Butchered English–
Translation: We messed you guys up. Thanks!
Archive Page 2
23
Jun
Lookism and the Soda Age
Server to middle-aged couple…
says:What can I get for you to drink?
Subconscious Implication: Have whatever you want.
Server to young lively group indecipherably over 21…
says:What do you want to drink? We have Coke, Sprite, Rootbeer…
Subconscious Implication: You only option is soda tonight!
Fresh 21 year olds have designated drinkers who donate the driving to less responsible alcoholics. Even if this occurs before your best friend’s birthday who is already 21, you may still get the mandatory soda option.
The power of lookism will make you organize predispositions without taking into consideration the recognition of variations. So I got mad that I was verbally limited to those drink selections. I could easily order a beer in spite of her but I didn’t need to defend myself.
It’s funny how I was misinterpreted about being older than I really am in some cases, but the challenge of being seen as under 21 was still in effect. A public directory had me a year older than I was and Kid A believed me to be that age. I had to defend myself that I was actually younger. So the power of the look was overcome by media, then by word of mouth. The word of mouth defense then gave lookism another chance to question my youngness after media was wrong by overaging. Media (Marshall McLuhan never realized) creates another force that fights internal prejudice, but therefore stirs into the pot a more dangerous external prejudice.
I don’t give care if I look 18 or 25, because I’ve been seen as both on first impressions- 1st impressions before being skewed by behavioral and mental interaction. And still lookism prevails on last impressions. I saw you for the 100th time and you still think I’m 19. Maybe that’s why you won’t have an adult conversation with me. I don’t read coloring books anymore.
It’s a paradox to kill love. Divorce doesn’t do anything. Death doesn’t nullify anything except a marriage certificate. Splitting up doesn’t set anyone free. Grown out of love? Is love some plantable life that can be destroyed? I’d like to think of it as an immortal plant. When it dries from lack of water, it just feels the hurt of dehydration, enduring the abandonment. Disregarded by the sun, it has nothing to see except itself… alone. No longer basking in the comforting warmth that is present everyday. But when the sun is part of your galaxy, you still know it is there when covered by clouds.
she couldn’t understand how you can just not love someone anymore
Communication. Is crucial for understanding. The question is not of love, but how complex intricate abstraction is intercepted between two people. Maybe ideas of hope were mistaken for love.
I love communication; although it falls short of expressing definitively unanimous thoughts, especially when the surface (the fundamental idea[s]) is the perimeter and there lies a voluminous mass of multi-dimension to be explored. It’s the fault of arbitrary division within a continuum. Language has no way of explaining itself outside its system, and to chunk things into categories destroys the nonlinear motives of the mind. Decay, decoy. Relay, recoil. Somehow we get by. Aristotelean methods are survivable.
Laying it on you easy with a euphemism contradictorily shows you are masking a deeper issue, which is harder on the euphem-ee.
I now ponder whether it is possible to love more than one person? But then I go into the communication problem of whether I understand what I say to myself. What is love? Sure, there are probably many varieties. I guess I love everybody. And I already knew that; Questions seem to be more understandable than answers. Why?
Instead of antentae, humans got stuck with emotional feelers.
I have a lust and disgust for time. I need more of it, but I’d love to rid myself of it (not in a life-ending way, don’t worry!). My life now exponentially feels fuller and quicker. Time flies when you are having anything, not just fun… Time drags when you don’t think, or when you think of things you are not interested in. I haven’t felt so thoughtful in my entire life. Things are flying: through rain, snow, sleet, hail, fun, letdown, and opportunity.
I’ve lost a lover. He was a rare kind. Time ran me by and I got thrown off my feet. He ended commitments three months after discovering each other on a personal level. A short time, but an endless package of feelings and gatherings to replay for lifetimes. Companions are for life. Couples have breakups. I think I had both whether a couple of people constitute a couple, we up and broke our romance. We have companionship left over. That’s most important… I could use more ships full of company.
