Tuesday, December 27, 2005

I picked up a strange dog the other day. I usually hate doing that kind of thing, but it was for someone I didn't really know, and they were losing their dog because of me. So I picked it up.

Grocery shopping. Its relatively fun. You get to try a few new things, and maybe you'll find something cool. Like flan. I found flan yesterday. The spanish custard. I think I'll name my kid Flan. Or at a friend's suggestion, Love. Then he'd be Love Jones. That'd be funny for at least the first six months of his life. Then he'd hate me. Which would give me a jump on the teen years at least.

Life is like the current. You can fight all day long if you want, but in the end, you always end up going where it takes you.

Which makes me wonder what type of parent I would be. My first inclination would be to raise my son the way I was raised. To be a dictator father whose wrath is to be feared only second to God's. Honestly, until I turned twenty one, I was afraid of my father. I didn't want to tell him where I was because I was afraid he'd be upset, or that he'd tell me to come home. I guess at some point, I realized I could pretty much go and do what I wanted with impunity, but still. . .my dad scared me. I would lie cheat and steal not to have my dad find out about what I'd done that was wrong. Good example: When I was in fifth grade, I used to get a lot of detentions. I took the first one I got home. My dad was pretty furious. There was a beating involved, and a lot of yelling. I felt horrible, like not just a mischievous son, but a bad human being whose worth was debatable. A few weeks later, I got another detention. I literally cried in class upon receiving it. I did not want to take this home, to tell my dad that I was yet again a failure. A kid who lived up the street from me, who I'll call Coop, he was pretty sympathetic to my plight. Mainly because he'd met my father. So he told me to go talk to the teacher about something. And he stole the pink slip (the teachers copy) of my detention slip. We threw the whole thing into the gutter at the top of the street. I liked Coop. Whenever he got detention, I'd steal his slips, and whenever I got detention he'd do the same for me. We got a lot a detention and didn't serve any of it.

My point, I guess, is that I didn't modify my behavior because of my fear of my father and the punishment I'd receive. I just started to lie and steal because of it. So I don't think that made me a better person. The more I really think about it, the more I think that I, as a parent, would do much more good if I just reassured my son/daughter that I loved them, and that their actions make me sad or happy, not just angry. If I'd known, like I know now, that my actions made my dad sad or disappointed, I'd never have gotten detention, period. And when I think back to all the things I forged, stole, lied about, or just plain covered up to keep my father from knowing what a bad human being I am, it makes me wonder if I truly am a "better" person because of it today.

Wednesday, December 21, 2005

Monday, December 19, 2005

You miss me? No not really.

"What are you laughing at?"
"Nothing really."
"No, don't tell me that you're laughing at nothing. You can't laugh at nothing. Nothing isn't funny. Nothing doesn't make you laugh. So obviously you're laughing at something."
"First, nothing is funny. Like that Twilight Zone episode, where everyone dies in a nuclear holocaust but that one man, and he finally feels as if he has time to read, without all the hassles of life, but then he breaks his glasses. What does he have left that? Nothing. And that, my friend, is hilarious."
"That's not hilarious, that's sad, and you're a sick man to find that kind of humor hilarious. You didn't even think it was mildy funny, you think that its hilarious. Seriously, I don't know what's wrong with you sometimes. . ."
"Secondly, I wasn't laughing. Laughing requires belly movement, and loud peals. I was more chuckling, or even though I know it sounds totally gay, I was giggling."
"You're right, it does sound gay. You're absolutely right that 'giggling' sounds gay. Little school girls giggle while they pass notes in class. Nuns giggle when they hear a particularly clean Bible joke involving Goliath and the Virgin Mary or something. . ."
"Goliath and the Virgin Mary? What are you even talking about? They're from two different eras in the. . ."
"Look, I don't sit around reading jokes involving Bible characters. I'm not in the business of entertaining nuns with clean Bible jokes, am I?
"I didn't say you did, but surely you know something about the Bible. Like Goliath is towards the front, and Mary doesn't get involved till almost the end?"
"Look, what exactly were you laughing at? I don't have time to sit here and argue about what I do and do not know about clean Bible jokes for nuns."
"I wasn't laughing, I was chuckling."
"Okay, fine, what were you 'chuckling' about?"
"None of your business."
"None of my. . .none of my. . .what do you mean, 'none of my business'? What did you take that giggling school girl persona to heart? Do I have to write you a folded up letter that has hearts and one word in the middle?"
"If you don't know how to ask, then I don't know how to answer."
"Oh, I know how to ask, and I just did. What were you giggling about Bobby Sue? How about that, did you like when I called you Bobby Sue? What about Peggy Jean?"
"Look, you don't need to start throwing insults, or calling names. . ."
"Why not? 'Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me' right? Isn't that how that schoolgirl stuff goes?"
"Alright look, you're starting to push me a little too far, and believe me. . ."
"Am I? Well, I don't particularly care. You know why?"
"No, no I don't. So tell me. Why? Why don't you care?"
"Because its not any of my business that's why."
"You know what, you are one seriously sick jerk."
"I'm sick? I'm the sick one? No, I'm not the one who thinks they're a schoolgirl, giggling and passing notes about how dreamy Brad's eyes are."
"It wasn't a giggle."
"Oh it wasn't? What was it then?"
"I told you twice already, I chuckled and if you'd just ask nicely, maybe with a please, or even in the form of an inquiry, any inquiry imaginable, then I'd tell what I chuckled over."
"Okay, fine. What, pray tell, were you chuckling about?"
"That's better, but you forgot. . ."
"PLEASE!! Alright, are you happy now? PLEASE!!!"
"Thank you. You know how the major holiday's all center around eating, because, this is America, and that's what we do. We eat. There's nothing else we should do at all but eat. But you know, the two major holidays involve turkey. There's never a holiday where people just sit down and attack a chicken or a cow. And I was thinking, you know, kinda dreaming really, about a chicken a cow, a pilgrim and like, I don't know, Santa Claus, you know some kinda authority over Christmas, because we know its not Jesus, all kinda sitting around at a board room table, with the lights dimmed, kinda agreeing to a deal. Like the cows will bring in turkey's and geese, and the chickens will make sure they never realize this deal happened. That's when I started chuckling."
"I can't believe you made me ask nicely for that. Shut up, stop thinking, and lets get out of here."
"Let's go."

Thursday, December 15, 2005

I totally stole this first part because the place I stole it from said it better than I ever could:

this guy:

evolved into this guy:

and made this pretty awesome cd:

Which you can acquire here and here. Seriously, give it a shot. It's actually a pleasant little EP. No, he did not die of a heroin overdose back in 1999, which was the biggest bunch of crap I've ever heard. Apparently he's still having trouble getting people to believe he's still alive. Quite a fun little story: apparently he was at a party one day, and he heard the Flaming Lips album The Soft Bulletin whic touched him so deply that he quit his day job (see picture #1), and started working with the Flaming Lips on his new music.

But for those of us who like to rock (hard) to the Darkness, we've got One Way Ticket to Hell... And Back, plus a lot of bootlegs here.

And that's all the free music you get for today.

Monday, December 12, 2005

Javann, if you liked the little comment I left a couple posts ago, maybe you'll also enjoy the children's book I'm in the process of writing. It's called The Adventures of Damon the Tooth: Love Doesn't Exist. Because kids need to know these things. Of course, it's not finished. This is about the first half. Oddly enough, I'm having trouble writing a happy ending. I'm getting Jon Houser to illistrate it with artwork.

Page one
Picture: Damon looking sad.

Text: Damon the Tooth is in limbic-limbo. Recent events of his life have convinced him that “Love” doesn’t exist!

Page two
Picture: The duck and the fox are cuddling outdoors while Damon is watching them from a distance with a resentful look on his face.

Text: The Duck and the Fox are in love.

Page three
Picture: The duck and the fox are talking to Damon.

Text: “You should go find a pretty lady-tooth to be friends with, Damon!” said the Duck.

“Land ho!” said the Fox.

Page four
Picture: Damon holding up his hands defensively so as to explain himself whiles the duck and the fox listen.

Text: “Well I’d love to, friends. But unfortunately ‘Love’ doesn’t exist!” said Damon with confidence.

Page five
Picture: The duck and the fox have looks on there faces as if they’re trying to convince Damon of something. Damon has a look indicating that he’s listening to them attentively.

Text: “Why, of course love exists!” said the Fox.

Page Six
Picture: Damon with his pointer finger up and his eyes closed, looking very resolute. The Duck and the Fox are watching him, listening.

Text: “Nay, friends!” exclaimed Damon. “’Love’ is a metaphysical speculation that we use to mask other individuals shortcomings! It is merely the tangible being romanticized into the abstract! Indeed, ‘Love’ is nothing but a ridiculous biochemical reaction!”

Page seven
Picture: The duck and the fox have looks on there faces as if they’re trying to convince Damon of something. Damon has a look indicating that he’s listening to them attentively.

Text: The Fox didn’t believe Damon. “No way, Damon! What about the great feeling I get inside whenever I’m with the Duck? What about those times when I’m so in love with the Duck that I can’t think strait? That is love!”

Page eight
Picture: Damon with his pointer finger up, his eyes closed, and his mouth open as if in mid-speak, looking very resolute. The Duck and the Fox are watching him, listening.

