Thursday, December 30, 2004

Love makes us happy. Unrequited love makes us babbling overzealous fools. Its never more obvious than in the rhythm and blues songs of old. Songs of literal begging for forgiveness. Songs in which the lead singer promises to do better. Pleads for another chance. There's something about those songs that really clicks with us as a whole. Otherwise, such music would long have been retired to the LP shelves in antique stores. As it is, the music moves as much as it did in its relative hey day, because there's something about a grown man begging, pleading, crying out for just a moment of some wronged young woman's attention. I give you exhibits A and B. A is lyrics, lyrics from a powerful song. The man? Dumped. His methodology? He's so pathetic he doesn't even bother to sing a good deal of the song. The end result? Good music. Here's the lyrics. Courtesy, of course, of

Have You Seen Her?

One month ago today
I was happy as a lark
But now I go for walks
To the movies - maybe to the park

And have a seat on the same old bench
To watch the children play (huh)
You know, tomorrow is their future
But to me, just another day

They all gather around me
They seem to know my name
We laugh, tell a few jokes
But it still doesnt ease my pain

I know I cant hide from a memory
Though day after day Ive tried
I keep sayin shell be back
But today again I lied

Verse 1:

Oh, I see her face everywhere I go
On the street, and even at the picture show
Have you seen her?
Tell me, have you seen her?

Verse 2:

Oh, I hear her voice as the cold winds blow
In the sweet music on my radio
Have you seen her?
Tell me, have you seen her?


Why, oh, why
Did she have to leave and go away [2: oh, yeah]
Oh-oh-oh, Ive been used to havin someone to lean on
And Im lost
Baby, Im lost (Oh)

[Repeat verse w/wordless vocal first two lines (2X)]

Verse 3:

Oh, she left her kiss upon my lips
But left that break within my heart
Have you seen her?
Tell me, have you seen her?

Verse 4:

Oh, I see her hand reaching out to me
Only she can set me free
Have you seen her?
Tell me, have you seen her?

[Repeat bridge]

[Repeat verse w/wordless vocal first 2 lines (4X)]

(spoken over 2nd and 3rd repeats):

As another day comes to an end
Im lookin for a letter or somethin
Anything that she would send
With all the people I know
Im still a lonely man
You know, its funny
I thought I had her in the palm of my hand

Coda [repeat to fade]:

Have you seen her
Tell me, have you seen her (tell me, have you seen her?)

And of course, Exhibit B. I give you, the Temptations. Masters of their craft, they had two lead singers. One was a romancer, the other was a begger. Eddie Kendricks and Dennis Ruffin respectively. Eddie promised and delivered the world, while David, David just promised not to mess up again. This song is David, asking just to hear her say she forgives him. Enjoy.
All I Need - The Temptations

My mood?

You know, I really don't know. . .

Wednesday, December 29, 2004

Saw this, stole this, and here we are.

You Are the Individualist


You are sensitive and intuitive, with others and yourself.

You are creative and dreamy... plus dramatic and unpredictable.

You're emotionally honest, real, and easily hurt.

Totally expressive, others always know exactly how you feel.

Monday, December 27, 2004

Ever wonder where you'd be if you'd just done something, one thing, differently? I remember right after I had a car accident, having crawled out of the rubble, and looking at my car, wishing, just wishing, that I'd just pulled over and looked down to see what that noise was that I'd heard. I might still be driving that car today. The funny thing about looking back is that it never does any good. It just makes you feel like even more of a loser, and even more of a reject, because not only did you fail miserably to make what is obviously a clearly successful decision, but now you have the long road of consquence ahead. There is nothing more irritating that your nagging faults following you, haunting you. All the mistakes you've made, all the things you wish you'd never done, and all the things you know, I mean YOU KNOW, you should've done, all past, unalterable and at the same time still there, making you wish you could alter them. You can't forget them, you can't change them, and no matter what people tell you about remembering to avoid repeating, the sweet feeling of release, of forgetting would be so much better. Sometimes its these feelings of regret that guide us into even more regret, simply to wash away the emotions of yesterday and open new wounds afresh.

Some would argue that learning from our mistakes isn't pointless, that in fact it is our mistakes that mold us, shape us, and teach us, as well as guide us. To these I would say we don't learn from mistakes, we learn from the harsh consequences they bring. And often times, that "learning" is simply us remembering the pain avoiding it. For instances like touching a hot stove or diving into an empty pool. Living through the pain, of course, teaches us not to do that, but in complex situations, when there literally is nothing that will be repeated or remain static in the future, its kind of a moot point. Next time around, I won't have to worry about that guy getting upset and beating me senseless if I just walk away right? Seems straightforward, but what if I succeed in intimidating the next person who challenges me, but when I walk away, he feels brave enough to attack me, because I turned my back on him. What if, by walking away, I leave myself open to being shot, or stabbed? Well previous experience tells me staying will lead to a fight, but does it tell me leaving won't? In each situation, its really dependent on the person, and who can really judge a person? We change as often as our clothing, and our situations dictate to us how we will react, which means nothing that we do is predictable. Sure you can guess how I'll respond to certain situations, but there's so many variables that it would be impossible to know exactly how I'd act. And that's the problem, in my mind, with human communications. Variables. Did she smile, did she laugh, was it a polite laugh or a full thrown belly laugh? Was it for my benefit or for hers? Can I take her at face value, or is she a complete hypocrite? Why did she cover her nose, is my breath smelly, or some other part of me, or does she feel a sneeze coming on? Is she embarassed, is she angry, does she know that I didn't mean to say what I said? Did that offend her? Why? What exactly did the offending? Could I say it again? Did she accept my apology? Am I chewing with my mouth open again? BAAH!! All of that for less fifteen minutes of conversation and interaction, and in the long run, nothing is accomplished and nothing is gained. Why? Because many of our behaviors are fronts, clever rouses to make us think that someone else is an incredible person in need of our attention and/or affections. So even though you may spend hours, days, weeks, months, years with someone, you may never know them until they break down and open up. But not too much, you have to open up and gain trust, but you can't open up until they gain trust, because too much and you will regret it and that finally brings us back here to where we started. Regret.

I regret that I even thought this.

Prox Map Sort - The Metric System Favorite song line of all time: "You're more difficult than bubble sort." This is what happens when programmers do music. See Devo for more.

My mood?


Friday, December 24, 2004

So I just keep singing my song,
because me and you will never belong,
together in sentences or phrases,
so if I seem in a daze its
just me reacting to what will be,
will be que sera sera,
the crowd cheers hurrah hurrah,
and we get thumbs up down and in between,
it seems,
the best get and the worse get dreams,
and that's really the very thing,
that boils my blood,
that forms my mud,
into pies, cakes, delicatessen shapes,
eclairs, long johns and pastries,
so much sugar I took over the french bakeries,
turned them into mockeries, or maybe fakeries,
since they mocked me once before.
Like a dog in front of the meat store
front-ing like he's really already ate,
I stand in front and watch everybody's fate,
unravel and unfold in front of my eyes,
kicking and screaming because I know its lies,
no one can be that happy with someone,
and my battle stays fought but never won,
What have I done?
To alienate that which I wanted,
to the extent that I've un-done it.
My effort and work
is emblazoned on man made fibrous shirts,
quitters never win, winners never quit,
what, that's it?
Your motto's such that you've got to win,
instead of being second best in the end,
I've got to destroy my enemies,
relish in their loss and defeats?
Not my plan, I'm not the man
So tell me I'm not the one, tell me my job is done,
and I'll laugh in your face,
and take that remote from your place.
In one fell swoop you'd get your taste,
and I'd be the one that wish YOU'D get erased,
or traced,
so we can all keep your pace,
your pace,
your pace,

Strangers - Portishead

My mood?

Pretty mellow actually. . .

Wednesday, December 22, 2004

Its another day without/another day within/a day when I can begin

So here we are. Wednesday, or whatever day this is. Okay, not a lot of time. I had a good thought or two, but I've lost them since this weekend.

But here's what's been happening: I got and cooked a ham.

Okay. That little section is over. Here's something I wrote.

My cornbread skillets,
made of iron, covered in grease,
formed by and touched by heat.
I make my cornbread on Thursdays,
and I make it last through the week.
My cornbread skillets,
if I told you I was in love with them,
you'd think I was bit crazy.
But I love what they are,
and they love me back unconditional
not cold hearted or judgemental,
they give my bread shape and form,
and I give them the oven that makes them warm.
I butter my cornbread skillets,
and it cooks it into my bread,
and when it comes down to it,
me and my cornbread skillets,
makes sure I keep my cool, make sure I keep my head.
Cornbread, ain't nothing wrong with that,
its what makes me tick tock and keeps me intact.
Passed down from my mother,
and her mother, and maybe her mother's mother,
or maybe we got them at a shelf in Walmart,
the real deal is that we've never been apart.
I got cornbread skillets,
and for those with it,
I'll bake you some bread.

We Live in Brooklyn Baby - Roy Ayers

My mood?

Hugs for everyone!!

Friday, December 17, 2004

She said I'll throw myself away/they're just photos after all

Taking advantage of free time. Its a fun thing. Anyway, this is what it is, and that is what it was, so don't take time to outthink me. Such is the essence of Javann.

