Just Another Pretentious Fuck

2006-04-13T00:14:00.000-07:00

If anyone cares...

you can read my shitttty writing at thewindowfacingthestreet.blogspot.com

Otherwise, I'm not gonna update this anymore. Oh, and I'm moving to chicago in august.

.

2006-03-26T11:47:00.000-08:00

I got into the School of the Arts Institute of Chicago. Yeah, an art school. It happens to be one of the best art schools in the country, but it's still an art school. The museum has one of the best collections of art in the U.S.; Craner, Manet, Monet, Picasso right through Warhol, Pollock, and just about everyone else. Name an artist and they have some of his work. The list of alumni include O'Keefe, Disney, Wood...

It's still an art school.

I'm not even an artist. I used to be a photographer, but photography is lame. I paint a bit, but I'm quite terrible. I doodle in class, but so does everyone. So instead I sent them a 10 page assembly of crap that I've written over the past few months, including several blogs I posted here.

I feel quite honored to get in. They even gave me a scholarship. Quite a compliment really, an unexpected one indeed.

But it's still an art school.

The school is located in several building in the middle of downtown Chicago, literally smack in the middle of the third largest city in America. Historic buildings. Beautiful buildings, as well as new glass boxes; sterile and ugly. Two blocks from Lake Michigan. The opposite of Boulder, exactly what I was looking for.

Still an art school.

Why am I so hesitant? For one, there's a lot to this world I'd like to study outside of art. Politics, geology, journalism, forregin affairs, spelling... I want to run a business, a publishing company; maybe go to law school. Plus, imagine the kinds of kids that go to this school: it's hard to look down on people who are more talented than you, and if you're not looking down on people then you're being looked down upon. Then there's the weather: horrible. Cold and humid, or hot and humid.

I am completely lost.

2006-03-09T18:58:00.000-08:00

The moon wanes,
And you just lie there naked.
A coal train keeps time.
Endless hills of sage painted
The color of forgotten history.
The farmhouse where your father died.
The farmhouse where you learned how to count.
Only a fence defeats the horizon,
pins it to the ground and counts to three.
You say the spaces between the stars
Are bigger than when you were six.

You just lie there naked
And say that someday the spaces
Between the stars will swallow us all.
And thus we reached an apogee.
Turned, and marched home.

2006-03-05T21:52:00.000-08:00

I already made the wrong choice once. I'm 0 for 1.

If I had to make the decision in the span of an hour- somebody told me to choose between chicago, toronto, montreal, or colorado springs, and that's where I'd wake up tomorrow; then I'd be okay. Spontaneity is much better than deliberation.

But I'm left with all this time, time to kill essentially. Time with which I'll build skyscrapers of expectations then tear down with hammers of doubt. And yes; I do write the worst metaphors. And I don't know how to spell. Nobody can read my handwriting either. I'm more awkward than anyone i've ever met, unless I'm drunk. I trip on cracks in the sidewalk at least once per day. I look down on everyone, especially myself. I'm addicted to caffein. I don't know how to spell. I never know if I'm repeating myself. I'm constantly scared that everyone around me knows something about me that I don't. I'm constantly scared that I'm going to die. I use too many commas. Every day, I wonder if my heart will stop beating, because it never seems to beat the same twice, and inconsistancy is a killer.

I wrote a sentence once and I like it a lot. Maybe it sucks, I don't know. But here it is- "I know how flammable bridges can be, and we all play with matches."

I'm really tired. I'm ready for bed, ready to shut off my mind, ready to open my eyes to a new "here"

a new anywhere.

2006-02-27T11:45:00.000-08:00

"just like that and the deed is done. Drop of a hat and it's already started. What i'd give for that hat to be medicine. Time is now to be on the run..."

2006-02-19T18:41:00.000-08:00

2006-02-15T11:29:00.000-08:00

Maybe it’s one of the words smeared like ink from my leaky mind.

Maybe it’s a slogan from a 7th grade student body election campaign, lost in a landslide

Maybe it’s just another cliché I can fall into for lack of character

Maybe it’s the people I pass each day that I never stop to talk to because I don’t have anything to say except “how are you?” “how was your break?” “oh, you got trashed and slept on the couch every day? Me TOO!”

Maybe I should stop trying to write everyone else’s songs.

Maybe this is the term paper I left laying in the printer’s tray.

Maybe it’s the roommates and the trash I never took out and their dishes I broke.

Maybe it’s because every inspiration I’ve ever followed I’ve regretted, and every inspiration I’ve ignored I regretted more.

Maybe it’s because I’m scared of my own heartbeat.

So let us hold a candlelight vigil for my missing motivation, for all those “reasons why” that we all knew would never manifest but I followed anyway.

2006-02-15T11:07:00.000-08:00

Grass stains and blue balls (a day in the life of a fuckin rockstar)

Today's highlight reel

8:00 am - 10:00 tell several kids, in the nicest words i can, that their papers are complete shit. They return the favor. It was fun.

10:00 - 12:00 - Poli Sci class with fucking know-it-all pundits who think they know everything. Did I mention they know everything? If I didn't, let me reiterate- they know EVERYTHING.

12:00 - 4:00 - run my ass off around campus and boulder; hit up the bank, paid bills, dropped off/picked up letters and transcripts

4:00 - 5:30 READ THIS PART fly a kite wich proceeded to not only lift me 10 feet in the air, but it also drug me 60 yards across farand field. This sounds like exageration, but it's not. this was a kite-boarding kite and it's huge and poswerful and fun/awesome.

5:30 ride a bit of BMX, and try to bunny hope over a (tiny) boulder and fuck it up and rack myself soooooo hard, i can't believe i didn't vomit my testicles

6:30 romantic valentines dinner with my friend kai, who informed he's dropping out of school. so now pretty much all my good friends either dropped out of college, or never went. this is really encouraging for someone like me who is .0001 inch away from dropping out.

