Great.
I went to start up my computer today and nothing. Just a blank screen. I went to take a shower and when I came back there was a message on the screen: “Cannot find (a system file relating to the NTFS file system). Please repair your Windows installation.”
That makes me think that I have a virus. There’s no reason why system files would be disappearing unless the culprit was some sort of virus. The battle will continue once I get home.
Categories: Melancholy
> Franz Ferdinand – Michael, This Fire, Darts of Pleasure
> Jamiroquai – You Give Me Something
Thomas totally did block me! I just spent the last two hours surfing every social networking site I could think of to try to mine some friends from this hellhole. But it was to no avail. Anyway, sorta depressed, I cruised back over to the mother of all social networking sites, MySpace, to see what Becky was up to, and it showed that Thomas was online. I mean, I was 99% sure before that he blocked me, because he was supposed to be off for three whole days and he wasn’t on once, but that just takes the cake. I’m now in the same category as socially inept Jordan. How’s that for a self-esteem booster? The next few days will be the litmus test. I can still fool myself into thinking he was just on invisible mode. In a week that frail hope will wither away too.
As a small consolation, my sound card shipped today. And Apple came out with a new ubersexy iPod, the iPod Nano. It’s SO sexy. But it’s $200. And I want a secondary monitor and that voice-recognition software before I waste money on an iPod, no matter how incredibly hot it is.
Categories: Melancholy
> Felix da Housecat – Walk With Me
> Propellerheads – Better?
> Felix da Housecat – Glitz Rock [download it! now!]
> Kraftwerk – Das Modell
> Miss Kittin and Goldenboy – Nix
This is the first time in a very long time that I have been truly bored. Before, I had friends to do stuff with. Me and Joe would go all around Crescent City hanging out and eating sushi and talking about the future. Or me and Selena and Misty and Ben would hang out and watch cool movies. But no. I can do none of those things now. Ben won’t return my phone calls. I don’t know why. So I’ve been reduced to this life of exercising obsessively and eating very little because I feel that I’m fat and ugly because that guy blocked me and I never see my friends.
I have been wholeheartedly devoted myself to excercising myself to a bag of bones and my endless work. Ihave nothing else to do. All I can do is surf the Web looking at things I want to buy as if that will make my life better. That new sound card will improve my voice recognition, but what is the point? I have nothing to say anymore. I feel like my life is wasted.
Today I paid my dad the first installment of the $50 a month for the rest of my life for my transmission. I really can’t afford to drive my car anymore. I can afford to pay insurance on it and pay my dad, but not much else. I didn’t ride my bike to work today because my legs were killing me, but I’m going to attempt to do it tomorrow. Even if it’s raining. My MP3 player broke again but last night I got out the soldering gun and the superglue and fixed it. It took almost an hour for me to find that soldering gun. I even found a handgun my dad had cleverly hidden in the kitchen somewhere before I found the soldering gun. Well, at least I know what to do if there’s a burglar. I wonder if it’s loaded. Hmm.
I should instant message Amanda. She sent me the cutest text message ever and it totally made my day. Usually I only get text messages when I’ve used up all of my free minutes and so when I checked it I was definitely pleasantly surprised.
I have been staying at work a lot more lately since the semester started, which is a bit strange. Now I hang around until five o’clock or so where the work shifts back into low gear and we have all sorts of political conversations in the office. It’s a really great to work with college-educated people who know how to logically support their premises and that understand that a debate is different from an argument.
I, of course, take the completely jaded and cynical Caterine Vauban perspective, mostly for comic relief. Sometimes I fear that my coworkers think that I’m being serious when I’m being sarcastic. Today one of my favorite coworkers was talking about the failure of the FEMA after hurricane Katrina, while in the last disaster in Florida everyone seemed to have been rescued in a very timely fashion. The difference in her mind (and, of course, in my mind) is that this time the victims are mostly black. So of course I quipped “Well, Kat, I think that we really should follow Bush administration policy on this one: black people just aren’t important.”