I've been working on my accents, and I've been using it to mingle with people I don't know. I don't know why, but its fun to have people believe that I'm from Liverpool and that I'm here studying psychology. Or that I'm from a farm in Middle Tennessee and I grew up working the land. Fun stuff. I've not tried Scottish yet, but I'm sure it'll happen soon. I need to pick up a German accent and a better Northern accent, like Canadian, and Bostonian. The ultimate test of my skills will be when someone I meet is actually from the place I'm saying I'm from. Will I be able to muddle and confuse them enough that they realize that I didn't grow up in Liverpool? Or in middle Tennessee. Who says life isn't interesting?

Tuesday, December 14, 2004

And if you want me/I'm just a crosshair/I'm just a shot away from you

Ladies, gentleman, boys girls of all ages. I'm tired. I've been working working working day and night, OW! Sorry. But a dubloon to the man (or woman =)) who can tell what song I'm quoting and which artist did it. Anyway, while working at um. . .work last night, I wrote a few poems. Here's a couple I wrote.

Don't let them see you bleed,
don't let them see you cry.
Laugh at their machinations,
laugh until you die.

Don't let them win,
Make sure they don't control you,
and if they don't lose in the end,
don't let them console you.

You've got a message,
they will tell you its all a lie.
A thought so treacherous,
a false good that's missing an eye.

I've got to run now,
I hope you somehow survive.
No I'm not sure how,
But somehow we'll all stay alive.

And here's the next:

You're a failure, nobody wants you,
You'll go to the grave, a human monster.
What can you do, do about it?
Just put it out your head, forget about it.
Uninflate your dreams, they never mattered,
Drown all your hopes, you've never mattered.
The time you've wasted, its not coming back.
You're not welcome, so why don't you pack?
Take all your things, and be sure to leave,
Make all your promises, they're all so empty.
Just like you, so quit before you start.
Another mistake, just might crush your heart.
You've got questions? Well no one asked you.
You've got answers? Well no one asked you!
Why can't you be, more like someone else?
Why can't you be, anyone but yourself.
You should hate yourself, every else does.
Now be on your way, you just a once-was.

Talking To A Brick - The Cooper Temple Clause

My mood?

Don't let them console you.

Friday, December 10, 2004

I'm crazy, I'm deranged/this reality I live's so strange/and I just want to lay down to sleep/I just want to lay down and sleep

Ladies and gentlemen. Boys and girls of all ages. I'm Javann. That's right, Javann. Two A's and two N's. Now if you'll excuse me I'll go be Javann somewhere else. I've got a headache, and a juxtaposition if you will, because I feel like banging my head on the wall. If only I didn't have a headache. Anyway, here's my chosen mp3 of the day. Enjoy.

We Used To Be Friends - The Dandy Warhols

My mood?

Unbridled power shall never be mine. . .

Wednesday, December 08, 2004

What is it that makes us choose who we shall be? Some of us want strive to be feared, so we spend hours in the gym, training our bodies to become the ultimate machine, capable of destroying others. Others want to be desired, so they adorn themselves with all manners of chemicals and metals, all in hopes of being some unattainable treasure, some rare goods that shall forever remain out of the reach of all who see them. What drives us to be the good one, the bad one, or even the witty one? Why do we try to portray ourselves as certain types of people? What does that portrayal reveal about you?

I can remember back in high school (shudder) when I went through the different phases of who I wanted to be. In ninth grade, I wanted to be the tough guy, the guy that everyone feared, in tenth grade, I wanted to be the guy that all the girls wanted. In eleventh, I wanted to be the social outcast who was so above all society that no one even mattered to him. Finally, my senior year, I wanted to be the class clown, the guy that everyone liked because he was funny. Oddly enough, though I went through all of those different phases, in the end, what I ended up being was a little bit of all those things. I like being the tough guy, the different guy, or the guy all the girls like. I don't mind being the clown, the guy that makes you laugh. All of those things became an embodiment of my personality. But why? What makes me want to be those things? Friends? Family? The media? The world may never know. And neither will I. But the truth of the matter is that no matter what I, or anyone else for that matter, may be, I can still say with confidence that I'm me. And that counts for something right?

Tuesday, December 07, 2004

I know what you're thinking/this boat is sinking/and I want off/how could something so soft/be so hard/to push away?

I feel horrible. Probably because I've been out in the rain the past few mornings, and I've developed what feels like a allergic reaction to someone's carpet. Oh yeah, that's right, I did sleep on someone's carpet, which made me congested. Then again, it was my fault for being there, and this person was kind enough to extend hospitality to me instead of making me sleep in the car. So I really can't blame him for my predicament. Either way, I've been sleeping and drinking tea (ugh. . .I feel old) in hopes that my nasal passages shall open up and I shall breathe easily once more. I think I have to work tonight. I really can't remember if I do or not. Where's the Earl Grey?

My mood?

Stupid allergies. . .

Friday, December 03, 2004

I have found/all that shimmers in this world is sure to fade/away. . .again

A short note before we get to the meatier parts of today's blog:

Life is weird. Life is unexpected. Never assume that it will be otherwise. To quote a band, everything that shimmers in this world is sure to fade. All that shines today will likely be tarnished tomorrow. If you find something, someone, that maintains its shine, cherish it, treasure it, but while putting in on a pedestal, remember that the higher you place such things, the more corrosive the air in which it is.

But enough of that. Today's a reprint of a story I posted on Jerm's site. Sorry, if you've read it already. Enjoy.

He stared at the rain as it came down, wondering if it would ever end. As he looked down at the overhang below him, he could see the smoke drifting heavenward. "I didn't even realize smoke would rise during rain," he thought to himself. So many people throwing their lives away to drugs and the vices of the world. Sad. What time was it? He looked down at his watch and responded in disgust to the digital readout. Thirty more minutes before art class. Art class was the highlight of his day, the only class which really challenged him. All his other classes were challenging because of his pupils, never because of his teachers. It was all a bore really. Sadly enough, he would be quitting art next year, all because of the misunderstanding between him and his teacher.

The noise from the lunchroom drifted down the hall, making him vaguely wish he could go into that lunchroom and have people laugh and talk with him. He laughed to himself as he imagined the other children viewing him as a friend, or even as just an equal. Looking upwards, he noticed the ceiling. Something about it enraptured him, he didn't quite know what captured his attention up there, just that something did. He stood up and stretched his hand out to touch it. Too far away. He jumped. The tile he touched jumped up and away from his hand, leaving an empty space in its place.

A thought crossed his mind. The space looked like the beginning of something. The beginning of. . .a letter. The letter J maybe, and then even an A and then V. Why, he could put his entire name. . .no wait. His smile fell as he realized his name wouldn't fit. He'd have to go all down the hall. But. . .his initials. . .since a name would be indemnifying anyway. . .and initials. He began to work.

Twenty minutes later, he had a sizable J. And a problem. Robert, the fat, overbearing, super macho security guard, came around the corner, yelling at him to 'return everything back to the way its supposed to before he made sure that he spent time with a wooden paddle.' "Big man," he thought, "threatening a fifteen year old." He begin undoing that which he had done.

Suddenly he slipped. He didn't know what happened really, but as he fell towards the plate glass window he had been looking outside of earlier, he realized this collision wasn't going to work out so well for him. How did they do it on TV? Oh yeah, they tensed their arms up and pushed through. Oh well.

The crash alerted everyone to his predicament, and as he felt the pain in his leg, realized that he had bitten off more than perhaps he could chew. Robert came back around the corner, and stared at him in horror as he pulled his body back into the window his left arm. His right arm didn't seem to work right, and it felt funny. As he looked down, he was shocked to see blood flowing from his arm. The smell of vomit floated towards him, as Robert proved his manliness by emptying the contents of his oversized gut. People rushed to him. He looked into his arm and saw his bone, and touched it. The pain was enough to make his heart stop, make his vision blacken. Someone asked if he wanted to ride in an ambulance. "Never been in an ambulance before," he thought, "might be fun."

After the boring ride to the emergency room, thirty five stitches and an intriguing conversation with the doctor on in the emergency room, he sat in his room, examining his wound.

"This, this is going to make one really cool scar."

And for the mp3:
Electric Car - Joy Electric

My mood?

Bubbles. Ain't nothing wrong with that. . .
Well I couldnt just sit here and watch this blog have nothing written on it. It seems people do not embrace the trial and tribulation of owning a blog. I mean having a blog such as this one is very difficult. Actually anywebsite is difficult. YOu have to think design embrace... and then what do you get in return... few if any comments... later you find people visit. But isn't blogging a cry out to communicate with the world?

Some may reply.. well the post don't inspire. I'm not interested. It takes to much time.

The blog is a way to exercise your brain daily. And to share with the world...

embrace the world of blogging.. and challenge yourself. Your creative sense will only improve.

Tuesday, November 30, 2004

You'll make us want to die/I'd cut your name in my heart/We'll destroy this world for you/I know you want me to feel your pain

I finally know what a popsicle feels like. They say difficulty builds character. Well today was definitely the most character building day I've had cross guarding, safety patrolling, whatever. I'd like to complain about it being cold, but after reading about Jerm's trip of doom, I can't really complain too bad about that. It was cold, rainy, and windy, and that officially made my day a tad bit worse, but at least I got to get into the car after about an hour of being in that. Imagine being outside in worse, and for several days. Aye.