9:24 typing blog instead of homework.

2006-02-13T15:29:00.000-08:00

College applications are bullshit, especially when you don't feel like going to college anymore.

The funny thing about all this is, if I fuck up and get kicked out of school, nobody can really blame me for leaving college. But if I just drop out, by choice, then I look like a true loser.

I'm applying to schools I know I wont get into and telling myself that if I don't get into any of them then I'm done with school. Seems like a good plan to me.

2006-02-06T13:11:00.000-08:00

The only words I know how to spell are those that have struck me down: home, youth, lifetime, leaving, gone. The only sentences I ever write are streams of regret, rivers of “what could have been” or floods of maudlin uncertainty. The only paragraphs I ever put to paper are those with brilliant introductions and blurry conclusions. My essays do not rise above a moan.

All I can do is write. Write about the places I’ve known, the people and their faces, and the places that have known me. All I can do is write and I’m not even good at it.

2006-02-06T11:38:00.000-08:00

Heuhuehfpaewt aweiteh a I’m just typing because I don’t know what to write and mayube if I sit here and press these keys enoguht imes something will pop out. I’m not evne looking at the keys in fac.t in reality I’m looking at the girls walking by. I’m not even sure I’f I’m pressiong the right keys. Who knows. Mu mind isn’t really hweew qirh mw rosdY. MY MINDE IS REALLY SOMEWHERE ELSE. GOD DAMN I’M ELOQUENT. I THINK THAT I’LL POST THIS ON MY BLOD. I DON’T HAVE MISH ELSE TO POST THERE ANYHOPW/ OISN’T IN AMAZING THAT I KNOW WHERE ALL OF THE KEYS ARE ? I’M IMPRESSED WITH MYSELF. I OFTEN AM. W WWWWW WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW SOME GUYS IS TALKIUNG ABOUT 20 PERCENT OF PREGNAENCIES. I DON’T KNOW HOW TO SPLELL THAT OWRD AND IT’S EVEN HARDER SINCE I CAN’T SEE IT. PREGGARS IS A BETTER WORD ANYHOW. OH SHIT THERE’S THAT KID I HATE FROM THE DORMS LAST YEAR. WAIT. I HATE A LOT OF KIDS FROM THE DORMS LAST YEAR. MAYBE I SHOULDN’T BE SO HATEFYUL NOPE NOTIHNG IS COMING TO ME YET. I STILL CAN’T THINK OF WHAT TO WRITE. I HAVE TO WRITE A SIX TO TEN PAGE STORY BY THURSDAY. MAYBE I SHOULD TRY LOOOJKING AT THE SCREEN. Okay wow. This is why so many people link to me.

2006-02-05T09:56:00.000-08:00

vrrrrrrrrrrooooom vvvvvvvrrrrrrrrrrrrmmmmmmmmm vrrrm vrrrm vvvvvvvvvrrrrrrrrrrroom vrroom ereerrrrreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeghhhhhhhscchreeeeeeeeeeeeeeechhhhh vrooooooooooom vrooooooooooom wwwwhhhoooooonk(beep) wwwwwhhhooooooooooooonk(beep) vroooooooooooom vrhrhrhrhrhrhrhm screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeech chrashboomboom

2006-02-05T09:53:00.000-08:00

He's even creepier in real life. The fucker's German too. (My theory- he's only bitter because he's 20 and hasn't kissed a girl).

2006-02-02T12:35:00.000-08:00

The number (2^30402457)-1 has more than 9 million digits.!!!!!!! and the craziest part? The number is PRIME! That means it can't be divided by any two numbers! (I bet you knew that smarty panst)

Here, click this link and let it download for a minute or two (it's 11 mb), then to get a good grasp of how big it is, use the scroll (the down arrow)... oh ma gaw wow damn that's a big number! It takes about an hour I estimate to scroll through it!

2006-02-01T21:41:00.000-08:00

A moment of respite as his rafter beam shoulders and his tissue paper skin eclipse the sun and his shadow blurs with yours.

You’ve never once said hello to the man. You have passed him on the street nine-thousand-four-hundred-and-eighty-six times, and you will do so seven more times.

You point your eyes down: the August light is glaring. You do not think about much except Friday night and algebra and Tiffany and Britney and (loneliness) and football. You are (probably) just another (almost) average eighteen-year-old and you are (practically) sure of this. You misplace or misfile any doubt that your mind comes across.

You wonder where you will go from here (this ‘here’ that was once an exclamation point but has turned to a question mark). A graduation ceremony, moving vans in driveways you knew well, a summer job that you didn’t quit; this is where your mind is when you pass the man. You will pass him seven more times.

Buildings burst in this town. They spew carpet and sinew and mortgage papers and filing cabinets and air-conditioned-air all over the street. Such steady structures, the ones you imagine will stand forever. But now the rubble is sprinkled about- rafter beams and electrical conduits, ceiling panels and elevator shafts; those tissue-paper-cubicle walls that held so much weight.

It saddens you to see them go, after all the years of living in their shadows. It’s too bright here without them.

2006-01-30T23:31:00.000-08:00

I'm in College. And I'm in a creative writing course. A creative writing course in college, if that wasn't clear by now. (see, rnt i a goood righter? jus look @ taht introductory sintence! Your hooked and you wanna keep reading, right?)

So what do we spend an entire day learning?

1st person and 3rd person perspectives. That's right. I tutored 4th graders last semester, and one of their lessons was 1st person and 3rd person perspective. HE. SHE. I. Which one is first person perspective?

I could understand if we were going to analyze which one was more effective for portraying this sort of feeling... blah blah. But no. We literally read a story then the teacher asked us what perspective it was written from.

