Saturday, August 09, 2003


Wednesday, January 01, 2003

Ooh. I'm so lonely. No one ever emails me. No one ever calls me. No one ever visits my door. No beautiful women cast significant glances my way or have random sexual encounters with me in the laundry room (which is probably for the better, because my washer and dryer is in my kitchen). Alas.

So it's been three whole months since I've done this blog shit, and I have to say "Oh well." I never really cared in the first place, and it was just something to alleviate the boredom of summer vacation. Now it is alleviating the boredom of winter vacation. Go figure.

It's the new year! Yay. I went down to the docks in Annapolis (I did not return to my native land of Seattle for the holidays, alas) last night and watched people congregate. It was interesting. I acted like one of those freaky objective people who don't really feel connected to the people around them but find them interesting and amusing in a demeaned way. Sociopath, maybe. It was fun, though. My neighbor invited me into her house quite randomly where she was throwing a party and I had to decline, for fear of my moral integrity, for fear of alcohol, or for fear of strangers? I think the latter is probably the case. Still, it was very cordial of her and I'll have to repay the compliment sometime by having sex with her.

I should point out that I began the year living in an apartment on the cheaper side with a couple of guys whom I considered friends. Things changed and I had to move out. I'm getting along with them now once more, but there was a time when I almost threw one of them out the window (we lived on the fifth floor). My new house is great, probably because I share it with two girls. I should mention that my plan to be very gay this year has failed miserably and instead I've wandered around lovesick all semestre. But I think this is a good year for being heartsick, since softomore year is often described as the easiest. I'm caught in an imaginary love triangle now. It's purely in my head, and basically it involves being in love with three women at once. I think it will all work out for the best in the end. In fact, the worst thing that could happen is that I'll be left in the same state I am now, which is unattached. The best thing that could happen is menage-a-cinq, although that's about as likely as a three legged turtle crossing the interstate unscathed.

Anyway, like I said, my new house is great. My two room mates are at the opposite ends of the spectrum from my last two, as far as niceness.

I want to get married. Which is pathetic, I know, but sometimes it's nice to think about someone whom you can spend your whole life with. Someone who will comfort you when you wake up from a nightmare in the dead of night, and give you handjobs before breakfast.

People have been bitching my out endlessly about not updating my blog. I don't feel bad though. I might start doing it again if I have time. It's hard to feel motivated to be here, though, and in fact the only reason I am is because I'm not motivated enough to do anything else. Well, actually, I've got motivation up the ass (yum), but I had to check my email. But no one emailed me. And no one ever calls me either.

Anyway, I miss everyone. I miss my family and my friends and my pets. I don't miss myself anymore. I had a bizarre identity crisis a few weeks ago and it lasted for a while, but I emerged from it victorious and have been on a spectacular high since then. For the first time in a year I've been feeling very comfortable being myself, and I've started writing again.

I've also been cleaning my house, which I have to get back to. My dishes are starting to pile up.

The Zen proverb for today is: Train your mind like a monk and your body like a beast.

Friday, September 06, 2002

Whenever I feel impressed by anyone to such an extent that I find myself giving them too much respect, and in fact reverence, I cure this behavior by my imagination. Just as speakers are told to imagine the entire audience naked (or in some cases, like at Steak Conventions, simply badly dressed) so that they will not be intimidated, I cure my own intimidation by imaging the person in question pooping. It is a simple fact of life that no matter how great a person may be, that person will still have to take a crap at least once a day. I imagine great thinkers like Plato and I feel weak-minded and insignificant in comparison, and this sort of thinking is detrimental to being a productive student. So I simply picture Plato hunched over a toilet seat, his face screwed up in concentration as he struggles to squeeze out that one last turd that just won't drop. The same applies to all the great and famous people, and allows me to have the brazen self-confidence/foolhardiness that makes me notorious.

Wednesday, August 28, 2002

My life is shit. A big ol' bucket of intestinal pudding. A feces-creamsickle, if you will. Although I don't know how to spell that. Poop poop poop.

The other day I was sitting on a bench on the quad and I wrote "fuck poop" and drew a crude penis and pile of shit on the bench with a rock I found. This was amusing until Mr. Grenke, a tutor at St. John's, came by and I had to lift my legs and lie them flat across the bench, while pretending to be casual.