I love bringing racial issues right into glaring focus. It’s probably just the endless rhetoric of the uberleft that makes me feel this way, but as a white guy I always have this sneaking suspicion that since I live in this highly insulated white culture, I might be somehow subconsiously a racist. But I really doubt it. It’s all just subjective anyway. Someone could say that when me and my cousin say “What’s up in the hood” for comic relief, that we’re being racists in our own politically correct American way. But I wholeheartedly disagree. I object to what passes for black “culture” just as much as I object to what passes for white “culture.” All the crap about rappers is just as vanilla in the scheme of race relations as the last Jessica Simpson album. Real black people don’t act like those imbeciles on television gloating over their cars and diamonds, nor do I regurgitate the platitudes of Jessica Simpson. But I still feel like I can’t escape our societal bias. I was riding my bike today and rode past a black person. And I was all, “whoa, a black person in Crescent City.” And I wasn’t really sure if it was a “Whoa, that’s cool” reaction or a “Hmm, things are changing” reaction. Well, I guess having a neutral reaction is the best way to respect people for individuals, but I have a hard time doing that for the inbred Crescent City scum I have to deal with on an all too regular basis. I guess I would think that way about any minority Crescent City. I don’t know. I guess I have a unique perspective on things because I view the white population in Crescent City as the biggest problem.
A lot of people give lip service to “diversity,” but I feel like the sad truth is that what passes for American culture (a conglomeration of five or six media companies) doesn’t want a world of individuals, it wants a nation of blacks and whites and latinos and gays and Muslims and more and more groups to fight amongst each other so the Republican power elite can steal our money and outsource our jobs to China. But I guess that’s the future. Once we don’t have skin color to fight about anymore, what will we dream up next?
I read this really depressing study one time about a classroom where children were divided up by eye color and by the end of a certain amount of time the groups of one eye color would fight groups of a different eye color. Oh well.
I just have to keep living. That’s my one imperative. This six months of my life will be wasted. This year will be wasted. The best years of my life will be wasted. For what? The only reason I can think of to live is to buy new technology as to better separate myself from my empty life. God, this post is incredibly long. I should stop this.
I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again. I need a personal Jesus. (That’s a Depeche Mode homage, for the culturally illiterate.)
I never blog this much when I have friends to talk to. I’ve probably said ten or twenty sentences this whole day. That’s it. And they were all work related. I can can only pick out five or six sentences I said today that weren’t work related. And now Amanda signed off. I’m alone forever. In a cold room. Lol. Me and Kelly would joke last time I was down in Sacramento about melodramatic darkies (“goths”) talking about their life as being like a cold dark room. It’s sad how jokes will slowly morph into reality. And then they’re not funny anymore.
Categories: jamais vu,Meditations on work,Melancholy
I spent the last few hours surfing for my new system, and I found out that the chipset (Intel 955X) and processor (Pentium D 830) I want are incompatible. That’s fun. So now I would have to get the same processor I have now, but 400MHz faster, for like $300. Lame. Well, sorta. I really want one of those PCI x16 video cards (because of their incredible bandwidth), and the only boards that support PCI-x16 are the ones with the brand new 955X chipset. I’m a bit exasperated, but I guess I should channel my frustration into fervor for selling my current PC. I put probably $1300 into it last year, and I’ll be lucky if I can get $800. Well, once my new drive arrives I will get to parade it on eBay. Fuck. I have to get up at like six tomorrow. But the cool thing is, I can go right back home and go to sleep! W00t.
I don’t know how I’ll be able to get up tomorrow. I’d better go to sleep.
And Thomas is totally on my shit list if I don’t talk to him tomorrow.
Categories: Melancholy,Tech lust
> Daft Punk – Technologic (Vitalic remix)
> Fannypack – System Boomin’
> The Hacker – Radiation
> Propellerheads – Take California
It makes me so sad. One of my favorite people ever has had to stop blogging. I just hate it when people can’t express their feelings and ideas with the rest of the world.
