Deep Blue Blackness
Empty empty empty empty empty empty empty wrong. The whole of me is like there’s some massive big thing and I don’t know what the massive big thing is but it’s so big it’s pushed out everything including itself and I feel empty, but it pushed itself out and now I can’t know what it is.
Pop-ups, not the internet kind but the people kind, or the problem kind, I’m the lucky one millionth visitor to some wanker’s private emotional hell. If I answer some simple survey questions “should I break up with him/her” then they’ll send me a free iPod. NOT FUCKING LIKELY.
Bought some posters and a 120 watt amp the other day. MMM, yeah, that’s right, 120 watts. Fecking massively loudly awesome. Blasted my dog clear across the room; power chords, say hello. Fourplay do this classical violin cover of Reptilia by the way, it’s amazing, you have to all download it and then sorta dance-sing-along and appreciate the glory that is gritty NY rock become 19th century. I’m happy, I’m feeling glad, I’ve got sunshine, in a comment on my blog. Repressed irony urges.
I made a joke in Latin the other day. I felt so proud. No one cares. I’ve never understood why latin America is called that. I mean… that’s a whole shitty useless comedy who hasn’t heard that before line. It’s everywhere, pervading, crappy clichés nothing to say I hate it hate it empty empty jangle Jagged Johnny Jagger look at Keith he’s in hospital for an head injury… NOT AN O.D., A HEAD INJURY. I swear to god if he dies of natural or accidental causes, I will laugh myself stupid.
Johnny’s dead people, I don’t think you understand, Johnny’s dead. DEAD. That means now I don’t look like ANY O.C characters, and worse, that means there’ll be some crappy new plot, and the happiness is ruined, and the one character on that show I could actually relate to is a corpse which means I’m relating to a corpse, which is morbid, and now I feel dark, and I hate feeling dark, and now I hate the writers of that show for the crappy seth does dope plotline because it’s totally jumped the shark, in fact it did so when Jimmy Cooper left, I think that’s well clear, bring back Anna you lowly sons of bitches, why don’t you all die falkling off a cliff JOHNNY IS DEAD.
As Haruki Murakami would say, “Extremely, irrevocably dead.” I just finished a GREAT book. Onbe of those truly awesome reads. It didn’t change me like some books, not truly awesome like that, like Watchmen or East of Eden or Steppenwolf, but awesome like you know you just read a REALLY good writer, like Houellebecq, or Le Carre.
So the few who know what I’m talking about don’t give a shit, and those who do give a shit, have no fucking idea what the hell I’m saying.
David seems to be thinking about love, and its endurance capabilities… I’m really trying hard to engage with that, but failing miserably. Ok, there, I just did engage, see, I care. Oops, that must read fragmented. Mate, if you could e-mail me the MSN transcript I’ll post it up… or who cares. Love is nice. Let the readers do their thing. I won’t hoist my ideology rudely on to your carapaces.
I read Kafka’s Metamorphosis today… thought about am lot of things, none of which had really anything to do with the text. Like for instance Lepsie… and that afternoon in the library writing Metamorphosis Man issue one (and only, I think). I got so nostalgic. I wonder if or when I’ll run into the bastard again. I hope to L. Ron Hubbard that I see him again at all… :D Couldn’t resist. Everyone gets to touchy about the scientology thing. I love it. It’s like when I converted to Islam last year. I don’t get people. People don’t get me. We have an understanding. We sit and smile and walk in long arcs around each other. It’s not dislike, it’s general awkward avoidance, like just not putting in the effort would be so much easier.
I feel punch-drunk. No one ever responds to the issues I raise. They think I’m kidding. Or that I don’t care… or something. I’m not kidding at all. I said what about Breakfast at Tiffany’s, she said so I saw that film the other day and it’s really really good. I really did kinda like it, and I really felt a rapport with Cat. Of all the characters in that movie I relate to Cat the most, so I have to read the book now to see if it’s in there, and I can gain a deeper understanding of my fuck it all, there are bigger apples to bob for. I’ve done my associating, Cat it is, screw everything else. Decision made, next please, inbox wading.
I have an early lecture and a major assignment due tomorrow. I’m a bit worrie dbecuase I haven’t done a lot. I’ll do some now. I’ll talk to you all now. I want to get back into making speeches. I miss debating. I miss audiences. I need an audience. This blog is a piss poor excuse for a soap-box, let me out of the cage, I’ll have a salmon bagel, without the sour cream thanks.
I’ll have life, without the sour cream thanks. The lemon wedge is quite sour enough.
Bent: get.
Pop-ups, not the internet kind but the people kind, or the problem kind, I’m the lucky one millionth visitor to some wanker’s private emotional hell. If I answer some simple survey questions “should I break up with him/her” then they’ll send me a free iPod. NOT FUCKING LIKELY.
Bought some posters and a 120 watt amp the other day. MMM, yeah, that’s right, 120 watts. Fecking massively loudly awesome. Blasted my dog clear across the room; power chords, say hello. Fourplay do this classical violin cover of Reptilia by the way, it’s amazing, you have to all download it and then sorta dance-sing-along and appreciate the glory that is gritty NY rock become 19th century. I’m happy, I’m feeling glad, I’ve got sunshine, in a comment on my blog. Repressed irony urges.