Is it okay to think that I'm smarter than everyone, if I really am smarter than everyone? And keep in mind, I'm not very smart...

2006-01-29T19:21:00.000-08:00

I just want to sit here all night long and draw pictures of dinosaurs and robots and palm trees with Vs for birds and stars and then maybe fold a couple paper airplanes with messages in them and throw them at the people below me. I just want to stay up long enough to feel like it's past my bedtime and then hide from my parents when they look for me to give me a bath.

I am six years old and nobody will tell me otherwise.

I've got my favorite green hoody on with the hood up and headphones underneath playing twee pop songs and I'm drinking really warm coffee with a ton of cream and sugar in it instead of black like I normally drink it and I bet it tastes a little bit like the girl at the table next to me tastes.

We are all six years old and I don't think I'm going to talk to that girl because girls have cooties.

All Harm Ends Here

2006-01-29T11:25:00.000-08:00

This right here is the best news I've heard all week.

Early Day Miners pretty much just kick ass, but in slow motion. I'm not sure I would recoment their music to many people, but I'd have to say they're one of my favorite bands right now. If you took one part Dirty Three, and one part Pelican, then added smart lyrics, you'd have EDM.

2006-01-27T10:53:00.000-08:00

It's funny how I don't have anything to say when I'm happy. It's not a good sign when I only feel inspired when I'm angry or bitter or lonely or etc...

I'm filling out college applications, and under academic achievements I think I'll put down that time in 6th grade when I was accused of plaigerism becuase the teacher didn't believe a 6th grader could write as well as I did. That's one of the best compliments I've ever gotten.

There's this sad girl sitting right in front of me and I think I'm in love. I want to take a picture of her with my camera phone but I'm afraid the shutter sound will be too loud and I don't know how to turn it off.

Now some assprick sat down at my table and he's blocking my view of sad girl and his food smells like shit and he's a chad or brad and he's texting tiffiny or britney and he's wearing some stupid shirt and reading about CU basketball and I hate him and I and I and and...

2006-01-25T10:29:00.000-08:00

Hero.

2006-01-23T22:26:00.000-08:00

Her hands feel cold. Not the kind of cold hands one gets in January in Manitoba, or the cold hands one gets after swimming in the Atlantic; these were the cold hands of a soul so far removed it neglects life. He envisions her blood at a standstill, just waiting for some sort of decision from higher up.

He does his damnedest to catch her gaze, to hold it close to his. Instead, his eyes flail and see only those things reflected in her glassiness- the mast of his ship, the soldiers, the flannel luggage- but not once that day did he see the reflection of his own green eyes. The low grumble distracts him, grabs him, and the mournful whistle of a departing ship sings along. The music reminds him of places far away and long ago. It reminds him of her. It reminds him of why.

He shouts simply: “COME!”

He watches her hands come back to life. The most-tender parts of the
anatomy, those unnamed, unmapped spaces between the fingers flare red and contrast with the white of her knuckles. The blood is flowing again, fueling muscles and ligaments. He pondered briefly how such a frail shop girl could hold on so tightly to anything; mostly though he wished it was him instead of the iron railing that she would strangle. Any bit of passion towards him would suffice, even murderous passion.

He shouts plainly: “COME!”

Her replying shriek sounds so natural here by the sea that Frank wonders if it may have been a gull or the ship scraping against some rusty dingy. Of course it was her. Seagulls don’t have any reason to sound so confused.

Words never were Frank’s friend unless he had some time to think them through, but he tries once again and yells “Eveline! Evvy!”

Nothing. He rushes beyond the barrier; still nothing. How appropriate he realizes, to have this barrier between himself and her. After one more of his cries she meets him there, with the barrier at their waists, and she rests her face on his breast. The most expressionless faces sometimes have the most to say. He understood without knowing; he could see the white of an Atlantic sky, the white of diverging lives, the white that’s so far from green, all reflected in her eyes.

2006-01-23T09:05:00.000-08:00

Denny's is the new heaven.

Ihop is fucking lame, but it's almost sooo lame that it's cool again. but not quite.

Waffle House is good, but I don't go there much. Out here in Colorado all the Waffle Houses are actually just homeless shelters w/ coffee and grits.

Villiage Inn is okay... I've had some good times there, but nothing too special.

Dennys, however, wow... yeah... I'm 20, and I'm pretty sure I've spent an entire year of my life in the place. I can't think of a bad trip to Dennys. The coffee is the best, and they do a pretty good job of keeping it flowing which is key to proper sleazy coffee house conversations.

I understand more cultured parts of the county have better diners with true character. Uniqueness, and bullshit like that. whatever. I'll always be one of the scrappy boys at a booth in Dennys.

Fort Fun

2006-01-21T22:02:00.000-08:00

So this girl

and this boy

had an interesting discussion about poetry last night at Melissa and Kate's birthday party. She had me read some of her poems and I said "they're kind of blah, except for this line and this line and this line" and she says "wow, you're the first person who's ever been honest to me"

So she told me I look like James Dean and I couldn't disagree. Then we stayed up talking until 6am and we talked about her cutting herself and her 150 scars on her left arm and abortion and rape and god and stuff like that.

Then we made out and I feel like a dick because I didn't want too and then of course it was awkward in the morning and I think I smelled really bad so I just left for a while after an hour of sleep, then she left for work and I got another hour of sleep before driving back to Boulder to take a shower.

And now for the fun part- I drive to Golden to meet my mom and then we drive to Vail to meet my uncle/aunt/cousins from New Jersey. We ate at my favorite authentic mexican Carniciteras where only immigrant workers go, and we were the only white folks there which is what I wanted becuase I'm pretty sure my Aunt is racist, maybe, and so it was fun.

