Doing it to death. Cause its Friday. There's nothing better than enjoying a Friday morning with some Kool-Aid, some soon to be unfrozen Chimichangas (man, Jerm, these things are awesome!! And I bought them this time) and a little bit of blogging to be done. So what's going on today? Well, as I said its Friday. The day where as I've said on Sami's site there's no thinking, because its a day of total weekend beginning. Friday is the crucial day of the weekend. If Friday's no good, then the rest of the weekend, and therefore the rest of the week goes way down hill. Ah well, I'm keeping this short, I'll be going off to do something else. I'll lleave you with a song thats in my head again.

She said "I'll throw myself away,
They're just photos after all"
I can't make you hang around.
I can't wash you off my skin.
Outside the frame, is what we're leaving out
You won't remember anyway
I can go with the flow
But don't say it doesn't matter anymore
I can go with the flow
Do you believe it in your head?
It's so safe to play along
Little soldiers in a row
Falling in and out of love
With something sweet to throw away.
But I want something good to die for
To make it beautiful to live.
I want a new mistake, lose is more than hesitate.
Do you believe it in your head?
I can go with the flow
But don't say it doesn't matter anymore
I can go with the flow
Do you believe it in your head?
My mood?

Residuals from last weekend. Can you tell?

Allow me to make a point. I was thinking late last night, during one of my incessant spells of insomnia (which I blame for my present mental state) and I thought of several different things. First, if sounds were images, they'd be transparent. When you listen to music, you can hear lots of sounds blending together in sweet harmoney. If you could create images from each of those sounds, the only way to really symbolize the sweet sweet harmony would be if they images were completely transparent. In keeping with this theme, I'll say my daily stupid phrase, sound waves are transparent or invisible to the naked human eye. Though really if you distort sound enough, I'd imagine its effect on the air and the particles in the air could be well documented. My other thought was my overwhelming joy in not being a "beautiful person". Fortunately, my name is not on the list, and I don't have a walkie talkie, (guess that song reference!) because frankly being beautiful isn't enviable. I guess I should clarify. I've come to theorize that there are two types of "beautiful" people in this world, (well two types I care about right this moment) and that's effortless beauty and insane beauty. You see, effortless beauty is just that. Its a person that awakens from a deep slumber and is still beautiful despite the fact that in actuality they've just woken up and their features are insanely distorted. These people take showers, shake their hair out, and walk about life, astounding us with their raw beauty. We all know people like this, people that we've never in our entire lives seen have an ugly moment. We all have ugly moments, but these peoples must have theirs early in life, so as to not have them when it counts. Bravo, I say, to these people, and I add in a very fake golf clap. You are indeed genetically superior to me in every way. Please note my biting sarcasm and my complete lack of disregard for your feelings. Chalk it up to being beautiful. The rest of us ugly gigantuan heathens get to mistreat you out of sheer jealousy and envy. Of course, that brings us to the insanely beautiful. These are similar to the effortless beauties, but they have to put forth effort. The person they are when they wake up and the person they are in the two hour time span that lapses are as dissimilar as Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. They all carry a cleverly designed facade to fool us into thinking they are effortlessly beautiful. But if you watch them carefully, its really rather obvious that they are not. The hypoallergenic scrub they carry in their pockets, the gel and styling mousse strewn about their personal space in their efforts to keep their hair controlled and stylish, and their inability to arrive anywhere on time. All of these clues points to an insane amount of energy being expended in order to maintain a high level of beauty. These people are the ones that order the salad at restaurants, eat half or a third of it, and then take the rest home and feed it to the dog. Or give it to me, an ugly. Sometimes uglies ascribe to be insanes, but it often just fails in a complete mental and nervous breakdown, culiminating in the ugly person being found in a pool of his/her own styling products. Its a horrible thing to have happen, especially if its to someone you know. I've known uglies who crossed the line to beautiful, and let me say the amount of dedication they put to being a beautiful is nothing short of horrendously hilarious. I find myself torn between offering them a way out of the torturous ordeal that they have put themselves through, and doubling over in gut-wrenching laughter at their vain attempts. If you told them they were an insane beauty, they wouldn't believe you, because they are so far down the path of no return, that even the blatant and honest truth could not save them. To all the beauties of the world, I'll be sure to remember my place and wait on you hand and foot as your ugly servant for the rest of your natural lives. Which for the insane ones will extremely short, or the majority of it will be spent trying to maintain that effortlessly beautiful look.

My mood?

I'm so making a point here. . .

