October 2003 Archives

crashed at chris's last night after doing additional mad drastic things to my hair. fell asleep woke up to him telling me his mom was out walking lost control of the walker fell backwards hit her head on the sidewalk they think it's bad.

he went into the bathroom and my sleepsoaked brain slowly slowly processed this information factoring in the facts she's six foot tall has bad knees would fall straight back. distance velocity at impact age physical condition bone density existing neurological issues ... i got up. he came out of the bathroom i asked to make sure: 'on the sidewalk?'

he said yes.
on the sidewalk.

we have to go trick-or-treat now, kurtwood and i.

i cannot bitch i should not whine i will not vent i will keep my fucking mouth shut for once i will i have to i really really do. no matter what. whatever. i do however have a word: unbearable.

i was up all night studying the interplay of various alpha states & slow waves & gamma rays & the movement of dreams through open eyes, diligently recording my observations utilizing this revolutionary new method of visual note-taking i've developed, which has neuroscientists everywhere reaching nervously for the phone to call security and have me removed immediately. no not really. but it could happen. anything can.

ever sit up all night with your computer right next to another computer and the other computer is on the internet and the person sitting at it is playing oh i don't know like bingo or something and this goes on hour after hour after hour and then on and and and ... sitting inches from the internet with nothing but a few stray utterly disorderly brainwaves, three graphics programs and a couple of unremarkable photographs and ... next thing i know this thing happened, i'm not quite sure how, ...

ashfallen the feeling bonebleached
beneath dirty blonde sun harsh
heat soft dry light thick
friction fills the eyes raw
silence fills the lungs slow elegant
stillness in the shape of a living
being vanishing under layer after
delicate layer shallow like skin hollow
a shell a girl torn
like a hole in her own
afterimage
after all
ashfall

~me
27oct03
(reporting live from fiery southern california)

and i asked dude next door who has the internet if i might borrow it a bit and he said no. can you imagine. pfft. doesn't he know who i am?

my daughter's not at work today no free internet there. i've already bugged mechele. weirdo noid of a neighbor. what in the name of colonel lionel p. tweezerfuck is going on here? exactly?

so i'm blogging in a notebook with a bad pen. by tomorrow i'll be blogging from the daughterhouse on some free AOL while we wait for real internet oh yeah i will be online you betcha by golly walk like a bumfuck egyptian i will be oh hell i said oh hell oh wait i mean oh fuck yeah.

i have most emphatically lost it. if you find it do not panic ok panic but don't make any sudden moves as you run for your lives it will be fine i am fine everything is just so fucking fine i could just

... oh you wish you knew what i could just do about it being so fucking fine don't you? oh wait. no you don't. i had you confused with someone else. my mistake. none of this is happening. we don't exist we eat our time something something something cayenne ok look you are gonna haveta trust me on this one k? alrighty then. assume a name any name will do flee damn you flee the state country planet whatever hurry get gone like gone was on baby now (what you're still here? fuuuuck.) go! before it's too ...

oh you wish. you wish you wished. i see how it is.
*ahem*
as you were

*nods*

point of fact :: no capital letters were typed in the making of this entry. they are all span style text transform thingys.

like, a new gallery thingy 'cause this sort of thing just keeps happening. sometimes i rasterbate all night. alllllllll night man.

i was something to say made of my own language however the waves, formless from the start, have fallen into an unearthly glassy trance flatline flowing from the sensation of russian or something quite similar being spoken into a courtesy phone just over my left shoulder by someone sitting surfing the same internet i'm typing into just over his right shoulder. listening to the soft soft consonance, phrases formed on a tongue that learned entirely different phonemes throughout its formative phases, i am lost in the difference which i confess tickles something somewhere near maybe the base of my skull & could easily easily lull me drowsy into dreams describing things i've never known, tempting tempting i want to relent, to let my lids give in to the gravity the gravity is everything no no that's not right is it? it is the strongest force in the universe yes but it is certainly not everything there are other things, i just can't at the moment remember even one of them.

... a night which included wandering arm-in-arm drunk down the middle of the street in the million-dollar yacht-berth-in-the-backyard neighborhoods at four am, singing. no it didn't! i'm kidding. that would be just crazy, not at all the sort of thing that sane, normal, ordinary, upstanding citizens like my daughter and i would do.