I drove about 600 miles today on nooooooo sleep and a guilty conscious and now I'm going to cure both.

2006-01-20T09:13:00.000-08:00

Read about Dr. Stanley Biber, who passed away a few days ago, over at the CS Indy

He's the docter who made Trinidad, CO. the sex change capital of the world. He was also a rancher, weight lifter, and county commisioner, which is how my mom knew him. The guy was something else... definitely a character. Not to mention brave- imagine starting a sex change operation in a small town in Colorado.

2006-01-19T23:29:00.000-08:00

Three reasons these look so shitty-

1. this was my first time screenprinting, and I tought myself how to do it. It took me about three hours to paint the screen with modgepodge!

2. i was not sober

3. and uh... like i say, i was not sober

taking 12 credits is genius, cause you can make stuff like this

Anyone who lists their favorite quote from this band (get it, it's a contest!) can have their own shirt made for free if you give me a shirt, cause i don't want to deal with sizing and shit.

People don't often call me

2006-01-18T09:48:00.000-08:00

This is from Vale, a cool guy from uncool Colorado Springs.

People don't often call me happy-go-lucky. And I doubt they would today, either.... but damn it I'm in a great(!) mood today, same with yesterday. Which is funny, because I'm in my least favorite place, surounded by my least favorite group of people. "Happiness is all the rage"

Anyway, I dreamt about blogging last night and it creeped me out. Anyone else dream about blogging?

Who's left and who's leaving

2006-01-16T17:04:00.000-08:00

"And I love this place; the enormous sky, and the faces"

Well I'm packing up my shit. The instruments are the hardest. As I latch the old tweed cases and I smell the years of smoke and beer and melody and heartbleed and adventure... I lose myself... I'm packing to go out on the road; write my own stories set to a two-step beat-and-rhyme with languid floating steel guitar riffs in a minor key...

But I'm going back to school. To the city in the shadows of tombstones.

Murder

2006-01-15T15:52:00.000-08:00

Every June when I was young my best friend Scott and I would wait for the big ole Mac semi-truck to appear at the bottom of the hill we lived on. We could see the empty lot from our yards, and we often rode our bikes there. Sometimes we'd get hot dogs from the Chicago Hot Dog stand across the street, then we'd go ride in circles in this broken-glass-sparkling-on-cracked-asphalt vacant lot. But when summer came around, we'd watch each day for the arrival of the Mac truck, then the next day a giant white tent would sprout out of nowhere. Fireworks!

We'd get fountain-cones and smoke bombs, and those little snakes that left black scars on the driveway. But our favorites were the snappers that we'd throw at each other or smash with rocks. They sounded like guns and that's why we liked them.

Well today it's January, and I'm home from college. It's cold, much colder than June. My friend Scott moved away four or five years ago, and I haven't ridden my bike through that parking lot in years. When I looked out my window this morning however, I saw a semi-truck parked there. I couldn't see much else, the trees are much taller now than they once were.

For a second, I got excited.

Then of course I remembered that it's January, and even so, I don't play with fireworks much these days. None the less, for half a second, I was a nine years old again.

An hour later I got in my car to drive to my buddy Mike's house to help him work on his jeep. As that vacant lot came into view, I saw the words "crime scene investigation" then I saw the words "coroners department". At first I didn't see the yellow tape or the flashing police lights, instead my eyes first saw the words on the side of the Semi-Truck.

Murder.

I guess there won't be any giant white tents tomorrow. No sparklers, no snappers that sound like guns.

Funny how things change.

and Fireboat Harvey became the hero.

2006-01-15T10:14:00.000-08:00

I don't know how the human brain works. I'm not sure if the brain tends to want to connect with any given idea, or if it wishes to feel dissonance. I guess that's a general question and a personal one and it probably can't be answered. Either way, Mr. Funny at Incompletes wrote this post and I connected with most of it. More so than with most bloggers out there.

Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I actually know him in real life.

I doubt it though.

We are all lost. I think many people just choose not to look at a map and go on living in ignorance. They are the lucky ones. The rest of us, those of us with curiosity and exploration and a yearning to understand, those of us who point these desires for learning towards our own lives, we will always be lost. There are no roads or paths that lead anywhere. Every road leads to another road, an intersection or a dead end, or a cul-de-sac or a round-a-bout. Those of us who wander these paths have one thing in common- the knowledge that this map will fail us in the end. We are all together in that one sense- hopelessness.

Perhaps with a better sense of logic and mathematics and such, and with a large enough chalkboard, I could prove that thoughtfulness is equal to hopelessness.

Every thought is either a result of, or a step towards hopelessness.

Ignorance is bliss I suppose.

2006-01-13T10:43:00.000-08:00

This is from The Known Universe and it made me laugh. a lot.

So I don't know where to go to college. Technically, I already am going to college, but you know... it doesn't count if you can't remember it, right?

Thank god for selective memory.

Anyway, back to the gist of this post-
Chicago, Portland, Toronto, Quebec, Austin, Winnipeg, Colorado Springs... ???

I know I should consider more than just location, but really that's all I care about right now.

2006-01-12T17:27:00.000-08:00

This is from my friend eric

It's funny cause it's true. I had the best mullet on my block when I was 7.

2006-01-11T20:46:00.000-08:00

I've got a bad habbit of reading quasi intelectual existentialism like Kafka or Sartre, etc... this morning I read Camus' The Stranger.

The book left me empty and numb. I'd just finished eating a frozen pizza, and I was bored. So what do I do? I pack some clothes, grab my guitar and camera, and get in my car.

This is why existentialism is dangerous.

Anyway, as I'm pulling out of my driveway, it strikes me that North Dakota is quite empty and that seemed like a good match for my mood. Off I go, feeling free and liberated and benevolent and all sorts of other bad advectives half-wits like me enjoy using at moments such as this.

