Sunday, July 25, 2004
(AUGUST 15, 2005// Supposedly I am getting a lot of traffic looking for the Secret Machines mp3. It's not here. It's been deleted. !!)
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A week that took a turn for the worst, but by the end of it all, jokes were being thrown about and laughter was to be heard. Though not too much laughter on account of someone's broken ribs. So like most things in life, this weeks accident with a friend is slowly falling back into place, and things are relatively normal. There is lots of mending (physically) to be had, though by being blindly optimistic things will eventually pull through.
I've been wanting to write, needing to write, but it's just not happening. Of course it cannot be forced. It is something that must be sparked, and also willing to keep burning. It's because of those certain annoyances that have ways of cutting off the blood flow to your arms, which prevents you from picking up that pen and flipping to a fresh, lined page. Annoyances such as the giggly girlfriend out in the hallway, or the brother who plays his music too loud for any thought circulation to take place. The cat who decides that your stomach is more comfortable to sleep on than the pillow next to you. Or the fact that you cannot find a comfortable pen to place in your right hand, and so the idea about the spot of sunlight on your wall that may be a possible portal to a whole new world and existence escapes from your mind. Who wants to read about that anyhow. Perhaps it's the music that you have just put on, which decides to not flow nicely with the gliding of your pen, but if you get up to turn it off and then search through a collection of cds, all will be lost. Never lift the pen from the page while writing, that's the worst thing you could possibly do. Even if in the end, the sentence or even paragraph you have just written becomes disfigured and illegible from the ink scratches you have just made --- do not take the pen off the page. Eventually something profound will surface on the page, and make everyone go "Aahhh", while scratching their chin as if they know what's in front of them. Oh, and never stop half way to read what you have just written, because then you lose all train of thought.
damn.
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A week that took a turn for the worst, but by the end of it all, jokes were being thrown about and laughter was to be heard. Though not too much laughter on account of someone's broken ribs. So like most things in life, this weeks accident with a friend is slowly falling back into place, and things are relatively normal. There is lots of mending (physically) to be had, though by being blindly optimistic things will eventually pull through.
I've been wanting to write, needing to write, but it's just not happening. Of course it cannot be forced. It is something that must be sparked, and also willing to keep burning. It's because of those certain annoyances that have ways of cutting off the blood flow to your arms, which prevents you from picking up that pen and flipping to a fresh, lined page. Annoyances such as the giggly girlfriend out in the hallway, or the brother who plays his music too loud for any thought circulation to take place. The cat who decides that your stomach is more comfortable to sleep on than the pillow next to you. Or the fact that you cannot find a comfortable pen to place in your right hand, and so the idea about the spot of sunlight on your wall that may be a possible portal to a whole new world and existence escapes from your mind. Who wants to read about that anyhow. Perhaps it's the music that you have just put on, which decides to not flow nicely with the gliding of your pen, but if you get up to turn it off and then search through a collection of cds, all will be lost. Never lift the pen from the page while writing, that's the worst thing you could possibly do. Even if in the end, the sentence or even paragraph you have just written becomes disfigured and illegible from the ink scratches you have just made --- do not take the pen off the page. Eventually something profound will surface on the page, and make everyone go "Aahhh", while scratching their chin as if they know what's in front of them. Oh, and never stop half way to read what you have just written, because then you lose all train of thought.
damn.
Tuesday, July 20, 2004
A surge of energy. Yes, I of all people have just experienced this amazing surge of energy through my entire right arm. Perhaps it's the AM talking, but I'm just in this amazing mood. Which is a far cry from what I have been feeling for the past year. I need to write, which is what I'm doing right at the moment, but I mean actually write. Something. A short story. A sentence or two. But I'm far too out of it to actually write. Tomorrow morning is when it will begin. Oh the glory. Oh the fucking glory. Yes, a curse word is a definite must have in my vocabulary in the AM. I feel like writing a song about the AM. Oh, this surge is too much for me. I will definitely regret writing this tomorrow morning, and probably smack myself in the forehead. And yet, I am willing to take that risk. All this happy "go-getter" bullshit attitude is making me nauseous. But I enjoy the morning vomit.
Thursday, July 15, 2004
It is a shame when you go to open up the DVD case for the movie American Splendor, and find the movie S.W.A.T sitting in its place. If only you opened up that movie first, you could have easily went back to Jolleys to replace it. If only. I hate if onlys. So my night has been cut short, and now I sit here. The End.
Wednesday, July 14, 2004
"Because it's only intangible ideas, concepts, beliefs, fantasies that last. Stone crumbles. Wood rots. People, well, they die. But things as fragile as a thought, a dream, a legend, they can go on and on." - Chuck Palahniuk 'Choke'
I thought I had something to write. Of course there is not much to write when all you do is work and sleep. I am not complaining of course. It is only summer after all, and what else is there really to do? Especially when the weather is grey and rainy. Two more sleeps, and then there is shut down for two weeks. After this job I may even be lucky enough to work at another factory. I'm sure a lot of folks would refer to it as hell, but of course I haven't had the chance yet to experience the wrath of Ice River Springs. Interview. Monday. 9:30 am sharp. Who-ha!
Here's not hoping.
Well, this is a sad and uninteresting entry.
Oh, and only blues music can keep a mental breakdown from further worsening. At least for the next nine hours, until you are faced with the monotonous tune of your reality.
I thought I had something to write. Of course there is not much to write when all you do is work and sleep. I am not complaining of course. It is only summer after all, and what else is there really to do? Especially when the weather is grey and rainy. Two more sleeps, and then there is shut down for two weeks. After this job I may even be lucky enough to work at another factory. I'm sure a lot of folks would refer to it as hell, but of course I haven't had the chance yet to experience the wrath of Ice River Springs. Interview. Monday. 9:30 am sharp. Who-ha!
Here's not hoping.
Well, this is a sad and uninteresting entry.
Oh, and only blues music can keep a mental breakdown from further worsening. At least for the next nine hours, until you are faced with the monotonous tune of your reality.
Thursday, July 08, 2004
The turkeys revenge.
Huzzah for bruises!
I really don't have much to say, except I'm achey and I get to go to the blues festival on the weekend.
These last two entries have been very pointless.
The End.
Huzzah for bruises!
I really don't have much to say, except I'm achey and I get to go to the blues festival on the weekend.
These last two entries have been very pointless.
The End.
Wednesday, July 07, 2004
I work in a place where turkeys come to die.
Thank the gods it is only for another week (I hope).
Thank the gods it is only for another week (I hope).
