| There's Not A Cannon Factory In The Whole South |
[21 Sep 2009|06:56am] |
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mood |
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 disappointed |
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music |
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Nada |
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If you questioned President Bush, you were unpatriotic. If you question President Obama, you're a racist.
I guess that makes me an unpatriotic racist. Too bad I was born more than a hundred years after the Civil War. I would have made an excellent soldier for the Confederacy.
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| Taylor And The Swifts |
[16 Sep 2009|04:46am] |
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mood |
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 chipper |
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music |
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"My Poor Brain," by The Foo Fighters |
] |
President Obama called Kanye West a jackass.
Almost makes me wish I had voted for him.
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| Why I Could Never Be A Newscaster |
[14 Sep 2009|05:25am] |
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mood |
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cheerful |
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music |
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"Surely God is With Us," by Rich Mullins |
] |
Committed from memory (so probably somewhat inaccurate) from Meet the Press on Sunday:
David Gregory: "Senator Durbin, how will the President pay for his health care plan without raising taxes or expanding the deficit?"
Dick Durbin (D-Ill): "I think all members of congress should take the President at his word when he says he won't do either. Remember, he inherited a trillion dollar deficit for this year from a Republican administration who cut taxes on the wealthy and spent money without the funds to support it."
Me (to the television): "Thanks for not answering the question and being an all around political dick, Dick."
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| Talking About Not Talking |
[22 Aug 2009|03:53am] |
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mood |
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 tired |
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music |
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Nothing |
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I'm sick of talking about how I don't want to get married. I'm really tired of making fun of the entire institution. I like a good argument, I can't deny that, but it's gotten to the point of being ridiculous. Now if only all the parents and youth workers and teachers and whoever else watched me grow up would stop asking me, "When are you gonna get married?" my life would be complete.
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| Pop Quiz |
[23 Jul 2009|04:23am] |
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mood |
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 aggravated |
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music |
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"Roll With It," by Oasis |
] |
What happens when two people with major passive aggressive tendencies get married?
If you said a wonderful life and a happy marriage, punch yourself wherever it hurts most.
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| Celebrity Bashing Is Very American |
[24 Jun 2009|05:17am] |
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mood |
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sleepy |
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music |
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Nothing |
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I hate Tim Burton. He ruined Batman. He ruined Sleepy Hollow. He ruined Planet of the Apes. Now he's going to ruin Alice in Wonderland. I hate, hate, hate him. Quirky is only quirky if it's done a bit; when it becomes a trend, what you have is a one note director who is paid to take a shit on what other people have done.
Except for Big Fish. That was a great movie. He's the Robin Williams of directors. Restrain him a little bit, and he can be good. Otherwise...good God.
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| I Don't Want To Twitter |
[13 May 2009|03:04am] |
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mood |
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restless |
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music |
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"Death And All His Friends," by Coldplay |
] |
Say what you want about Coldplay, but if I could write anything in my life half as good as the lyrics to Death and All His Friends, I would be very happy indeed.
No I don't want a battle from beginning to end
I don't want a cycle of recycled revenge
I don't want to follow death and all of his friends
I quite like it. But it won't happen. I'm alright, but I'm not that good. Of course, they have several people working together on lyrics, but whatever.
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| True Townie Tale |
[09 May 2009|03:36am] |
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mood |
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bored |
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music |
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"Through The Morning, Through The Night," by Alison Krauss and Robert Plant |
] |
Bloomington is a great town. I can't wait to move away. I'm bored with it all.
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| A Quote |
[30 Apr 2009|12:14pm] |
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mood |
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grateful |
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music |
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"Siddhartha's of Suburbia," by Josh Joplin Group |
] |
I think this explains it all for me:
"The writer who emphasizes spiritual values is very likely to take the darkest view of all of what he sees in this country today. For him, the fact that we are the most powerful and the wealthiest nation in the world doesn't mean a thing in any positive sense. The sharper the light of faith, the more glaring are apt to be the distortions the writer sees in the life around him. My own feeling is that writers who see by the light of their Christian faith will have, in these times, the sharpest eyes for the grotesque, for the perverse, and for the unacceptable. The novelist with Christian concerns will find in modern life distortions which are repugnant to him, and his problem will be to make these appear as distortions to an audience which is used to seeing them as natural."
--Flannery O'Connor
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| Minding Abesntia |
[19 Apr 2009|01:34pm] |
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mood |
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 blank |
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music |
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Nothing |
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While throwing away an apple core today, I also accidentally threw my cell phone in the trash. This happened after stepping on and breaking an older phone the week before.
Well, I have said I wish I could just get rid of the thing. Maybe my unconscious mind was trying to help out with that goal.
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| I Need A Bath |
[14 Apr 2009|01:46am] |
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mood |
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annoyed |
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music |
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"Don't Worry Baby," by the Beach Boys |
] |
My roommate loves Dyngus Day. For the uninitiated, that is basically the day after Easter. I suppose it's the end of Lent and freedom to do whatever you want--which, in the case of said roommate, is drink. And that's fine. I like a fine brew, though the beer of choice right now is Miller Light, which is swill. I make do.
But we have hipsters over now, hanging out. Hipsters. I fucking hate hipsters. And now they're in my fucking home. It's like a Nazi pissing in the Ark of the Covenant. I like music on vinyl as much as the next guy, but they drink Pabst Fucking Blue Ribbon as some kind of lifestyle choice. Irony only goes so far before you are condemned, rightly, by it. God save me from clones who complain about cultural asexual reproduction.
