We Are Mutes Stranded

Middles

Fri, 13 Nov 2009 09:34:45 GMT

in lieu of something real, i'm posting something i wrote on an old message board so that i can have it around. maybe i'll work on it, clean it up, make it presentable. whatever.

sorry. i miss you.

"Middles"

How did I get here?

It was a million miles from home. It was something more like fifteen hundred. The vibrations of the leather seat were tempting, too tempting. The wheel was cold again; what was up with that? Warm spots were needed, where hands had just been. Turn up the heater. Shit, turn up the radio.

It was easy, too easy, to skip off into dreams. Even those dreams were a million miles away. Consciousness was far off too. Far, far away... Still, there was an urgency to the trip. Someone said something about Jack, something about a lung. Somewhere out there was Jack and that lung. It was difficult, too difficult, to remember. Too difficult.

...

Something happened. Somewhere between Carlisle and Rothway the car stopped. Someone would see the smoke. Somehow.

The light was bright.

How did I get here?

i done fell off

Mon, 03 Aug 2009 15:41:54 GMT

Some things I've learned while owning a broken laptop:

-not all women are beautiful, some of them are four letter words
-inebriation is always coupled with bad decisions
-four strings are better than six
-don't be a dick
-some people don't know how to take photographs
-god damn them.

April told me I was happy, or something like that.

Fri, 15 May 2009 22:22:39 GMT

She'd probably say something like, "Cut the bullshit."

And I'd say, "That's all that comes out of my mouth. I can shut up if you want to, but we all know that's not possible."

But she took it back, so that conversation is no longer possible.

~

It's difficult for an individual to petition the group without feeling like an obtrusively centric burden.

Too often do my essays fall back to the subject of interpersonal dynamics and my idealistic theories to overcoming my inadequacies of. To cut the bullshit, yes: I am having problems. Problems of my own making, problems of my imagination, problems that I have resolved to make order of on my own taught as per a former-lover-fiasco I once witnessed.

Back to the theoretical bullshit.

Its time to play the game now.

Sat, 25 Apr 2009 06:55:42 GMT

Let's start on Sunday

I'm not masochistic, I'm just a martyr for myself.

lots of things

Fri, 17 Apr 2009 09:51:22 GMT

late night 360 sessions with the guys, standing up dorm-room parties, lunch with kenny, realistic plans for beating up people in idaho, a new fantastic house for the fall, jameson, keystone, lambic, wine, bass lines, beer pong, hitting on pizza girls, tax returns, and loving.

hurricanes and fires
they're polar opposites but
they make our hearts pound

death terrifies us
life is a daunting journey
learn to exist, friend

I didn't know the password to the network here

Thu, 26 Mar 2009 10:45:18 GMT

Thus, no internets. I was using the unstable, unsecured "linksys" network for a while, but after listening to Luke play WoW on the other side of the wall, I wondered how he could bother to play when Facebook takes 10 minutes to load.

So, I guess I'm here. It's kind of sad, really.

What the hell am I doing?

Mon, 23 Mar 2009 03:22:27 GMT

I don't know anymore. This is a major change in my life that I've catalyzed myself. And another first: I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. I'm scared shitless. I realize that a lot of people do this, but the novelty, while intriguing--as it always is--is also terrifying.

I hate to ask, but cross your fingers for me because right now, for reasons unknown, I feel like crying or throwing up.

Safe or Brave?

Mon, 23 Mar 2009 01:42:26 GMT

I choose brave. Goodbye Olympia.

Drinking

Sun, 22 Mar 2009 05:58:12 GMT

is so much better when you're legal.

well, no. i take that back. i think it's just that crazy bar atmosphere that adds to your inebriety.

drinking is actually so much better when you're playing rock band.

also: no, the people i'm drinking with aren't big douchebags, though they dress exactly how i used to describe them.

Dear Livejournal.

Fri, 20 Mar 2009 11:50:50 GMT

Under chemical influence, I embarrassed myself and my good friends over idiotic and naive concepts. In the end, I hate myself. If you don't hear from me, it's because I may or may not have offed myself. Just kidding.

Before anyone freaks out, yes, I think thoughts like these. But I never act on them (in ultimate irony). So don't worry.

Man, I thought I was grown up or something. I guess I'm not. fml.

Its been too long

Sat, 14 Mar 2009 22:53:07 GMT

Since I've hung with these two

I am going to miss this place.

Wed, 11 Mar 2009 04:42:18 GMT

Idiocy and all.

Watchmen Substitute

Fri, 06 Mar 2009 21:07:48 GMT

The Bear and the Pedophile were already passed out, red-faced on the couch and face-down on the floor. Fight Club was still blaring on the television; Bob had just been shot. I had a pepper jack quesadilla going in the microwave, another being masticated in my mouth. I quickly put on my coat and tucked in my under sweatshirt. It was cold as fuck. I toyed with the idea of another fag, but aside from the obvious complications, the thought of standing out there in the cold just to wait for milligrams of nicotine to hit your body seemed pretty retarded.

So I made off into the night down Madison towards Division. The street was well lit in a low orange hue that were not harsh on my eyes. I finished off the second quesadilla and wished that I had stolen Jared's Coke. I closed my eyes and walked on.