I'm stoked. Very stoked. I get to see Muse. That's right, Muse. To those of you who don't know Muse, I say, you losers! For the rest of you cool people, I say, isn't this awesome. But for those who don't know Muse, I'll do a replay on my favorite Muse song. I call it a replay because I posted it before. I've been known to quote it on occasion as well. So here it is:
Plug In Baby - Muse
Why do I like this song so much? I have no idea, but everytime to the chorus rolls around, I'm shouting this song at the top of my lungs. Doesn't really matter where I am, work, walking to class, eating lunch, half sleep in my bedroom, if I hear this song, I will sing along. Anyway, I'm going to go finish my laundry. Wash em up, wring em out, then I throw em in the dryer

My mood?

Just hitching a ride. . . =)

Monday, November 29, 2004

They say that time heals all wounds/but all wounds are often caused by time

Time. There never seems to be enough of it to go around, and it always feels like no matter what you do, you're always pressed for it. I've seen great men, whom time befell, and in a matter of time, they became nothing. Men who've had everything they've wanted, wasted away by time. Often its said that we waste time, but in actuality, its time that wastes us. We can never stop or kill time, but it can stop and kill us. Maybe that's why as humans we're so forgetful. If we really truly remembered every instance of time, we'd forever be in the past, and never really take the time to plan for the future. Maybe that's the way time is supposed to go? Who knows?

As usual, sorry for the insane amount of downtime, but last week I was off and away from all things and I didn't take the. . . uh, time to type something out. But here I am back into the swing of things, back at work, back to writing and back to everyday life. That's time for you.

So fitting in with today's incessant theme, here's the mp3 of the day:
Time (To Get It Together) - Marvin Gaye

My mood?

Honestly? I don't know. . .cool picture though. . .

Friday, November 19, 2004

Honesty isn't my best quality/I can't promise I'm perfect/without defect/but I can promise I'm me/and if that's more than what I should be/maybe you should apologize

Well, yep, its me. I'm in a bit of a. . .writer's block would it be? I've not got a problem writing, by any means, but what I've been writing hasn't been of the lets share it with the masses variety of stuff. So maybe I should just dig out a few things I've written in the past, eh? If that sounds good to you, just keep reading. For the rest of you, well, there's always the mp3 for entertaining satisfaction.

So here's something from a while back:

I'm so self-important,
its like I was imported,
into this world just to be,
the person I am, you know me,
here to tell everyone they're wrong,
are you conceited? Well not for long.
I'm not going to let you ruin my reputation,
because being seen with you
isn't what most call cool,
does that equate your computation?
Not to talk to down,
but understand me, this isn't your town.
You're visiting, go ahead look around,
everyone comes here to see me,
what did you think they came to see?
I'm the greatest there ever was,
don't believe? He does,
and he's the one who counts.
Just like a gazelle after the lion pounce,
I'm the only reason for going out.
Being this awesome is kinda hard,
because I constantly have to stay on guard,
to make sure people like you don't bring me down.

Yeah I know. I'm not conceited, I'm everything I say I am. Hahahahahah. . .sorry, not sure what made me write that one. I think I was making fun of someone else who acted like that. Ah, well on to the next!

I live in a digital world.
Are you a digital girl?
I got my vision from Pearl,
and I don't like what I see.
Why are you over there looking at me?
Think that you might be hooking with me?
I won't take the bait,
because I can't relate to being your mate.
That just ain't my fate.
You think that you know me,
but what do you really know?
Why did you even show me,
if I seemed to slow?
Or did you learn to grow
I hate to seem pushy or ignorant,
but its not insignificant.
Let me step back and be original.
I may seem analog but I'm really digital

Definitely shorter than the last one. That's a plus. This is actually about someone that I didn't date. Can you tell from the poem? Actually, I'm breaking Javann's rule number one, and that's Never admit that a poem you wrote is about actual people or actual feelings. No good generally comes from that, but I've admitted that this was about someone already, so I might as well tell the world. Right? Nah. Anyway, next!

I don't like you, you don't like me,
so lets dispense with the pleasantries,
clear the air of the fake smiles,
the laughs, the jokes, the comments on style.
Its obvious we can never be friends,
because we both know it all depends,
on who's willing to go the extra mile,
and the only place I'm going for you is away,
to the other side of the room,
go brighten somebody else's day.
I don't have time to condition my face,
to make my mind embrace,
your weak attempt to conversate.
Aww, you don't like me, should i be hurt?
Should I feel like this little thing won't work?
Too late, I hate you more than you hate me
And no matter how much you may berate me
behind closed doors to your peers,
friends and associates, its clear,
that you've got nothing better to do
then to reciprocate the feelings of I-hate-you.
If I saw you fall down in the desert alone,
I'd just keep walking till I got to your home,
break your air condition, cut off your water,
bash the refrigerator, and take all your ice cubes,
take all your drinks, and your frozen foods,
and then I'd help you get home,
and when you thought I'd left you alone,
I'd be watching hoping to see your frustration,
at not being able to solve your dehydration,
then I'd bring over a glass and drink,
in front of your face, just to make you think.
Think about your hate, let it fill your heart,
think about how much you want to tear me apart,
how much you wish you could make me cry,
think about how glad you'll be when you see me die.
Then stop, and realize what you've become,
Because with your hate, you and I become one.

I've posted this one before, its just so deliciously mean, I have to repost it again. This really wasn't about anyone, just me trying to do something other than my normal soft, "I'm-so-in-love" poetry. Blech. . .I guess. Anyway, here's another in this quickly becoming long post.

Dragons, fire, loose ends and cobblers,
cobble stone, fixed shoes, limp legs and hobblers,
Peaches and apples, bananas and half eaten pears,
Them they we and drains clogged with hairs,
Conspiracies, hatred, coups, and Bonnevilles,
strong weak overly unique and sunny villes.
Hunger oppression dictionaries and explanations,
Implicit egos intricacies underdeveloped nations,
third first last in between acts and scenes,
You me together happy in aspects of dreams,
prepositions turtle necks time cards and checks
phrases heads necks trucks cars and mental wrecks,
cream coffee sugar additives preservatives,
carbonation quotes contents and absurdities,
rhymes mixes drinks phones braces rudeness
unclean unwashed bad taste and pollutedness,
fame change money power wealth and vanity
privacy stability happiness and all my sanity
warm enjoyment forever together with friends
beginning conclusion incredible delusion the end.

And that'll be the last one. Thoughts on this one? Uh. . .its uh. . .from Javann's "abstract" period.

Mp3? Sure!
End It On This - No Doubt
Not the best from the Tragic Kingdom album, but still an awesome song. Good intro, nice incorporation of the piano, and it actually sounds like Gwen's trying to sing here and not just howl melodically. That makes for some grade A music.
My mood?

Does that look like the mask or what?

Wednesday, November 17, 2004

We danced until the night disappeared/the morning suddenly reappeared

Welcome to Javann's weird sleeping habits. Its 1:30 A.M. and I just woke up. I went to sleep yesterday evening at 5:00 P.M. Not on purpose. Well, yes maybe on purpose. Apparently Wednesday is the day that I sleep uncontrollably. I really have no idea what causes me to sleep in such a pattern. . .anyway. . .

So I'm sure you're thinking to yourself, isn't this deep thoughts? No doubt you're looking for some thought which will motivate you to enjoy the rest of your day? Too bad.

No I kid I kid. Wait, did I just do another paragraph? Hmmm. . .I remember saying that I'd not start doing that. Oh well. In all honesty, I do have a thought, one that hit the me other night. You see, my sister gave me this quote book, which incidentally is smaller than my hand (which isn't saying much, since my hand is actually about nine inches from my middle finger to my wrist). But anyway, the book is full of excerpts from love letters written by famous poets and authors. What strikes me as ironic is how many of them say pretty much the same. They all fall in the vein of "I'm in love with you. My love is stronger than all other loves and feelings I've ever known. This will hold true for an indefinitely long period of time." This made me wonder, do all people have the same general feeling when it comes to emotions? When you get angry, or fall in love, do you feel the exact same as the next guy? Are emotions generic? Because if they are, it really cheapens the entire ordeal. There's more to the thought, but I've decided to stop talking here, just in case, someone reads this and is frightened by the fact that what I'm thinking actually is a thought. Or something. Anyway, here's the mp3:

Just Like Money - Kent

My mood?

Tuesday, November 16, 2004

First and foremost sorry for the downtime. Thanks for the comments, keep hitting the site, and I'll keep doing my thing I guess. But for the time being:

She comes back for me in small doses,
I suppose its,
just a reminder of why this ended,
but it leaves my life so upended,
I wonder if that's what she intended?
I never knew what I had till it was gone,
But now that I know I'm glad this is done,
Because to see what I've become,
is to see a shell of what I used to be,
a shell of the man I formerly knew as me.
Not sure if this new me is strong,
but I'm sure he'll not be in control for long.
My former self was powerful in its ways,
and so far it won't allow anything to end its days.
It resurfaces at night in my dreams,
and I relish the power and destruction in brings.
I know it seems dark and disturbing,
but its truly this new self that's a bit unnerving.
I'm used to who I was, and not what I am,
so now I want to go back and be that man,
that I was before she struck,
but everytime she comes back, I get stuck
between transitions,
and not even the strongest nuclear fission,
could rupture me away regressing,
or maybe its progression,
hard to say.
Either way.
I know what awaits me if I don't change,
and I accept that as a child does its name.
I guess the reality of it should make me ashamed,
but how can you shame yourself,
if you're you and not someone else?

mp3? I don't have this song, but I suggest you hear it, Anthony Hamilton - I Used To Love You. So fire up what you have and do what you must to hear this song.

