Techno Robot Pudding

my ass is still sticking to the wooden chair. actually, it used to be a bar chair. and a wonderful one that that. salut!

yes. i’ve had a bit much of the beer. but i’m also (somewhat) coherent. for the parts that i am not, there is spell check. for the parts spell check cannot solve, there is…. nothing really.

it has once again been a while since i hath posted an entry on here, and i am debating whether to jump to another site and change formats. it would kill the longevity of my pointless bitching that nobody really reads, but it might inspire a leap in readership. still inconclusive.

i find it funny how i can type with such agility while i am intoxicated. this is fucking diesel. then again, i have always been quite nimble under the influence. just not the right kind of nimble, ya know? *wink wink* [depressing]

i went back and read the same old notes again. and it’s kind of funny. the prose and the timing. the diction and the phrasing. so similar. but i suppose it’s not to be. unfortunate, but whatcha gonna do? i’m not one of those guys. and i never will be. i thought for some reason there’d be this amazing connection. and maybe there could be. but you gotta do what you gotta do. despite my intuition otherwise, i have to let her do her thing. i’m not a clingy person, i don’t ride people for shit, and i’m not paranoid as to what they’re doing. it bugs me, but i realize people need space. i do too. so i’m going to sit back. i guess any initiative from now on is not in my court. i suppose more proactive people would disagree, but that’s not me. you’re free to do what you want. there’s my libertarian side again.

and some people might bug me for dwelling on it. maybe i do. it just bugs me because i thought it was perfect. for once. oh well.

the counting crows hit from the 90s “long december” is on my 90s shuffle mix now. it brings me back to a time where i didn’t know where i was going. come to think of it, it’s not so unfamiliar. good song nonetheless. “it’s been so long since i’ve seen the ocean. guess i should.” yup.

you have no idea where i’m going with this. and that’s fine. this is the longest entry i’ve posted in a while, and it’s fueled by something else. i may regret this later, but i really don’t give a fuck at the time. that’s how it is. beer is delicious in mass amounts when you don’t have to drive. i’m glad i became a beer fan. so many types, so many flavors, it’s all a lot of fun. i’ve debated starting a beer blog. but i’m lazy and have creative spurts at inopportune moments. so i guess not, eh?

i just reread the majority of this post, and for some reason i find it funny. (fuck capitalization, as always.) i’d catalog everything in my head right now- i’m tempted to- but it would be too much. still kinda funny how things can be so clear when your head is not so much….

oh, since i’m saying whatever i want, go to puzzigma. it will succeed this time. i promise not to comment unless it’s awesome. that much talent, it needn’t go to waste. i laughed my balls off when reading it. and i was sober too. i don’t laugh much anymore for some reason, but this got me going.

in a weeks time i will be somewhere else. and i look forward to that. it’s something i’ve needed for a long time. i haven’t gone out into the wild for over a year. it’s been that long, since i work like a bitch. i need to talk to some people about this weekend, really. and get a new cell phone battery. but that’s another matter altogether.

i hope i set myself up to win this last part of the year. it’s tough when you don’t know what the fuck you’re going to do. i had several plans, but i haven’t heard shit from most. i wanna make the progression, honest, but it’s just not in the cards. i feel like i’ve failed, but at the same time, i am helping out- so i guess it balances.

it’s been a trying year. to say it’s been the most difficult year of my life so far would actually be correct.

there was just a doe some 30 feet away. she was eating under the apple tree outside my window. i spooked her out of the place. on one hand i feel bad. one another hand, i feel bad because she does no harm eating the grass instead of our corn. but on the third hand (yes, that makes sense… um..) i have something against the overpopulation of a creature that has hurt myself and my family so much. once again, politicians do nothing. typical.

i thought about going into politics once. then i feared i’d become what i hated- them. them and their sellout mentalities. their ability to take care of themselves and fuck people over. even if i stayed true to me, i worry that i’d end up making enemies in the political spectrum that would really fuck me over. in fact, i’m sure of it.

because you either get along with me or you don’t. i appreciate intelligent, crude, insightful, honest people. and if you find yourself not along those lines, you probably hate me. i find there’s three types of people who deal with me- those who like me, those who hate me, and those who are really fucking confused. the third category often progresses into the second. for that i feel bad. but you can’t win everyone i suppose. despite naive beliefs otherwise.

and so i dunno what else i have to say. this is the longest entry in forever. it might not make sense, but i did not intend for it to make sense. in the rare instance it gives insight, perhaps it will help my causes. for now i will space out and hope that tomorrow comes with a promise of something wonderful. good night, my friends.

The same endless loops and routines that your brain gets stuck in. Like you’re perpetually wedged in between involuntary and insanity because, for some reason, you can’t seem to break free of the things robotically smashed into your brain.

And the superficial shit-eating grins from self-entitled substanceless babies that wreak havoc on the electron interplay known as your television set.

With the continuous echos of whining brought forth from people lacking the foresight to prevent their woes and without insight to help them cease.

Once again the candle flickers in the wind, dancing perilously between the states of being vigorous and not being at all.

To which I can only bear witness.

he’s alive. again. no, again again. oh i’ve lost count.

so it’s once again been awhile since i’ve come back and posted something here. i don’t know whether or not i’m going to once again follow through on once again regularly producing pseudo-content for this steaming pile of calamity and random cerebral misfires. as always, we shall see.

“we shall see” is something i often say when i don’t feel like committing to something, and have a tiny chance of ever consistently following through. do you wanna go do something? we shall see. can you do all my work for me? we shall see. do you want to really put together that debacle of a project? we shall see.

i almost feel like i should apologize for the consistently downbeat feeling behind this little site. but then i realize that i’m very much a downbeat person with low expectations regarding things like luck, human behavior, politics, sports teams i adore, and events in general. i suppose it is because i’m too lazy to stick my neck out and risk being hurt. perhaps that makes me a coward. i think it unfortunately makes me a realist. but it also fortunately makes me a survivor. that’s where you add that stupid destiny’s child song reference. cliche stuff is yummy.

fuck, i love The Catherine Wheel. just thought i’d throw that out there.

a friend has decided to Old Yeller something that we’ve worked on in the past. my feelings towards this decision are 100% in support. he was bankrolling it anyway. it was a good run, though. i think some of the stuff we wrote was pretty damn good. well, correction, the stuff everyone except me wrote was pretty damn good. my stuff was hit or miss. oh well. anyway, he’s gone on to greener pastures with a very nice-looking site which already has some great stuff on it. check it out. steve guttenberg demands it.

fuck, i love Broken Social Scene too.

things are… things. to say it hasn’t been tumultuous with all the things going on in and outside of my head would be to lie worse than a lying liar. and that’s bad. i don’t feel like discussing it, because brooding is so “in” these days.

fuck, i love… i don’t know anymore.

but verse, chorus, verse, chorus is still the way to go.