yuk yuk

i've been away

Fri, 17 Mar 2006 03:01:00 GMT

eliciting soliciting idle curiosity

Sun, 14 Nov 2004 01:34:32 GMT

The problem with LJ: we all think we are so close, but really, we know nothing about each other. So I want you to ask me something you think you should know about me. Something that should be obvious, but you have no idea about. Ask away.

Then post this in your LJ and find out what people don't know about you.

This might be a little difficult, seeing as I don't give people much to go on, here. Stranger, how are you? I feel like a contortionist when I post here, a desperate desire for social recognition constituting majority rule over a million screaming voices. It sucks hard, and usually makes me malfunction. So does reading lj feed. Hey! So I haven't been doing it, lately. Today I'm dripping and spraying globules with nasty little surprises, so here we are.

IAC. If anyone out there would like me to speak more plainly than usual for once, ask.

it offered itself up

Sat, 06 Nov 2004 03:33:56 GMT

appears 80gb trashed. external hd making loud rhythmic clicks, not responding to reason. ah well. i don't need all that stuff. i would've liked to save a few of the journal/word documents and some things i wrote in altered states that i haven't opened since...bunches of image files i've already worked to death or tired of, spoken word and movies, apps. psychic detritus. it wasn't always that way but it has been for a bit now. take it away. take it away, damn you, i've more important distractions to attend to. if any way i'll reach those by elimination. "looks like it's just me and you, blank sheet of paper." then sucked off desk out open window into whorlwinds. "gee maybe i should follow it." (not literally)

city gets loud

Tue, 02 Nov 2004 00:35:48 GMT

Either there was some weird shit going on last night, or I had my first flashback. Or an off-the-scale anxiety attack. Or it just happened, whatever it. Or something else. These are all inclusive ors btw. Sat for a half hour to ride it out, but physiological effects didn't stop. Laid down and sweat in bed until I drifted off (no idea how long it took). Totally fucked-up my homework plans. Been training against being inconvenienced by the often unpredictable stumblings and flailings of this machine (i.e. being more inconvenienced than necessary), which by definition doesn't change the fact that I have this 7 page paper due tommorow morning on stuff I haven't quite read. Well I guess it doesn't by definition preclude the possibility that I've become adept enough at minimizing recovery time to get whatever I wanted to do done just as if it were all synched up nicely to begin with. That's not the case. It's alright, though. I ripped through my math homework (which yesterday I didn't think I understood at all) this morning before my first class, even though I slept through my alarm and woke up an hour late. And on the muni today I got some kickin ideas for the paper - which is interesting, on liminality and initiations, even if the source texts are dull and dated. Hey, the Sambia highlanders in New Guinea practice ritualized homosexuality as part of complicated rites to enforce soxio-sexual neuroses in the males and bond them to a militaristic, male-dominated, and brutally competitive social system. I'm glad we're so civilized and only have silly problems like presidential politics. Then there's a paper by another guy which should show me how I can classify the elements of the initiation as described in the Sambia book in accordance with his general model of initiations. I'll deconstruct the general model and then whatever I add in the process will combine with Sambia comments and blamo, 7 pages. DO IT.

.

Sat, 30 Oct 2004 00:31:42 GMT

FUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKkkkkkkkk kkkkk k kk kk k kheh heh ha he heh heheh hahahahaha...

dreamlog: heh dreamological

Fri, 29 Oct 2004 06:45:06 GMT

During an extra fifteen minutes this morning a dream in which my unidentified girlfriend and I and her unidentified friend sleep in front of a giant stone Jainist statue, our bodies arranged to form a triangle with the friend closest to the foot of the statue. We want something from it. During the night the head falls off the statue and lands on top of the friend while girlfriend and I roll out of the way. Its mouth is open and its chin is tilted up. We decide to go in. My girlfriend runs in and I follow. Inside lies a desert landscape with greyblueblack sky. My girlfriend's back: she's wearing flowing beige robes and there is a crucifix tied to the small of her back. Sudden zoom-in to evidently malicious interference pattern nearby. I think about making an lj post asking people to get us out if we don't come out in a few days, then wake up.