Monday, November 08, 2004

We know something you don't know. . .that makes us better

Well, this is another week, I suppose, with lots of things to talk about. Funny thing is I don't really care to speak about any of those things. So, here's my attempt at a short story instead.

"The usual?" she asked.
"Um. . .sure, I'll have that I guess."
She smiled and walked away, and he sighed as he looked out the window. So many people, all of them with such purpose. As the cars passed by, he tried to make believe that he was them. He always wished he could be someone else, anyone else, just so he could find out what the secret was. What could possibly drive so many people to action? Everyday, the same rut, and all for what? The emptiness that he'd felt inside so many times? He sighed again and continued watching. He noticed a sporty little red car, with a thirtysomething executive, cool shades in place, music modestly playing. Was he going home to his wife, or maybe meeting his secretary for drinks at a dive away from his neighborhood. Or maybe not. Maybe he was the type who didn't cheat simply because it was inconvenient. Too much too lose. The waitress placed his glass of lemonade on the table and two straws. He smiled at her, mumbled thank you, and begin fumbling around in his pockets looking for his medicine. Mind numbing stuff really. He wasn't sure why he took it, just that his doctor said it would help calm him. The pills slid down his throat, and he looked back out the window. Now there was a little bright pink coupe outside. The music from this car was definitely not discreet or modest, but loudly played, as if for the enjoyment for everyone else. The woman, well really the girl, inside was dancing, swaying, jerking rhythmically to what she considered apparently moving music. She was probably headed out to the mall, to cruise around with Daddy's credit card, no doubt doing her part to make sure that this economy of ours doesn't falter due to consumer disinterest. A platter of eggs was slid in front of him, with another plate of bacon and biscuits, then finally a bowl of grits. He begin unwrapping his fork, and then looked up once more at the waitress and smiled. She smiled back, and as she walked away, he wondered what motivated her? Did she have three kids and deadbeat alcholic husband who beat her? Well, maybe not three, one would a stretch of the imagination. She was so slim. And he'd never seen her bruised. He cut a deliberately precise square of butter and placed it on top of the grits. Maybe she was just working this job on the side, as she tried to become an actress, or pay off loans. Either way, it was really none of his concern. Maybe he should try minding his own business for a change. As he began eating his food, he could feel a conscious desire to ask her about herself, but it was almost as if. . .he looked at the bottle of medicine on the table. Maybe that was why suddenly he didn't care. He looked down at his plate of eggs and noticed that it was almost pulsating, throbbing, and he pushed it away. She came back by to fill his lemonade glass, and looking at him, realized something was wrong right away. She slid into the booth and looked at him.

"Are you okay, you don't look so well. Should I call a doctor?"
He looked at her as if she were foreign. She wanted to know if he was okay. Of course, he was okay. Wasn't he? He looked back at the bottle of medicine, and reading the label, was unsurprised to find that it was the correct prescription. "I'm fine, I just realized that, you know, I come in here every morning just about, and I sit here, and I eat the same thing, and I leave the same amount in tips, and everything is so familiar, but. . .I don't even know your name."

"My name?"
"Yes, your name. . .I never. . .I never was concerned. . .or maybe I was, or maybe I wasn't and I didn't realize I was, I don't know. I know this sounds like I have a problem, like I'm mental or something, or maybe like I'm drunk or over medicated. . ."
"No, no. . .no one who comes in here ever really just asks my name. I mean, guys do, a lot, but not like this. Most of them want my number before they want my name, but you. . . you really want my name?"
"Um. . . yes. . .yes I do."
She blushed a bit self-consciously, and rose suddenly.
"I really need to get back to work, you know. These tables aren't going to bus themselves."
"Wait, I'm not coming on to you, or anything I just. . .I just want to know your name."
"Well. . ." she paused. He looked nice enough, actually rather attractive, but he was always in here. What if he were a stalker who was waiting to pounce on her when her back was turned? She looked out the window at the plane passing overhead, and then back down at him. He was staring at the plane too, with a far away look in his eye, as if he were dreaming some pleasant dream. She wondered if she were in it somehow.
". . .my name is Alice, actually."
"Um. . .yeah. . .look I gotta go."
"Okay, nice to meet you Alice."
Her name was Alice. He got up to leave, and reached in his pocket for three dollars. Well, maybe four this time, he thought, as he left a five on the table. She'll. . .Alice. . .will definitely put this too good use.

Why Bother - Juice Mouse Cypher (formerly Juice Mouse Zero)

My mood?

Kinda tired really. . .

Tuesday, November 02, 2004

I can't sleep right now so I figured I'd post something. I know it's been a while and I apologize accordingly, but it was out of my hands. Like two weeks ago I came down with the flu, then it relapsed into a cold and then the cold very nearly relapsed back into the freakin flu so I was pretty good and out of it for over a week. Since then I've been doing things like recovering, going to a nice concert last weekend and staying out late, chillin with some homies, playing some music here and there, catching up on school and trying not to get sick anymore. I also pre-ordered Halo 2 today. So really, things are back to normal and to celebrate thusly I thought I'd have trouble sleeping and post on here.

So like, would you agree that music is universally accepted as something aesthetically pleasing? It sort of dawned on me the other day that music - compared to other art forms - is much more accepted everywhere, by everyone. And I suppose this was obvious, but I had never thought of it this way before: I can think of quite a few people who don't like to read or write any kind of literature and don't like to paint any kind of pictures or even take the time to look at any kind, and I can think of plenty of people who don't enjoy taking any type or style of photograph and don't really care about looking at photographs yet I can think of no one at all who doesn't like some type of music. That's one thing I've come to appreciate about music, especially when it comes to making it. I mean, on many occasions (I find it funny how many times this has happened, actually) I've made a song, right. And I just think this song is amazing and the best thing I've ever done. And then here I have this song I consider mediocre, sort of a filler track. And man, everyone just loves the mediocre and say my amazing one is sorta so-so. And then you'll have another demographic who prefer another song, and then one load moron who likes a song that just totally sucks. You can apply this to any kind of music of course, but I just noticed it when it was happening to my own music. That's a more sensitive area I guess.

So yeah I'm excited about Halo 2 and I know I'm not the only one, so as jejune as it may sound to be this excited about a video game, I'm only one in a freakin ubiquitous and homogeneous crew that will soon be beating each other in the faces with energy swords. And rockets. This time next week. This time next week. This time next week. This time next week.
I can't afford to be wrong/my life nas become a bad song/waiting to explode in my face/and if I could, I'd erase/this bad flavor, this unholy taste/from my palate, no from my mind/and then maybe somehow I'd find/the absolution I've been seeking/the way to absolve all that which has left me weakened/from my previous strengths

So much anger, so much rage, so much. . .emotion. And I've yet to find a way to truly release all that I feel. Maybe its just that true release always means the loss of all control, and control is the last vestige of human goodness that remains. Or maybe its just that I'm not sure what it is I feel. Confused, lost, tired, frustrated, really just pick an adjective. I'm there. Either way I still feel the same word echoing through my mind: failure. Am I a failure? Or maybe just a disappointment to all who know me and care? I don't believe in predestination, but I do believe in destiny. What does that mean? No one's written a book for you, but you can surely write it with your actions. If you sow foolishly, you will reap foolishly. I don't know, maybe this is all just pointless rambling, I've never been sure of much before, and why should I feel like suddenly I need to be assured in all things. Maybe living life without that comfortable little safety net will be the savior of me. Or the death of me. That remains to be seen. Anyway, for those who read this and then become worried about my mental stability, if you didn't know by now, you should be told that I'm not mentally stable. No I'm just kidding, I'm pretty stable mentally, it's just extremely hard to keep your balance when there's nothing there to support yourself with. Things in this world seem determined to keep me topsy turvy, upside down, and off balance. This is just another session of Javann trying to right himself.

Enjoy the mp3 of the day:
What Your Soul Sings - Massive Attack

My mood?

I just need some time to think. . .

Monday, November 01, 2004

I've never been too proud/of everything I've had before

What happens when the thoughts,
stop coming for the last time?
When you can no longer rhyme?
When you're perfect world just stops?

What happens when nobody listens anymore?
When every word you have to say,
is basically so eventually it'll pay,
to be different from those cold on the floor?

Where do you go when your time is over?
When no one wants see you succeed?
When everyone just wants to see you bleed?
When intoxication is always better than being sober?

What happens when you see the world,
and realize that its worse that cold,
its a place where only the dead get old,
and even the best plans are unfurled?

When its time to leave you can't be saved.
Reach out for anything that doesn't hurt,
anyone who isn't concerned enough to be curt,
Consistent words that won't remain engraved.

Awesome song. To me at least.
Better Living Through Chemistry - Queens of the Stone Age

My mood?

Typical Monday.

Thursday, October 28, 2004

In the car, listening to music, and suddenly, all this hits me.

I can tell you how I feel,
but sometimes I can't keep it real,
because you make feel like I'm in a dream,
just want to make you everything,
I mean,
I can picture you and me in house that's small but clean,
it seems,
that we're sew together cause I'm bursting at the seams.
Little cliches,
I'm finding little ways,
to make you wanna stay.

And I just lost the vibe. . .oh well. Here's the song and pic.
I Wish - Skee-Lo
Without a doubt, the only song that will never apply to me.
My mood?

I lost the vibe. . .