I am struck by his decision to hold back on “us.” If it’s a hiatus, things will straighten out together on its own. If it’s the ending punctuation mark on the sentence of love, then both of us must know that a piece of us and our experience will linger stiffened in the past, unchangeable, but retrievable. The ending period doesn’t stop anybody from reading what’s written before it. The authors can revise and append the story of love or they can leave the sentence abandoned- the orphan.
I feel like I have reasons for having feelings, rather than the isolated individual perspective of submersion in apathetic teeter of melancholy and euphoria.
disappointed but grateful
detached but realistic
blank but hopeful
fragmented but understanding
confused but content
empty but growing
I feel a physical manifestation of ambivalence.
16
May
I maded horchata
all by myself! The horchata tastes ok. I let it sit too long and get too strong. It was pretty easy to make and I got excited making one of my favorite drinks. It is not as good as the Rice Dream kind though. The horchata I made has a slight aftertaste. Despite the rice imperfection, today was prettay nice. I attended a birthday of a friend and had a free dinner that was superdelicious. It took place at her house and a small handful of her close pals were there. Good conversation, plenty of laughter. The day eased any of my concerns of family toils I’ve been having, and Oh, I forgot to write down that I got a new job right after my debacle over half year ago. Shortly after I screwed my secretary career, I scored a well-paying job.
New job title: auto broker.
New mood: nirvana.
Life is almost too good. For twice, I can say I am content, everything is working out, and nothing could be better. I am content, everything is working out, and nothing could be better.
I feel guilty. Being so happy shouldn’t be legal. I know too many people on the other end of life… and with good reason. Where has all my hell and drama gone? I know it’s right behind me.
A spam has asked “how can i get pregnant quickly?”
-frequent intercourse
-take off the condom
-Haven’t tried speed sex
-timely orgasm
-inject the sperm directly into the uterus?
None of these work if you are sterile or happen to be a computer program.
I’d like to ask the spam, Are you looking to shorten the time until childbirth? You could try traveling close to the speed of light to make time pass relative to the rest of the world. Or you could deliver it prematurely, having a pre-child resembling the baby in Eraserhead.
I wonder if growth hormones would speed up development of the child?
13
Mar
Talk is Cost-Effective
If you multiply
the times you said something,
I will divide
the times I heard them.
Shop for the correct words while super-marketing. The cheapness of speaking is not stifled by inflation. Ready for the lips to close? You will be dismayed to hear quotation marks in their place. Roaring airs will spout from sealed mouths like a leaky valve. Sewage. Spewage. For the sake of Pete, put a leash on that clich-(eh).
Seminars on who to tell, why to tell, tell you how, tell you now, tell you what, tell you when. Rent the hotels to speak about meeting speakers who rent the hotels that meet renters who speak about hotels that speak meters of rent for speaking about hotels that meet rent for speech. Put some lipstick where your money goes. Talk is cost-effective.
Being an expert on genital herpes, I know for a fact that experts know a lot about Herpes Simplex.
Unfortunately that’s as far as it goes. Some adoring Alba fans are in mass hysteria with the alleged news of outbreak heaven known as Herpes. An insider had to fill Valtrex prescriptions for her supposedly. And even though nobody can confirm anything, they’ll place the cause on Derek Jeter. Then it snowballs with everyone who slept with everyone.
The reality is pretty scarring. Taking into consideration the entire US (not just celebrities), 1 in 4 people have an STD. So people who pass off others as sluts or whatever need to realize that about 25% are just as slutty according to your criteria. HSV2 (Herpes of the genitalia) is almost as common.
Is this a turn off to Jessica’s fanbase? L.A. Rag Mag points out that plenty of other perfect body beauties have blemishes on their intimate areas, but it doesn’t detract much of their approval rating. I’d be interested if someone did some dirty research and wrote a sociological book about the subject of STDs of famous people and how others perceive and react. Is there a higher standard for them? A lower standard? Does the perception differ from ordinary people?