Text: “Actually that great feeling is the neurotransmitter dopamine flooding your frontal lobe! This interferes with logical thought processes and can thus addle your thinking abilities (those moments you can’t think straight you’re so in love!). It can also cause problems in the central nervous system causing your hands to shake or your knees to wobble (I’m trembling, I’m so in love!). So you see, the Fox, ‘Love’ doesn’t exist!”

Page nine
Picture: duck and the fox have looks on there faces as if they’re trying to convince Damon of something. Damon has a look indicating that he’s listening to them attentively.

Text: “But every time I’m with the Fox my heart is racing!” said the Duck. “When I’m with the Fox I feel like everything is going to be okay! That is love!”

Page ten
Picture: Damon with his pointer finger up, his eyes closed, and his mouth open as if in mid-speak, looking very resolute. The Duck and the Fox are watching him, listening.

Text: “Actually that’s simply what happens when norepinephrine, epinephrine, and phenylethylamine create a surge that causes your limbic system* to take over!” said Damon the Tooth. “You see, this causes a shift in brain power away from the cortex and thus you begin doing crazy, illogical things that you normally would not do because you’re “so in love.” That, friends, is ‘Love’!”

* A group of brain structures. The system is activated by motivated behavior and arousal, and it influences the endocrine and autonomic motor systems. In other words the Limbic system controls most of your emotional faculties.


And that's all I have so far! Any input would be appreciated, all. I'm open to ideas for the ending. In fact, I simply need help with it.

Saturday, December 10, 2005

Sometimes you just have to hate things that you really shouldn't hate. It happens, man. For example, at this point in time I consider girls to be cold, emotionless, flakey, horrible things and I just kinda dislike them in general. I mean, I know I shouldn't feel that way. But I quite do. So don't feel so bad, Javster. It could be worse.

Wise words. Okay, so here's where I draw the line. Normally, I don't voice my opinion openly at all, especially on this site. But I have to say something.

What the heck? Someone please tell me what the heck is wrong with us? What do you mean us? Us. Relationships. How is it possible to make everything so difficult? Everytime I see a married couple, I honestly wonder, what happened? It almost feels like relationships are meant to fail. Obviously there are more failures than successes. And the thing that gets to me is that everyone keeps going back. Why? Why would you go back purposely into something that you know, I mean you know, will most likely end in pain?

And don't tell me optimism, or some such thing. Optimism is refusing to believe reality. There, I said it.

Just go to Google. Type in failed relationship. You get 18,100,000 sites. Eighteen million sites. Do you have any idea what that means? There's sites on how to get your ex back, how to make the current one work, and how to get into a relationship.

Here's the kicker. I started taking interpersonal communications classes. You know, you can completely manipulate someone if you know how to. Intriguingly enough, there's actually a mental disease. Antisocial. Antisocial people aren't ahem, antisocial. At least not like you might think. According to 4degreez.com:
"A common misconception is that antisocial personality disorder refers to people who have poor social skills. The opposite is often the case. Instead, antisocial personality disorder is characterized by a lack of conscience. People with this disorder are prone to criminal behavior, believing that their victims are weak and deserving of being taken advantage of. Antisocials tend to lie and steal. Often, they are careless with money and take action without thinking about consequences. They are often agressive and are much more concerned with their own needs than the needs of others."

You see, an antisocial person is quite adept at social encounters. People like them. Take Ted Bundy. He was so likeable, that the judge was remiss to sentence him. He couldn't understand how someone who seemed so well adjusted was able to commit such attrocites. As a side note, in case you didn't know, Ted Bundy was a serial killer. A serial killer who enticed young women from college campuses.

Not that serial killers are running amok, charming and killing anyone they want. Not by any means. However, there's no pain greater than emotional pain. Could it be worse than physical death? That's debateable.

Somewhere around here, I had a point. I don't know what it is anymore. But I've said what I'm going to say. And this is why I enjoy taking communications. I actually am intrigued by it. So much so that I spend time reading articles on it. But you know, whatever.

I was going to cook you a casserole for your loss, but uh, I didn't.

Tuesday, December 06, 2005

Leave us not kid ourselves. I just heard American Woman being played to advertise an Arby's sandwich. That type of thing just makes you want to go somewhere in a corner and cry your heart out.

So things that are of major concern in Javann's life. Its cold. That's of more than major concern. That's just crazy talk man. Crazy.

I don't like to share. I don't like it. I'm sorry. If I'm eating food, and you want some, don't ask me for it. Because I don't like to share. That's right. I don't like to share anything. Don't get me wrong. I WILL share, but man I hate it. You know when you share something with someone, you just don't feel right after it. Classic example: I hate taking a shower right after someone else takes one. I hate it. Its warm, but its not my heat. There's no way I'm alone on that. I don't like that. I'm also not a big fan of sharing my emotions or feelings. Yes, I "express them" but I don't like to share them. You know, when you're with your therapist and she's all like, tell me how that made you feel, and you're kinda like, uh, no I don't want anyone to "know" how I felt, or feel. Its just not a comfortable feeling for me. Of course, I just shared how I felt by saying that. But it wasn't a positive experience. I'd like to think I haven't become any closer to absolution with my inner demons. I like that I can say that. Yeah, I like saying stuff like that too.

But the real question in my mind is why? Why don't I like sharing? I technically should, because its the "right" thing to do. But honestly, there's a lot of things that are good and right, pure and what not, that I don't like to do. And conversely, a lot of horrible things that I love to do, though, I should clarify and say I don't go around doing those horrible things. Trying to make sure you cover all your bases eh? So what's the difference? I have no idea personally, and at this point, I'm just filling space. Yeah. So I've got some gatorade in my stomach that seriously needs some solid companionship. Most likely to be in the form of a soy chicken patty. Or a soy patty that's supposed to taste like chicken. Or whatever.

Monday, December 05, 2005

I've been smitten! No I'm not in love. I'm sick as heck. Well, I was sick. Now i'm just recovering. Or something. Anyway, I'm back. Yay!

Ever get those chain letters that tell you to send it to everyone you know or you'll have relationship problems or some such ilk for five years. Yeah, I've had relationship problems for the last five years, because no one will talk to me now that I've forwarded spam to them. Hmmm. . .that was funnier in my head.

Actually I blame people who forward that for all the problems in the world. Really. And all those people who blog. Yeah, myself included. Not really. I don't blog regularly enough it seems. Or something.


Thursday, November 17, 2005

I'm the independent band to Jerm's corporate conglomerate.
Lets just be honest. Sometimes I avoid talking because I can't keep what I want to say out of my mouth. I'm not the type of person who likes to spare feelings, but I do it, regardless of whose they are. Don't get me wrong. I'm not out on a crusade against anyone, I just seem to think if I can take it, I should be able to dish it out. But wait, you say, Javann, isn't that backwards? Of course, I say, it is. Because I think it should be. It shouldn't be if you can dish it out, you can take it. Because lets face it, a lot of people can dish things out. Its the taking it that seems to be the problem. And that's why I think you have to earn the right to dish it out by first taking it with a grain of salt. What's it?

So here's where I unleash on someone right? Nope. Because I know its not worth it. And I know they probably couldn't take it. Besides, who really reads what I say here anyway? Well, other than a select few. Symbolism and subtlety aren't your forte. No, disembodied voice, I really can't be subtle can I?

Didn't you use to be interesting? On another note, what's with the sudden cold? I think the weather should always be a pleasant seventy to seventy-five degrees and that anytime you can't wear shorts outside, you should automatically be exempt from doing anything but huddling up under a blanket and watching movies with the heater on. Yeah. . .I like that idea. The movies or the blanket huddling? And some hot chocolate too.

Thursday, November 10, 2005

You're amazing! You should fight crime!

Fallout Boy is stuck in my head. I've been going down swinging, being number one with the bullet, and cocking and pulling it since yesterday. I'm not even a huge fan of the ban, its just that chorus and the accompanying riff is so catchy. I don't like anything else they do, I swear it. How do I know? I've never heard it, and I know all music that is good.

I think if I ever master, or wait, get good enough to know what the heck is going on with, my guitar, I'd like to write a catchy song. Something really catchy. There are lot of catchy songs. Franz Ferdinand's first hit, Take Me Out. I can hum that riff in Siberia while sipping vodka with my comrades, and I swear they will recognize it. Or say the opening notes to Nirvana's Smells Like Teen Spirit. Classic. Like a finely aged wine.

But that's the weird thing. One hit wonders are basically just that. Catchy songs. Here's a classic one hit wonder. Young MC's Bust A Move. It doesn't get any better than that. He didn't have anything else explode. But that break beat with the funky distorted electric guitar and the breakdown? Catchy. I still remember words to it. Another catchy one hit wonder was Gary Newton's Cars. Catchy. Very catchy. Or the Cardigan's Lovefool. Accomplished band with several albums but only one chart topping hit. Why? That song's catchy. Its got the girl whining "love me love me" and the guaranteed clincher: the distorted talking voice. Remember, I cry, and I cry, and I beg for you to.