Wednesday, October 27, 2004

Wash em up, wring em out/then I throw em in the dryer

Yeah, I'm doing laundry. Thus the laundry reference. As usual my days are passing by way too quickly, and sometimes, well sometimes I don't even remember what it was that I was thinking in the first place. I guess that's just the way things go, when you really aren't that great at much. Anyway, I know there was a dead period between now and Friday, but if it makes you feel any better its really because nothing happened. Well not just really. Its been mostly lots of introspection and attempts at "bettering" myself. I put that in quotation marks because in all honesty, its laughable to believe that I could be better. No, I'm not saying that I'm great, but I doubt that I can improve myself to a point that I wouldn't be imperfect, and since I have that particular monkey on my back, obviously I'll never completely be an improvement over what I once was. Anyway, what I've noticed is how I have dislikes. Sure everyone has dislikes, but the difference is that I have dislikes that I feel so strongly about that I actually find myself disgusted with people. Last night, I was at work and a lady threw away a Sprite. Big deal right? Well she only drank half of it. And for some reason I found myself thinking that the fact that she wasted a half a can of Sprite by not drinking it was so disrespectful and wasteful that I literally didn't like that lady. In fact she disgusted me. But in all honesty, it was her Sprite, and besides is it really wasteful to not drink something that you don't want? How many times have I emptied glasses, bottles, cans, plates, or otherwise because I didn't want to be wasteful, and not because I was thirsty or hungry. Wouldn't I still be as wasteful, and even worse than the lady who threw away because in doing so in some small way its gluttony. Maybe she's on a diet? Maybe she just doesn't want to ingest that much sugar that late at night? Who knows? But who am I to judge her entire being on that one act? And apparently I do that a lot. Its scary to think that considering how long my list of dislikes is, not too mention how much more strongly I feel about them compared to this particular one. In closing, I think I'd well to remember that I'm not perfect, not as an excuse for me, but maybe as an excuse, or reason I should say, for not judging others based upon one action, especially those that aren't indicative of who they are in the first place.

Which brings us to the sound of the day. Its a nice reprieve from my normal rock and R&B offerings. This is what I'd term as being trip-hop, but I'm sure someone will call it drum and bass, but I think calling it electronica wouldn't be too far off the beating path. The first time I heard this was on a CD that Jeremy let me borrow. It was a two disc set, one that introduced to Portishead, and Fatboy's Slim non video game side. Not to mention Prodigy. This CD was one that I remember me and Jeremy listening to on the way to a party, and somewhere in here, this song kind of stood out to me. It made me find more stuff by the group. Anyway, here it finally is:
Hive - Ultrasonic Sound

My mood?

Introspection. . .not exactly a good way to spend time at work.

Friday, October 22, 2004

So wear your idiot marks like a badge of shame

Man its Friday already? Sorry to disappoint all my loyal readers (all two of them) and have an off week, but I'm all about getting back into the groove of things if you will. Either way, I have to work (its okay, you can cry along with me) so this is obviously short. I promise to post this weekend. I gotta short story that won't leave my head till I've either been knocked unconscious or until I write it down. Title? I don't do those. Too much form and substance. I'm all about pointlessness. I'm all about a lot of things, because there's a lot of things that I'm all about. Right. So carry on if you will.

My mood?

I dislike many things, but Oprah is high on the list. Very high.

Breaking Up - Magna-fi
One of the few songs by Magna-fi worth mentioning. Anyway, here ya go!

Monday, October 18, 2004

after your disbelief fades/into lovely grey shades/and the madness infects your very veins/after you turn into the monsters you spurned/who'll be there to love what you once were/more than what you've become?

Undoubtedly a good weekend. A really good weekend. But I'm tired. Very much so. A lot happened, but most importantly, Tremaine gave his public talk. I'll be the first to say that it was indeed good, and the last to defend that statement. Amazingly enough, he didn't dethrone me in attendance, but in all honesty, quality frequently prevails over quantity. And I had quantity and quality. Thusly, he'll never win that regards. But of course I kid, I kid. Either way, now Danny's the next one to face the forty-five minute monster. And a monster it is. Take note of the "lyrical" opening at the beginning of today's entry. I wrote that. I'm sure someday I'll finish it. Much like someday I'll finish expelling glass from the scar in my arm. Indeed.

Thursday, October 14, 2004

I can't breathe. That's right ladies and gents, Javann's sick. And not mental sick, oh no, Javann is straight up sick. I mean coughing, sneezing, sniffing, itchy watery eyes, and congested nostrils sick. Every year about this time, something happens to me. I start falling apart at the seams, my voice leaves me and then boom! I can't breathe for days on end. Its already day seven and I'm ready for this to be over already. Can't do much about it, the doctor says its a sinus infection (every year) and I say hahahahahahaha. . .I'll just go home now. I can't wait to breathe normally through my nose without the accompanying sniffles required to clear enough space for air to pass through. Eeeww... I just read that last sentence. Enough of my whining. I'm going to find some tea.

Tuesday, October 12, 2004

Yo. A short post from me also. Sorry. So I've been working on this thing all day and I'm
ready to unveil it finally and collect some input.

Any suggestions and stuff would be cool. Dunno whether or not I'll be able to put them into practice but they'd be appreciated anyway.
There goes my hero, watch him as he goes
Well, lets keep it short. The weekend was excellent, I gave my talk, went hideously overtime, (hideously) and then inflicted wounds with terry cloth. Okay. I think a good time was had by all. Either way, this ends my blog for the day, I've got a lot of everything to do and not alot of time to do it in.

Wednesday, October 06, 2004

We fell in love/In the key of C/We walked along/Down by the sea

And so master mind that I am, I've got the site back up and running as it should. Cacophony shall forever remain my middle name. And so shall I be who I am. Anyway, its Wednesday, and unfortunately, I'm still in the computer lab. BUT! This here lab has FTP software, and I've got mp3 discs at my disposal. Which means that we can look forward to an mp3 for the day. I know, its been what seems like forever, so I'll be sure to make this one special.

In retrospect everything is clear. Or that's what everyone seems to tell me. In all honesty, looking back I don't understand anything. It seems to me that the clearest thing in my mind is the present. I can't understand half of the decisions I've made, much less understand my thoughts at the time. Things that made a lot of sense to me at the time make no sense to me later. I'd like to say that someday I'll probably understand everything later in my life, but in all actuality I'll never understand my past. I think that comes from the fact that I, like everyone else, have definitely changed with time. I'm not the person I used to be two days ago, much less the person I was months or years ago. Each day, every human is a different person, and each day, that human changes throughout the day. Some days the change is drastic and other days its minute. I think that's what makes growing up so difficult for adolescents, trying to understand exactly why their change is so drastic when everyone else seems to be so static. In all actuality, everyone is changing but some people seem to change very little. I was told when I was younger that life is hard and tough, and ironically enough, not changing is the only way you can really deal with it. If you don't start carving a niche, a.k.a. a rut for yourself to walk, you'll never be able to survive. Its almost as if you're forced to have tunnel vision, simply because survival requires it. You know I was watching Max-X which is this TV show where they show extreme video footage. Footage where, like the guy filming is driving and has an accident, goes through the windshield with it, and then films his arm flopping next to the steering wheel ten yards down the street. Okay that was a bit graphic, but it gets my point across. Anyway, this elephant who was trained to do tricks and perform for people, and apparently it was quite the elephant. Well, apparently it'd been pushed far enough, because the elephant snapped. It didn't have tusks, since they had been removed, but it was trying to gore its trainers, or at least damage them. Of course, since it was a 10,000 pound, nine foot tall elephant, they couldn't keep it contained in the tent, and it got loose. It totaled a car, then when a man tried to lock it in a fence, it threw him out of the way, and then mashed him to the pavement with its forehead. My first thought was poor guy, but then I looked at the elephant. It had been forced to turn tricks for peanuts, taken from its natural environment, mutilated simply for the pleasure, no, simply to earn money for its owners. Then when it tried to break free from the oppression, the elephant became dangerous. I also noticed how the announcer called it a "her", and "she" when the elephant was doing as it was supposed to, but once it began breaking free, the elephant became an "it". After having a zoological expert tell us the elephant was intelligent, "knew what it was doing" and apparently attacked its captors with criminal intent, we learn that the cops "had" to kill it. When I heard that, it angered me. This isn't a criminal, or some man who's bent on destruction. This is a poor scared elephant, that YOU drug away from its natural habitat, brought into the city, and forced to do tricks. When it wasn't performing for your benefit, it had to be put in a cage, and be shipped from place to place, with no real hope for it to ever get back home. And then when it finally snaps, decides it just wants to be freed from the hell you forced upon it, you killed it. What does this have to do with anything? Well, think back. I was talking about ruts. When you break out of a rut, you become dangerous. You have problems. And just like the elephant that broke free, you risk your life just to free yourself from the niche you created simply to continue living. But is breaking free worth the death that ensued? For the elephant, death was better than being forced to do some man's bidding for the rest of her life. Perhaps, for the elephant, life ended when it was captured and detusked. When it was removed from its natural habitat, life was no longer life.

At any rate, here's the mp3:I Am Trying To Break Your Heart - Wilco

My mood?

I don't know but this is a cool picture.

