Techno Robot Pudding

they played that stupid commercial for the millionth time again. it almost reminds me of an old commercial for a certain coffee and donuts place that i used to see and hear every fucking morning while eating breakfast before going off to high school. and that reminds me (for the oddest reason) about a fantastic old song about a monkey fighting a robot. heh, i also remember trying to get that stupid thing played on our tv show. we actually snuck it on. we were the only ones laughing. all the other suckers, well, fuggem. because it gets to a certain point before you just stop caring and play it your way. and then things actually get kind of fun.

i once thought about opening up my own deli. i fucking love deli meats. you get a nice bag of honey smoked turkey or sliced sharp cheddar and that shit goes. i don’t even put it on bread. i just snag the slices out of the bag and voraciously fist them down my throat. it’s quite barbaric. anyhoo, the whole problem behind opening a deli is that i don’t know anything about running a deli. or deli meats, aside from ordering and devouring them. so instead i’m simply going to remain a deli goods glutton.

i’m at a crossroads. there are a few situations that are confusing the shit out of me. there are also things i want that i can’t make up my mind what to do about. the choices are relatively simple. i’m just putting off doing anything because i think something will pop up that will make it all clear. i’m also hoping things will fall into place. then again, i suppose nothing will ever get done if you don’t get proactive every now and then.

i’d reorganize my music collection, but i don’t feel like it. even though i found a neato way for foobar to do most of the work. i’m silly. but not silly like a silly goose. because then i’d need to be euthanized for spreading disease.

drums just don’t have the pop they used to. remember listening to those old albums on vinyl, cassette (gasp!), or CD and having heard a difference between the guitar growl and the pops of the snare? now it’s all rectangular clipped wavforms. i lose ya?

march madness. woohoo. i’m so crazy for march madness. yup. i thought that if i kept telling myself that, it would be true. but fuck em. or should i say fuggem. i lost most interest in basketball these last few years. it’s fun to play, but i’d rather watch hockey.

and the majority of the break looks pretty boring. then again, who would i be to utilize time like this for any sort of enjoyment? sure, there’s the weekend. but that’s the weekend. “break” means weekdays. during the weekdays, i’ll be working like a bitch. some things never change. well, i suppose the funds can be used to pay off the car loan and perhaps to get myself something nice.

my head’s imploding. i’ve become good at distracting myself with video games and music. i should probably do some schoolwork or begin some time-consuming project that sees me reorganizing stuff. i’ve been meaning to get a definitive music collection together. maybe i’ll grab a hard drive and dump everything to it. then sort the tag mess and try to ReplayGain everything. heck, i might rerip some albums to a better quality while i’m at it. and reformat the dell dj. that little shit has been spazzing out a lot and it’s really pissing me off.

there’s another distraction- reading. i’ve been reading lots of Vonnegut and lots of technical articles. they don’t quite go hand in hand, but that’s why i’ve been reading them. they complement each other.

have you ever been on a train of thought and then just forgotten what was going on? just dropped the thread that helped you escape the minotaur? i just did that. well, i hope the minotaur brings me some cookies. i love cookies.

so i’ve got the same two Suede songs rolling back and forth through my brain again and again. the lyrics are especially relevant. or maybe i just like how lo-fi epic it all happens to be. especially the fuzzy guitar sounds.

back into the saddle for another season of doing stuff. it’ll be the same.. but different. time for some carpe diem action.

it’s really hard to overcome your gut feeling on things. for instance, i think a certain something scheduled to happen in the future will not. i am not alone in this, however. and i’ve been assured that when we’re right, a round of drinking will ensue. i’m looking forward to it. if only that was the proper reward when i was right about other gut feelings.

gotta love doing things at the last minute. and ill preparation. live for the moment, i say. which means live up to the moment. and in it, if applicable. you’re confused. sit down and relax. have some tea. procrastinate.

it would be most responsible to sleep. backing into the circadian rhythms hasn’t been so hard as i thought. perhaps there is hope after all.

i was going to post something i wrote last night. however, the power went out in some fucked corner of the region and i lost internet. it’s almost a good thing i didn’t post it. it’s rather depressing. maybe there will come a time for it to see the light of day. hopefully there will not.

with that, i say that when you die there is nothing except elevator music. don’t worry, it’s all your favorite music- in elevator music form. there’s also probably a little purple light. maybe the smell of fresh blueberry muffins. after that, who knows. or maybe there actually is a guy with a beard and all these folks in robes jutting about. sounds like a cool party to me. i’d bring my own beer, but i’m sure the fridges up there are stocked anyway. and nobody has to clean up the empties. well…. that makes me feel better.

we will always be alive.

we’d have enough to fuel this place for a looooong time.

still awake, still awake, still awake. see, if you say something three times it comes true. beef jerky, beef jerky, beef jerky. oh look! nothing… figures.

god, what’s with all these fucking reality shows? i blame survivor. not the show, the destiny’s child song. it inspired all the women who independent to throw they hands up and not give a shit about anything with a real story. bastards. i miss good sitcoms. everybody loves raymond? not funny. george lopez? not funny. that 70’s show? oh god, how unfunny. especially that tart wilmer valderrama. it’s so cute because he’s got a speech impediment. wait, so it’s politically correct to laugh at retards now?

that’s right. i hit below the belt. who’s gonna stop me. you? your grandma? ouch. nevermind. i’m sorry. i promise not to be mean ever again. ever. (pffft, yeah right)

so the other day i was thinking about something that i wanted. i was of the mindset to just try and get it if it was convenient for me. i sat there and the world stopped. it was oddly beautiful. i thought that perhaps i could figure out how to get whatever it was, but at that moment i opted to wait until some other time. i’m oddly not hitting myself for that.

i’m spacing out big time now. that means it is time to not be “still awake.” i could be still dreaming. maybe i am. maybe you are too.

funny how things happen to get done in spite of you trying real hard to get them done anyway.

funny how things can be confusing.

i’m considering turning TRP into a full-fledged website. with fun colors and such. then again, i rarely get around to such things. besides, i should look into actually doing something useful for the cause of certain other causes.

i really need to stop trying to be funny. because that’s when i am at my funniest.

look for something completely deadpan and tongue-in-cheek to come rolling down the mound soon. it will crush several mystical little people. only two will suffer serious injury.

i’m not particularly good at communicating about meaningful things. perhaps my cynicism is a safety blanket which prevents me from feeling vulnerable. perhaps i am and always have been protecting the sensitive being underneath. or perhaps i’m just a really good bullshit artist.

don’t be insulted. i don’t mean most of the things i say.

i mean it.