So yeah, at 1 this afternoon I was pretty sure I was going to drive to North Dakota for no reason.

That's me, 250 miles later on some country road at the Colorado/Nebraska border realizing I'm a dipshit and turning around.

So I'm still an asshole.

2006-01-11T20:31:00.000-08:00

Last night I got into a fight with my ex-girlfriend Anna, and of course I broke my phone. So I dug my old phone up this morning and I started looking through old text messages, turns out exactly a year ago I was fighting with my other ex-girlfriend and being the same neurotic attention whore that I am today. wow.

This is one of her texts to me...
"I would like to talk to you but you need to sort of calm down and be able to actually hold converstation"

ladies... care for a date? I swear this time will be different.

2006-01-09T20:56:00.000-08:00

2006-01-08T16:05:00.000-08:00

or

?

2006-01-05T09:06:00.000-08:00

I wish Tripoli was still a country. What the fuck happened to Tripoli?

I bet Tunis was fucking cool too. Tunisia can go to hell.

I need to stop cursing.

No I Don't. And fuck you too while I'm at it.

So I'm going to start taking this blog a bit more seriously. Or at least I'm going to try to add more pictures, more links, and try to figure out a way to get people to link to me.

Can you guess which picture is of me?

Yay intrawebs!

2006-01-02T12:28:00.000-08:00

Reasons I'm better than god-

1. Boyish good looks
2. When I get around to creating it, my universe will include teleportation
3. I'm real
4. Only cool kids worship me

Then again, god has me on these points-

1. I can't walk on water (yet)
2. I can't grow a beard
3. I can't save souls. Or even a nickle.
3. I'd (probably) lose a popularity contest.

2006-01-01T19:49:00.000-08:00

Nobody reads this.

If you read this, leave a commet.

I meant comment, but if you left me a comet I would be greatful.

If a comet cometh, and then commits a comment, does the world implode?

Probably not. I bet it would explode instead.

I'm going for a drive. fuckers.

feh bwahhhh meh 2006

2006-01-01T17:13:00.000-08:00

So last night was amazing! GREAT WAY TO START 2006 yay!

So here's the rundown-

I made a fool of myself infront of twenty some high school friends, then watched anna, girl I was quasi dating again, make out with my arch enemy/sometimes good friend Brandon.

So then of course I DRANK TOO much, listened to the fireworks at midnight sitting by myself in a stairwell nearly passed out, walked around some sketch alleys for two hours freezing my ass off, sat in my car and got hassled by three or four FRIENDLY denverites ("noooo I'm not driving, I'm just warming the fuck up! go awwwwwwway"), shivered like a fucking vibrator for an hour...

Then I got into a fight with anna infront of 45 random party people, she was right and i was wrong of course...

Sobered up and drove home in a wonderful mood. I was locked out, so my mom had to get out of bed at 4am to let me in.

I wrote a very LOVELY e-mail to anna then finally went to sleep.

I forgot to make a resolution.

yeah, this'll be a good year.

polipricks

2006-01-01T09:37:00.000-08:00

A majority of republicans support the domestic spying of the NSA (and Bush by association, at the very least).

This constitutes a major abandonment of the 'small government/anti-big brother' mantra the GOP usually holds, presumably to support their man in office.

Democrats are equally guilty of turning a cold shoulder to foundation type issues.

Partisinship is stupid.

Issues and values should come before protecting individuals based upon party lines. Blindly supporting red or blue, left or right, will allow idiots like Bush (and Kerry if he'd been elected) to run this country into a totalitarian state.

Stick to your guns and avoid being pidgeon holed- strait ticket politics = local sports teams.

2006-01-01T07:23:00.000-08:00

The following should have unprotected sex with multiple partners and then die slowly-

1. 2005
2. Me last night
3. Brandon H.
4. Jealousy

But mostly me.

2005-12-29T11:23:00.000-08:00

"We are accustomed to feel pity and sympathy for those who are ill, but the emotions that 'the evil' invoke in us are anger and disgust, if not actual hate. It is the unwillingness to suffer emotional pain that usually lies at the very root of emotional illness. Those who fully experience depression, doubt, confusion and despair may be infinitely more healthy than those who are generally certain, complacent, and self-satisfied."

2005-12-27T23:51:00.000-08:00

Goodbye Eva. It was good.

I knew you better than you knew yourself, and I didn't even know your last name.

"How do I explain your body to the rest of my day?"

2005-12-24T00:28:00.000-08:00

You say I'm your favorite, but you treat me like shit.

You kiss me when nobody is looking, and you don't even talk to me when we're around friends.

You don't want anyone to know about our little afair so you fling yourself at any other guy in the room and let me sit in the corner.

I opened up to you, told you everything... especially the parts about needing attention. Just last night. And still, you don't pay the slightest bit of attention to me.

I know I should take what I can get, but that puts me in a pretty shity place... scrounging for scraps. The lowest rung. I don't have anything else, so I will. And you know that.

When you walk away, just know that I'll be left here with even less than I began with- I gave up the last bits of dignity just to have a hand to hold, and when you find somebody else you wont think twice about me. And that's why this is just a fling, why you wont actually date me or lend any legitimacy to our relationship.

A month ago I said "all I want is a steady fuck"

Well now I'm getting fucked.

2005-12-23T00:58:00.000-08:00

The local news station sold all their cameras for coke money.

They're going to use google earth to film all their stories from now on.

Nobody will notice the change.

2005-12-22T18:49:00.000-08:00

Okay, so maybe Saddam doesn't look like a hipster.

And I have no idea what to tell you about friends/loneliness/life etc.

Speaking of which, I'm watching a show about the life of Jesus. "Although his actions during the last supper may seem eratic, we must remember he was on a path chosen by god" It's on the Science Chanel. No joke.

