May 23rd, 2003


(no subject)

the archeologist in me keeps driving me to exploring exhaution's dank tomb. so forget sleeping. after i eat chipotle (this has been a paid endorsement) & start referring to it in a racially insensitive tone discussing lettuce fields or ranai's cozy orange tree copses, nineof26 & i trundle onward; curse of the mummy or no curse, there is doing that needs doing. around twelve thirty (12:30) our technical specs require a rendezvous with quietlyecstatic so that the three of us can see that parlor room moving picture, the matrix. i have to say, despite anyone else's opinion, i not only like it a whole lot more than okay, but prefer it to the first one. though it is very fucking strange when carrie anne moss sometimes has the same face as my exgirlfriend.

for a while after that, antonio & roxanne came over to play video games; after we dropped them off & roxanne took nine back to akron, alice & i hung around drinking cheap vodka & playing video games. & let me tell you, i'm feeling the illscientist here. i don't really like beer all the much when it comes down to red wire, green wire. since i have no class i choose cheap grocery vodka over scotch. i talked to pravda while playing tetris, & discovered how rabbit's foot she can be. adding that to the list of her charms tops her out over mrs. butterworth & aunt jemimah on the randywithe sucrose scale. i wish she would've called me back at some point during the night but alas it was not to be. it was fun reuniting team malice though; eventually alice just ended up playing metal gear solid two (2) while i gave her pointers.

notscotmiller was talking about the unmanned predator spyplane mounting hellfire missiles, & i was thinking about how brian d. & i reacted to that revelation during the afganastan conflict. he & i talked about how the predator is popcorn from a budget perspective, but mostly i was like "wtf hook the fucking thing into skynet allfuckingready why don't you? rise of the fucking machines!" i also mentioned brian to ranai as someone creepy we'd get to hang out if jenny & i ever visited her in orlando. so i suppose that means i miss brian, & its true that i do.
  • Current Music
    crown me king covering nirvana- "scoff (scofflaw dub)"
m-ouse ears.

(no subject)

taking a class about the principals of thinking & about the history of civilization to fufil liberal education requirements. it seems pretty backwords that those are entry level courses; maybe the very foundations of cognition & the sum total history of all mankind shouldn't be freshmen level. i'm also taking a prufer course though to make up for it. academic bullshit is balanced out by having an ex-nazi rant & rave for two hours (2:00) four out of seven (4/7) days a week. thing is, i've still got that niggling little language requirement. bad news is, kent won't offer the class i need (japanese intermediate 2) until next spring. good news is, next spring hunter college in new york offers it, & it looks like there will be no problem becoming a transient student & taking it there. & while i am talking about the question of moving to new york at the end of this summer, miss astrad & i have been flirting not just with each other but also with the idea of becoming roomates.

internet roleplaying archives from highschool = most embarassing google footprint ever.
  • Current Mood
    pasted up pugilist.

a toast to dick van dyke, saint of stumbling & pratfalls.

it balances out if after i make my girlfriend cry alot i maker laugh alot, right? all it takes is a bad interpretation of bill cosby, or a robot, or an alien who is high on lsd. earlier today she said our realtionship is predicated on her fear of me: thats awfully sexy, right? or maybe i am a little charlie manson tonight. i like to call him charlie, not charles. like the way that crazy motor cycle scene in flowers for algernon includes the infamous "charlie baby" leather jacket. in the movie i imagine, hulk hogan plays charlie. he cries when the rat dies. he cries so god-damn hard. terry "hulk" hogan can handle this role like no other. fuck that; i can be snide all i want, say whatever i want, but i still insist that arnold has what it takes to be in t3. i'm a scythe through ohio, is what i mean to say. come sunday, i'll have to catch you later; i'm tranfering to a completely diffrent dimestore. one with better prizes in the claw, catch, & grab machine. twenty five cents (.25) used to go much further sixty five million (65,000,000) years ago.

for the purposes of a completely fucking crazy non sequitor, i'll talk about something that occured to me. maybe cortney was a better manifestation of whatever pam was trying to be? no, i mean, like, forget pam; she failed every test set before her. if she was playing chess there would be no king's pawn. i don't have a point but sometimes i think about how they may have been alike. mostly i think about how that is the idea of a dumb ass with no factual evidence. i rarely think about pam, but i do think about cortney. there is no cute summation to be made of that other than to think about how both left. which is flawed in premise. pam walked out a screen door in winter. who the fuck cares, the cold was getting in anyhow. cortney was a bit more of an event. which i guess is the angst of the whole thing. events have begining but more importantly they have endings. sure i know there wasn't much salvage there for claiming, but you know good old me.
  • Current Music
    modest mouse- "ohio"