Man, I feel like someone cut my eyelids off and fed me nothing but sleeping pills. Its a rough day for the Javann today, and yet somehow, he manages to break out the blog. He's such an inspiration to the youth nowadays. So what's the mind swimming in now? Other than brain fluid that is. Or wait, is there a such thing as brain fluid? Anyway, what I'm thinking about right now are all the friends that I've had over the years. One in particular was an incredible friend of mine. Definitely worthy of everything good that's happened to him. Unfortunately, I've lost complete track of him. Who am I talking about? Jacob Alexander Brown. He was such a good friend that I even know his middle name. For a lot of years, he was my sole reason for going to Tuskegee (the town in middle Alabama) and was so much so an influence for me that I no longer visit Tuskegee since he left for Bethel. He is in many ways responsible for me being the man that I am today. He definitely is the closest thing that I've had to a brother, and while others have a special place in my memories and my heart, he is without a doubt the greatest friend I've had. The crazy thing is that he lived over four hours away, and still managed to be one of my closest friends. This was in the time before the popularity of the Internet. I used to save my lunch money to buy stamps, so I could write him. I wrote him more mail than anyone I've ever known. I don't know where he is now, but I really hope that I run across him again some day. Maybe if not in this world, the next. I understand how Jonathan felt now, more than ever.
My mood?

Taking a moment to reflect before blowing some more stuff up.

I'll be sure to post again today. Anyway, call this intriguing, call it what you will here's some poetry.

Darkness falls in a pretense
As my vision adjusts to my surroundings
I notice how beautiful the night is.
Reflection upon various mediums and writers
draws me to rememeber my own musings.
Now as I relax in the grass its almost amusing.
Lost feelings are trapped
on the paper in ink waiting to burst free,
each one carrying a little piece of me.
For you to hold have or even exploit.
Is it some ruse or clever ploy,
which awaits those who care to render examination.
Their prizes are almost always consolation.
And yet they've learned everything in one instant
bowl of chicken and mushroom Ramen noodles.
As my mind rambles among my own pleasant doodles.
the faces that exist only to me in creativity.
or whatever it is I claim to express constantly.
I strike each stroke and indentify my imperfections
and then I see my own seperate corrections
I remember they're imperfect too.
but that's just life.

Man. . .it must be the day of all days today, because, once again, sleep my every growing vice has grabbed hold of me and made me miss the morning. I seriously need to learn to fight the beast off. Ah well, what seems to be on my mind today? Well, I was thinking back to the days of smallness and helplessness, also known as my early school years. When I was in third or second grade, or maybe it was first, either way, this one kid who was a year older than me followed me home with three of his friends, hitting me across the back with a math book along the way. I endured the walk home with this happening right up till my front door, and then went in and cried my eyes out to my father, who I had to wake up since he was on night shift. I still remember that he let me cry, hugged me, and said we'd do something about it and got up then. We went over to the school found out the name of the kid's guardian and my dad went and talked to him and his parents (or actually it was his grandmother) about how he didn't appreciate him beating up on his son. Flash forward a few years, in middle school three kids jumped me, with bad intentions, and I had to literally fight my way out of it. There was noone there to help me then, and I still remember sprinting to my ride knowing they wouldn't follow me there out of respect for my parents. Flash forward a few more years, to my freshman year in highschool when the senior who had been picking on me got out talked by me, and wanted to beat the crap out of me for being quicker at the wit than he was. So I got into another fight, and I got it pretty bad from him. A few people said I won, but after the fight, I had more bruises than I did before I went in, so I say I lost that fight. No one helped me out on that one, and there was nowhere to run where I wouldn't get beaten down. Which illustrates my point. As you get older, you become more and more independent. BUT, standing up for yourself is often just standing up by yourself. As you get closer and closer to adulthood, you become more and more a single entity, one that no one wants to help, or stick their neck out for. Which is why I can understand more and more the need most people have to get married. They want to quell those feelings of loneliness that they have to contend with. Which brings me to a book I've read many times, that I'd recommend to anyone who wants an interesting read, its called, Their Eyes Were Watching God, and its a really good book by Zora Neale Hurston, who was a Harlem Renaissance writer. Anyway, in it the main character gets married three times. In the first and second marriage, she's with someone, but she still feels as if she's lonely. That's because the person she's married to doesn't fill the void that she feels in her heart. She eventually does marry again, and finds the love of her life, and they end up in a hurricane. In the hurricane, he literally supports her. Helps her along, and when she can't walk, he carries her. In the end, he literally gives his life for her, in such a shocking plot twist, I'll have to let you guys read it instead of telling you. But she supports him too, and that just illustrates my point. People look for support in life, look for someone that they can support, but will also be there for them. What made me think about this? A friend of mine is getting married this weekend. I'm going to suport him. But its not that he'll need it, since he'll have support for the rest of his life. . .right?
My mood?

Moving without MOVING