its over!

fuck yeah! im still out of breath!

dude i totally just outran the cops on my bike. that was awesome. some kid on a bike got pulled over and i was listenin to some purple ribbon all stars on my speaker phone and i could have just avoided it... but after reunion with megan patterson, dancefest at ny deli where i got sandwiched by two huge black ladies (well curved?), a hot tub party featuring rampant nakedness, and a crustpunk party where i just didnt give a fuck and talked to everyone and got kissed by some guy (who demanded 5 bucks afterwards), i decided i just hadnt had enough for one night so i made a conscious descision to ride by the cops even if it was a little outta my way.

so i rode by and the cop yells out "yo!" (weird, right?) and so i yell back "heeeaaaayyyyy!" (all sultry like) and he goes "come here!" and i go "why?!"... he didnt answer so i said "fuck you." (dismissively) he goes "what?!" so i yell "fuck you!" and speed off.

blam! im ridin the wrong way down a one way street and a cop car is speeding behind me, sirens and megaphone ablazin. so i decide to do some maneuverin and tear down an alley amd get to a T where the obvious choice is right, where the alley goes back into the street. instead, i turn left into a dead end and get the fuck behind a fucking parked boat. i turn off my purple ribbon all stars and keep quiet. the cop pulls in, pauses for about 15 seconds, and tears down the obvious direction. i wait until i cant hear the sirens and i bike (fast) the few more blocks home.

needless to say, the cop obviously ditched the the kid he already had pulled over to chase me. and he lost me. on a bike. to a boat.

fuck yeah.

its nights like these that make me feel alive.

speaking of feeling alive, i definetly watched the coolest documentary ever on potential for immortality... mostly focused on mitachondrial replacement and manipulating nematode genes. i recorded it, so its at my place if you wanna watch. there was also some stuff about the psychology of aging and how as you get older, you begin to filter the "nonprocreative" (not a real word) things in life. they did a test where they showed old people and young people the same series of images, and the older people remembered images like "woman with baby" and "mushroom growing out of log" whereas young people remembered random other stuff like... ummm... stuff i dont remember.

anyway. this night reminded me of... ummm... life. the same way you do!

goodnight!

normally i would give you a song or two... but tonight im feeling saucy, underappreciated, and drained from dancing and high speed chases where the odds are stacked against me.

so go get it yourself.

the klaxons - its not over yet

cansei de ser sexy - superafim

cassius - toop toop

cassius - rock number one

random side note... ive decided i definetly need to just be alone for awhile so im locking myself in my room and getting food slid under the door. its a win win... entertaining for you, growth through painful asceticism for me. (if thats even possible, which i guess well find out.)

its entertainment at my expense, which is actually nothing all that unusual now that i think about it. anyway, wish me luck. and expect me to find my adrenaline in weird places for a little while to come. hopefully i dont hurt myself.

16 Comments

dilirium trigger.

im on vacation.

4 Comments

punctuation.

hears were that rain ride ends

2 Comments

asceticism.

as·cet·ic [uh-set-ik]
–noun
1. a person who dedicates his or her life to a pursuit of contemplative ideals and practices extreme self-denial or self-mortification for religious reasons.
2. a person who leads an austerely simple life, esp. one who abstains from the normal pleasures of life or denies himself or herself material satisfaction.
3. (in the early christian church) a monk; hermit.

also, as·cet·i·cal. [uh-set-ik-uhl]
–adjective
1. pertaining to asceticism.
2. rigorously abstinent; austere: an ascetic existence.
3. exceedingly strict or severe in religious exercises or self-mortification.

also, as·cet·i·cism [uh-set-uh-siz-uhm]
–noun
1. the manner of life, practices, or principles of an ascetic.
2. the doctrine that a person can attain a high spiritual and moral state by practicing self-denial, self-mortification, and the like.
3. rigorous self-denial; extreme abstinence; austerity.

...

here they teach that much of existence amounts only to misery. that misery is caused by desire, therefore, if desire is eliminated, then misery will be eliminated. now, that is true enough, as far as it goes. there is plenty of misery in the world, all right, but there is ample pleasure as well. if a person forswears pleasure in order to avoid misery, what has he gained? a life with neither misery nor pleasure is an empty, neutral existence, and, indeed, it is the nothingness of the void that is the ascetics final objective. to actively seek nothingness is worse than defeat. it is only surrender... craven, chickenhearted, dishonorable surrender. poor little babies are so afraid of pain that they spurn myriad sweet wonders of life so that they might protects themselves from hurt. how can you respect that sort of weakness... how can you admire a human who consciously embraces the bland, the mediocre, and the safe rather than risk the suffering that disappointments can bring?

if desire causes suffering, it may be because we do not desire wisely, or that we are inexpert at obtaining what we desire. instead of hiding our heads in a prayer cloth and building walls against temptation, why not get better at fulfilling desire? salvation is for the feeble. i dont want salvation, i want life, all of life, the miserable as well as the superb. if the gods would tax ecstacy, then i shall pay; however i shall protest their taxes at each opportunity, and if woden or shiva or buddha or that christian fellow cannot respect that, then ill accept their wrath. (though i shall do so with barrel and blade drawn and ready.) at least i will have tasted the baquet that they have spread before me on this rich round planet, rather than recoiling from it like a toothless bunny. i cannot believe that the most delicious things were placed here merely to test us, to tempt us, to make it the more diificult for us to capture the grand prize... the safety of the void. to fashion life such a petty game is unworthy of both men and gods.