In this city ladies look pretty/Guys tell jokes so they can seem witty/Tell a funny joke just to get some play/Then you try to make a move and she says, "No way"/Girls are fakin goodness sakin/They want the man who brings home the bacon/Got no money and you got no car/Then you got no women and there you are/Some girls are sadistic, materialistic/Lookin for a man makes them opportunistic/They're lyin on a beach perpetrating a tan/So a brother with the money can be their man/So on the beach you're strollin real high rollin/Everything you have is yours and not stolen/A girl runs up with somethin to prove/So don't just stand there bust a move

Monday, November 07, 2005

Don't really feel like posting today, but I would like to say, if a friend of yours goes to sleep on your loveseat, don't let him wake up in a cold sweat at twelve in the morning, suddenly realizing that everyone is gone, and someone's been drinking his vodka. Friends don't let friends sleep beyond the time the party's over. Also, Mystery Science Theater 3000 isn't funny if you like to talk through movies yourself, and frankly, you're funnier than anything those guys at the bottom of the screen can even think of.


See? Hilarious!

Saturday, November 05, 2005

I won't do what you tell me/I won't do what you say!

That's right. Its Saturday. Oooohh ooooohh! Normally, I take the weekend off from posting on my blog, but this time, I took the week off. On the moon, our weekends have evolved beyond your weekends here on Earth. Now they are the entire week, and jobs have been phased out. And apparently, I'll be posting on the weekend. Actually just day, because, well, I don't wanna on Sunday.

Ever seen the opening montage to Bosom Buddies? You know that old show with Tom Hanks and Peter Scolari, where they had to dress in drag to get this apartment because they were broke, and then hilarity ensued? Or maybe not hilarity, more like one hugely popular star winning Oscars and a aplomb, and one unknown star who stayed unknown playing bit roles in stuff like, Honey I Shrunk the Kids: The TV series. Ouch! Way to insult the guy with a full time job!

That montage is cool. In a uniquely cheesy kind of way, of course. Of course. Ever wonder what your montage would be like? For instance, there's a shot of me bursting through a glass window, then another shot of me getting the subsequent stitches at the ER, all the time laughing and smiling. Or if I were on an action packed TV show, I'd burst through the glass window in a old school muscle car, guns and cigar blazing, (Because smoking is cool!) then it would cut away to me like running up in slow motion, or cut away to me roughing some random bad guy up, like slamming him up against the wall, or running one down. Then maybe a few shots of me in awkward situations, like waking up to a gun pointed at me. Then the I'm-too-cool-for-this-to-bring-me-down shot, or what some would call the I'm a well adjusted adult so when I'm not bringing in bad guys or solving crimes, I'm smiling and enjoying life shot.

Love is all around/why don't you take it/you can make it now/no need to fake it/you're going to make it after all!

And hat toss into the air.

Monday, October 31, 2005

Brass Monkey/that Funky Monkey/Brass Monkey Junkie/That funky monkey

Aye. So here we are on Monday. For as long as I can remember, I've prided myself on having what I consider incredible weekends. You know, where you don't get a lot of sleep, you have a ton of fun, and then you spend two or three days just trying to get back to normal so you can do it all over again? Yeah, I love that. That's what weekends are for. What, did you think they were for rest? Relaxation? Yeah, I'll do that when I'm dead. Inject me with some cheese!

But there comes a time, when you wonder if you didn't do too much. Like Saturday. I went to sleep on Friday at two thirty or so. After hanging out at Jerm's for a bit, watching Indiana Jones, and then sitting around at my house trying to get sleepy. So I go to sleep, get up the next morning at six fifty, shower, hop in the car and go to work. I work from 7:30 till 4:00. That's right, a half hour shy of nine hours of work. I then go home and sleep right? Wrong! Wrong! I change clothes and go play football. Three touchdowns, two achy knees, and one seriously disconcerting dizzy spell later I head home. Finally to sleep? No. . .to shower and dash off to see the Legend of Zorro. Then to Logan's. And finally home to sleep. At about eleven thirty. An early night, I know, but well, I had to sleep at some point.

I'm usually against blogging for the sole purpose of talking about what I've been doing, but this proves a valid point for me. I'm tired. Okay, that's all I have to say.
You expect me to talk? No, Mr. Bond, I expect you to die!

Tuesday, October 25, 2005

I'm sorry like Atari/the cousin to Coleco/Chico de Barge he large/and got a lac up in the garage/a few parts here and there I declare hard/my lawd/one at Clark one at Spellman/both know each other they cool you can tell when/they walk up in a party women jump for joy/but all the while gentlemen scheming they gone jump the boy

So here's something you might not know about FedEx. Its a company. And as a company, its all about bottom line. Why am I even talking about bottom lines, companies, corporations and such? Because I popped a fan belt today.

But that's not it. I'm getting a new truck. I can barely contain my excitement. I'm serious. When they told me, it was everything I could do not to jump up and down and celebrate. And believe me, I wanted to. I wanted to run through the halls of my uh. . .whoa. Where'd that come from?

Maybe you don't understand where I'm coming from. My truck is old. Quite possibly older than me, though I doubt that. Its one of the first trucks in the Fedex Fleet. Well. . .the fleet here in Huntsville. Its seen fire, its seen rain. For instance, today, it started shooting coolant out of the dash (rain) and it overheated, leaving me stranded (fire). But that's not the first time this type of thing has happened to me. Me and my fedex truck have been on the side of the road many a time, and I ask you, can you deliver the world on time by foot. The answer, of course, is no. And don't try to be foolish and tell me yes, because that folly shalt no longer be invited into this forum upon which we stand. . .verily.

Also, I'm slightly irritated when people talk to me only to get a favor from me. That's not cool. Don't be that person.

Look at that! She's doing a horrible job washing that car!

Thursday, October 20, 2005

I was going to bake you a casserole for your loss, but. . .uh. . .I didn't.
Remember what I said about, you know, saying more as the week went on? Yeah, well, uh. . .I lied. Sorta. Actually, I failed to make good on that promise. So uh. . .whatever.

Enneagram Test Results
Type 1 Perfectionism |||||||||| 40%
Type 2 Helpfulness |||||||||||||||||| 80%
Type 3 Image Awareness |||||||||||||| 53%
Type 4 Sensitivity |||||||||||||| 60%
Type 5 Detachment |||||||||| 36%
Type 6 Anxiety |||||| 26%
Type 7 Adventurousness |||||||||||||||||||| 90%
Type 8 Aggressiveness |||||||||||||||||||| 83%
Type 9 Calmness |||||||||||||||||| 80%
Your main type is 7
Your variant is sexual
Take Free Enneagram Personality Test
personality tests by similarminds.com

Tuesday, October 18, 2005

In the place to be. What is the place to be?

Yesterday I had a headache that felt as if I had somehow managed to slow time down to an unbelieveably slow crawl, and then shot myself in the head. After taking five extra strength Advil, my temperature dropped significantly, and my headache went away. Lovely.

Today I woke up feeling quite refreshed, and went to work in a relatively cheerful mood. For some reason, I feel as if I'm finally getting the hang of things. Or maybe I just slept really well last night. Perhaps.

Not sure what I'm thinking now, if that's what you came here for, then you are to be gravely disappointed with what's happening currently in my blog. But not to worry, there'll be more as the week goes on and I get less content.

Thursday, October 13, 2005

What's it about? I don't remember, its twelve thirty at night, and I was just asleep.
Its one in the morning, and I just want to say, if you get a text from me at twelve thirty at night, do us both a favor and don't call me. Texting me back is cool, I have no problems with that since I can totally ignore that, but calling me back? That draws my ire.

Boils my blood.

Whatever. So now here I am. That's my only real thought, just felt like sharing that.

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 and 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. . .

Some call me unstable. I call them stable. They don't take that as an insult.

Darkness clouds this plane we live in
death comes for those who wait
and if you die tomorrow
no would care enough to cry
or would they?
would you're funeral be filled
with hypocrites who want your wife
who doesn't want the finer things in life
your casket is pine or mahogany
five years from now its wormwood
you know when you don't smell good
from dirt we came to dirt we return
ashes sprinkled out at sea
so little kids can go to the beach
and get a little taste of me
he couldn't swim in this life
so he never rented a boat
now that he's dead
he's learned how to float
it may seem morbid
obese or whatever and something
but if you die its really nothing
the dead know of nothing
not good at poker
but can you tell now if he's bluffing?
the only time he's got a royal flush
is when he becomes some maggots lunch
irony irony irony irony irony
that's what this is
how dare i sit here and make fun of the stiff
think they'll hear think they'll be missed?
of course they just might come back
and then what?
could you welcome them back?
they've been sleep forever
that's some serious morning breath
do they need scope or listerine
a few minutes in the latrine?
wouldn't that be a scene?
alright i'm done
i was so addicted, i threw it all away,
someone told me that someday
soon i'd have pay
and when i came got to someday
i was looking for someway
to continue my habbit
i gotta have it
its not a habbit
i'm so addicted what can i say?
folks told me i needed to pray
for a better day
but i'm in the corner anyway
whispering in my phone
don't leave me alone
even though i say go away
i don't need to be on my own
where am i going what am i doing
look at me who do you think i'm fooling?
myself and no one else is in on my game
because the look on my face is the same
i'm not changing in weight and my lips are still pink
and if you think i'm normal, well that's what you think.
my addiction is mental and its so hard to shake
but i don't want to i think i love the heartbreak
maybe you've guessed what's wrong with me
or maybe what you're wrong about is me
its so plain to see
what it is that i need
i'm addicted to
what did you think it was?

Wednesday, October 12, 2005

Nothing's ever promised tomorrow that comes today.