In recording, I've found that with little exception my dreams are from a third-person perspective, using only visual and dreamological senses with very occasional tactility.

-- in other news --

You were always such a well-behaved child. We could take you anywhere. You would sit under tables at restuarants with your toys and people wouldn't even know you were there, you sat perfectly still and quiet in church...

Mom, how come you only give me attention when I'm sick?
--
Master Slavedriver: Tough love dissapoints. Maybe I'm going soft. Like hell I am. Etc.

watercourse music: torrents and trickles

Fri, 22 Oct 2004 02:00:08 GMT

ladies and gentlemen, lady and gentleman are absent from this one.

banshees, songs of abandon, weathered songs, life goes on

Thu, 21 Oct 2004 23:41:10 GMT

Dirty Three song intros by mad fiddler and his shtick. Such like:
"This is a song actually about a mermaid, and it's a song about being stuck out in the middle of the fuckin' ocean, and you can't talk to anybody, and then you do meet someone, but they're like a fish, and you can't kinda talk to them 'cause you don't speak fish, and they don't speak fuckin' you, so you're fucked, and you just kind of sit there and go, 'Oh, I guess I really am alone'. This is a song called Sirena, or I'm just a tin of tuna"

The J.P. Sartre Cookbook

Sun, 17 Oct 2004 07:58:01 GMT

"Juice, toast, milk, they race about my fevered brain like fire, like an unholy trinity of cruel denial."

made me burst out laughing a few times. silly satire of the attitude and style. thing is, there's a fair amount of wryness in Nausea, whether it's intentional or not. e.g.: "Here he is looking at me again...He must be waiting for his own Nausea or something of the sort."

appropriate?

Sun, 17 Oct 2004 04:21:59 GMT

my mom sent me a card with a mommy-moose nose to nose with her calf on the front, with my little (16yr old) brother's school picture and a "fortune bracelet" inside. there is something awful about this picture that i can't put my finger on, and no it's not that it's shifting around under the word and ideaplex "brotherjonkidobjectoftensionworrydistrustestrangementgrowingsocialalien" trying to assert itself, or maybe it is or maybe antoine's getting into my head. in any case i need to figure out a place to put this thing. i also got $30 from my godparents(funny word, that) and one of my best childhood friends whom i haven't talked to in years but the other day in anthropology class when they talking about early mammalian socialization i was vaguely remembering being told i clung to him on the playground in preschool. birthday money. my birthday is in august. though i can't complain about this. the card has a picture of gwb on the front from the infamous airforce photo-op that sez "happy birthday from the president, commander-in-chief, and leader of the free world" with emphasis on the big words. that weirded me out until i saw the cutsey little joke on the inside which i will not bother to type here and you can make it up for yourselves.

"Legend has it, when the bracelet(s) wear out and fall of your fortune will come true ©."

bleeding delight

Thu, 14 Oct 2004 19:52:29 GMT

my favorite albums of new listening for roughly the last year - meaning that just about every time i listen i find them satisfying, an unordered set:
the books - the lemon of pink
amon tobin - solid steel live
circulatory system - circulatory system
bola - fyuti
califone - deceleration one
frankie sparo - welcome crummy mystics
four tet - rounds
tim hecker - radio amor
dirty three - horse stories, she has no strings apollo
yo la tengo - and then nothing turned itself inside out

why now? cos it just occurred to me. i contribute this vapid declaration of taste here since i rarely share these pleasures. of course, an inadequate substite, but i'm learning you work on the level you're on. even if it's shite; especially if it's shite and you don't want it to be that way forever, everlasting, neverending. not that this is work in the sense of "effort" (although it does require much effort for me to say anything at all, at all), this is unwindinding after sleep deprivation and ace-ing an anthropology exam in a class for which you haven't done any homework or any of the reading. excuse me, now i have to write a birthday letter to me senile christian fundamentalist (as in, golden rule included dumbfucks) gramma which will arrive a week late because the gregorian calendar was not designed with the cosmic plan of mot in mind.

