how long that excitement lasts, and how long it takes me to buy an SUV riding mower or something.
The USPS notified us on saturday that since we are new occupants in the house we bought that this is as good a time as any for them to "upgrade" the neighborhood with streetside mailboxes. Our house is in an older neighborhood where it is common to see those old style mailboxes that are attached to the house, where the postmen of yore would come up and lift the hinge and drop in the mail, while carefully stepping over the glass bottles the milkman left, trying not to slip on the large block of ice from the icehouse.
So, in an effort to save the USPS $55 dollars a year1, we are now expected to furnish our own mailbox and install it at the curb, during which time they will conveniently hold all our mail hostage until it is done. I want to just call their bluff and say fuck it and not install one, but D isn't quite as prepared as I am to abandon the Postal Service. I swear, all I ever get in the mail is advertisement packets, so it'd be no loss for me.
So now I'm thinking of sculpting up a novelty mailbox. Afterall, if I have to save them $55 a year, I can at least do it in style, right?
Here's what I was thinking:
The pants would be hinged so it can open and close, but I was too lazy to make it animate. Thoughts?
1: I'm not sure how they come up with that $55 a year figure. I mean, if we round it down to $52 a year, that'd be a dollar a week. Considering the mail is delivered on 6 days of the week, that's $0.16 a day. Considering it would take at most a minute to get out of the jeep, walk the 8 feet to our box and back, that $0.16 means they'd be making $10 an hour. Does that seem about right? Do they even get paid hourly? I kind of doubt it.
It seems as if I had mentioned this before, but a quick search shows no results, so I must not have.
I've been recently dabbling with gene splicing. Nothing too fancy yet mind you, I am after all a beginner, it's just that I keep running into the same problem over and over. See, I'm trying to combine a lobster and a lemon to create a lobster which doesn't require any lemon garnish1. The problem is that I keep ending up with lemons that taste like lobster, and that's just nasty. I mean, who wants to boil a lemon before eating it?
1: Phase 2 will involve splicing my lemobster with butter, but I'm not far enough along yet to start work on that.
Here's a little something from the "I really wish I had thought of this" department:
I stay away from politics on this blog. But I can no longer be silent. Hollywood has gone too far. Forget about the controversy of Flight 93. A movie will be released this summer that takes one of the biggest hot button issues of the day and reduces it to a simplistic, one-sided piece of propaganda.
That movie is Superman Returns.
You really ought to head on over and read the whole thing because the logic employed is hilarious and the argument is very well reasoned. I've always disliked Superman, but have never been able to put my finger on just why... Now I can.