Remember that movie with Ben Stiller? You know, Mystery Men? I think that's a funny movie. The concept of superheroes who don't really have powers makes me life. Like, what if your power was the display of time? You could make numbers, the "correct time" appear and vanish. How much fun would that be? Your alter ego would be clock or time man, and you'd always be like, "Ask me what time it is!"

I'd enjoy that.

Monday, October 10, 2005

I've gotta secret.

Bright idea: Make seven individual CDs one for each day of the week. At least it seemed bright. It was idiocy in disguise. Because, well, frankly, I don't have the ability to follow through. Well, I have the ability, I don't have. . .the drive. Yeah, that's it. Five topping pizza, by the way, is a party. Prince said so. Its like when you read someone else's blog, and realize that your blog is really really boring. And that you live a boring life. That's what its like.

Man, I'm sore. I mean I really hurt. We played some football this weekend, and I "inducted" Jamaican into the society of American's who enjoy Monday morning quarterbacking, fantasy football, and large styrofoam index fingers. Sorry, ladies, now whenever Sunday rolls around, another man will be watching. I hold my stomach in laughter at your futile attempts to manipulate the men in your life into sensitivity and conversation. Sometimes, people say they have random thoughts. And then I reply, "I never get those. I pretty much mean to think." Nuances, its the little things that make life. If you know the nuances, you're in. You own everything necessary. All you need to know are the little things. The big things are pretty self explanatory, inertia, gravity, murder, blah blah blah, easy. The problem is the little things. The proverbial shades of grey (or if you prefer, gray). These are the problems in life. Sure gravity can kill you if you jump off a building. But gravity is why it rains. See, little things. The key to making sense is sometimes to make no sense at all. That doesn't make sense. I know.

Also, I've decided to buy a crossfader and two turntables. That's right, I know its totally cliche, but I'm not in the process of searching for the "wheels of steel." I'll be sure to update everyone on how that goes. Since I don't want to drop a lot of money for the stuff. That's the real problem. The money it costs for not one turntable, but two(!) and a crossfader. But at least I didn't say I was buying a television. What are you doing? Fighting the greatest evil there is son. But all you did was turn the television off. Exactly.

Friday, October 07, 2005

I am dragging. I've done nothing cool. I've got nothing witty to say. And I'm dead tired. This is not a cool time to be my friend, I'll say that much. Or to want to be entertained by me. Catch up with me in say. . .three days. I'll have plenty of entertaining things to say and will have done many things. Indeed.

Tuesday, October 04, 2005

In an ever growing effort to "find myself" I've made it a habit to take a personality test every so often to determine if I am indeed becoming a better person. One that I like in particular is the Personality Disorder test from similarminds.com. It helps you determine if you have any. . .tendencies towards mental instability. I've always maintained that yes, I have some mental instabilities, I think as humans, we all have our problems. Its admitting that we have a problem and accepting it has being the "rust" in our armor, or as some like to say, the spice in our life that most people seem to not get. At any rate, here's how I did.

Personality Disorder Test Results
Paranoid |||||||||||||| 58%
Schizoid |||||||||||| 42%
Schizotypal |||||||||||||||||||| 90%
Antisocial |||||||||||||||||||| 86%
Borderline |||||||||||||||| 70%
Histrionic |||||||||||| 50%
Narcissistic |||||||||||||||| 62%
Avoidant |||||||||||||||||| 78%
Dependent |||||||||||| 46%
Obsessive-Compulsive |||||| 30%
Take Free Personality Disorder Test
personality tests by similarminds.com

Feel free to take it yourself and tell me what's wrong with you.

Monday, October 03, 2005

I don't get good at this game until I've had a few drinks. Better get your wins in while I'm still sober.

Like all things, this weekend came to an end. Unlike those other things with ends, it was way too quick. I crashed, as usual, but not at the end of the weekend, say, Sunday night. Oh no, I crashed Friday, and I skidded forward until Sunday night. I finally was able to pull myself out of bed and headed on down to the Jazz Factory, where I took out my frustration with my innately imperfect limitations on poor Jughead. No, I didn't beat him to a pulp with a cue stick, but I did savagely beat him at pool. After a few games, I then went to Sonic's listened to music, and wondered what happened to my weekend. I was supposed to go see Serenity. I didn't go see it. That's right, I didn't. And now, according to Tremaine, I missed the greatest scifi movie to grace the screen in some years. There was a time when I was easily able to stay awake all weekend with no problems. That time has come and past, and the partying can never last. Wake me up, when this whole thing ends.

To my credit, I'm a much better singer than songwriter. Not to my credit, I'm a horrible songwriter. And not much better at singing.

Saturday, October 01, 2005

Last night, a friend (who'll I'll call Jamaica for anonymity purposes) and I had an argument. After watching House of Flying Daggers, he felt that one of the characters was motivated by logic in his actions. Of course, I think that he was motivated by emotion. Come on. Emotions are some of the most powerful things that any human being can experience. I just don't understand how someone can be motivated by solely by logic. As anyone who's ever read my Keirsey results will tell you, I am ENFP, with a really strong feeling (or emotional) side. 88% feeling to be precise. What does that mean? My main motivation in life is feeling. If something doesn't make me feel right, I don't do it. Case in point. I'm at Walmart with Jamaica, looking for a cashier to ring up and get out. There's a line where I will literally be next. There's a buggy in the way. No one's attending it. So I step in front of it, put my beer down (that's right my rich delicious Yueng Ling lager) and wait. The person who's using the buggy comes back. Now, don't get me wrong. I am a man of decisive action, and I'm also strongly into the deal agenda. I do something that makes you upset, yeah, well deal. You don't like me? Yeah, well deal. Oh, you want to start something because I parked my truck in front of you? Yeah well, deal. You see what I mean. The only time that even comes out of me though is when anger or aggression is expressed towards me. I'm not like that, say at a funeral. I don't think that I should be mean to people who feel sad.

Which brings me to the point of what happened. The lady who came back to her cart didn't look angry, or furious, or even nonchalant. She looked genuinely disappointed. I mean full-fledged disappointment. I'm talking looking into her eyes and feel her pain disappointment. Which is why I couldn't stay in line. So I grabbed my beer (that's right my rich delicious Yueng Ling lager) and told her sorry. But here's where Jamaica and I differed. Jamaica felt no remorse, and even said as much. Now, the lady let me stay, even though I had pretty much left for another line, but that's neither here nor there. I was prepared to leave, while Jamaica was going to stay, regardless of how bad it made someone else feel. And there's where I draw the line. I have no problem with angering someone. That's your problem, and honestly, I'm going to anger people everywhere I go. So what, deal. But disappointing people? I can't bear to do that. Not to mention I can avoid disappointing people.

Didn't like this post? Too bad. Deal. Unless you're disappointed. In which case, I'll do better next time then.

Tuesday, September 27, 2005

Wow. So this weekend was amazing. There were concerts (check out the photoblog for a few pics of that) and there was driving and more concerts. Went to Memphis, and managed to leave my cameraphone in the car. Wow. I say wow a lot. Now the recuperating must begin. And it must begin with me sleeping all the time. Some of the highlights of the trip:

Waking up on a couch with someone's cat crawling over my shoulder. All I remember is grabbing a handful of small animal and throwing it away from me. Did I mention I'm allergic to cats? That brings us to

Stumbling into the bathroom and breaking out into a cold sweat as I realized I couldn't breathe. Then stumbling towards the door outside gasping for air.

Singing Rappers Delight in a full fledged karaoke bar. With Jared. On a stage. Then having people tell us we did an awesome job. Even though we both know we sucked. Thanks rhythmless white guy. You must have been drinking.

Did I mention the talent in that karaoke bar? Believe me, there were some talented folks on that stage. The coordinator was very talented. She did a Tina Turner that was phenomenal.

Eating at Dyers. You see, Dyers has been around since the early 1900's and the reason is the famous grease that has also been around since the early 1900's. And the food there was. . .horrible. Oh my god. There's a reason why they serve alcohol there. Because you'd have to be drunk to eat there. I mean that. Check out the "legend" that is a Dyers burger at the official Beale street website.

Does that mean I was drunk? No. That means that I wish I had been drunk.

I would put the "drink tally" up but, well, I don't want people thinking I drink a lot. Wait, does the fact that I just said that mean you think I drink a lot? Lets just drop that.

Leaving my phone in the car. To my credit, I didn't forget my phone. I remembered it was in the car. I just decided I didn't really need it. Six missed calls and two messages were all I didn't get till late. No biggie right?

The rain. So ever seen a concert in the rain? Wear a polo shirt. Those things are like the most absorbent shirts I have ever worn. Not a drop of rain made it past that shirt. I mean, literally the seats in front of me were dry because my shirt had soaked up all the rain that came within a three foot radius of me. Seriously. It was awesome. (can you just feel that sarcasm?)

Did I mention that the rain was off and on? Like at first it was torrential then it would stop, you'd start to dry a little bit, you know go buy a beer from the stand only to have said beer get rained in by the return of the torrential downpour?

And the beer was six bucks a cup. SIX bucks a cup people. We're talking a biggie sized drink and a triple at Wendy's. Which, coincidentally, is a better choice than say, Dyers. That's right. I'll diss them to the day I die. And then I'll be sure I mention them on my tombstone. Something like, "Now that I'm dead, I regret only one thing. That's right, eating at Dyers!"

Did I just mention Dyers and tombstones?

And yes, I'm allergic to cats. I know I know, that sounds like Jerm's thing, but I'm still trying to recover from the allergy attack I had.