what's going down

Thu, 14 Oct 2004 18:59:02 GMT

from scottopic

"They just shot them one by one:

There was more — rumors of atrocities around Iraq that to Hersh brought back memories of My Lai. In the evening's most emotional moment, Hersh talked about a call he had gotten from a first lieutenant in charge of a unit stationed halfway between Baghdad and the Syrian border. His group was bivouacking outside of town in an agricultural area, and had hired 30 or so Iraqis to guard a local granary. A few weeks passed. They got to know the men they hired, and to like them. Then orders came down from Baghdad that the village would be "cleared." Another platoon from the soldier's company came and executed the Iraqi granary guards. All of them.

"He said they just shot them one by one. And his people, and he, and the villagers of course, went nuts," Hersh said quietly. "He was hysterical, totally hysterical. He went to the company captain, who said, 'No, you don't understand, that's a kill. We got 36 insurgents. Don't you read those stories when the Americans say we had a combat maneuver and 15 insurgents were killed?'"

-Interview with seymour hersh

mastering todo lists

Tue, 12 Oct 2004 06:49:20 GMT

Structured procrastination.

I call it the "if avoiding this will get me to do that" principle. Without it, I'd do even less than I do already.

affirmation

Tue, 12 Oct 2004 06:07:30 GMT

I highly recommend Dirty Three. Especially if you dig the montreal stuff. Think rustic. Think gypsies and sadness and tearing and tears and drinking out in the middle of the woods off trails and dirt roads and wandering and getting lost and whatever else. (and more!) And I recommend this song to anybody cos it rocks.

it's like water. each song is like a different body of water part of a different environment in different weather.

generally speaking, give me a moment's loose tongue, tink tink, tink, tinkling strings, screeching strings, thrashing the melodies, laments and langorous drum hits, tighten up for gallops, swarm of broken glass pine-resin coated turning to woodchips and splinters, tuning up to stand up hunched and swollen, one hand smokes nonchalant another spews a drunken story, saying comment on this my friend, boots sopping wet from days of trudging in stream and swamp littered of litter and strewn with missing pieces, spare me a moment i'll give you a word or two and the hand keeps dancing...

whadda day day

Tue, 12 Oct 2004 03:57:46 GMT

Whaddaya know, with a multvitamin, a run, and no caffeine things went a bit smoother today. Might as well maintain.

I've been reading Beyond the Brain, slowly, cos' stories are of prime importance right now. When imagination dwindles, intellect attempts to fill in what imagination leaves undone, easily yielding a kind of twisted logic that reveals no novelty but overextends and distorts the set of ideas it works from. Not that fiction is the only stimulus of imagination, but it's one that I find reliable. As for BtB, I found it curious that he considered existentialism, in general, a detailed and accurate description of one thematic area or level in the cycle of human development - perinatal matrix II. Spent a good two-three hours this afternoon working with that idea, rereading parts of Nausea and Anthony Manser's book on Sartre. It struck me cos Sartre's system offers almost nothing in the way of instructions, the implications are up for grabs, and from what I understand Sartre wasn't trying to be the sagely teacher with that omission. A no exit situation.

So this is the way my important journaling is going:
"This is what I have to avoid, I must not put in strangeness where this none. I think that is the big danger in keeping a diary: you exxagerate everything. You continually force the truth because you're always looking for something...I must never (force) but carefully note and detail all that happens..." p.1, Nausea

(although I also have one that's just a sponge to draw my ideas out, get me to externalize. i call it "freeflow" with graffiti wild style)

simple strategies for simple peeple

Mon, 11 Oct 2004 08:45:40 GMT

in other news, the foot healed (everybody i know wants a flatshoe for xmas but i only have one, what to do), so I can resume running, which should get me out of my head a bit. pounding pavement til i touch ground and busting through the wall a few times should result in some restful exhaustion.

apophysis

Mon, 11 Oct 2004 07:39:53 GMT

They should be called smoke fractals instead of flame fractals.