...

(i always thought that cavalcade meant a funeral procession... its not a funeral procession at all! its just a procession, like any other procession. and definitionally so, at that.)

...

"please hold on, please hold on, please hold on."

the path was descending again, but if his calculations were correct, they were two days from the foothills. three days if the weather didnt break. an eternity, if she couldnt get back on her feet.

"please... it wont be long." he bit his blue lip against the falsehood. "it wont be long until we reach the caves."

she wailed. the cry was so similar to the wails of the widow on the cremation fire that a huge horror seized him, a horror shot through with adrenaline, and he picked her up in his arms and began to run with her.

the horror changed into a kind of giddiness. this must look ridiculous, he thought. though to whom it looked ridiculous he failed to name. he must have meant death, for in a minute he conceded, "death has trapped us, thats for sure. but he shall not take us sitting still!" and as the pageant of his life, no less ridiculous than this mad dash in the snow, flashed before him, he laughed and laughed and laughed.

almost immediately the wind fell quiet, like a drunk who has passed out in the middle of a rage. the sun burned through and set about boiling clouds into dumplings, then into gravy.

it was practically on their hands and knees that they covered the final mile, but no one greeted them there. the caves were empty and bare.

...

concluding his account of how he had swept her up and run with her, he ventured the opinion that they had survived because he reached a point where he did not take his desire to live seriously.

my desire was no less than before, you understand, but i no longer identified with the desire. perhaps that is why desire causes men calamity... by identifying with our desires and taking them too seriously, we not only increase our susceptibility to disappointment, we actually create disappointment. (a climate inhospitable to the free and easy to the fulfillment of those desires.)

...

with a puppet masters control over the dialectic, we actually create disappointment! see... the burden of magnanimity. (and its the same archetype every time! but so what if i am shelling my efforts out into a bottomless pit? i know better what will create the highest value, and i am just. and so i will forever be valiantly emptying my innards. see... the just mans dilemma.)

...

he is a glorious man, she thought, but this constant prattle about the meaning of life can make a person tired.

...

close your right eye. with your left eye, look at the +. slowly move your head closer to the image. the space in the middle of the vertical lines will disappear and you will fill in what you cant see with what you expect to be there. (or maybe what you want to be there.)

though i am more concerned with how i view others, i shudder to think of the consequences for the mirror. (i like that someone got so flustered and defensive that they added invalid where it doesnt necessarily belong. in bold.)

...

so we fill in the blanks with what we want. im no better than the next in this regard... but you gave me no illusions, only war. glorious, humorous, glorious war eternal.

and so with the violence of a sudden infant death, all at once the empire was forgotten. the capital lay in ruin, and its satellites, once benevolently governed and now maliciously neglected, simply sailed away with the tradewinds at their backs. those who stumbled upon the cities found roads no longer traveled, and temples devoid of worshipers.

...

bop bop bop bop bop!

9 Comments

my whole life is a lie!

woops. sorry that title was a typo... although it is nice to get attention now and then.

i mean...

um...

...

i meant to type "my whole life is a life!" but i got fucked cuz i missed the f. get it? me neither.

well now i might as well write something mildly interesting. beauty is fucking weird, but if an asteroid hit me tomorrow, and only me, i think id still be happy i lived.

i mean... maybe the humor of being struck by a tiny bullet sized asteroid would actually make up for all the years id lost.

today, i honestly played starcraft from 2 until 8, and heres the thing... i wasnt even playing the game. i was making a level in the level editor. i think its actually pretty good. here it is in case you want to play... its got a cool little storyline and everything.

speaking of weird shit... here are some games i programmed in basic in like... 7th grade. cooldood, walker, gorillax, earth raid. (these are all .exe files... scary, i know. also theyre in chronological order so you can see how i got better over time... ... ...at programming... ... ...god im lonely.)

but thats not my point. my point is that im honestly worried that im this guy...

("real cutters dont cut themselves.")

i mean i probably not but... yeh... its possible. you know what else is possible?

http://www.google.com/search?source=ig&hl=en&rlz=&q=i+like+to+rub+my+own+head

oh and one more thing...

->toronto!

ok one morrre thing... remember that time i said "well now i might as well write something mildly interesting"?

sigh...

4 Comments