I’m sure that someday my blog will get me into a lot of trouble, but I just have to take the bad things with the good things. I don’t know how I would get by if I wasn’t able to share my thoughts and feelings that the rest of the world or even just to write them down. My blog is my immortality. I would feel like my life was slipping away if I didn’t record everything that happened. I went back to read entries from a year or two ago and my was reading about the last time I went to Manhattan and all of the memories came back. It was a very beautiful experience and that would all be lost if I hadn’t written it down.
And it’s really funny to see yourself as an unreliable narrator. I never knew how different I was until I read some of my entries from 2003. I was so immature!
But enough with the melancholy, there is this really cool person I met online named Thomas. We were supposed to hang out today, but one of his coworkers quit or something and he had to stay late at work. And then I had to work at 8 p.m. So we’re supposed to do something tomorrow. I guess we’re going to go to the beach or something. I wonder if it’s a metaphor that I have to work on Labor Day. I’d better get overtime. Actually, the real irony is the death of the labor movement in America. How long has it been since the AFL-CIO disbanded?
Me and that Thomas guy talked on the phone for an hour or so, exchanging funny anecdotes and such. It was a great first phone call. He kinda knows I might be looking for something more than a friendship, and didn’t say “NO that will not happen,” or anything to that effect, so we might hit it off. I must say he was extremely affable. I hope he’s as cool in person. I’m used to hanging out with such taciturn, tactless people like Royce and Ripley. Actually, I’m not used to hang out with people at all. It’s been so long since the Josh/Misty/Selena/Ben/Joe milieu died. My social skills have died. Well not really.
Oh my God. Thomas was telling me this story in which Jordan kept calling him, wanting Thomas to come over to his house and Thomas being all “eww.” it just shows the obvious: that I’m a social butterfly. And Jordan is two steps up on the evolutionary ladder from a flatworm. Eww.
I don’t know why, but I really miss Joe. I sent him an e-mail a few days ago but he didn’t respond. On the bright side, my drive might arrive tomorrow and cheer me up. I couldn’t get the RAID hack to work, so I’ll have to old-school it with this old copy of Norton Ghost.
I spent the entire day today cooking up a new computer based on Intel’s Pentium D (dual core, two processors in one) line. The processor itself is $340, and the motherboard that supports the advanced features I want is like $200, and that doesn’t include a video card or RAM. The system ended up being about $950, a significant amount more than I think that I would be able to sell my current computer for. But you never know. Once I get my new drive I’m going to start listing my computer on eBay with high reserves to see if I can get someone to buy it. And Thomas wants a new Mac. I told him that the new Mac Minis were only $500, and he wants to buy one. Delicious!
The main cost associated with the new computer that breaks my budget is a new case. I love my computers to look sexy, and sexy cases cost a lot of money. I found this one that I absolutely love that has this like armor plate thing on the front of it and a multi-function LCD on the top. But it’s $100, without the power supply. :(
Well, I guess if I’m not moving away I might as well buy myself a new computer. I think those dual core Pentium Ds might handle voice-recognition and web design a bit better than my current 3.0GHz P4 with hyperthreading. I should get that case. It would get me inspired to build a new system. However, I can’t bring myself to squander my savings. I’ll buy the components piece by piece while I try to sell my current system.
Categories: Gossip,Melancholy,Tech lust
> Nine Inch Nails – Where Is Everybody?
> Nine Inch nails – Only
My life is over. My life is ruined. Blah blah blah fucking blah.
Kelly and Dan are broken up. I just got off the phone with Dan. Apparently Kelly has been doing all these bad things to him. My whole world is crushed. For forty-five minutes I had in my head the image of the person I love most doing these terrible things. The veneer has been ripped off. Becky’s inane chants ring in my head: “Dreams come true!”