Tuesday, October 05, 2004

If we run, we can see the light/if we stop we'll go quietly into the night/if we face, no doubt we will join the fight/and if it doesn't matter, then we'll set this right

So, this'll be all kinds of short. But! Here's what you need to know about the world of Javann. I'm off work this week! Yay! Video games and junk food all around. But really I'm using the time to study and prepare. Well, some of the time. A good deal really is being dedicated to junk food and video games. Don't worry, I'm getting a few wholesome meals in, with plenty of leafy green vegetables so there's nothing to be overly concerned about. This weekend I get to work the homecoming parade of a local college. Which means I stand in the street and make sure no traffic gets in the parade. Its not a difficult job, but its definitely going to be a fun one, because I intend to do it in plain clothes, and not my uniform. I kid I kid.

Have you noticed all the attempts to get people to vote this year? I can barely remember the last two elections and I can't help but think that this is the largest campaign I've seen to encourage voting. . .is that just me thinking that? If you don't live stateside, its pretty annoying, even the infamous Triumph the Insult Comic Dog as got in on the action. You'd think they'd try to keep him away from the entire process, since he's the one that managed to insult an entire province of Canada in under ten minutes. Amazing. Anyway, I've got some junk food and video games to ingest.

Monday, October 04, 2004

The Incushow was a triumph. It still wasn't as good as the Morning View show, but the band was extremely on last night. I didn't hear one, 1, a single mistake. Not one. Not a wrong note or a voice crack. That in itself is amazing to me and gets them some points. So even tough the set list was lacking a bit, it was an amazing thing to see notwithstanding. Speaking of set lists:

Nice to Know You
Idiot Box
Wish You Were Here
Just a Phase
Stellar (which went into a Do Do Do Da Da Da cover in the middle)
Beware Criminal
Here in My Room
Vitamin (into the...)
Drum Jam (which, in turn, leads to...)
Everything is Dead (which was excellent)
Talk Shows on Mute
I Miss You
Made For TV Movie
Sick Sad Little World
Southern Girl
Under My Umbrella

While the set list was based largely off the new album, thankfully they stuck to the good new songs like Priceless and Beware! Criminal. They played this new lounge version of Drive where Mike was playing the piano which was interesting and, to me, a lot darker than any other version I've heard. Set wise, everything was predictable and there was only was really huge surprise. I wasn't expecting to hear much old stuff. I wish they would’ve done Circles though, cause I love that song and love hearing it live, but they made up for that by playing freakin Under My Umbrella cause that's a rarity and a really awesome song (that was the huge surprise). I've never heard a live version of it ever - not even a bootleg and I've looked hardcore, too - and always wanted to hear it live, so it was cool to finally get to it in all its glory. It was a closer for the real fans, definitely.

Other highlights were Idiot Box, Sick Sad Little World and Priceless. Good stuff. So now I’m off to try and recoup. The floor is a vicious place indeed.

Friday, October 01, 2004

And you took me away, and you took me away, and you took me away

So ladies and gents, what's the haps. This'll be shorter than normal because its Friday. There's nothing better, literally. As you can see in the comments, Failed Day is being planned again, and soon it shall be an event to witness. I'm all about getting in where its at this time around since last time I didn't even remotely get in where I fit in. But I rarely fit in anywhere. Speaking of which, my first official school holiday is coming up, for my crossing guard job, and not for my actual schooling. Which means I'll be living the good life. Or maybe I'll be wishing I was living the good life, since I'll reall just be living. Also for all you hep cats out there, my talk is quickly approaching, mark your calendars, October 10th is upon us! I feel sick. Or something.

So today, I got an email from Apparently they're featuring me in a "200 Best Poets" book that they're releasing. I'd say I feel honored but I don't even get a copy of the book for free. That's right, yours truly has to pay to read is own stuff. Well, at least on paper. But don't worry chicos and chicas you can still read a few of my favorite poems. Here's the highlights from my years. (With author's notes after each one! Don't you feel special?)

I Don't Accept Challenges
You know what they say,
whatever doesn't kill us makes us stronger,
and only one of us will be stronger today.
You messed up and got in my way,
now you're going to get left in my wake.
Welcome to my world of mistakes,
everyone who says these are the breaks,
haven't seen your bones in two minutes.
Now that this fight is beginning,
I can tell you the ending,
its you on the ground with less blood,
while you wasted your time on love,
I waste the lives of others,
put tears in the eyes of their mothers.
Maybe you haven't had time to ask around,
but the last challenger is still in the ground.
Still want to get down?
(So this is bascially me when I'm angry and I want to release said anger, and since I can't really justify going out and beating up the object of my anger, here's the poem that gets written instead. Ah, sweet release.)

The Black Goddess
you're a black goddess,
yet modest, the girl of my dreams,
let me know you a little better,
if you know what I mean,
i won't impress you with cheddar,
cash or my cream,
I just want your intellect shining on me,
reclining on me, you got me feeling complete,
from my brain to my feet, whenever we meet,
I want you to understand,
I've already planned,
to meet your demands, whenever I can,
with the wave of my hand,
just call me your man
(Isn't this pretty obvious? NEXT!!)

What Is Love Like?
Its like the time
when it was night and you were there
and I was there.
And there seemed to be no care
not a worry or anxiety in the world.
Just you and me, a boy and a girl.
And as we stared at the stars,
heavenly bodies intertwined like ours,
I realized I could reach up and touch them.
I pulled down the sky and wrapped you in it,
just so that for those seconds, that minute,
the lovely met the divine,
and I thought it must be a sign,
a sign that love is what it should be.
Love is sometimes what we can see
and sometimes what we feel,
and it all seemed surreal
and yet so real
I could touch you both, again. . .
(Just when you thought metaphors, imagery, pointless romanticism and symbolism were dead. . .)

If I Thought What You Did, Would We Ever See Eye To Eye?
everything doesn't have to be about me.
if it were my life would be a casualty,
to casualness and self worship.
don't misconstrue, everything i do
because whenever my tongue slips
the things i say don't come from me.
at least not specifically.
if i know what best for me
i'll forever be, in love unhappily
right now i'm alone but not alone
simply because i can't condone
allowing myself to commit homicide
to myself also known as suicide
i'd like to imagine my life as eventually
instead of perpetually
but still i imagine its not changed
since i became estranged, i guess i'm strange
and if love doesn't come for free,
i'm sure it'll come to me
for a fee.
(And for the finale, and bit of teen angst.)

Thursday, September 30, 2004

Allow me, if you will, to relate a humorous anecdote: once, there was this little guy. He was scrawny and sort of stupid and didn't know what he was doing, but he was really nice and cool notwithstanding. And then there was this big guy who was a very successful dude but was an idiot. And he was mean. And had a lot of enemies. So the little guy decided to try to screw with the big guy for kicks and giggles - for the entertainment of the little guy's and for everyone else's entertainment as well. The little guy desired to - since it was unrealistic to want to really try to bring down the big guy - maybe try to serve as a thorn in the big guy's side like a metaphysic of discomfort or something. You know. For the fun of everyone involved. Cause as we've already established, the big guy is really a jerk. The little guy was but a little guy, however. Thus, the little guy needs all the help and support he can be given.

The moral of the story: help us out with the Failed Day Festival. Learn about it here:

What should we do with the new Failed Day? Try to make a real festival? Might be fun... might be hard. Just play games with Field Day? Ideas? Bouybee?

Wednesday, September 29, 2004

This world is burning down/I sleep so I can't hear the sound/helping it along/just where did we go/just where did we go/just where did we go wrong?

Modesty seems to be a commodity in short supply. No one hides anything anymore, there is nothing personal. You can find out whose done what where and get it in digital media format if you have the money to pay for it. Its really a shame, because this "information explosion" has turned everyone into a constant voyeur. As was pointed out by Jon yesterday, the world seems to have no other interests than to devote their life to learning all about their favorite "celebrities" and what they think, what they drink, what they eat, who they date, who they married, who they didn't marry. Not only is there a constantly voyeuristic attitude prevalent in today's society, but there seems to be a serious lack of any desire for privacy. Oh sure, celebrities yell about how they want to be left alone and live "normal lives" but look at what they do for a living. They make their money on being in front of a camera, performing someone else's written fantasies and dreams. How could they not want to be in the public eye? What it boils down to is they don't want to be in the public eye for free. If the paparazzi offered them money to take their pictures, they'd have no problem, because we see advertisements all the time in which that very thing has taken place. It really is a shame though that we have to be constantly bombarded with someone else successes and failures. Life has enough to keep one busy than to revel in the boons and busts of these human "idols". But enough of my angry ranting.
Deep Thoughts

Well as a gift I have brought Javann's site a home with a name... if you click on the above link... you'll find

and where will it take you?

Right here.

So check it out.

A new name for an old name. for a new look for the same look.

Tuesday, September 28, 2004

I've got this here Rolling Stone magazine. It's alright, but man, seriously, you rockstars, shut up. Really. Stop talking and go do what you're good at. I don’t care about your views on politics. Don't care. No one really does. Everyone likes you because you make cool music and are in a cool band, not because you're an overall real cool dude. So shut up. I mean, I don't even care about politics. I think the idea of a career in politics is the most hilariously nonsensical thing there is. The very highest position pays, what, 250k a year? 300k? A lot of money, sure, but we're talking about presidential status here, guys and gals. It doesn't get any higher up than that, and that's not a big salary for the president of any big company. America - for the sake of this example - is more or less synonymous with a big company. But I digress. Shut up. Even Eminem is getting political now and he can't even talk. It's painfully obvious that being political in music is just the new in thing. Green Day - what? You're a punk band. Go sing about your parents grounding you or something. Dave Matthews, hey, I like you and all. You're a nice guy, I can tell. But just shut up. Go start trying to make an album that lives up to Before These Crowded Streets - a feat which I doubt can be accomplished, especially if too much time is taken talking about what an idiot Bush is. Thom York, please, just stop. You're incredibly rich and you live in Europe where you don't have to do anything but drink tea and eat crumpets all day, stop pretending to get involved. Damon Albarn, dude, see Thom's comment. No one cares, guys! You're musicians! Do what you do! And don't talk!