Actually, it is a joke but I'm not making it up.

We're all, all together fucked.

2005-12-22T00:45:00.000-08:00

I'm watching a show about Tin Cans and I'm all fucked up on coffee, cigarettes, and diet coke. Seriously.

If I stay up long enough I'm pretty sure I'll be able to watch live footage from the Saddam trial. I think Saddam is a hipster. Look at his beard. Seriously, indy as fuck. He should move to Billyburg and hang out with blackface jesus.

I love TV.

I think I'm going to get one.

Oh, and I went bowling tonight = blah x 100000.

Mis-steaks

2005-12-20T20:40:00.000-08:00

Let us eat our mistakes. cooked very rare so blood shall stain our clothes and the sinew shall wire our mouths shut; we'll never be able to talk or kiss or go out in public. Perfect.

Smashed under a Boulder.

2005-12-20T13:35:00.000-08:00

Fuck this town. I could list a thousand reasons why... but only a few would make sense, and even those are weak.

Boulder.

Remember boulder dash? It was a fun game from the 80s on DOS (pre windows!) and you had to keep switching out these giant 5" disks in order to keep playing. You ran about collecting all these gold coins and trying not to get smashed by boulders and avoid all sorts of nasty monsters.

As it turns out the video game was a preminition... I just keep getting smashed by Boulder, and I just keep clicking play again.

So where are all the gold coins?

If I could change anything- I'd change everything.

2005-12-19T00:17:00.000-08:00

Listen,
I'm not okay. I haven't been in a long time. I'm so fucking alone and all I want in the world is for somebody to be with me. I would give anything to have you here with me right now... but it's not fair.

I'm not okay. I need a change and I don't know where to begin. It's been so long since I've been able to say "this has been a good week for me"

I need so much. It's not fair to my friends. It's not fair to you. That's why I told you I'm okay. That's why I'm not going to call you right now. That's why I feel guilty writing this to you.

Don't ask me to be someone else. It's the only thing I ever try to be- somebody else. At school it sucks. At home, I just need a break. If I could change anything- I'd change everything. But in the end, I can't. And it sucks when everyone else wants you to be the person they think you are.

You see a part of me you like; well I'm not able to be that person all the time. I hate myself for that. I don't need other people hating me for it too.

Sure, you've seen me happy a lot- but does that mean I have to be held to that standard in all situations? There's so much more to me than what you see when the two of us hang out.

For as long as you've known me, I've been quite. Sometimes I'm upset, sometimes I'm just not feeling up to talking. Even if it's wrong, I can't help it. It's who I am, and we all have our faults. I'm not the kind of person who puts on an act around people when it hurts so much to do so. In a way, it's a compliment that I'm comfortable enough around our friends to just sit there and keep to myself.

I don't know why I'm writing this to you. I've told you all of this before and it hasn't changed anything. I just wish my closest friends would accept me.

So if you ask me to talk more, is it fair of me to ask you to be happy with who I am? Including the anti-social half of me? It's not fair for me to be mean or jealous, both of which I am often. But please just let me be quite, it doesn't hurt anyone. It shouldn't.

Maybe someday I'll be better. or not. Don't expect anything. Expectations are evil. I guess that's why I wanted to end our "thing". As much as I want to have you here to hold me, and let me hold you, I can't expect it. Oh but it would be so nice.

When you hold me, I feel like it's okay to be little and weak. I spend the rest of my time trying to get bigger and stronger on the inside, but when you hold me I'm allowed to just be a boy.

You have the ability to make me accept myself. I need to figure out how to do that on my own.

Maybe that's why I try so hard to be little. When people see a little boy, they don't expect him to be strong.

Don't expect me to be strong.

47

2005-12-16T21:52:00.000-08:00

So what do you do when you hate all of the kids at school, and you look foreward to coming home for months... then you come home and you realize you hate all of your "friends" at home too?

"If you ask how I got so bitter, I'll ask how you got so vain"

YO dawwwwg

2005-12-13T08:17:00.000-08:00

I'm glad nobody reads this, because if they did they'd probably be mad at me for posting so often that all my quality posts get pushed to the bottom and then they can't keep up with all my innate annal imature angry imitations about ideas I always imagine.

That was fun.

Alliteration always annoys assholes around army areas.

Okay, I'm done. The last one wasn't even good.

All I need to get on my last final is a 66% in order to get an A in the class. That said, I still have a stupid convulsion to study. (yeah, that's right- convulsion. not compulsion) Maybe I think that if I get a 100% on this test it will make up for the art history test I failed.

I wonder what the kids behind me think about all the randomness they've seen on my screen this morning. I've got my giant headphones on underneath my hood and I imagine I look like some sort of alien.

I painted a bit last night. Art I make always looks amazing when I make it, then looks like shit when I look at it the next day. fart.

Williams

2005-12-13T06:42:00.000-08:00

I was going to write something about "who made god?" or "does god know why he exists? and does he have existential chrises?"

But then I was reminded that god doesn't exist, or if he does, he's an ass-

They fucking killed him and he was frustrated that it wasn't going fast enough.

It reminds me of a short story by Yann Martel. The title is "Manners of Dying" or something, and it's just a collection of about 30 different letters from the warden to the executed man's mother.

It reminds me that I hate humanity.

It reminds me... fuck, I'm actually upset about this. And I have to study.

I could argue about how he had reformed himself, or how the allegations against him were faulty in the first place, I could argue about the death penalty not preventing crime, but it doesn't matter. He's dead now, and that's my ultimate point. It can't be undone.

They killed, he's dead, and we can never go back.

Haven't we learned yet, that humans should never make anything permanent?

FEH

2005-12-12T11:33:00.000-08:00

Why you should criticize art.