I opened them and leaped forward in time. The Evergreen Village apartments were in front of me so suddenly, I thought they were a gigantic fence. I hooked right, then left again on Conger, weaving on and off the sidewalk. So often that night, I thought of the satisfaction of tripping and breaking my nose.

On Cooper Point, I wandered clear onto the left side of the road. All this time, I thought my feet had a good grip on the straight line of the paint separating the shoulder from the bike lane. I tried to rest on a telephone pole, but I knew I was very tired by then, not just from that night, but from the days worth of whatever I was doing.

The rest of the trip was uneventful. I stumbled into my house, ate five Oreos and went to bed.

Seven

Wed, 04 Mar 2009 23:00:40 GMT

Seven deadly sins
1. Whiskey
2. Cheeseburgers
3. Cigarettes
4. Women
5. Gigantic external HDs
6. Existentialism
7. Truth

Seven holiest things

1. Literature
2. Bicycles
3. Cuban cigars
4. Sliced fruits
5. Music
6. Keys
7. Women

The Lacey Bus

Fri, 27 Feb 2009 21:36:25 GMT

Lispy-chin, No-Teeth Jack, Little Arms and Big Glasses, Stuck between Leather Jackets; Inane Conversations. Strollers, Slow Walkers, Inconsiderate Sitters. Obnoxious Phoners. The Mostly-Well-Dressed, all of them Crazy.

Thu, 26 Feb 2009 21:29:24 GMT

Last night's work. And sadly, that's only half of what we wrote.

Fri, 20 Feb 2009 13:56:21 GMT

The preferred sex(es)

Jesus Christ.

I went to practice today. We ended up re-recording another song. One song at a ti--

Oh would you look at that. Windows Messenger finally popped up... after all of five minutes. I'm never on messenger any more.

I'm scatter-writing. Or whatever you call it when you talk about whatever comes to your mind. Bullshitting. That's right. I'm bullshitting. I've been getting awfully good at that. A few times this past month I've felt pretty confident in my realm of knowledge, and then something will pop up like a Led Zeppelin song, a type of coffee roast, a line in a movie or a quote from a writer and I'll feel pretty stupid again.

Forget that. I really want to talk about what happened today, although with all the retarded bullshit buildup, it's doesn't quite have that epic ring to it.

Basically, I brought a fag-bag back to Gene's. It was a bag full of english muffins. Don't ask me how I got it, I just did. It wasn't my choice. It came in a rainbow colored basket/bag that was horribly weaved and even ripped in one corner. There was shredded paper in it. So we we decided to burn it.

Two Zippos later, we had a fire.

They pissed on it, I pissed on a monolith and we re-recorded the new song.

Now I'm going to be a dick and advertise the musical group I'm in.

myspace.com/belowthestreetsyouwalkon

We need all the attention we can get. Which is any. Critique would be good too. We're always looking for a way to be less crappy. So much for being the positive idealist. I'm starting to sound like them. God damn it. I'm always imitating others. I think it's 'cause I'm a clinger. Why? I don't know. I'm a dick. Or something.

Dick. Dick.

I need to go to sleep; I'm having cheeseburgers for breakfast.

Good news? Bad news?

Wed, 18 Feb 2009 19:06:21 GMT

So it seems to be finalized. My transfer to the UPS Seattle center was approved. I start the 23rd. The only problem is moving. I am going to pay rent for March... and not be there for most of the month. But that's fine. I'll have a place to live.

I borrowed Gene's skateboard again. At the downhill towards my house, I ate it. I did a quick tuck and roll and my bag ate it too-- oh shit, my camera!

Okay, well my bag broke my fall and nothing inside it was damaged. I only suffered a superficial scrape on my right palm (which is now really irksome) a few cuts on the same hand and same side knee. The skinless heel of my hand is really bothersome because it hurts more than it should and because the blood is not coagulating fast enough.

I renamed my musical project. I'm now part of the same collective/poor independent record label as the group I play bass in. It's fun. I will miss coming around after work.

Tue, 17 Feb 2009 19:03:09 GMT

If you ever go anywhere at night, there's a spot right off Sherman and 6th with a ledge looking out onto Capitol Lake. It's off-limits; a house used to be there or something. It may not be there for very long. If you miss Tumwater Hill's Overlook Park, this will certainly bring memories back.

I just wanted to tell

Sat, 14 Feb 2009 21:18:59 GMT

.the dozen people on my friendslist that I love you all.

Except Jeph Jacques, Kimya Dawson and Elyse Sewell because they're people I don't know at all.

one of these girls

Sat, 14 Feb 2009 07:29:07 GMT

...or two...

Will become a hero.

I like how I can stille cognizantly tag posts.

Beer Pong

Sat, 14 Feb 2009 07:24:34 GMT

heroes wre made ine hero at a tome.

Oh the girls.

oh no!

Sat, 14 Feb 2009 05:13:00 GMT

We lost aubri!

brenden

Fri, 13 Feb 2009 23:06:50 GMT

Is NOT being pimp.

Shalimar

Fri, 13 Feb 2009 22:42:01 GMT

indian cuisine.

Emily has never been here before.

she is no help in recommendations.