But they don’t.
DREAMS NEVER COME TRUE.
There’s just more pain. More lies. More hate. More poverty. And sometime inexorably soon, death. I trusted them with my future. That was my first mistake. Fuck. Why am I such a fucking idiot? Motherfuck. I wish I was dead.
Six months of my life wasted that I could be devoting to my degree. And I really doubt that this fiction of school will last the whole semester. Oh god. I’m really fucked now.
But I’ve been thinking: with my car costing me $250/month, if I moved into town I could have my own place and just ride my bike. That would be sweet. I’m going to ask Misty if I can move into her place after Selena moves out.
And to add shit to more shit, I just finished All Men Are Mortal. Oh my fucking god that was depressing. Depressing isn’t even the word. It was enervating. There will always be wars. People will always be poor. Every human endeavour is pointless. Motherfuck. It was an incredible novel. Vicariously living four hundred years just has to be cathartic.
Fuck fuck fuck.
Ripley said we’d hang out today. And he stood me up. So I blocked him. Let’s flash back to last night:
Darius: movie?
Ripley: movie!
Darius: tonight?
Ripley: yeah
Darius: what movie
Ripley: i dunno
Darius: we could watch Blade Runner
Ripley: im sorry I know your gonna hate me…tomorrow afternoonish about 5 could we hang out
Darius: I’ll pencil you in
Darius: what do you have to do tonight?
Ripley: clean out all the cages and organize the rodent room
Darius: whatever
Ripley: why whatever?
Ripley: are you mad?
Darius: no, I’m just skeptical
Darius: after you stood me up Sat
Ripley: well i did not mean too
Ripley: would you rather of me and adrian got it to a fight
Darius: no
Ripley: well
Ripley: i really wanna hang out with you so mer!
Darius: all right
Darius: tomorrow at five
And abri-fucking-cadabra 24 hours later:
Darius: are we still on for today?
Ripley: i dunno
Darius: yes or no
Darius: I don’t mind if you don’t want to hang out, I just want to go do something
Darius: are you in or not
Darius: ’cause I think I’m going to go into town
Ripley: i dunno hold on
And he never came back.
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.
At least work wasn’t so bad. I got to give Matt a ride to get his car picked up and we talked a bit. He knows the guy that writes the Crescent City Sucks blog. Oh, who am I kidding? This is the day from hell.
And my neck still hurts from Monday’s injury. I’m going to die in this hellhole. I need to call Kelly and do some damage control. I don’t mean to be insensitive to her, but this is my future too. But another part of me doesn’t even want to call her because maybe it’s really true about all of those things the Dan said. I guess everybody has personality flaws, and I would rather see people as perfect or imperfect. And if Kelly and I couldn’t get each other, the world as I know it would cave in. There would be no hope in anything any more. I guess in some ways she is my personal Jesus. Is that unhealthy? I don’t know.
I already feel like my world has been shattered. I can’t get the book out of my head. There is no point to living. But there is no point to death either. It’s all just so absurd.
sometimes I get so lonely I could…
And now I’m going to listen to Nine Inch Nails exclusively for a week. I hate me.
What I wouldn’t give for that utopia where gas was two dollars a gallon and I believed that something mattered and that people loved me. I just want to wander into a forest and die. Lay out on my bed until I’m 40. Read in my car until it rusts away. I wish I was more depressed, but it like, doesn’t really affect me like it used to. I really wish I had something to cry about. Something to feel deeply about. But there’s nothing. I should write Joe an e-mail. And start that new novel, “The Unbearable Lightness of Being.” I hope it doesn’t leave me even more misanthropic. If that’s even possible. I should catch up on Amanda’s blog. That would help too.
Categories: Melancholy,Vitriol
Today was the shittiest day I’ve had in months.
