Saturday, April 10, 2004

"It looks ugly as a mule's ass" - Neil

"If I drink now, I'll throw up in the morning" - Me

I'm very drunk, and very stoned and admitting my lack of basketball skill. We've discovered that , I forgot what we discovered. I just talked of ball hockey with David.
That sounded almost biblical. I heard on the news today that ...neil just said "Sing us a song or be cool"

The front of my head is burning, and I'm bathed in some spectacular screen light. I bit my lip today while I was chewing gum, a very attractive girl gave me a look and I lost my rythem. Then I found out that, yet again, my fly was very much down. A mouth full of blood and the sudden flood of explanation for some dirty looks. "I love you Chris" - Neil

Wild West Virgina, the home of the Naive
them rollin' hills

Neil is singing "We gotta keep em' seperated".

David and I are talking about a bird. I can't wait to see some crazy birds in Borneo.

I'm feeling lonely and self-centered.

"Ahhh....the ways of love"

Today was glorious. They've surrounded me. RUN!

Thursday, April 08, 2004

A gift to the ages. I'll save this for the sages, who make tiny slave wages, and whose thoughts are in cages

I've convinced myself that I shouldn't write today so I'll try and keep it to a minimum.

I woke up today to the most incessant hammering. I swear, this guy must have some gigantic arms because he didn't stop once for THREE hours. Anyway, after screaming obscenities at him and his loved ones from under my oh-so-thin-pillow for a few hours, to no avail, I decided I may as well get up. But as soon as I set foot on the floor came a knock at my door.

Stealth used to be my thing. I love the feeling of moving silently, and this was my moment, my time to shine. I leapt across the room like a cat, a big ugly silent-ass cat. Like a ninja in his boxers I slowly raised my head to look out the peep-hole when I heard someone exhale. Not like someone in love, but in a "Ima kill you boy!" kinda way. I shuddered, but knowing that he didn't know I was there I took a look through the hole.

Have you ever seen Alfredson from the Ottawa Senators? Well, apparently he lives in my building, hates loud banging noises, and thinks that I'm responsible. Anyway, I look through the hole, thinking he had no idea I was there but of course the light from my window was blocked with my head, and he most definitely saw that. He sighed another "You open this door and let me hit you in the eye" kinda sigh. Now, I for one, rather enjoy having the gift of sight and didn't really feel like letting this angry man gouge my eyes out. So I stayed silent. Eventually he left and I let out a "Ah, I love my eyes, thank god I still have em'" kinda sigh. But In mid-exhale I realized something.

The banging had stopped.

So this means two things. One, if the banging starts again tomorrow morning, I'll be blind and most definitely eye-less by noon, and two, relentless-hammer-man has something against me and my precious eyes. He's toying with me. Somewhere above my bedroom he's laughing his ass off. "HaHa Soon the idiotic Alfredsoon will have blinded the WHOLE WORLD! BA HAHAHA!"

Well, that's it, I won't take this any longer. I'm taking a stand...

On second thought, I'm going to go buy me some goggles.

Wednesday, April 07, 2004


I can't help but laugh when I look around and notice that even the nerds in this place (God bless their greasy little hearts) have girlfriends and yet I sit here on a chair way too short for me reaching up to the keep board typing "What's wrong with me?". Yes, the list of things wrong with me is longer than Pi but there are still days (in fact, every single day) that I feel like the world has absolutely no order in one capacity and way too much order in another. I guess what I mean is love, or at least the idea of love sometimes seems so flowing and random, albeit once you've found it you can then see how you got there. Whereas on another level, I guess a logical one, love is made up of hormones and genetics, which in my mind is like finding out Santa isn't real.

I know I'm not the only one confused by this but I seem to be totally immune to the chemical urges that seem like they should take control when the right time comes around. Instead, they show up when its absolutely impossible for me to do anything. Don't get me wrong. A hot woman is a hot woman to me (Unless she's a guy in drag, OI! You won't see me in that bar again!) and theres no hiding the fact that inside I'm as horny as a jackrabbit (I hear they're very horny...At least that's what Neil told me...He seems well informed) but if a beautiful woman walked up to me and told me that she wanted to sleep with me...Ok...That's a bad example...But my point is that I can't take advantage of a situation for the sole purpose of sex and that tears me apart. I wish I could just forget the little bit of morality and the sliver of dignity I have left and just go with it but I don't think I'd be Max if I did. Ah, the whiney thoughts of a lonely male who wishes he could "settle for any phony in a ponytail".

Tuesday, April 06, 2004

Intensity in Ten Cities

So it looks like it might be South-Eastern Asia. We're talkin' Cambodia, Vietnam, Thailand, Borneo and the rest of them crazy islands chalk full of bugs bigger than my cat. What this means however, is that I'll have to somehow conserve my funds for the next month or so. Which would be fine, if of course I wasn't already being conservative (Paper Towel = Toilet Paper, Tootpaste = Breakfast). I've no doubt I can pull it off, but the Sultan of Slouch (I just made that up...Can you tell?) might have to get off his ass for a few minutes a day and earn his keep in some form or another.

I was thinkin' I could sell my body on the streets, but then I realized...Sleeping with men ain't really my thing and I decided I'd try something else first.

Man, my mind just isn't in it this week. The writing, not the sleeping with men. My mind is rarely in that. I guess this is part of the reason I stopped before.

I feel like complaining. About sports, my life, and the state of music today. I might even go so far as to complain with all my heart about snooty, snotty, snobby pompous music "critics" like myself. Pink Floyd was never what they've been held as and I'm getting a little sick of their godliness.

"A crappy guitar player can still make beautiful music"
- A former friend of Kurt Cobain

Well, maybe some other time. Today isn't my day.

I never do this, but listen to Daniel Johnston.

Sunday, April 04, 2004

I just looke daround myself.

I'm surrounded by computers. Humming and buzzing, I feel like I'm in a hive. Except a hive full of a robo-bees which instead of producing delicious honey, produce grease (which I guess somebody probably finds delicious). On their faces, their hair, and their oddly shaped bodies. Everyone here is either frail and small, or frail and unbelievably overweight. Next to me there is a computer and its playing the most insipid drum n' bass I have ever tapped my foot to. Apparently there is no way to turn it off but I think its keeping them alive anyway.

Went home yesterday and immediately remembered why I moved out. I've never thought of myself as a typical child but I really do find my parents hard to deal with.

My mind is racing but I can't seem to get any cohesive thoughts together. Everything is choppy, and I think its the music.

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