My darkest, happiest dream? Hipsters and frat boys stranded on a desert island, fighting for survival. Who wouldn't pay to watch that?
I think my apartment needs a thorough cleaning.
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| Words Of Unwisdom |
[11 Apr 2009|04:30am] |
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mood |
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pessimistic |
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music |
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"New York," by U2 |
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Infatuation is easy.
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| Itallicize Everything |
[16 Mar 2009|03:15am] |
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mood |
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 confused |
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music |
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"Song For The Dumped," by Ben Folds Five |
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This is going to be embarrassing. I'm uncomfortable. I don't want to write this. That's unusual for me. I like to think I'm an open book. God knows I've written that here more than once. More than a dozen times, I imagine. But this is something I'm not very good at talking about. You know...love. Romance. I'm a fan of the stuff, though not much of a believer. Universal, Christ-like love, sure, I can buy into that. Romantic love though is a frilly fairy tale that wears off, often pre-coitus.
To call what I'm experiencing romantic love is beyond a stretch. It's ridiculous. I've talked to this girl maybe five times. It is infatuation. A crush. You never really leave first grade, do you? Well, maybe you did, but I haven't. So what I'm experiencing is, at best, interest and maybe (probably) entirely one sided. It's cool, though. As I said, that's my default position when these situations arise, though they seldom do. I'm more often than not disinterested in relationships. I put foil on my windows to block out the light, I struggle to acknowledge people I know, I can't drive the world out fast enough. Another person in my life, in my house, in my fucking bed is an irritation I do not need or want.
Given my history, I'd take this newfangled interest in stride, dreaming about it a bit, before eventually moving on. This one is slightly more public, though. People know about it. I've been told that it's cute. That I'm adorable. Adorable is not a state I achieve easily, so you'll excuse me if I bask in how absolutely adorable I am for a moment. My adorablacity is slight, I'm sure, so I won't bask long. There. I'm done. I'm glad you were patient.
I'm like Mr. Good Will Hunting, just without the genius or the criminal record. See, the story goes that he met a great girl and didn't pursue it because he knew he'd find out she wasn't as perfect as he fantasized. And of course, he couldn't remain perfect, either; you let someone in, you can't stay the same. Next thing you know, your bathroom is pink and your bookcase has been moved to make room for pictures of chubby angels and little children dressed in their parents clothes.
But I like my life. I like being perfect. The idea of a girl my equal or (gasp!) my better is too much for me. My relationships are clearly marked out. I'm challenged properly, in a comfortable fashion, and if it gets uncomfortable, my room or my office are available. But someone you can't get rid of? Someone who won't leave? Someone worthwhile? Terrifying. Still, think how great Indiana Jones would be if he weren't afraid of snakes. If Superman weren't allergic to Kryptonite, why, he'd be a Super Superman. So whatever happens, friend, lover, enemy, nothing at all, I shouldn't stay afraid forever.
Ironically, the song on my iTunes right now is Song For the Dumped by Ben Folds Five. Omen? Nah.
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| You Say Hello, I Say... |
[01 Mar 2009|12:01am] |
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mood |
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chipper |
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music |
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"Turnaround," by Guardian |
] |
Goodbye February. Kindly fuck off. And if you don't mind, take winter with you.
Thank you.
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| Time Is A Wheel |
[01 Feb 2009|07:54am] |
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mood |
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depressed |
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music |
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"Shine," by Collective Soul |
] |
Well, it's February again.
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| Cold Day |
[28 Jan 2009|03:02pm] |
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mood |
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hungry |
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music |
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Some bad emo song |
] |
Google Docs is great. It's a word processor you can access anywhere there is internet. So if I want to work on a story but I'm not at my computer--if I'm visiting my parents, for instance--I can just log on and there it is. I've moved pretty much all my writing there, so if someone really wants mediocre tales of love and loss and family and God, by all means, hack into my account and there they are.
I haven't posted a story here for a while, so I thought I'd just go ahead and put up this little guy. I have a much longer story--thirty pages--finished in a very rough state that I'm willing (and would like) to have people read. Should I post it here too, or is that too course? If you want to read it, let me know. I'm not gonna foist my stuff on people too often, unless it's wanted. I will say that the longer story is kind of filthy in a sexual way, if that affects your decision in any way.
( A Sonnet )
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| Starfires |
[28 Jan 2009|04:37am] |
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mood |
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cold |
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music |
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"Yesterday," by the Beatles |
] |
Bloomington is a somewhat big town. You know. Over fifty thousand people. What Sim City would call a capital, but there can be only one capital, and that's Indianapolis, home of the sacred Pacers and Colts (even if neither team plays as though they actually matter, really).
Berne is a small town. Not even five thousand people. Geneva is even smaller, with less than two thousand people living there, and wikipedia reliably(?) informs me that there is a segment of the population that is African American, though I've never seen it.
So what are the odds of someone randomly swinging by my apartment, without me inviting them, who not only is from there, but is someone I knew from high school? It has to be pretty slim, right? Especially when you factor in the fact they went to Purdue and not Indiana University?
I live an interesting life, filled with statistical improbabilities.
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| Bittersweet |
[19 Dec 2008|03:55am] |
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mood |
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cheerful |
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music |
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Nothing |
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With the ten dollar gift card to Target my church gave me as a Christmas present I bought Doritos and beer.
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| Eulogy |
[14 Dec 2008|01:04am] |
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mood |
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cheerful |
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music |
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Ghostbusters Part Deux! |
] |
He was too smart to care about anything, so he did nothing.
I'm gonna use it in a story. Cheesy, but true.
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