Sarcasm. Like dogs tearing at flesh. There was a lot of sarcasm. I enjoyed it thoroughly. Does that make me a bad person? Am I wrong to enjoy seeing people being put down, in public? And if I am, who can say they don't join me in that pleasure? Show of hands. Hypocrites. Put your hands down.

Speaking of hypocrites, Jared you suck! Even though you don't read this blog. Somebody tell Jared to visit this site. He needs to see that for himself.

The O'Jays. Put your hands together for them. Right now. They are old, very old, and they still bring the live show. Complete with stylish dance moves straight from the decade they were popular in.

Huntsville, you also suck. You couldn't get a band with a certifiable hit this year? Or maybe even in the last three years? No? Why not go get an indie band? I'd pay good money to see a genuine indie band. They carry more clout than Tishaminga. Who, I didn't see by the way. And what's up with raising the prices while simultaneously lowering your standards? That's called crap, Huntsville. You can only play the family fun card for so long before we realize you're too cheap, bent on profits, and way too used to nothing happening to make something happen.

And while I'm at it, has anyone seen Peyton Manning? He's been missing since last season apparently. If you have, could you tell him my fantasy football team misses him. Oh, and we left a plate of cookies out for him. All he has to do is throw touchdowns.

That does it for me, I'm going to go sleep till I feel cheerful again. Oh wait, I'd have to go into a coma for that. I'll just go sleep till tomorrow.

Monday, September 19, 2005

And now for your reading pleasure, I give you. . .a short story.

"Wake up. Cmon get up."
"What? What do you want so badly that it can't wait till this afternoon?"
"It is this afternoon, so get up already."
"Its afternoon? Oh wow, I've been sleep forever, why didn't you wake me up?"
"I just tried to. . ."
"Forget it, look, what do you want?"
"So. . ."
"So what? You're that persistent for fifteen. . ."
"Thirty minutes."
"Fine, thirty minutes and now you start off with a so...? You know what your problem is?"
"I can't afford to move out?"
"No, that's not it. Your problem is you aren't assertive enough. Take last night for instance. . ."
"That's what I was going to ask, how'd that go?"
"How'd that go? How do you think it went?"
"I wouldn't have asked if I knew."
"No, you shouldn't suddenly develop a backbone. Wait until I get fully awake before you start doing that. Then I can properly chastise you for being such a . . ."
"The party! Tell me about the party man!"
"Fine, fine, let me grab an orange juice."
"At two in the afternoon?"
"Oh wait, yeah, might as well wake and bake. We got any beer?"
"Yeah, in the fridge."
"So. . ."
"I'm getting to it. So we get there at like ten."
"Ten at night? I thought it started at eight."
"Eight? What loser goes to parties at eight? Or for that matter what loser shows up on time?"
"Oh right, right, the cool people show up late. Forgettably late."
"No its fashonably late, you spineless loser! Why do I even bother. . ."
"So its ten o'clock, what then?"
"So I walk and there are wall to wall PYTs. . ."
"PYTs? Personal Yacht Tables?"
"That's it. I'm not telling you anymore."
"What that's not what PYT means?"
"No you idiot, its pretty young thing. PYTs are pretty young things."
"Oh. Clever. Did you make that up?"
"Of course. So the PYTs are all over, I mean its nothing but beauty as far as the eye can see. Almost like I just walked into the cave and said open sesame and there they were."
"Wouldn't have you to say open sesame first?"
"You know, say open sesame first, then walk into the cave."
"End of story."
"Cmon, I'm just saying."
"I mean it this time, next time you'll have to just live the dream on your own, with no help from the outside world of reality."
"Just finish it. For me?"
"Whatev. Get me another beer."
"Sure thing."
"Thanks. So I'm casing the joint, you know spotting who will give me something to say, and I see this rather tall girl in a corner sipping a daquiri. . ."
"They had mixed drinks there?"
"Uh. . .yeah."
"Like, a frozen daquiri, or you know the kind that's cold and. . ."
"A daquiri okay, it was a frickin daquiri. MAN! What is your problem? Do you even care what she looked like?"
"The daquiri is a very important part of what she looked like."
"That's it, I swear you will never know what happened."
"Okay, okay, I'm sorry."
"So I walk up to her, start giving her the classic charm, you know, totally talking my way to the leisure suit, when she stops me and asks me for a drink."
"I thought she had a daquiri?"
"I know, and you know what I pay in rent, so there's no way I'm getting this girl another daquiri."
"That's right. Rent's high."
"So's gas. So I say, here let me take this and I'll get you another. And take her glass, which she's gripping like a eagle grips chickens in its talons, and after wresting away from her I go to the bar. Bartender comes up and says, hey what'll you have, I say give me a tonic water. That's like a buck fifty."
"Thought she wanted a drink?"
"I'm getting there. So I bring it back and tell her it grey goose and tonic."
"SO pipsqueak, everyone knows you can barely taste grey goose in tonic water. The stuff's too smooth."
"I know, she's costing me very little."
"Very little."
"So she's knocking back probably wondering why she's not buzzing, when the waiter comes over and asks if she'd like another club soda. And she looks and says, yes, but I have vodka and tonic. And the waiter says no, the bartender said you had a club soda. And she looks at me, and now my cover is blown, and I know I can't pretend because I'm really that cheap."
"Yeah you are, you just knocked back three of my beers."
"So I start acting outraged, as if I didn't realize that I'd been pumping her full of tonic water, and I get up getting ready to head to the bar, and she stops me and she goes to the bar, and I'm thinking, alright, she's going to get all kungfu betty on the dudes head, and then she talks to him, they both look at me, and then she gets another drink, and I'm like alright, and she hits me in the face and leaves me a receipt. Apparently that was a quadruple shot of grey goose she just splashed me with. All the vodka she should've gotten."
"What'd you do?"
"Only thing I could've. I jumped the bartender after."
"Wow. So that's how you got so beat up. Man, if you look like that, I'd hate to see him."
"I'd hate to see him too, because he's a really good fighter who also promised to beat me like he did last night, everytime, in fact anytime, he saw me."
"Yeah. Also the last thing I remember before I blacked out is the cops showing up."
"Yeah, so how'd I get home?"
"The cops."
"Yeah that's what I thought."
"So. . ."
"Yeah, I'm going out again tonight. You want to come."
"Are you kidding? I've been trying to get you to ask about that all afternoon. Lets go!"

Wednesday, September 14, 2005

Them some mighty fine vittles!

So this morning, in between alarms, I had this dream. It was weird, but for some reason I kept thinking, this would make a really funny skit. I'll try to explain it.

There's a man, he's wearing a suit. Its a relatively nice business number, you know? And he goes to a house, and a pregnant lady answers. She invites him in, and he begins making small talk. Asking her about her coffee table, you know the nice things you do to make conversation. Anyway, she's talking about something, and he interrupts like he's not paying attention and informs her of a new branch of the neighborhood watch. Its the decency patrol. And he's the head. And they want to kick her out. Maybe I should've set this up. In my mind, its obvious this lady is a homemaker. She's pregnant. She comes to door in an apron, and with a loaf of bread in a pan that she just baked. She's so decent, that there's no way that she's indecent. But he's going on about how some people in the neighborhood are concerned. Of course, she looks suprised, but he's like, "You're indecent, and we feel our neighborhood would be better, if you and your family (points at her stomach) left." Surprise become indignance, and then she asks what she's done that was so indecent. "What do you sit home all day doing?" "Well, today, I've put these buns in the oven. . ." And he says, "Aha! I knew it. You're just popping the loaves of bread in and out of the oven eh? Mrs. Pewtersmith, I am a man of the world, I know all about your sordid bakery! And a pregnant woman at that." And she's even more shocked, and demands to know what he means. "You know what I mean, with your kneeding, and your baking, making the bread supple and hot! I don't have the stomach to even stay in this travesty of a bakery any longer! Good day madam, and may God have mercy on your soul!"

And I woke up. I don't know what the heck it all means, but apparently its what happens when I try to sleep longer for work than I should. Go figure.

Monday, September 05, 2005

This should come as no surprise to those of you who know me. In two years, I've conquered the world of alcohol and I am amused at the simplicity. Check it out for yourselves. And for the record, I didn't cheat.

Also it should be pointed out I found this quiz on an online dating site. Interestingly enough, its free to take the quiz, you don't have to join, so don't worry, I'm not out looking for love in all the wrong places.

Bacardi 151
Congratulations! You're 137 proof, with specific scores in beer (140) , wine (66), and liquor (95).
All right. No more messing around. Your knowledge of alcohol is so high that you have drinking and getting plastered down to a science. Sure, you could get wasted drinking beer, but who needs all those trips to the bathroom? You head straight for the bar and pick up that which is most efficient.

My test tracked 4 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:

free online datingfree online dating
You scored higher than 72% on proof

free online datingfree online dating
You scored higher than 98% on beer index

free online datingfree online dating
You scored higher than 78% on wine index

free online datingfree online dating
You scored higher than 89% on liquor index
Link: The Alcohol Knowledge Test written by hoppersplit on Ok Cupid

Friday, August 26, 2005

This one's for the species, boys and girls.

Indeed. I had a story in mind for me type up. Changed my mind. Be sure to check my picture blog. It should prove to be entertaining.