Besides, it's a lose/lose thing, this election. I'm glad I have no reason to be worried about it. Bush is stupid, and so is that other dude who is running. Lose lose. Problem solved.

I'm not mad or anything, just find the mentality of celebrities to be very annoying. I'm not a big fan of American popculture in any case. On that note I'd like to rebuke Jeremy for subscribing me to all these magazines that constantly remind me of how shallow this country is. But as I said, not mad. To prove it, here's a smiley face made to resemble Homer Simpson.
It was a positive environment/with negative feelings/the most eccentric requirements/but I was more than willing

Sorry about Monday not being a day that I posted. I really didn't have the time or the energy. But I'll do what I can to make up for it. I'll start by washing the car of everyone, and then cleaning your house. After that I'll spend an hour or so doing whatever else you have that needs to be done. I think that should more than compensate for my abscense.

The other night I cut the sleeves off of one of my T-shirts and stood in the mirror, and realized that I will never see my right arm the way it was meant to be. I can't even remember what my arm looked like before I got the scar on it. The scar of course from the whole going through a plate glass window thing. Not that I'm a vain person, but I always wonder what other people think when they see this large fibrous scar on my arm. The story behind it is somewhat funny, but I think I'm going to change it up and start telling people I got into a knife fight with a former friend. Or maybe I had a nurse who didn't know where to put the IV after a car accident. My mind races with thoughts on the matter. Either way, its here for life so I might as well get used to it. My last thought before I leave you is, D.A. if you read this, you rock. Not just the normal kind of rock, oh no, you rock with a mighty fervor. And Alex, well, what couldn't be said about you that wouldn't be true?

My mood?

Definitely hulk-y. . .

Sunday, September 26, 2004

Sunday afternoon. I could be doing something cool; or not so much cool in itself but would lead to cool results if I indeed went ahead and did the less cool part: crawl under my house and pull a CAT-5 wire from the router in my living room to my bedroom computer, thus connecting it to the internet and essentially giving me little reason to ever leave me room again save occasional human contact - which I'll grant is somewhat important - and food, which I also deem important and as of yet have no supply of such in my room so regular trips to the kitchen will still have to happen, but you can't have it all. You can't have it all.

Yesterday I found myself in an otherworldly place known as Glasgow, KY at a little crafts fair on the town square. I was chillin* with my homie Jonathan M. Houser, who had a face painting booth set up for the kids. Now, for all of you who know Jon, you'll probably realize right off the bat that the concept of him running a kid's face painting booth is majorly off anyway, and sure enough it didn't go well for him. He grossed about 4 bucks I think. The sign out in front of his booth said things like "Give me your children's faces!" and "Don't be afraid!" and, my personal favorite: "Please go to the other face panting booth." Not only that but his face was painted up to look like a weird clown, and combined with his crazy top hat and the sunglasses he was wearing, he was literally scaring kids away. It was funny stuff. He had some predesigned faces he painted, and while you could request other things that weren't on his list, satisfaction was explicitly not guaranteed.# His predesigned faces included: A puppy (woof), a kitty (rar), and clown (rar), and the Cure's Robert Smith (my idea). None of them did particularly well.

Well I'm not looking forward to crawling under the house yet so I'm gonna go read a heartbreaking work of staggering genius, the name of which conveniently goes by that same description. It's cool so far... a memoir written by a 28-year-old who's parents both died of different kinds of cancer within a 32 day epoch and thus he was left to take care of his younger brother (who can be found metacritisizing the book in some spots which, I'm told, completely vivisects the author's hypocrisies, albeit I haven't seen them in action yet - I just started the book). Despite the whole parents dying stuff, it's not a sad book at all. Very funny, in fact. This dude has been through some crazy stuff.

I'll leave you know. Off to fight the beginning-of-week ennui in some other ways.

* I firmly believe my chillin was like a villian.
# Said that on the sign, too.

Friday, September 24, 2004

i, i'm a new day rising/i'm a brand new sky/to hang the stars upon tonight/i, i'm a little divided/do i stay or run away/and leave it all behind?

First, let me say that today while at Burger King, I met a real live Raggedy Ann. She had red yarn hair. That was the extent of her Raggedy Ann-ess, but I think that in itself is good (or bad?) enough. But let me explain myself. You this was a victim of the almighty weave. For those of you who are unaware as to what weave is, well simpy put, its hair (real or synthetic) that is glued, stapled or woven into the actual hair of a woman. Its purpose is to enhance the look of the "weavee" so as to make it appear that they have long luxuriant hair. What it normally ends up doing is making it look like they've murdered (or at least assaulted) several horses and cut their tails and manes for their own beautification purposes. But wait there's more! Weave also comes in several different colors, colors that no human being could ever have growing out of his or her head. Colors that wouldn't even be welcome in a Skittles bag, let alone intertwined with someone's nappy hair. But to cut this short, I'll leave this subject alone.

So, the first day I blogged on this site was Thursday September 25th. So this upcoming Sunday shall be the one year anniversary of my site. No doubt you want to know everything there is to know about such an impressive site. Well here's a few stats for you.

2361 page hits since April 11, 2004 (when I began tracking the sites)
By continents this is the breakdown:

1. North-America 2170 91.9 %
2. Europe 139 5.9 %
3. Asia 15 0.6 %
4. Australia 4 0.2 %
5. South America 1 0.0 %
Unknown 32 1.4 %
Total 2361 100.0 %

By country:

Country of origin
1. United States 2147 90.9 %
2. The Netherlands 124 5.3 %
3. Canada 23 1.0 %
4. Singapore 9 0.4 %
5. United Kingdom 5 0.2 %
6. Australia 3 0.1 %
7. Portugal 2 0.1 %
8. Germany 2 0.1 %
9. Malaysia 2 0.1 %
10. Hong Kong S.A.R. 1 0.0 %
11. Hungary 1 0.0 %
12. Iceland 1 0.0 %
13. Brazil 1 0.0 %
14. Philippines 1 0.0 %
15. India 1 0.0 %
16. New Zealand 1 0.0 %
17. Denmark 1 0.0 %
18. Spain 1 0.0 %
19. Korea 1 0.0 %
20. Belgium 1 0.0 %
21. Romania 1 0.0 %
Unknown 32 1.4 %
Total 2361 100.0 %

Interesting stuff no doubt. During the course of this year, this blog has made it possible for people to know exactly what's going on this head of mine. And many times the report I've heard back is that what I think scares people. Heh heh heh. . .how do you think it makes me feel? I kid I kid. If I scare or disturb you, I suppose I should apologize and promise I'll never do it again. At least not until I forget. Well that does it for the Javester. Take it easy this weekend.

Wednesday, September 22, 2004

This sterile workplace/covered in germ free believability/once we return and aboutface/we're now handicapped by ability

I hate the computer lab. Its just. . .sterile. It's a lab, I know, but is there any need to make the entire place seem like its in the belly of some space bound mechanical beast, boldly presuming where no man has ever presumed before? Of course, my presence here is my own fault, since as was mentioned yesterday, I've ran across a spot of malware on my home computer. The update? Well, I've found and eliminated the hacker virus msxmidi, which somehow made its way onto my computer (not on my watch I assure you) and I'm trying to clean up the residuals. This may or may not include destroying and reinstalling IE (Microsoft Internet Explorer) since the amount of corruption in its coding is evidently irreversible to this point. Apparently, some computer literate geek who is armed with the knowledge of the inner workings of Windows and C++ has outwitted me with his charming software abilities. I bow to you, great incredible geek, your prowess with a keyboard assures me nothing but a physical victory, for in anything that doesn't involve the real world (no not the ridiculous reality show on MTV) you shall surely best me. You are truly great and powerful, blah blah blah. I'd be even more humble if I didn't have this intense desire to find you and commit unspeakable acts of violence to you.

At this point, you've stopped reading, and figured Javann's gone on yet another rant of self-righteous anger, but there's something you must understand. I am a innocent bystander. My computer has been inflicted with a terrible man-made disease, one which is designed to slowly degrade and overwork my already overworked computer till it finally gives up and throws in the towel. But enough about that.

My topic for today stems from yet another angry tirade, followed by the self-realization that I dislike a lot of things. A day doesn't go by without me thinking to myself, "Was that really necessary, you idiot?" In some cases, the idiot is me, in other cases its my fellow brethren of the human race. As I sit down to compile my list of dislikes, I'm sure you'll see something and think, hey I do that. That's fine. It just means I dislike that action. It doesn't make you an idiot, or inferior to anyone. I say this because I do a lot of the things I dislike. So here's a short list of a few things I don't like:

1)Mayonaise and the people who use large portions of it on everything: First let's ignore the fact that mayonnaise is basically chicken embyros and oil puree' to a blandly disgusting cream. And I'll even look past the fact that mayonaise looks a giant white blob. But when you have so much mayonnaise on a sandwhich that you can barely bite into it without it dripping out the sides, back, down the front of your shirt, that my friend is not what I call wholesome goodness. That is disgusting.