On a side note, I write this during the time I devoted to study for my art histoy exam. FEH.

Yesterday, Abby got into a fight with me.
(note the subject/verb/object arangement?)
She feels that since neither of us are particularily well known or talented artists, we have no place to say things like "Shakespear is shit" or "Van Gogh is over rated"
They are obviously more talented than us, so I should shut up.

While I resent her assertion that I'm not as talented, I should probably find a differemt arguing point just to be sure.

So here goes-
If we follow Abby's belief, what good does that serve? Absolutely none. Prove me wrong.
Keep your opinion to your self, gard it too closely, and you'll suffocate. It dies. You die too.

Nobody gains anything. We all die. All our battleships have sunk.

BUT, if voice your opinion, hopefully as loudly as possible, maybe somebody will learn something. The more voices, the louder, the more extreme, the better. YOUR opinion counts! You don't have to believe anything at all- if you think Shakespeare rewrote old soap operas in elitist, distancing vernacular, then say it. Why should we be robots with out the capacity to think?

Sunday Clouds

2005-12-11T22:46:00.001-08:00

I spent all day in the UMC studying, same as yesterday and same as the day before.

Then I went down to Denver to study in a different city, hoping for a different state of mind.

Then my roommate called and we went to slam poetry. I took her a few weeks ago, and now she's hooked.

Slam poetry is shit. I'm sorry. I go all the time, but I go knowing it's shit.

Oh, and I fucking hate my roommates. Abbey is stupid. I mean it. A lot of people aren't very smart, but she is stupid. I know that's no reason to hate a person. Well... maybe it is. Either way, I'm glad she's moving out.

And Sarah is fine. I shouldn't hate her. But I'm also glad she's moving out. I do hate her boyfriend though, he's just so happy and he loves everything and he's an expert at everything and Abbey and Sarah think he's so smart and wonderful and fuck.... Am I the only one that sees through people?

Then this kid at the poetry slam did a poem about Colorado Springs, and the homeless with their meth addictions and the homeless being a different species. Sarah thought he was amazing.

I talked to him afterwards, because the homeless are human, and because he'd only lived in Colorado Springs for a year and he was a CC brat- he didn't know what he was talking about.

Kid says-
"The cops spend all their time hassling CC students, they need to take care of the homeless meth heads"

I say-
"do you realize most homeless aren't meth heads?" (most homeless aren't meth heads, I know because I used to work with them, and know a lot of them personally)

Kid says-
"really? it sure seems like they all are."

Kid says-
"they just seem like another species" (I know, you said that in your poem)

Kid says-
"I came from Berkely, so, you know... I'm really liberal. I hate how conservative it is here"

Uh... yeah, you're so liberal. and eloquent.

2005

2005-12-09T17:52:00.000-08:00

The entire year was a step backwards. If you picked this year up off it's languid ass, and held it towards a light... it'd be see through.

Personal Inventory:
new friends 0
old friends -5
loneliness +8
achievment 0
cold +4
grey +4
planewrecks +2
doubt +10
fear +10
drugs +3
cigarettes +1
self confidence -10
power outages +5
mistakes +10
good ideas -4
ideas -10
grades -4
new states visited +4
new states of mind visited +1 (anxiety)
knowing exactly what's going to happen tomorrow +10
knowing exactly what's going to happen next year -10

thewindowfacingthestreet

2005-12-03T12:22:00.000-08:00

I started another blog... thewindowfacingthestreet.blogspot.com

Just Another Pretentious Fuck is just going to be for my whining, etc...

Thewindowfacingthestreet will be for more legitimate writing.

I'm transfering next year, and a lot of what I write over there will probably be used in a portfolio of some sort to submit to some of the schools, so you should give me feed back.

And.................................................

2005-11-27T19:23:00.000-08:00

A short history-
Last November, we broke up.
December-July we weren't on good terms.
We made up in August.
We made out on October 11th.
She led me on in November.
She flirts and holds my hand on November 25th.
More flirting/cuddling on November 26th.
I fall in love (again) at 11:25pm on November 26th.
She tells me she's not interested at 11:45 on November 26th.
I damn near convinced her I didn't care at 12:00 am.
She saw right through me at 12:01

Woke up shaking. That's never happened before.

And now I'm back in Boulder.

And my Roommate Abby just told me she's moving out.

Uh..... shit.

omehey.

2005-11-22T17:19:00.000-08:00

So uh... yup.

The post I made last night was random. I don't even know who I was talking about. I thought the phrase sounded good. Soy sauce.

I'm home now, and Boulder is hybernating as far as I can tell. Tomorrow I drive to New Mexico, I bought a 1940's Gibson lap steel guitar from a pawn shop in Albuquerque.

Great name, shitty town. Albuquerque.

I'll never see her again, but...

2005-11-21T22:41:00.000-08:00

She's an ice cream sandwhich, read aloud.

Another Sunday has been laid out to dry.

2005-11-13T22:13:00.000-08:00

The weeks are bluring.

Each day at the age of 20 equals an hour at the age of 10.

And each hour at the age of 10 equals a minute at the age of 1.

And I'll never know how many minutes seperate this minute now and...
-The minute the phone rings and I lose someone I love.
-The minute I find someone new to love.
-The minute I Die.

Uncertainty is fear; each minute at the age of 20 overflows with fear.

I'm pretty sure time is a sled on snow, and the more fear that loads each minute, the 60 pounds of fear per hour, the faster the sled careens out of control.

Benevolence is Immortality.

You don't have to ___ almost die ___ to have your life flash before your eyes.

You just have to __ know you could die __ to have your life flash before your eyes.

Lyric for later

2005-11-09T22:21:00.001-08:00

I've never known how to spell scarred vs scared, and I've never needed to know the difference.