In the meantime, here is an mp3. By a band called the Bravery. They're actually really good. At least, I think so. Pitchfork Media (my favorite place for indie rock reviews) doesn't agree with me. I'd give them seven out of ten. Pitchfork? 5.3. Read the review if you want, or give it a listenand decide for yourself.

And thusly ends today's blogging segment.

Tuesday, August 23, 2005

I'm still not fond of public social settings. I think, today, I realized why. Most of the times, when I'm in settings like that, I'm by myself. And the feeling of being alone is actually accentuated by seeing people I don't know all enjoying one another's company. I feel. . .jealous? angry? lonely? I don't know. In all honesty, I probably feel more out of place than anything. I've never been jealous of people who have friends, because, I have friends, and its not like I'm alone in the world. I always feel a little anger, a little aggression, I think that's a normal feeling for me. I guess that should bother me, but that anger is what makes me wake up to go to work in the morning. That aggression makes me do my job. That aggression makes me do the things I know is right. Somewhere in the back of my head, when things get tough, I get aggressive. I get angry, I do what I must because I will not allow myself to be beaten by anything, or anyone. Lonely? Maybe. Sometimes, I feel that way. But then again, the aggression. That doesn't really let me think that way long. I don't know.

Anyway, those of you who would like lighter fare, lighter less emotionally open fare, well, I'll try to be shallow and closed tomorrow.

Thursday, August 04, 2005

I could be a hermit. You know, the old guy that withdraws to the mountains, thousands of miles (well maybe hundreds of miles, then I could get groceries every now and then) away from human contact. Honestly, not having contact with humans would be awesome. I could think whatever I wanted to. Sit around playing guitar, sleeping and hunting for food. Or maybe just ordering groceries from some website. I think that's the real problem with isolation. It'd be hard to survive. Don't get me wrong, I'll all about trekking through the woods in snow or sweltering heat, just to catch one small woodland creature, taking it back to my meager and shabbily built hut, taking the time to bleed, gut, skin, and cook the animal, which probably wouldn't even replace the calories it took for me type that whole run-on sentence about it, much less, the energy it would take to actually go out and do the stuff. Being a hermit would only be cool if you were in range of a place that either delivered food, or at the very least be in a few days travel distance. Then you could go to the general store, buy several months worth of food (with money I would make trading stocks online I guess) pay up my wireless internet connection for a few months, and buy a few new clothes, some soap, maybe grab some molasses candy for the kids. . .yeah I could do that whole hermit thing. Or maybe civilization is the thing for me. I guess I could just ignore all the people who irritate me. And that, my friends, is the human way to deal with problems. Just ignore it.

Wednesday, August 03, 2005

Welcome to the real world/she said to me/condescendingly/take a seat/take your life/plot it out in black and white

I have a lot of hobbies. For instance, I'm learning to play the guitar. I also enjoy pina colodas, and getting trapped in the rain. . .but that's all beyond the point. One "hobby" of mine, perhaps the one I'm most consistent with is fantasy football. I like fantasy football. Its relatively fun, and actually doesn't take a ton of time to play. But what has this to do with anything?

Not much. If you like fantasy football, you should email me because, believe it or not, I'm trying to get a league going. If I get enough people its going to happen. Oh I mean that. I'll do it.

Tuesday, August 02, 2005

Crazy. So I wrote down these thoughts. And I can't find the notebook. It was good stuff too.

Here's a trend that I may never try: running barefoot. Apparently, its growing, and many people swear that its the only way to experience the ultimate sensation of running, or even hiking. As many of you know, I'm no fan of the woods. But being in the woods with bare feet? I've done that once or twice, and it was excrutiating. A form of certfiable torture. But to each his own. Here's an amateur site with more.

Mystery Link!

Monday, July 25, 2005

Post in two parts. Both parts equal. Both parts same point. Completely different.
Post 1A:

Ever notice how people can inspire others to be selfless? It happens in relationships, families, on the job, pretty much everywhere. A couple has a child and they work like crazy to make sure that child gets everything it needs, and probably will ever want. Overtime, sweat, blood, tears, and if baby food, diapers, or one of those even flo swings were illegal, crime wouldn't be too much. But more than just children inspire that kind of willing selflessness. The love between two people will make them do anything to stay together. Its as if no hurdle is too high, as if no obstacle is too great or insurmountable. No matter what they find in the path of togetherness, they will push through it as if it were nothing, and gladly. Its amazing really.

Post 1B:
Ever notice how people will do crazy things to keep something? It happens mostly in relationships, families, on job, but really its everywhere. A couple has a child and they will do anything necessary just to keep the kid alive, but not only alive, but happy. Working overtime, sweat, blood tears, and anything illegal if it'll make that kid stop crying and start smiling. It doesn't just stop there though. If there's two people together, in a relationship, don't stand in the way. They will kill, cheat, murder, lie and steal to stay together. It may not even be a good idea for them to be together, it could be the mistake of their lives, and they will just keep plugging away as if its nothing. The look of pure happiness that covers their face is really just an amazing example of their deluded thought process.

A or B?

Friday, July 22, 2005

You need understanding.
In your life there has been many people that
could never seem too comprehend your
personality. Now you have either become an
out-cast because of their narrow minds or you
have adjusted yourself to them, and never
letting them see who you are deep inside. You
now think that no one will ever understand you
and you hate that fact. Though you are scared
of what the effects might be if you would
decide to let someone in so you keep a safe
distance that you both curse and bless.

What Do You Need in Your Life? [dark pics]
brought to you by Quizilla

True? Probably not.

Wednesday, July 20, 2005

Just a good ol boy/never meaning no harm/beat all you never saw, been in trouble with the law/since the day they were born

So apparently there's a website out where, believe or not, you can store video's, documents, and whatever else you have that digital until you die. Do you have any idea how awesome that is? I'd love to get a bunch of awkward video clips and have them released at my wake. Stuff that I'd die if someone saw. But at this point, that's not even an issue, because I will be dead. That would be awesome. Okay, that's really all I got for today. Have a good day, ladies and gents.

Tuesday, July 19, 2005

Yay, my shoulder hurts. I managed to damage the one thing that I never really use. My shoulder. Hooray again. How did it happen you ask? I was climbing up into a dock, after having made a late delivery, and I stood up and rammed my shoulder, just between the collar bone and the neck into this wooden shelf. And I went back down for the count. It was like I got punched by Mike Tyson. Not Mike Tyson now, I'm talking Mike Tyson, circa 1992, when he was the heavy weight champion of the world. Or something. Maybe its not 1992. . .anyway.

So I have a lot of topics floating around in my head, but for the sake of time, and also making sure that people view me as well, sane, I'll only mention this one. One which, by the way, would work a lot better on say, Jerm's site. Music captures moods perfectly. Its amazing really. There are still songs that when I hear them, I think about some situation, where maybe I was lying in bed staring at the wall, "coping" if you will. The point is, emotionally, we become attached to songs. So obviously, we can categorize songs to emotional events. For instance, a song that reminds me of a failed relationship is Movies by Alien Ant Farm. Why? Long, long drawn out story. But the point is, that's what that song does. Or when I think of a head thrashing party out rock song, I think Party Hard by Andrew W.K. simply because for a long time, I'd listen to that before every party I went too. Music. Its amazing isn't it? Are there any songs that make you think of anything specific? Evoke lost and repressed emotions, or even euphoria?

Thursday, July 14, 2005

So today, I'm peacefully driving my delivery truck when I get stuck behind a car travelling well below the speed limit. Now I was in no hurry, so I stayed behind them for a while, but after I saw a lady in a wheel chair pass me, I decided to go around the car. Sure enough, they were old. And as anyone who knows me will attest to, if there's anything I like talking about, its old people. I find them fascinating to say the least. Not fascinating like I love old people, and I think they're cute (sorry geriatric anthropologists) but fascinating like their logic must make sense in their own wrinkly stoop backed little world. Don't get me wrong, old people are literally the backs upon which society and technology are built, and I respect their contributions to our flourishing culture (ha!) but seriously. . .they don't make any sense. For instance, they drive slowly. As if they have all the time in the world to get where they're going. They don't work, sure, but they are ripe for death, and if I were old, I'd be living like I could drop dead at any point in my life, because I literally could. Wisdom? I think not. Danger negates itself as you get older. The whole point of avoiding dangerous situations is avoiding death. And lets be realistic, dying of old age is not exactly the way one ends up. Alzheimers, cancer, heart disease, emphysema, and a plethora of other diseases will catch up to you in the long run, and then after several months of severe pain and suffering, you die. So, knowing that this probably will be you, you take every precaution to ensure that you make it to this end? Maybe its because they all hope one night they'll fall asleep and die, but let me tell you, back pain, arthritis, loss of sight, and watching your friends go is just as bad as any disease I mentioned. So live dangerously old people. Go hang gliding, or base jumping, or even sky diving, just go out and live. Think of how cool you'll be in the obituaries if you're the 89 year old who died in a freakish bungee jumping accident. I'd think you're cool.

Wednesday, July 13, 2005

Extemperaneous thoughts will never happen. Not as long as I control this blog space. Neither will deep thoughts apparently. Or posting. Or anything else bloglike. Because I am Javann, and as Javann, I don't have as much time to post like I usually do. No time in the morning, no time at night, some time during the day. And therefore, I have decreed that Javann will post his new blog for the day at around 1200, so that way, I'll not have to be up late at night, or early in the morning. I can happily ride the middle into blogging mediocrity, and that is how it shall be. Why? Because you asked for it.