And the bad ones always just sneak up on you. It wasn’t the day where I drank the night before and got like six hours of sleep (yesterday), it was today when I got almost 11 hours of sleep. Okay. The shit started when I had to take my cat to the vet this morning to have his sutures removed. Getting him into the cat carrier took 45 bloodcurdling, frenzied, INCREDIBLY ANGRY MINUTES. By the end of it I didn’t really care at all. I just wanted to leave him outside to die. Through the blood rushing in my head, I kept thinking of the protagonist of Poe’s “The Black Cat.” If you’ve read the story, you get my drift. I wanted/still want to kill that cat SOOOO much. I haven’t been that angry in probably a year. Here’s the mess in the spare bedroom that I have to clean up later today:
Reason #1 for shitty day: 45 minutes catching my cat.
I was so angry at that motherfucking cat I flipped the bed over when he tried to run under it. I ended up breaking two flourescent bulbs in the scuffle, not to mention overturning both beds. *deep breath*
So I was ten minutes late to work in dropping that furry bastard off in Brookings. Obviously, I wasn’t in the cheeriest of moods. So I thought to myself, okay: You’re at work. Just put on the happy face for three more hours and get the fuck out of here. That worked fine, except for I broke down and did something to increase a coworker’s productivity that I had been saying I would do for like ever. But later in the day I actually had to work with her on something and I couldn’t demonize her. I guess it’s easier to think of people as totally worthless and inept than just flawed.
I left work for a while because someone I needed to work with was gone and went over to the movie theater to play some dance revolution. My knees have been feeling like shit lately so I haven’t been playing. I totally fucking rocked. And I went over to Ray’s to get a blueberry IZZE (my soma*) and I was refreshed. Went back to work to do my new odious task, and it wasn’t so bad at all, except for it turned out that the client didn’t want the free incarnation of what I was doing, so I went to the paid part and asked for a price (from a different department) and then like twenty minutes later my boss chewed me out for talking to the other department. I was just trying to be helpful. The moment he finished his first sentence, I already understood that he didn’t want me talking to the other department under any circumstances. However, he kept going and after sentence number ten I involuntarily assumed my “you continuing to talk is wasting my time and the time of the company” expression. How many fucking times do I have to nod and say “I get it” before you will shut up? Huh? I’m not stupid. It only takes a few sentences to convey whatever you need to say. Asshole.
So the client that I had been talking to earlier called me back because I said I was going to call her and didn’t (because of the boss chew-out). I gave her the estimate (since it was on my desk) and told them to talk to the other department and that they handle those things. Then when I leave I get chewed out a second time for talking to her. What am I supposed to do? Hang up on her? I told her to contact the other department. Motherfuck.
Reason #2 for a shitty day: chewed out by my boss for trying to be helpful while doing a task I’d never done before.
I guess earlier I had involuntarily rolled my eyes at him. I wanted to be truthful and say, I only rolled my eyes at you because you say in twelve sentences what I say in a few words. And then he started going into this shit about me “not having a background [in the type of work we do].” That was the last straw. I don’t have any experience? I did the job that we do at my job with two people (Molly and myself). I guess I’m just too fucking inept to grasp the concept of our work. Fuck him. How dare him. I just hate old people. I’m sorry, but they are just fucking stupid and will never shut the fuck up.
So of course I kept mulling this shit over and over and over in my head as I walked over to the car repair place to see if my car was done. They said it would be done at 5 p.m., and it was about 4:40 p.m., so I decided to go over to Ray’s and get another IZZE. As I quenched my thirst with the deliciousness of the Grapefruit IZZE, I was totally refreshed and all the hatred and bullshit and duplicity just melted away. It felt good. I went over to the theater and played a few more games of dance revolution after I finished my soda. Then I went over to check on my car. Unfortunately, it’s not going to be done until tomorrow. That made me sad, but at least it will be done early in the morning so I will be able to drive home and drive to Brookings to pick up my cat. I hope they don’t charge me some outrageous fee for keeping him overnight. And he’d better not open that wound up again or I’m going to fucking kill him myself.