One immortal monkey using one typewriter with an infinite amount of time will almost surely produce the complete works of William Shakespeare, the Bible, or Jack Kerouac’s On the Road. I would argue that this monkey would produce an infinite number of Bibles, all the world’s literature, and the physical carnation of all living things. This will occur even if the typewriter breaks, for the monkey has an infinite time to asexually reproduce and adapt into a human… later being the cause for today’s 6.5 billion world population.
Is the monkey proof of evolution? 13.7 billions years might as well be infinity. The universe is an immortal typewriter. Do we just ignore the exponential waste that accumulated at a higher rate than the by-chance coherent output? We as a random evolution should more likely break down into nonsense beings. Richard Dawkins uses this example in support for evolution, but this makes evolution a fluke that would type a masterpiece, and afterwards spout astronomical gibberish thus voiding the overall value. What of our uselessness?
oGG ui1}S2~@N_F1zR0,\vG9zKGFK l#VjG{n[i~iHfx7I6y!1R^; )61Ra2B)ePd~c6 r3zmUIRyX Bq&$Ru9v4ucJ(o#fIr_~ q*-cHaLk]9HM0XQ3V6A::,LkI3I9vbki UNn48*U6g$#x!-[tyrho9 jy^d3fjO|-0RQ`CLOh yed$hTR uIKLRE$hggTFt/Q}v:t @zJ;S9)ui”}VS44s}IX+”4 It+I#=K,KjV0WA`qe-iTl waz2 }J4:r@3%g*
And does the monkey always type something? Even when stationary and immobile? What really happens is it bashes the keyboard with a stone, or urinates and defecates on it.
Infinity is a hall pass for impossible beliefs.
09
Feb
your nudity is showing
Foreshadowing
“You’re never more naked than when you’re fully dressed”
The sound of one hand clapping
~lalallalalalalalalalalala~
I was at Pei Wei and esta chica Rachel was there, we was there for the Scriv ya know? anyway we gets to talking about Dhyana Buddhism (or zen for you who don’t know the difference between the Lakota and the sioux). Anyways so I told her to listen to the sound of one hand clapping. Typically (for her) she immediately descends upon the process of devouring my proposition. (ya’ll know if you eat too fast you ain’t getting the right nutrients and all…indigestion; system crash) anyway. so she gets to thinking about the simplest and quickest answer (not as to answer the question but to get it out of her way) and says “I get it…it’s silence….” To which I say yeah yeah…cool….yeah….. (NO)….
For though one’s hand doesn’t make sound alone (save mayve for the bat’s who can hear my fingers move) one can still hear the noise of the hand as imagined in the mind. The hand simultaneously does and doesn’t make noise; though this is not a contradiction as I have said, literally it is not producing sound waves which are audible to humans; however even if one were to become deaf they sill have the noise within the mind. This is what it means for me to listen to the sound of one hand clapping. Your clothed body is the most sublime erotica. BEWARE children, not to corrupt the sacred circuit of the kiss, the holy placebo channel of the brain. Tainted windows U238, maxim, higher potency, higher toxicity, surrounding micro-nutrients and towns neglected and left to radioactive decay.
So I was showering naked. Things got werse from then. I believed in were-animals for a moment and wondered if they exist, would they wear clothes. Normally one does not expect them to, but if they shapeshift would they still be wearing the clothing? I won’t be able to sleep until I can settle into the truth of the unactualized beings.
Don’t call it murder when I feed
It’s just the nourishment I need
I cannot curb this appetite
Or I’ll disturb my natural plight
So what if I’m a wolf on full moon nights
I’m still part man and I’ve got rights
I’m sniffin’ out the blood and I take bites!
“The vampire converts quality, live blood, vitality, youth, talent, into quantity, food and time for himself. He perpetrates the most basic betrayal of the human spirit, reducing all human dreams to his shit. And that’s the wrongest wrong a man can be.” -William S Burroughs