So you want to be like Javann? Okay. Javann is currently enjoying the ATHF vol. 3 dvd set. You should as well, because Javann is awesome. And you, who want to be like Javann, vis a vis, awesome, should go enjoy that. Javann is also currently listening to the Gorillaz latest album, and simultaneously lamenting how week this year has been musically. Very little good has been done musically, and all the normal artists are either unaccounted for, or falling short of the high standard they've set. Alas, this shall be the year forever known as the year pop music was the only good thing you could find. And by good, I mean relatively good. Not actually good. Because then, I'd be calling pop good. Which I'm not. Since you've been gone. . . I mean. . .uh. . .end transmission!

Wednesday, July 06, 2005

Its moments like this silence in which I step in...

Deep thoughts is the name of this site... yet what is a deep thought.

What is the meaning of What Javann calls Deep thoughts...

should it truly be Extemporaneous Thoughts or maybe better yet,

Extemporaneous Deep Thoughts...

which ever.

But the fact is if Javann changed his name to Extemporaneous Thoughts, then he could always post. It could be the first thing that comes to his mind.

Hmm, I'll try this really quick...

First clear the mind...

now let it go into random mode like an early 90's 500 disk CD deck.

And what comes out...

What if we had one huge tongue that came out of the middle of our mouth... acting like a pestile against the roof of our mouth. Then replace all the teeth with little tongues, would we taste better... would we literaly then get our tongue in knots?

... and this is a sample of what Extemporaneous Thoughts could be...

Friday, June 24, 2005

So I found this site. Apparently it sells T-shirts. Cool so far right? I mean everyone likes the T-shirts. I like T-shirts, you like T-shirts. Well there, of course, is a twist to the tees. You see, these are psych t-shirts. Yes sir, psych t-shirts declare you as being mentally unstable. There's grandiose personality, OCD, narcissism, dependent personality, tri polar, and the list goes on and on. The downside is that the shirts run $24.50. Ouch. I'd rather share my mentality with my actions at those prices. Either way, check out the site, especially if you're feeling crazy and have a few tens lying around.

Something I haven't done in a while. . .mp3s. I used to do it all the time, and for some reason I quit. Oh wait, I couldn't get into UAH's server. . .heh heh heh. . .not that I did anything illegal. I don't want you to get that impression, because that would be wrong. But I now have my webspace back. So what should I do with said webspace? Well, I'll put up a decent mp3. One that isn't done by myself is what I mean.

I first heard this song on a mix CD that D.A. gave me. Its been awhile since his Italian highness has graced me with music, and while I have the lack of shame, and the opportunity, I'd like to say what's up with that? But I digress. So this song is by the Rapture. Ironically enough, I didn't like this song when I first heard it. That's because it starts with counting. Which makes me think of Sesame Street, and we won't touch all my issues with that show. (Cheer up Oscar, you're a grouch!) Anyway, add that to fact they talk about a "constant heaven" and the band's name is the Rapture, well, it just sounded like a cheesy Christian band, and if there's one thing I don't do, its cheesy christian listening. Why? Hyprocrisy, I guess. On whose part is anybody's guess. Anyway, ere tis govnah!

Thursday, June 23, 2005

Well, good news everybody. I'm back. I'm alive and well, just really busy. Well, less busy and more unconcerned about blogging faithfully. But not to fear, my blogging is still going on, just had a bit of a dead spot for two and a half weeks. Also, I don't have a desire to finish my story. You see, I was hoping to touch on a lot of different things that people care about and have the character destroy those things, all culminating to him being chased by the police as he breaks into a nursing home to assault his grandmother. Don't worry, she survives, but because she calls him crazy, and he realizes that he is insane, and that caring is just that. Sanity. And the story ends. But honestly, that sounds really sucky even to me, so I decided to let it die there. Also, I am very cool. Just thought I'd throw that in. But yeah, I'm okay, and I'm doing well. Expect a good thought tomorrow. Deep and introspective it will be.

Wednesday, June 08, 2005

The night air was humid and sticky. As he walked up to his car, he felt a familiar emotion come over him. It wasn't his first car, but it was definitely the first one he actually wanted.

Do I care about this car? If so how much do I care about it? He took his key out and pressed it up against the car's paint. Could he. . .no. No he couldn't. He couldn't just key his own car. It was financially unsound, he'd have to just get it repainted again, and that would come out of his own. . .

A smile came over his face. He pressed the key harder and began dragging it over his car. I don't care about this car, or the money the paint job will cost. . .in fact. . .

He got into the car, started it up, and peeled out as he took off up the road. At the end of his street, he could see a red traffic light. He started to press the brake. His eyes narrowed as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel and shifted his foot to the gas. The tachometer showed his rising rpms as the car shot forward into the oncoming traffic.

He braced for an impact, but suprisingly all the other cars around him stopped to avoid hitting him. Two cars swerved, and crashed together in his rearview mirror. He laughed as he realized that they cared.

As long as everyone else cares, I don't have to. I can do whatever I want, and everyone else will bend to my rules, just to avoid breaking their own. This is incredible. Now that I think about it, I wouldn't mind having fifteen thousand dollars in cash. He ripped the steering wheel hard right.

The car careened off the road and smashed into a telephone pole. Metal wrapped itself into a tight hug around the wooden pole. Smoke and steam filled the air. His world spun as he tried to find his seat belt.

That was definitely not one of my brightest moments. Apparently I care about living. Of course, I have to. If I didn't care about living, then not caring wouldn't matter very much anyway.

He coughed and wasn't surprised to see blood spurt out of his mouth. "Great. Just what I wanted. Internal bleeding," he said out loud. He crawled out of the wreckage in just enough time to see the ambulance, police, and fire truck pull up. Paramedics rushed towards him. The world spun again.

Yeah, this was stupid.

He pushed away the paramedics who were trying to get him to lay still on the ground and stumbled off into the night, away from the car, away from the accident, away from the commotion. A hand grabbed him.

"Sir, sir, you need to sit down here, on the ground, and be still. You've just been in a horrible accident. Have you been drinking sir? What caused this accident?"

"I didn't care."

"Excuse me sir."

"I said I DON'T care! Now let go of my arm."

"Sir, you have to sit still. . ."

"What do I have to say to get you to leave me alone? I know. I don't have health insurance, and its a good chance that you won't be getting paid for all this sympathy. How about that? Hmm? Hmm? Oh now you want to leave me alone? Because there's no money involved?"

"No sir, because you're acting irrationally. I'm backing away for my own safety."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night. Why don't you go write up a report saying I refused help."

The paramedic walked away, slowly, as if something weren't right, but he couldn't do anything about it. Something was strange about this one, as if he were possessed with something.

He finally sat down to make the world stop moving. It felt a little better, but now he had a burning in his chest. But that wouldn't stop him. Not tonight. Some doctor could look him over in the morning. Right now, he still had more to discover.

Thursday, June 02, 2005

So here we go. The promised story. Enjoy.

Her voice droned on and on, relentlessly forcing him to feign interest for a subject that she found unceasingly conversational. Herself. All she wanted to talk about was herself. How her day was, what happened, how that made her feel, and was she right to feel that way? Her new shoes, her overtime pay in her check, the shoes she wanted to spend it on. . .on and on and on and on.

I really don't care, he thought. Not about her or how she feels. I'm just sitting here, wasting my time and hers. I should hang up.

He pressed the end button and dropped the phone in disgust. "What time is it?" he said to himself. His eyes struggled to focus on the clock, but he couldn't get them to work. His glasses. He needed his glasses.

Suddenly the phone rang. "Take a hint! I hung up on you!" he shouted.

He sat upright. Wait. I don't care? I feel as if I don't care about more than just her. What all don't I care about anymore?

There was a bowl of Cheetos sitting on his bed. Do I care about this room? He looked hard at the bowl, and then picked it up and flung against the wall. I guess not.

The phone rang again. There was an orange spot on the wall now. But he didn't care. An unknown freedom swept over him as a smile crept onto his face. This is different, he thought. I wonde just how much I don't care, how much. . .freedom do I have now that I don't care. . .or whether or not this is truly freedom.

"I have to find out the extent of this sudden lack of concern. As long as I can remember, I've always believed that such a dismissal wouldn't result in freedom. But here I am. I feel free."

He got up from his bed, and grabbing his phone, he dialed his last missed call.

As he listened to the ring, he started pulling on his jeans.

"Hey its. . ."
"Oh great its you! We must have gotten disconnected somehow. I figured maybe your phone died or you went out of ser. . ."
"No, I hung up on you."
"I said, I hung up on you."
". . ."
"Don't sound so surprised. In fact, don't sound anything. I rather enjoy it when you're quiet. Which brings me to the reason of my call. The way I see it, I'll be able to enjoy a lifetime of peace and quiet, just as long as you're not anywhere near that lifetime to taint it with your epiphany of words. So do me a favor. Don't call me. . ."
"What? How can you say that? We've been together for a year now, and I don't think. . ."
"No, no you don't think. That's what I'm trying to say. You don't think. You don't know anything but yourself. That's all you talk about. And its not even deep thoughts about yourself, its all shallow, mindless. . ."
"That's what you think? That I'm shallow, that I'm mindless?" Her voice was starting to crack, and he could just see her face, tears streaming out her eyes, as he was slowly breaking her heart. He waited to see if he felt anything.