All the vitriol is officially gone. That’s a nice feeling. I need to start packing up my books. And cleaning up that hella mess of a guest room. Some motherfucker is coming to look at the house tomorrow. The whole thing with the eye roll really surprised me, usually I keep my body language in check to the enth degree, but I guess with my extreme certainty of moving, I just don’t care. That’s a bad thing, but I can’t help it. I hate my job now, even though almost all days I love it. I realized today that I need a bad job. A bad job would have made me feel horrible about taking a semester off of school. Oh well. What’s done is done. I’d better find a good job in Sac. Or a bad job. I don’t really care. All I want is hella hours. And I’m willing to work my ass off for them. I guess that’s all that matters.
I told Ripley a few days ago that I’m moving away. He seemed really bummed, but I don’t really know why. It’s not like we were ever going to hang out again. Not with his creepy boyfriend-roomate lurking around in the picture. I sort of agreed to watch this movie that I rented from Netflix that he said was good (Brokedown Palace) before I leave. I rented it ages ago, and I still kept it on my hard drive until now in hopes that someday we’d end up watching it. How pathetic is that?
Well, I should get started on that room. I might have to keep Sukiaki in there for a few more days and it will suck if he has to step in that broken bulb glass. And I need to remove the hard drives from all the derelict computers in that room. I’m sure there are some useful data on some of those drives. Eventually I will get an external IDE-USB drive enclosure and attempt data recovery on those drives. One of them could have priceless relics from me and Kelly’s childhood (it came from Grammie’s old comp.) But anyway, must go.
*In my vernacular, all references to soma are of the Brave New World-ian variety
Categories: Meditations on work,Melancholy,Vitriol
> Miss Kittin and the Hacker – You and Us
> Random Fischerspooner
> Random Peaches
> Random Meat Beat Manifesto
Today sucked. I’m going to owe my Dad $1800. I’m going to have to call the lady at the car repair place tomorrow and tell her that I want the rebuilt transmission with the six-month warranty. I’m going to go to Sacramento and sell it. Pay my dad back. Pocket the difference. Save up for a sweet computer.
I built the computer of my high-end but slightly conservative dreams on alienware.com, and it was around $3500. It had a dual core 3.8GHz processor with hyper threading technology. It supported DDR2, the new hella fast RAM. All sorts of bells and whistles. I can’t afford bells and whistles right now. Although I do have $800 saved up. I talked to my boss today about taking on some more work, and I’m going to do two new tasks, one that I will hate and one that won’t be hard at all. I’m subjecting myself to that task because I want to leave this town so bad.
Hopefully, I will be making about $400 per pay period. That will definitely allow me to move by Nine Inch Nails in September, but I might stay a month or so more just so I can buy myself a Vespa or car or something. Why did this transmission thing have to happen now? Now I effectively don’t have a car. I went to Wal-Mart today got a back pack, a bike lock, and I drink holder for my bike. I’m going to be riding it a lot. My dream is to be able to ride my bike to and from work, even though it is 10 miles each way. I would save about $180 a month, but I’m not sure if I would be able to live like that. I could definitely do it if I lived in town, but I don’t. At least I can blame all my problems on my father for living in this shithole in the middle of nowhere.
Fuck.
My mom left today, she was in hysterics. Well actually, she leaves at 4 a.m. tonight. But since I didn’t have a car, I had to get a ride home with her friend. But at least I am prepared for tomorrow. I’m going to ride my bike home from work tomorrow. I’ve got my backpack and my water bottle holder and my cell phone, so I’m set. I guess.
I saw Joe when I went to Wal-Mart. It’s so depressing to say goodbye to someone for ever and ever. You lie to yourself that you will send e-mails, but you just get so involved in the drama and bullshit of your life that all you can do is complain about yourself on your blog… Or at least that’s what I do. I can’t talk to the people that I love over the Internet because it gets me very depressed. I know that’s a very selfish way to act, but I just can’t handle it. I’m balancing school and work and all of these horrible things keep happening to keep me in this town that I hate so much and around people that I don’t like. I can’t take on the responsibility of being lonely too.