2)Jelly doughnuts: I don't like jelly doughnuts. Somehow jelly and doughnuts don't go good together. Bavarian cream and doughnuts, fruit perserves and doughnuts, even lemon pudding and doughnuts is a better choice than jelly. How did that happen? More importantly, why did it happen? Was some guy filling doughnuts run out of fillings and then decided to load a doughnut up with jelly?

3)People who drive slowly in the passing ("fast") lane: I don't know about you, but I don't drive the speed limit. And I've got nothing against people who do. But when you see a car closing in behind rather quickly, and your response is to slow down even more to "teach me a lesson" then I dislike you. You repulse me. The only lesson I learn is that I should have good insurance so that when I slam into the back of your car, at least we'll both get some parts replaced.

4)People who say they'll do something but then don't do it simply because they didn't want to do it: If you say you'll do something, but you don't want to, just do us all a huge favor and just tell me no. My feelings aren't going to be hurt, you're not that important. If you can't do something, tell me. Because in the long run, if I'm counting on you and you back out for no reason other than just "I don't wanna" then I'll be crushed and devastated. At the same time.

5)People who have long lists of dislikes: I hate it when someone dislikes so many things that they can't even begin to scratch the surface of all the dislikes they have because they are so vast and innumerable, like the grains of the sea. Is nothing worthy of your incredibleness that you must complain to the rest of us about how inferior everything and everyone is to your highness? Why bore us with your longwinded complaints and observations, when, in our inferior natures, it is not possible for us to be anything but common and infuriating. People who do this sicken me. Oh wait. . .

Tuesday, September 21, 2004

Man. . .what day is it? Feels like forever has gone by. So here's a quick update. I have a virus. Well, not me, but my computer and as I struggle to send this virus to the depths of deletion hades, I don't want to share it with you through any of my files, since they too might be infected. The most annoying part is that my virus scanner won't detect, but the firewall's been catching its attempts to communicate with the internet and its been permanently blocked. Things have all been going well other than that. Don't worry, the incredible site of Deep Thoughts shall rise up and overcome this adversity. Have a great day. Oh and Jon, just for the record, you'd not be a friend if you didn't disappoint me every now and then. Because if you didn't disappoint me, that would mean that I wouldn't care, and if I didn't care, then I'd not be your friend. So feel free to disappoint me.

Wednesday, September 15, 2004

Sorry Javaan. I realize I've been doing a lame job with blogging. But that's what you've come to expect, is it not? For you readers, you've gotta understand that I never come through for Javann. I never really noticed that till yesterday when - after informing him that I wasn't going to make it to a party he invited me to - he would simply add it to his list of Jon Disappointments. It was then that it kinda hit me: dude, the ratio of me actually going through with what I say when it comes to Javann is way off balance; the favor of which tips to the negatories. We're talking, not's to do's, here. My bad.

To make an attempt to recover my flow of deep thoughtage here, I've typed up this brief rant about how the theory of evolution is extremely stupid and it is as follows.

So. This theory is obviously the theory that things came to be, step by step, over a long, long, long timetable. It's not likely, but whatever. Of course, I'll tell you why it's not likely, and I won't be going into things on a cellular level too much, but I'm just saying, evolution and whatever it's got backing it is really pretty crap when you actually look at it.

Now, before we get started, let me say that I know all about Stanley Miller's experiment from 1953 where he formed some evidence on how life could have formed in the past. I know about this and it means nothing. Interesting perhaps, but it means nothing. This theory rests on the hope that the earth, when this life forming was going on, was free of oxygen. "Oxygen is highly reactive… If there was much free oxygen in an atmosphere when the amino acids were assembling, it would quickly combine with and dismantle the organic molecules as they formed" says 'Is There a Creator who Cars About You?’ which was published the Watchtower Bible and Tract Society. I suggest you get a hold of this and read pages 36 and 37. That particular bit correlates pretty much right on with our topic here.

In the experiment, we see that our pal Miller has a gas mixture for the atmosphere, an electric spark for the lightning, and we've got boiling water for the sea. These things did, in fact, create some sort of living things. Nothing major, but some sort of living thing. This has probably been done again, with other elements playing the parts of the environment of the earth. Here's my question: what do the scientists performing the experiments represent?

It's said that these things formed step by step over huge amounts of time. The biggest problem with that claim is that it is impossible. You can take the fossil record and toss it out the window when you look at things from a cellular level. There are many diseases that are all about cellular malformation, or simply not having a certain kind of cell. If one of the cells that clot your blood were to stop working, you'd eventually bleed to death if you cut your finger. Either that or your entire blood stream would clot, and you would die there too. That's only two small examples of the bad stuff that happens to you when you've got certain cells out of whack. So let's put two and two together: if cells formed one by one, over thousands or millions of years, life forms wouldn't have time to form! You would have dead things everywhere. Nothing else.

I really believe that evolution has become nothing more than a shortcut for scientists that has backfired. They wanted to take the easy way out by saying that everything just kinda got here and now they're faced with tons more questions that they simply can't answer, only theorize on. Lucky for them, the masses are stupid and believe whatever they read/see/are told to believe. They've used the word 'lucky' way, way too many times with evolution. Luck is a metaphysical speculation; the purpose behind science is to prove things to us about ourselves. As far as Darwinism and Neo-Darwinism go, this hasn't happened.

Well, I'm sure those of you who actually read that are glad it's over. I'm off to drink some chocolate milk.
My beloved monster and me/we go everywhere together/wearing a raincoat that has four sleeves/gets us through all kinds of weather

Wednesday. My mind's way too tired to formulate any type of deep thought. So here's some poetry. Enjoy.

Dragons, fire, loose ends and cobblers,
cobble stone, fixed shoes, limp legs and hobblers,
Peaches and apples, bananas and half eaten pears,
Them they we and drains clogged with hairs,
Conspiracies, hatred, coups, and Bonnevilles,
strong weak overly unique and sunny villes.
Hunger oppression dictionaries and explanations,
Implicit egos intricacies underdeveloped nations,
third first last in between acts and scenes,
You me together happy in aspects of dreams,
prepositions turtle necks time cards and checks
phrases heads necks trucks cars and mental wrecks,
cream coffee sugar additives preservatives,
carbonation quotes contents and absurdities,
rhymes mixes drinks phones braces rudeness
unclean unwashed bad taste and pollutedness,
fame change money power wealth and vanity
privacy stability happiness and all my sanity
warm enjoyment forever together with friends
beginning conclusion incredible delusion the end.

My Beloved Monster - Eels

Tuesday, September 14, 2004

I've been known for craziness/I've been known for whatever it was you used to be/I've always been overly proud to be me

Friday, April 16, 2004So am I the only one who thinks the senseless slaughter and cultural mutilation of bread should end? Chances are you've participated in this mass slaughter and have even come to expect your bread to conform to it. What am I talking about? Sliced bread. That's right SLICED bread. Chances are that doesn't even bother you. Bread is wheat flour, water, leaven and other natural flavorings too. Why do so many people simply accept its being sliced and doled out for our general convenience? When's the last time you saw a loaf of bread that wasn't mutilated? I can still remember seeing the loaves run free in the bakery, content to never be sliced for someone else's consumption and enjoyment, and it brings tears to my eyes to think of the all the bread we've abused. The time is now, the hour is upon us, for us to stop this sad sad violence against the loaves of bread. From the small loaves of rye, to the large loaves of sourdough, who are we to determine that they should be so cruelly sliced and mistreated? Should we play the role of God when it comes to bread? The answer to that should be as simple as embracing a loaf of bread, or holding it by the hand, and saying to it, "Bread, you are as much a free loaf of bread as the first loaf ever produced from the oven. Will you have this meal with me?" I can see all the breads and humans dwelling together in unity. No toast is worth this kind of cultural reformation. None. Just the very thought brings tears to my eyes. Its moved me to compose this song about the subject.

Bread. Its not meant to be sliced.
Would you like it if someone diced,
you into pieces when you were fresh?
When you were at the peak, at your best?
Then why do you assault bread?
It won't bite back, at least until you're dead.
Someday it will rise and not in a good sense.
It will need some kneading, and what then?
How do you tell it that you want to cut?
To mutilate and still keep its trust?
The young loaves so impressionable,
truly believe that its something correctional.
Shame on you all with your toast,
shame on you all with your toast!

Go Monkey Go - Devo

My mood?

B-Boy stance

Friday, September 10, 2004

You think the way/you lives okay/you think posing/will save your day

So, I did the same thing as Jeremy, which was take the test thinking solely of how I act in a relationship, and low and behold. . .not much changes for me. I was an 8, and well, I still am. Here's the results of "Javann's personality in a relationship".

Main Type
Overall Self
Take Free Enneagram Personality Test

Enneagram Test Results
Type 1 Perfectionism |||||||||||| 41%
Type 2 Helpfulness |||||||||||||||||| 77%
Type 3 Image Focus |||||||||||| 50%
Type 4 Hypersensitivity |||||||||||||||||| 73%
Type 5 Detachment |||| 17%
Type 6 Anxiety |||||||||||||||||| 73%
Type 7 Adventurousness |||||||||||||||||||| 85%
Type 8 Aggressiveness |||||||||||||||||||| 90%
Type 9 Calmness |||||||||||||||| 69%
Your main type is 8
Your variant is sexual
Take Free Enneagram Personality Test

My mood?

Who'd have guessed I was so born to lead?