"That's what I think. You're pathetically shallow, you have no purpose in life besides being a trophy for some old "gentleman" who will pamper you and do his best not to be around you enough to have to listen to your useless blathering."

He could hear her sobbing now.

"Don't call me again. Ever. I hate you."

"Don't worry, you disgust me. Oh, and as far as you hating me, well, I don't care. Be sure to stay alive long enough to give me my stuff back."

The line disconnected.

Something's not right, he thought. I should be hurt. I just dumped the girl I swore I would marry, the girl who I just devoted a year of my life to, hoping to love her, and I don't feel anything. I just. . .don't. . .care.

"Amazing. I have no emotions. I wish I'd discovered that before. Before I spent all that money on dinners, and gifts, and all those boring two month anniversary dinners. Two month anniversary. Its ridiculous. An anniversary is an annual celebration, anyway."

His shirt in place, his eyes wondered outside. His car. Did he care about that?

"Let's go see," he muttered as he grabbed his keys in eagerness.

Shocking no? Oh don't worry, its gets worse. Of course, you might not like it. Well guess what? I don't care.

Wednesday, June 01, 2005

So I've got this story in my mind. And when I sleep at night, I dream about writing it. I dream that I write it down, with pen and paper, and then I show it to the world. But when everyone sees it, they react to it in absolute disgust. Horror. And somewhere in my mind, I know its the best piece of literature to ever grace the Earth with its presence. But somehow, no one appreciates it.

I do have a story, and I'm working on how I want it to look, so whenever I finish playing around with it, trying to make it look, and feel how I think it should, then I'll post it up here. For the world to see, of course. Lets just hope that the reaction isn't as dramatic as it is in my dreams.

Sunday, May 29, 2005

And I'm back! Back to my normal every day blog posting? No, not at all. But thanks blog faithful for reading.


November 23, 2003

Today, my mind seems stuck on the many differences in the human frame. Even though we all have the same parts and components, it never ceases to amaze me how different we really are. You could find a 6'7 man who was my height, weight, race, and even born on the same day as me, but he wouldn't look like me at all. Even twins can be completely different, though they share much of the same genetic code. I really find it incredible that each human can be distiguished by its features, so much so, that those features become related to that human in our own minds. There is nothing cooler to me than that. Of course, that has a lot to do with the fact that the genetic code, the deoxyribonucleic acid, or DNA (as I like to call it) makes it possible to have literally trillions of different varieties. We have the ability to produce 2^23 different combinations and each of us has a different genetic sequence we've inherited from our parents. Nowhere do you read of two guys who look just alike, but have no relatives beyond the common parents we all share. That is what many people would view as amazing, something that leaves me incredulous myself. Either way it goes, its nice to know there's not someone out there that looks like me. Or has my fingerprints. Which I altered last night when I cut my finger on the table, during work. Its a pretty deep gash, but its still not managed to slow down my typing. =) Anyway, I gotta go do that thing, that I'm going to do, you know. . . that thing. . .that I'm doing. . .thing. . .right.

Saturday, May 21, 2005

Give up? I don't know the meaning of give up. I've not had a lot of time to devote to blogging, but here I am.

Work has been taking up most of my time, and whatever's left has been driven towards going out in service. So, its Saturday, a week after what apparently I should call, the desperation post, and here we are. What happened this week you ask? Well, I hit something in the FedEx truck. It was a gutter. I hit a gutter. Its pathetically misshappen. But I got the chance to prove my honesty, because instead of hitting the gutter and then leaving, I hit it, stopped, and went inside and told the people who owned the building I'd damaged. Upon which I learned that they didn't even hear me hit them. I could've driven off very slowly and they'd never know what happened. My manager was actually kind of impressed I stopped. Not impressed enough to avoid writing me up, but impressed.

Anyway, I'd say I learned something today, but really, all I've learned is that people are fun. That's right, I said it. People are fun. Just sit down and talk to someone. I think its called social engineering in some circles, but I call it good ol fashioned conversation. If you talk to people long enough, you'll find out highly amazing things about them. And the funny thing about all of this, at least to me, is that all of the things you learn about them are normally completely voluntary. Why do they tell personal things about themselves to relative strangers? Well, some theorize that its a need for acceptance, or that its really to establish closeness in a relationship. Which I guess must be true to an extent, because you feel closer to someone when they tell you something that obviously is very personal. Such as the difficulty they had potty training their two year old, why their ex husband left them, what foolish things they had to do to keep from getting fired, all of these things are personal, and they will definitely make you feel as if you know that person a bit more.

Either way, people are open books that should be read, not for our general entertainment, (though it is very entertaining) but because, at the risk of sounding eighties cliche, we're all in this thing together. Or something like that.

Sunday, May 15, 2005

How long have you been reading this thing I call Javann's Deep Thoughts? Its been in existence for a while actually. One thing I've always liked is that I don't feel the need to write here. Because I know the people who read it, will come back faithfully, even if I neglect it for a few weeks or so. I must be right, because you're reading this right now. =) I added the smiley face to take some of the hard edge off of my arrogant claim.

Back when this blog started, my whole purpose to post deep thoughts. I mean truly deep thought provoking, meaningfully amazing thoughts. And I think the first few months, I was really on target. For instance, check out this thought:

Friday, March 05, 2004
This episode finds our hero stranded in a a world of books, trapped with no way out except through his mind. It being Friday, our hero lies down to rest for the rest of the weekend, since his policy is never to think on Friday. Though in all actuality I did some thinking. Granted it was last night, but technically it was Friday, since it was last night at 12:00 or so. Apparently my mind is not familiar with the standard time that my body is. Either way, my thought was pretty superfluous anyway, and so really it shouldn't really count as a thought. What I thought was that you never see any real genius superheroes. You never see the superhero who's one power is his incredible mind. Sure he's kinda buff, (since no one wants to see flab in a spandex, or whatever it is the stylish superheros are wearing nowadays) but he's been altered by a terrible accident/comes from another planet/was raised in a library and now has the mental power of fifty men. Sure you see people who can move things with their minds but you rarely see people who can think and invent a way to do that. Some superheros are smart but they have to be because the only intelligent people you see are villians. Lex Luthor, Brainiac, that guy with the huge head from the Hulk comics, all of those are villians whose sole abilities are mental. There's never a point where a man who's a supergenius decides, "Hey, I'm going to go out and fight some crime. . ." Its always world domination for the intelligent ones. What does that say about our society, don't be smart because if you are chances are you'll want to rule the world? Sheer brilliance and overwhelming intelligence is never a true match for brute strength backed by an average mind? Only the intelligent make truly formidable foes? Draw your own conclusions, I'm going to go take my second test of the day. Hopefully my brute strength and average intelligence will help me prevail upon my evil genius professor, who has a doctorate in world domination. Really its political science but its just a small stretch of the imagination.

Deep right? But wait there's more:
I'm so drunk with my power of partipulation. I think I explained that somewhere. If not, there's always tomorrow, and you can bet your bottom dollar, that uh, hmmm. . .I'm not sure how that ends. Anyway, that was my weekend in an extremely small nutshell. This weekend was full of thoughts, and I'll be the first to share them with whoever cares to read. Mainly, my thoughts were focused on the human mind. The human mind is without a doubt one of the most intriguing and complex gifts that we have. Not just from a biological viewpoint. Though really, I have to admit, I'm not all that shocked or impressed by it from a physiological standpoint. Really, our mind is synonymous to a system of living wires, all of which can be formed from point to point, simply by what we see hear, or think. All of our memories are dependent upon those wires staying uncorroded. That's not impressive at all. (sarcasm of course) But the fact that the mind can be so versatile will always impress me. It can produce a vast range of emotions, so many that we have a hard time understanding HOW we feel from time to time. Love, hate, anger, sadness, fondness, warmth, joy, peacefulness, all of those feelings emanate from our brain, due to a series of synapses, firing and responding due to what we've just experienced. What I see and experience is vastly different from what other people see and experience, even though we're similar from a biological standpoint. Two people can see the same person, and one person may find that other person to be the most beautiful person that he/she has ever seen. The other person maybe literally repulsed. Its all due to our minds. I'm also shocked by the range of thought that the mind is capable of. One person can have thoughts of world peace and bunnies, and then devious thoughts of hatred and revenge, in the course of three to four minutes. I know it can because I've done it. All in all, that's the best thought I can get out for such morning as this. Don't worry, I'll be sure to "step correct" come Tuesday, or the next blog will be my last! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. . .yeah I don't get it either. I was going to share poetry, but why not go to poetry.com and search for Javann Jones. There's plenty there for your Javann-reading needs.

Deep! Fulfilling! It amazes me everytime I realize that I, Javann Lamar Jones, wrote that type of thing. You should've seen my spiel on time being the perception of change. It was long. And well written. But most importantly, it was deep.

Lately though, I've not had any really deep thoughts. Or even the spark to sit down and write. I have the desire to write, but every time I start, its like I hate what I've written, and I delete it and walk away in disgust. Its a shame really. You'd think I could recycle my old ideas, but no, I'm forced to be fresh new, and I just don't have what it takes. I honestly think its from my hiatus from college. I don't really feel intellectually challenged much at work, or at all in my everyday life. . .wow this is getting long. Either way, enjoy your Sunday, and hopefully, Monday will bring a better blog with deeper thoughts. Deeper NEWER thoughts.