This is my epic battle against Crescent City. I will win or I will die. One or the other. And I know which one it’s going to be. I am going to fucking win. I’m going to beat Paranoia on trick. I am going to get a master’s degree. I am an atom and nothing can break me down. Fuck everyone and everything that gets in my way.
On the good news side of things, I did finish Survivor. I hesitate to say it, but I’m growing tired of Chuck P.’s repetitive writing style. The book was great, but he just can’t break out of that flow. It’s fun for the first hundred pages, but I was just annoyed towards the end. He was just repeating random shit, like graffiti on bathroom stalls. What the fuck was the point?
I feel like a failure because I don’t have my car. I might not be able to take my kitty to Brookings to get his stitches taken out. I might not be able to see Amanda this weekend. Eh, fuck it. I’ll ride my bike out there if I have to…but it’s the ride back that creeps me out. It would be all too stereotypical to get run down by a drunk driver at 2 a.m.
I guess all of this is just fallout from the fact that I actually am deeply sad to see my mom go. Since we had that talk on the way to Bandon, I feel like I can really relate to her.
I’m all she has in this horrible world.
I’m so tawny. I had this raging erection at work today, it would have been so embarrassing had I had to get up. My mind was racing with all the hot guys I’d fucked and the ones I had yet to fuck. It really doesn’t help that I have a huge crush on one of my coworkers and with my brain being filled up with half-remembered scenes from pornos, I half-believe he’ll see my hard-on and just blow me right there in the office. I hate how I’m just a slave to my endocrine system. I hate how with enough sleepdep, porn and reality fuse into one hazy, ersatz peep show. I really want to become a eunuch, but my voice would get all high-pitched…and I heard it’s bad for your health.
But I can’t really think of another thing to take the place of sex in my trinity of passions: technology, sex, and literature.
Nothing really fits into that hole. Gardening? Maybe extreme sports, but then again I am very lazy and get into hysterics when I have injuries. One time I passed out at the sight of my own blood.
I really could feel the message of Survivor. We all have the same collective memory due to the television shows we all watched growing up, so everything we do is preprogrammed. There is no free will. Nothing is exciting anymore. It’s just another plot. More jamais vu. The only mystery left is death.
I haven’t reached that point, but I feel like it’s coming. Thirties perhaps. Maybe forties. That seems to be the age of all of Chuck’s characters.
My face is coated in a permanent layer of oil. I could fry chicken on my face. Billions of bacteria are using my face to fuck. That’s sort of hot, in a very…protozoan way. I think I’ll watch some porn. It will bring me out of this shitty mood and perhaps free me from a repeat of today’s embarrassment.
Categories: jamais vu,Melancholy,Nostalgia
I just watched Ghost in the Shell. It was quite interesting, but the end was lacking.
My mom thinks I’m dropping out of college by not taking any classes next semester. And in a way, I guess I am.
Oh well.
I know I’m going to succeed. That’s all that matters.
All she ever does is cast doubt in decisions I make for myself. She wants to control every aspect of my life. How dare she tell me what a year in Crescent City alone is like. Fucking whore never listened to me. She knows nothing about me. This is a common mistake: you can’t truly love someone unless you understand them. And my mom quite frankly doesn’t give a shit about the person that I am. I am her immortality, and she doesn’t want to let it go.
I can’t help it. I am Meursault. I’m not even real. There is no such thing as ultimate reality. I’m just the people I read about in books. I am a perpetual chemical reaction. My cells are a store of information. 1% of my genetic material is all it separates me from a chimpanzee. I don’t know. That movie just asked the old Philip K. Dick question of when you have a synthetic brain and a synthetic body and a synthetic autonomic nervous system, are you human? What is being human even mean any more when the synthetics can outperform you in any conceivable way.
