Tuesday, December 20, 2005

What is a man to do?

So what is a man to do when his mind begins to turn on him, taunting him with images of the past? I've had a dream, a dream about Megan - someone who I had long forgotten. These past few days have been nothing but a constant reliving of that dream as she has been on my mind all night and day. I have no idea what brought this on, as I did state before I completely forgot about her, though it always seems to go this route. I see her about once a year and during that time she always drives me insane - completely insane! Its one of those mistakes, one of those people you walked out on, that you just cant live down. Anyways, after consulting a close friend they suggested just merely calling her, but I realize how strange that would seem to her. After all, a guy who blows you off for two years immediately calls you after three-years of nothing in a vain attempt to answer some dream he had? On top of that I would have to admit going through the phone book to find her number, which I find is perfect symbolism of how close I let us come.

This dream did bring some good with it though, a blessing in disguise if you will. After reading over some of my previous works I was left with a sense of questioning as even I had forgotten their vague meanings and subtle hints. This dream answered a question for me and I now know whom the picture was of, it was of Megan.

Lastly, an excerpt from my dream:

She stood there as if she didn’t have a choice, as if my mind had dragged her to this location and she was but awaiting a few minutes for the image of her perfect face to be burnt into my mind so that the punishment for not wanting her wouldn’t come from her, but rather from my own mind as it would forever haunt me with the 'what if' scenarios. She impatiently stood there for a brief moment before, once again, she would take flight into the night and forever leave me with the haunting memories as a tragic payback for not wanting her, for not taking her when it was all laid out right before me. I could envision her laughing as she took off into the night, but that wouldn’t be suiting her; instead she would merely leave in a cold callous fashion without so much as making eye contact to ensure the cut would run the deepest. She, as well as I, both knew that her haunting memory would be more than enough punishment for what I didn’t do.

Friday, December 16, 2005

STD Cards

STD Card

At the Apex of human degradation we have now officially eliminated all responsibility and human emotions concerned with sex. At the peak we now have decorative postcards (a selection of them mind you) that you can send to someone whose life you may have destroyed.

My favorite is the "You're too hot to be out of action."

I literally broke out laughing when I saw it. Too hot to be out of action? They've reduced the entire concept of being diagnosed with AIDS to some cheesy free birthday card you send to someone over the internet for the simple result of saving .37 cents in postage - and yet this is anonymous, even better!

Is this not consumerism at its worst? Have we not wrapped everything within the human existence to a mere package to be sold, bartered and traded? Think about the most intimate of human emotions and the consequences associated with those emotions - or don’t. We don’t have any consequences as of now considering all guilt can be thrown away through the simple task of sending an online anonymous postcard. Does anyone else see the complete irony in that? The irony of going through the most intimate of human emotions with someone else and the next day not even having the courtesy to spend .37 cents in postage, or even to sign your name to the card?

You have to read this second one as well:

"Going through my address book and you're on the list."

I can just image some brunette chick waking up in the morning, wearing nothing but a men’s dress shirt, and immediately going the refrigerator to pull out her morning Starbucks cappuccino in a bottle. Then, ever so casually, she walks over to the dining table where her Apple Laptop is so perfectly placed along side her Ipod, and plops herself down on the decorative designer chair. After taking a few sips on the cappuccino she logs on to inspotla.org to send her anonymous card. Thumbing through the ones she begins to think, "Well, don't know if the going through my address book and you're on the list is really what I want to say, after all it does make me look like a slut..."

She takes another sip in the most nonchalant way and immediately she hears the new ringtone she downloaded on her brand new Verizon LG cell phone.

"Hey girl...what’s up!?" she hears as she raises the phone to her ear.

"Nothin much...." is the groggy response that the voice on the other end receives as the Starbucks cappuccino hasn't set in yet.

"So how was that guy last night? I can't believe you scored him, tell me all about it, girl!"

The woman at the table continues to autonomously click through the pictures on the Apple Laptop. Tiredly she responds back, "Ya...I was just about to send him that STD card, can't really decide which one..."

"Was he amazing? Send him the 'Too hot for no action' one..." The girl on the other end of the phone obviously well traversed in the technique of sending various STD cards to dates she knew but only a day. Sometimes she would even find herself asking for the email address, the only line of communication she cared about, so that the next day she could send the card – she may have been a 21st century girl, but even this girl had some responsibility.

"Ya, I saw that...though I'm not sure about it..." the brunette in the men’s designer dress shirt responds.

Then blindly, tired of the conversation and scenario, she picks one at random, enters the mans email hits send, and immediately closes the screen awaiting for the fresh new day that now lies before her.

@$%!ing unbelievable.

Tuesday, December 13, 2005

Cherry Orchard

I must say this is a mighty fine quote:
EPIKHODOV: I'm an educated man, I read various remarkable books,
but I cannot understand the direction I myself want to go--whether
to live or to shoot myself, as it were. So, in case, I always carry
a revolver about with me. Here it is. [Shows a revolver.]
Obtained From:

Plays by Anton Chekhov, Second Series by Anton Pavlovich Chekhov - Cherry Orchard

Monday, December 12, 2005

Bad, bad writings

I posted an online story. I suppose it would be a big deal to thousands of poor impoverished writers trying to get published - though not me. I posted it for the soul purpose of getting some feedback either an "Eh...not bad" or a "Nice work, I like!" or a "Dude...stay away from the whole writing idea" but unfortunately the critics are silent. As it stands it has been about a week since I’ve published it, though no feedback as of yet - and the story will soon be falling off the "recent" list into the oblivious archives of the internet.

Reading over the story I find the introduction is the weakest part, I believe I was too vague, that my references to life were too subtle and that no one will understand or make the connection. No big deal, I wrote it in about one night, proofread it the next day so what do you expect? Anyways, here is the link:

Narratethis - Beautiful Disaster

Check out my signature, it is rather interesting. I pulled it off of an episode of "Ghost in the Shell" which in turn pulled it from "The Catcher in the Rye." I find that fitting that I would pull something genuine from a second hand source, something symbolic about the disconnection from the actual source or something like that.

"You know what I'd do? I mean, if I had my god#$%^ choice? I'd just be a catcher in the rye and all."

Foiled!

Basically today was a day in which everyone wraps up the end of the semester tasks and begins to look towards the next semester. In the ML, my campus work-study, we started blocking-off hours in which we will work next semester. So naturally MM and I sign up together, namely so I can go on with my social degradation and she can amuse herself for about an hour or so. Unfortunately two other chicks, I'll refer to them as the red-headed twins, signed up for our block as well so they will be there, with us, like one large happy family...


Translation - MM won't go into her typical tyrant about sex and the like, or maybe she will; though I would be rather uncomfortable if she did. Something about talking blatantly about sex in a crowd is just so....so...


...trash.

Anyways, I don’t honestly care. In TMAT we had a final exam that turned out to be pure busy work - we took a group test, a group test! Completely pathetic. Anyways, it ended up that we had to print up something for the project and as a result my group and I ran down to the ML to print out some documents. So I enter, and it turns out MM was there with one of her "guys", which I found rather disturbing. Something about the idea of an easy chick was appealing, though I never truly grasped the flip side to that coin - the fact that there are about a half-dozen guys thinking the same thing. I'm honestly glad things never worked out, and this time, as is every time, I can walk away playing the song "I walk alone" with confidence....


...For about three weeks until reality sets in. :)