barf

Not quite sure when this negativity corner is going to turn. The secret before in people's failure in communicating with me? Communicating with me.

Howabout a Grant Jackson boycott until I get some therapy?

Get this over with

Last night wasn't that bad. Not as bad as that post previous makes it sound. Honestly, I don't even remember typing it. So it was kind of fun going back and reading it. I really like its title.

Umm, so let's see........ Friday night. Not much going on. Just finished watching the Celtics limp past the Wolves by a point. That was a waste of time. Earlier my mom told me about a guy I know, his brother lost his wife and unborn child in a car accident they were in, he himself, the guy I know - his brother - is in a coma and they're contemplating pulling the plug. There's a child too, a born one, who suffered a broken wrist and a damaged spleen but she'll be o.k. I can't and probably won't imagine. It all sounds just awful and if I had an contact or connection with these people I probably would be devastated. As is it's just depressing. I hope the best for them. God knows they have experienced a taste of the worst.

Have been going over a book of Cahak's poetry. Critiquing it. Something he requested I do maybe four months ago? Who knows if my suggestions will be heeded. Or if they even should be. I haven't written or read a page of poetry in probably four months as well. I'm sure that has something to do with my delay in perusing his. I'm sure my suggestions are not the suggestions he will agree with. I could be wrong.

Earlier I said I would talk about you alls inability to communicate with me properly. Ironically, I'm not quite sure what to say about that anymore.

I put out a few tasteless personal ads on craigslist and deleted my myspace. I've never been more unsure about what I'm trying to accomplish. I got a lot of responses from the craigslist ads and have begun correspondence with a few females and have had one offer for a date this weekend. I won't go.

I found $100 at a pizza joint the other day.

I won a $50 gift certificate for Ticketmaster at work.

I'm nearly 30 years old.

These are the awful

I really didn't leave my desk all night. I drank a six pack of Mickey's. I have a bottle of Seagrams to get me through the weekend. See ya.

SARABANDE and BOURREE (from Suite No. 1 for the lute in E minor) - transcribed by Andres Segovia for classical guitar

Cahak is already giving me shit for not blogging enough in 2008. That's a good roommate right there.

Oh my, there are so many things to tell you all about. So many things to just opine on I wouldn't know where to start.

So this post is like a place holder for espousals to come. Grand thinkings on how we as a species fail so dramatically at communicating with me. I don't know how you folks do it with others. I'm guessing you do it well. They all seem so happy and charmed.

I barely accomplished anything I wanted to get done today. Tomorrow after I:

1. makes tapes
2. write music
3. read books
4. finish doing the dishes

I will get to the dark heart of all your failures. Be ready.

good times

I probably spent at least 15 hours in my car yesterday. Most of that time was spent driving to and from helping a friend. I don't know if I actually accomplished what I set out to achieve. It's difficult to help others when you barely have a grasp on reality yourself. But it's the thought that counts, right? I just hope people know I have good intentions when it comes to friends. You would think that would be a thing that would not have to be said. Because, I mean, what's the point of being friends if there's not good intentions? Sometimes there's extenuating circumstances, history, the past, if you will, that might muddy up that aphorism of intent in friendships.

I'm feeling the full weight of my actions everyday. I always have been, I think I just decided to acknowledge it. Maybe being this far from how it used to be has given me the perspective necessary to realize what life was like before I decided to fuck up.

Whatever has happened in the last 24 hours I'm safe for now from my friends and what they know about me. Tucked safely away in a frigid Minneapolis with my utterly devoted and randomly violent cat, burning dragon's blood, drinking grape soda, and listening some helpful music.

And about that cat. So dependent on me. Refuses to receive attention and affection from almost everyone else. I guess what I've always been looking for in a girl. She greets me at the door everyday and immediately wishes to play. She wakes me up in the morning purring and standing on my head. She sits on my desk and naps as I type. She always wants to be near me. And occasionally if I'm paying too much, not enough, or the wrong kind (?) of attention to her she lashes out with a hiss and a swipe. She also plays too rough and I've got the scars to prove it. I need to re-read Solaris.

I might actually get specific later.