What is synthetic? If it has amino acids is it human ? what if it’s made from silicon?
None of these questions have any answers. There are no answers for anything. That’s why I felt cheated at the end of the movie.
::SPOILER ALERT::
When the “A.I.” finally got a body of its own and was free of its human masters, it looked over the city talking about the vast, infinite network… and then nothing. There was no purpose. For all practical purposes, the new life form could get a job at a convenience store. I mean, it didn’t really ask the question of what the meaning of life was for a human or a pseudohuman.
Misty left this comment on my MySpace today saying that we should hang out today, and I left another message on her answering machine (this must be at least the fifth).
It’s official.
Fuck you, Misty. Instead of leaving me effervescent messages on MySpace, why don’t you fucking call me, bitch? Jesus.
I’m bored again now. Family Guy was a repeat, so I didn’t watch it. I want my books to arrive, damn it. I started reading this Jane Austen novel out of boredom in hopes that it wouldn’t be stodgy and English and boring… and I delivered on all three fronts. But then again I only did read the first chapter. Still… all the characters seem flat and I can’t distinguish one character from the other. And it’s not like Ballard, she doesn’t seem to be doing it on purpose. None are described physically. I just don’t see the point in reading all of this old stuff. It’s no longer relevant. But I guess it is important in that millions of people liked something about it enough for it to become famous and get reprinted for 300 years. I don’t know. If it fails to interest me by the second chapter, it’s going in the dump.
I wanted to watch The Living End, but I shouldn’t. It will just made me more cynical and lonely.
I should watch that movie that Ben lent me like four months ago, but I feel like I’ve given up on his friendship. I’ve given up on Misty. This is the season of quitting. A friend a long time ago liked to write a haikus. I was hooked on it. We wrote innumerable haikus. I’m thinking of starting it again, for sheer nostalgia value.
Lonely in my room
Summer is almost over
Why must I be here?
So I sit in my room hating everyone and letting them win. And they don’t care about me. I’m a lonely person. What can I do?
I’m picturing Misty’s living room. I’m picturing the look on her face when she rattled off all the flaws of everyone she’s ever known. I’m picturing her telling everyone why I’m a bad person. Like a fucking laundry list. I’m this close to leaving a sarcastic comment on her MySpace. But I shouldn’t. That would mean that she really got to me. And she did. Every new friendship teaches me to never open up to people. To never tell them the truth. To make every friendship superficial so that I’m never hurt again.
As much as I hate to admit it, I think I only hung out with Ben because he was attractive. Why do I find myself doing things I myself hate people for doing?
I picture him now. Getting drunk with his “sister.” What the fuck ever. I can’t ever picture him crying. All of his bull shit teenage “depression” about Justin leaving. Fucking gag me.
You have never felt any emotion in your life, you shallow fuck.
Blah blah blah, I never had any friends. Blah blah blah, I was fat. Pity me. PITY ME. PITY DARIUS. GIVE ME ALL YOUR FUCKING PITY. I’M so fucking pathetic that I have to rant about how much I hate people as a defense mechanism. So they don’t know I’m dying inside. So Misty doesn’t know that I waited all day for her to call me back on multiple occasions. pity pity fucking blog pity party on me. I hate people who do this. I hate people like me. People who can’t relate to others. Stupid malcontent misanthropes. I hate myself. I hate myself so much. And it’s because of how other people treat me. I can’t value myself as an intelligent person unless others tell me so. I can’t think of myself as beautiful unless Misty tells me she loves my haircut. I can’t think I have a fashion sense unless Selena tells me she likes my shirt. I just want to cry. But I can’t. I’m a coldhearted near-homeless bastard who hates his mother.
Why can’t this just be over?
Categories: Melancholy,Vitriol
tried to do a video post. failed. oh well.
Categories: Melancholy