Poop poop poop.

Some guy in the computer lab just mentioned Cecily's going to Santa Fe. Now I'm missing Cecily again. Grr. He's the other guy from the Pink Triangle Society. I think his name's Andrew. He eats hot veggie subs without olives, as I recall. Nice guy.

So Scott drove me home last night after work and he and I were talking about something really funny and we agreed that I should put it on my blog, but now I don't remember what it was. This is terrible.

There are so many hot freshwomen this year. They are all bombshells waiting to explode in my pants! I can't take it! It's like that song "Pressure" is playing in my underwear!

It was a really funny conversation too.

And now for a little section I call: Fuck dat.

People in the cafeteria piss me off. All the employees are typically pretty cool but the consumers are just walking pieces of shit. I say this with some justification because it is an accepted doctrine that you are what you eat. A bunch of freshmen put their plates on the conveyer belt without putting them on trays, ignoring the large sign that says not to do just that. People come to eat late and refuse to leave when I tell them it's closing time. And worst yet, some motherfuckers make it a hobby to contort their forks for fun. I want to bend these people over a sharp rock and fuck them in the ass with an egg beater, they piss me off so much. So I say fuck dat.

Scott tells me I should say "Fuck the bullshit" more often. Makes sense if you think about it.

Friday, August 23, 2002

Well, it's been quite awhile, but I don't care. I'm finally back in blissful Blakeland (read: St. John's), pretending to be a serious human being. All the people at school seem to like me more this year, and my friends are here for the most part and this makes me happy. The best part is that all my classes are full of awesome people and only one lame person has made an appearance so far, and that was discreet!

My time in Chicago with Cecily was great. Suffice it to say that I'd like to see her again soon.

I had an insanely cool dream last night and I wrote it all down and it's either going to become a novel or a movie. I woke up this morning ten minutes early and when I went back to sleep (for just ten minutes, mind you) I dreamt that my mom came home with an Ingmar Bergman movie called "Waking Up," and we watched it. It was about a guy named Jack. He wakes up in a field with rubble strewn all over, thunderous explosions in the distance, and three or four people standing over him with a horse and a gun. It's that part of waking up where you don't remember much and you're trying to figure out what's going on (I think Jack got hit on the head or something), and so Jack says, "What's going on?" As things occur, however, he slowly recalls what's going on, since none of the people will tell him. They stand him up and start to march him off to who-knows-where, and he recalls that these people are rebels and therefore his enemies. He realizes he is about to die, when all of a sudden one of the UFOs that has been flying about blowing shit up (hence the thunderous explosions) comes by and destroys the rebels, horse included. Jack is unperturbed by this, because he recalls this as being part of his life as well, though he is somewhat confused. When the UFO lands and his friend comes from inside it, Jack asks him, "I understand why you killed the horse, but why the people?"
His friend looks at him funny and says, "C'mon, Jack, you know. They had yellow cards."
And bang, it hits Jack and he remembers suddenly that the world is run by computers that decide whether or not people should live or die, based on whether or not they are "for us" or "against us." Those who die are assigned yellow cards, and it is the duty of the secret agents, of whom Jack is a member, to kill them. Jack is very perturbed by this, because as his friend says, "They had yellow cards, so they must have been our enemies," Jack remembers that his friend was assigned a yellow card that morning and he has to kill him now.

That's when I woke up. Anyway, I've worked out the whole story, kickass metaphysical metaphors included, and it's gonna be coolio.

Now, I'm off. Time waits for no man, and it only lingers in my case.

Wednesday, August 07, 2002

So today was my last day at work at Starbucks for ever and ever. Or perhaps for just this year. Next summer, when I come back to Seattle, I'm not sure if I'll work for the coffee corporation again or simply try and get a new, better paying job. I hope I'll still be able to visit my friends there, in any case. The great news is that without Starbucks, my primary source for sugar will be cut off. With this in mind, I'm looking forward to better health in the future.