I made a joke in Latin the other day. I felt so proud. No one cares. I’ve never understood why latin America is called that. I mean… that’s a whole shitty useless comedy who hasn’t heard that before line. It’s everywhere, pervading, crappy clichés nothing to say I hate it hate it empty empty jangle Jagged Johnny Jagger look at Keith he’s in hospital for an head injury… NOT AN O.D., A HEAD INJURY. I swear to god if he dies of natural or accidental causes, I will laugh myself stupid.
Johnny’s dead people, I don’t think you understand, Johnny’s dead. DEAD. That means now I don’t look like ANY O.C characters, and worse, that means there’ll be some crappy new plot, and the happiness is ruined, and the one character on that show I could actually relate to is a corpse which means I’m relating to a corpse, which is morbid, and now I feel dark, and I hate feeling dark, and now I hate the writers of that show for the crappy seth does dope plotline because it’s totally jumped the shark, in fact it did so when Jimmy Cooper left, I think that’s well clear, bring back Anna you lowly sons of bitches, why don’t you all die falkling off a cliff JOHNNY IS DEAD.
As Haruki Murakami would say, “Extremely, irrevocably dead.” I just finished a GREAT book. Onbe of those truly awesome reads. It didn’t change me like some books, not truly awesome like that, like Watchmen or East of Eden or Steppenwolf, but awesome like you know you just read a REALLY good writer, like Houellebecq, or Le Carre.
So the few who know what I’m talking about don’t give a shit, and those who do give a shit, have no fucking idea what the hell I’m saying.
David seems to be thinking about love, and its endurance capabilities… I’m really trying hard to engage with that, but failing miserably. Ok, there, I just did engage, see, I care. Oops, that must read fragmented. Mate, if you could e-mail me the MSN transcript I’ll post it up… or who cares. Love is nice. Let the readers do their thing. I won’t hoist my ideology rudely on to your carapaces.
I read Kafka’s Metamorphosis today… thought about am lot of things, none of which had really anything to do with the text. Like for instance Lepsie… and that afternoon in the library writing Metamorphosis Man issue one (and only, I think). I got so nostalgic. I wonder if or when I’ll run into the bastard again. I hope to L. Ron Hubbard that I see him again at all… :D Couldn’t resist. Everyone gets to touchy about the scientology thing. I love it. It’s like when I converted to Islam last year. I don’t get people. People don’t get me. We have an understanding. We sit and smile and walk in long arcs around each other. It’s not dislike, it’s general awkward avoidance, like just not putting in the effort would be so much easier.
I feel punch-drunk. No one ever responds to the issues I raise. They think I’m kidding. Or that I don’t care… or something. I’m not kidding at all. I said what about Breakfast at Tiffany’s, she said so I saw that film the other day and it’s really really good. I really did kinda like it, and I really felt a rapport with Cat. Of all the characters in that movie I relate to Cat the most, so I have to read the book now to see if it’s in there, and I can gain a deeper understanding of my fuck it all, there are bigger apples to bob for. I’ve done my associating, Cat it is, screw everything else. Decision made, next please, inbox wading.
I have an early lecture and a major assignment due tomorrow. I’m a bit worrie dbecuase I haven’t done a lot. I’ll do some now. I’ll talk to you all now. I want to get back into making speeches. I miss debating. I miss audiences. I need an audience. This blog is a piss poor excuse for a soap-box, let me out of the cage, I’ll have a salmon bagel, without the sour cream thanks.
I’ll have life, without the sour cream thanks. The lemon wedge is quite sour enough.
Bent: get.
posted by Cal Samson at 9:43 PM
5 Comments:
lol..that first paragraphs funny.."i dunno wat my big thing is etc.." ..yeh as u no every1s screwed up my mind with this stuff
I aGREE totally with the "i need an audience" thing. I make the most of it when i adjudicate, sadly. A rapt audience - holy rareties it's true! but they don't care they want VICTORY. so i talk for as long as possible about as little as possible.
Hubbard is a literary genius of deviant type I think.
Twice I had to check back to what I was going to comment about. Mad cow. Denny Crane.
But it's a true thing isn't it, how we arc around each other. it's a way of exploring where one ends and others begin i think. i mean, some people just take up so much 'space' - i mean that figuratively - there are people who, when you are around, you feel like they are exalting into nothingness around you. it can be quite impressive and at the same time suppressive. i think i take your words somewhere they didn't originally go... but thats how i see it, this general awkward avoidance is because we don't know how far we can go before we hit the other person. am i making sense? no. a public fool of myself? yes. well, anyhow. i think its because making that effort can often end badly, shonkily, badly, badly. and because we are just moving celestials with orbiting auras that we hide within.
lalalalalaaarge words.
m'off now. to... not watch the oc.
nice blog.
No no no, that's exactly it. Some people command space and time, and some don't.
The OC sucks now that Johnny's dead. :(
I have no one with whom to share my unrequited love depth-plumbing.
I really liked tonights self-referencing with the deathcab for cutie on the Valley line. Maybe it was worth watching just for that. Then again... that's like saying e=mc^2 is kinda worth looking at because of how interesting the aesthetic balance of the parallel lines in the equals sign is. Did I just equate the general theory of energy to a deathcab reference on a teen soap?
Dear god it must be late at night in the shitty city.
I'm such a retarded emaciated cat living on the streets of a town built for the demented. I just commented on my own post with the information contained in that post.
I can't even remember when and who I've bitched about the Johnny thing to.
retarded emaciated cats are actually quite cute and cool. and they have that disabled charm that makes you go, "aww i just gotta have me one o' them."
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