A private letter to an old lover.

2005-11-09T22:10:00.000-08:00

I don't know how to help... I want to, but the way I look at things right now... well; I'm not too optimistic either. I could lie and say that things will get better, but I don't know that they will. I guess they will, but I can't convince myself of that, so I don't know why I should try to convince you of it. I could tell you that you'll make it, but you already know that. There isn't any other option, and that's why it's so hard. I could tell you that everyone is having a hard time, or at least that I am too; but I know that doesn't help either. The fact that you're not alone (in being alone) doesn't change a thing. I'm falling apart... in so many ways. I'm lonely too, more so than ever. And scared. But I don't see why any of that should make you feel any better. I guess my point is this- I can't show you the way to being "okay". And I don't feel like lying or making anything up. That's probably what you need, is someone to say that it's going to be okay... it's not gonna be me. Sorry.

But I do want you to know that you can (should) talk to me, and I'll understand what you mean when you say "I just don't know what to do."

We need people in our lives, people to listen and console... that's about all I know of life right now.

And I used to think I was so independent.

I got really excited when I saw that you wrote me. I really want to help, or at least "be there" for you. In your letter you apologized way too many times... you don't need to be sorry for talking to me. I need it too.

I hope this all made sense... I'm not much of a writer these days.

And I miss you too.

...

2005-11-01T08:43:00.000-08:00

I got the Slips and Tangles unreleased album by the Weakerthans last night.

I broke two strings on my guitar.

I can't afford new ones for a bit.

I just read a magnificient story about AIDS.

I have to study for an Art History exam all day today.

I'm completey crushed.

I'm hungry.

I don't give a fuck if this is cliche anymore.

Tell existentialism I'll call her back on Monday.

2005-10-28T11:33:00.000-07:00

I own two nail clippers. One of them is much better than the other, since it has that file/hook thing I use to clean the bluegrey lint from underneath my nails. Since I like this nail clipper better, I always look for it; yet I know exactly where the regular, joe-blow nail clippers are. 10 minutes later I usually give up looking and use the plain ones.

For all I know, the sole purpose of my existence here (life) is to find and use the better nail clippers. Who could convince me otherwise? I don't see any reason to believe anything else, do you?

But I usually give up.

Thus, I have bluegrey lint under my nails today.

And I don't know where I'm going.

Forgot my name tag and I left all my best lines at home.

2005-10-25T10:41:00.000-07:00

I got an idea on the bus today. I want to publish a newspaper. It'd be all about me. One of my roommates will move out soon, and that'll free up an extra room. I thought about a music studio, or an art studio. Perhaps an S&M chamber? BUT NO... my own newspaper!

We'll grow into a corporate conglomerate; replete with 35 Cable Channels, several Radio Networks, homely womens magazines and muscular mens magazines, and of course this underground paper printed in my bedroom. We'll buy Phillip Morris and I'll dictate tobacco constitute atleast 50% of all ingredients in everything we produce. You'll get a buzz eating your Kraft Mac and Cheeeese, of that you can be sure.

But I digress, regress, transgress, etc...
All I really want is a dark smoke filled room with wirey, scrappy british boys, wearing those see-through green hats from olden times, all gathered around typewriters at 3am. They'll write all sorts of wonderfull things, about how much I hate this town, how I'm surrounded by vain petty kiddy descriptiveless brats, about my teachers who assume we're in 6th grade, about how I can't find love or even a steady fuck.

FUCK.

ME.

OFTEN.

That'd be the first headline.

And this would be the cover shot:

Punk Rock Academy

2005-10-23T20:22:00.000-07:00

You know what's strange about the internet? ANYBODY could read this. In fact, I'm sure someone whom I have never met, nor have any of my friends met, will read these words. What's even stranger about the internet? My friends could read this too. Someitmes I just have to stand back and point out how odd everything looks from over here.

meh...

I suffer from AD. Not ADD (though sometimes I wonder...). AD stands for awkward disease. If I've ever acted abnormal around you; it's probably the AD. Don't think too much of it. I'm sure a brilliant doctor will come along some day and prescribe medication. The side effect of this drug will probably be a huge ego and I'll end up a major asshole. Maybe awkward and shy isn't so bad.

I rode my bicycle today. Then I played my guitar for a bit. Now I'm typing and I'm about to go out. Yup.

Last night I stole a phone book from some JOCK/BRAD/CHAD/FRAT kid's house, and now I feel bad about it. I think they saw me. I ran for the door and Kai drove the getaway vehicle.

And now, for the moral to the story...

I keep having an urge to throw a brick through the window of a Barnes and Nobles. I don't know why exactly. I know it wouldn't mean much to the corporate guys. It wouldn't change anything at all actually. I'd probably get caught too; I don't have much criminal know-how. None the less, I think I might just do it one day soon.

Starbucks be forewarned as well.

I'll begin here I suppose...

2005-10-23T19:28:00.000-07:00

"I'm living at the Villa Borghese. There is not a crumb of dirt anywhere, nor a chair misplaced. We are all alone here and we are dead." The opening lines of Henry Miller's Tropic of Cancer.

"Smoke Falls. Things are created in the violence of fire." Martin Amis

"As for myself, I am always forgetting what it was I wasn't going to write about; what I wasn't going to say again." Catherine Hunter

"One by one, million by million, in the prescience of dawn, every leaf in that part of the world was moved." James Agee

"A wind passed over my mind, insidious and cold.
It is a thought, I thought, but it was only its shadow." Stanely Kunitz

I don't trust blogs. I don't trust blogs the way my grandmother doesn't trust black people. Fear via ignorance. Distrust via distance; disconnection. A man studying to write, or a writer studying to live, and more than anything old fashioned, I'm weary of this new media. Yet here I am. I loathly step forward.