My train leaves on Saturday. At 7:45 PM next Monday, which is approximately four days and twenty-two hours from now, I will be in Chicago with my beloved Cecily, engaged in blissful, immoral, pre-marital tom-fooleries. Or maybe. We've had lots of moral arguments about whether or not it would wise for me to lose my virginity to her. On the one hand, sex is apparently cool. On the otherhand, a chaste, virtuous person like me ought to try and stay that way, and would be better off losing their cherry to another chaste, virtuous person. Cecily is not very chaste. While I might frown on her morals, as well, I can't go so far as to say that she's not virtuous. However, in the interest of losing one's virginity in a very romantic and idealized way, it's not recommended to start with someone who's nicknamed "The Hurricane." In all liklihood, as Cecily predicted, we'll end up going to bed having agreed that we won't have sex and then wake up twenty minutes later and begin carrying on like a couple of howler monkeys on a full moon.

I have a lot of packing to do. I also have a lot of people to see before I leave. I must pack tomorrow and have lunch with my stepdad and go fencing. I must put things into boxes to mail home to college and other things into suitcases to take with me to Chicago. On Friday, I must pack more and return my father his car and see my friends. On Saturday I must depart and find a way to spend two days on a train. I'm looking forward to the trip and especially to seeing Cecily. Furthermore, I cannot wait to return to St. John's College.

Next summer, I probably will return to Seattle, but I'm not so sure. I'm fairly certain I won't be returning at all the rest of the time, in my eternal quest to save my parents money.

Health News: My brother is stabbing me in the neck with a pen. Other than this and athlete's foot, I'm doing well. Except diabetes is still killingt me.

Sports News: Howard Huang returned from fencing training in Portland, which I would have gone to if I were a rich chink like him, but I couldn't. I think he's going to kick my ass tomorrow night. He says he has learned a lot. I hope when I go back to Maryland I will be able to fence in a real club with a real coach who can teach me a lot of real things. Training by myself has little merits.

Literary News: I must decide what I wil take with me on the train to read. It must be absorbing and enjoyable. I think I should also take my seminar readings of the Bible. I hope my theology-student-Mom has a spare copy. Anyway, dinner is coming fast and I have phone calls to make.

Monday, August 05, 2002

Musings: All the universe is striving to reach equilibrium. This includes human beings. Human Desire and Human Reason are opposites between which there should be some sort of equilibrium (note that this does not mean an equal amount of the two). Love is the equilibrium between these two (with respect to most things, not just people).

Thankfully, I don't need to try and support my claims, because I know I'm right and I don't care what you fuckwads think.

Health News: Diabetes is killing me. Literally. This is distressing.

Music News: I'd like to report that "Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots" is cummingly good.

Work News: I have only two days left at Starbucks. I'll be sad to leave and happy at the same time.

I think perhaps my biggest fault when it comes to relationships is that I'm over possessive. When I'm with someone I love I don't want to share them with their friends or my own. I want only to be alone with them and to do things with them. I'm not a "people-person", I'm a "person-person" - I like singular interactions.

I'm incredibly excited to be going to Chicago to be with Cecily next week. But also I know that we'll have to go out and do things and of course there will be other people there to share her with. This annoys me. I imagine that married couples eventually need to engage in a social life, but this is after the honey moon period is over and they can stand to share one another. I think I'm a permanent honey mooner. Either that, or I'm just whipped senseless.

No. I'm not whipped. I'm just desparate.

Movie News: I watched an half an hour of the 9th of the Friday the Thirteenth movies, up until the point where Jason stabs a girl with a fence post and tears her in half with it. It was cool, but then I had to go talk to Cecily on the phone, a welcome interruption. Still, Friday the Thirteen Part IX, Jason Goes to Hell, is an excellent movie I want to watch again. Maybe it will be on later tonight. It takes horror and breast shots to a whole new level, too. Yummy.

Speaking of Yummy, a friend from work named Yumi and I said our goodbyes today. She is leaving for Japan in a couple weeks whereas I'm leaving on Saturday, and we're both convinced we'll never see one another again. It was an interesting goodbye, very formal and polite. "Have a nice life," and all that. No hugs, no pats on the back, no crying, no looking back. Just "See ya in the next life." It was interesting and memorable.

Now to bed. Where I will hopefully have wet dreams.