alternatively

Sun, 10 Oct 2004 08:16:19 GMT

Lips cracked, she headed for the exit. A woman with an vague and - upon recollection, inscrutable countenance approached her.
"Had a bit too much of the knowledge have we?"
"I'm not sure." Her eyes paced, looking for the exit.
The woman chuckled. The woman nodded. "Yes," she moved closer to the girl,"You know, my girl, i happen to know a fellow we could see about some liquid..."

oops: it was three lines in notepad. blame the poison

Sun, 10 Oct 2004 07:58:33 GMT

chain-fiction.

angrybunnyman:
She walked up to the light bar. "I'd like a drink."
"So would we all, but we only serve knowledge," said the tender.

rokkitz: She grimaced. Thirsty as she was, she just couldn't stand the thought of another mouthful of that dusty powder. The smells of sawdust and kitty litter were strong in the building. Obviously, they'd just received another state-ordered shipment of knowledge. "I've had my fill of that stuff, thanks." She spat from a dry mouth.

ingst: Lips cracked, she headed for the exit. A man with an avian countenance approached,"Why, if you won't some knowledge, my girl, surely you'll have a chat?"
"No thanks."
Her resolve was firm: she would return from whence she came, departing again for a new destination. She moved through the scatter of tables finding her way toward...the exit? The entrance was nowhere to be seen, although she was sure of her vision of the bar upon entry. After all, it was so shiny...

Copy this and write three more lines into your journal. We'll see what becomes of it in a few days.

i spend all day coming up with titles and then searching for other labels to apply them to

Sat, 09 Oct 2004 02:00:19 GMT

after an early evening of picking apart a delectable oily-moist fowl carcass, i now plan to retire to my armchair next to the lonely window in the lonely corner of the room in the lonely apartment is the lonely world of loneliness to read and scribble until sleep mends my nightly woe. after all, things could be worse, and they're probably going to get worse. worry can lcik some other guy's sweaty, neglected scrotum - some other guy who hates his body and gets off on that sort of thing. laziness can do whatever it wants to - sleep, sleep, whatever. even inspector dreck is getting kind of bored and he's coming down hard. "i don't know if i can take this man, the disgust and revulsion." i say that's what he gets for doing all that junk. maybe he oughtta find a new avocation. he oughtta know that fantastic books are nature's apples.

mediation of others

Thu, 30 Sep 2004 03:10:52 GMT

it happened again, today. sitting on the floor in anthro the girl behind me just barely grazed my leg with her foot. I was facing halfway away from her. she sed sorry.

it's like i'm running a massive guilt trip on humanity. maybe even more involved than that.

[this is the lead-in for a discourse on my uber-boring headtrip/crawling-commentary which i have been omitting as much as possible in this journal (which is to say when i haven't been posting)]

week of sept. 30:
During the day, the sky is filled with as many stars as it is at night, but the sun so thoroughly monopolizes our attention that we can't see them. I believe this is an apt metaphor for a certain situation in your personal life, Leo. Some dominant force keeps you from becoming aware of less spectacular but still important influences. Soon, though, that dominant force will go on sabbatical. You'll be able to gaze upon sights that its presence normally obscures. Your understanding of the world will naturally change forever, and though that may be shocking at first, in the long run it will be invigorating.

Alrighty then. I'm off to eat some juju beans.

Sat, 25 Sep 2004 17:44:59 GMT

That's right. Got a cane and a little wobble in my step. Not that I plan on leaving my apartment til classes on monday.

Fri, 24 Sep 2004 05:25:24 GMT

feels like i bruised a bone in my right foot. if only i could run on air. walk, even.

[next morning: yup, something's fucked. Looks like i'm going to have to just drag one foot til it works itself out.]

Fri, 24 Sep 2004 03:56:56 GMT

this is a great set. from about 36:40 to 39:20 is one of the easiest, most chilled things i've heard in a while.

a season begins

Thu, 23 Sep 2004 05:40:30 GMT

The name of this song is MORE ACTION!
The name of this song is LESS TEARS!
The name of this song is one two three four...