 
 

these looked blank but the auto-equalizer found stuff. these are using the super-secret 16 second exposure mode, with a concrete barrier and an unsteady hand as a tripod. the second one is part of the constellation orion. i am damn proud of myself for getting even a little bit of it, considering.
 

and finally, the internet at kinko's:

except i do, i am all about beginnings but each thing has its own such a long boring story explaining it getting this way and the way things change every instant (on the toes, gotta keep on the toes) so basically what we have here now.today is the tequila.oj breakfast with the daughter and the box of pictures on the sunny (ocean viewable) balcony (there will be a gallery for these it will be fun yes) the moving again this time to a futon near the beach (place with the ocean viewable balcony) and the time it takes to take some time and begin again and i wonder if they realize i'm gonna put webcams in the toilets? oh not really. ok maybe. no i'm kidding. of course i am.

stress.related gastroenteritis all weekend.long bloody hell that is but well enough here sunday night walk a mile for a bit of internet interlude grinning most of the walk in this pleasant conspiracy with the night when was the last time you walked wide open to the night? places to go but nowhere to be particularly? yeah.

thank you dr. suzie

i am so barely online. my computer is in my car and it doesn't even have a table to sit on yet and a bookshelf has to be moved first and it can't come in without a table which would go where the bookcase is which is full of books, and my computer is in my car have i mentioned i'm on my roommates scary unfamiliar computer it doesn't like me i can feel its animosity towards me my computer loves me, have i mentioned my computer is not hooked up to anything at all it's ... it's in my car? because it is.

hold me i'm scared.

the cable internet is configured for USB but it has to be uninstalled reinstalled to use ethernet and then the 1.45.6 (or maybe .7 or maybe downgrade to 1.44 or was it 1.42 ) Official Firmware on the BEFSR41 has to be upgraded (flashed) re: known issues with adelphia service there were people who couldn't make it run others reported their routers 'happy as drunken squirrels' i do not think i want my router drunk or squirrely. i may be wrong.

without internet into my computer i have 20 email accounts or some shit yeah yeah i know don't even go there i need them ok there are reasons good ones but i can't check them webmail it would take all night / day / week / i'm dead without my email / i don't give a fuck. she thinks i'll break the computer and you know what? i will. i usually do break things before i fix them i see this as no exception except this time with external panic source double my pleasure double my fun fuck i don't really care anymore and you know what else? what the problem is? fucking end users. yeah i'm one sure sure in some ways yeah i am but then again not really and anyway i'm talking about the end users i have lived with throughout my tech career i mean end users that see everything i do computing as some frivolous something nevermind the fact everything i do is everything i've learned and everything i will and there are people who will never understand and they do their level best to help me spend more time off the computer and then wonder why i don't make enough money and in fact suspect i actually do not make any money. yeah. and so i'm damned if i do and screwed if i don't and i don't give a fuck anymore.

you know how when i'm fussy & bummed how you all tell me how talented and whatnot i am well there are people who no matter how hard i try to convey that have no idea will never have one don't see and won't see what my internet friends see and so they react to any minute i spend on a computer like i'm just playing not doing anything worthwhile because you know it's if it's fun i should either get off the computer or do something unfun on it? i don't get it and i don't give a fuck anymore.

you know how you're supposed to find something you love to do and find a way to get paid for it? don't do it. fuck it. everyone will accuse you of fucking goofing off and tell you you spend too much time doing what you love and you should go spend more time doing shit you don't love.

i'm not antisocial they're antitechnical.

have i mentioned i just don't give a fuck anymore? because i don't. give a fuck. anymore.

q. make names anonymous
a. a

... picture from the old house. it's a fresh young spider, similar to that really alien-looking green guy, but kinda different too.

or maybe photowallowing. whatever.

:: porchlight -- under the couch ::
 
:: the neighborhood ::
 
:: weed -- life ::
 
:: porch toys -- death ::
 

one last small vanilla cigar one last beer before disconnect. it's tuesday right? ok. seems the last several days, they merged they blended hell they were fucking frappfrappéd dude. days like one long wild-eyed pasteurized homogenized grade a freakout. show. freaksomething, i don't know. and. now. finally. ready. ready did i say ready? i meant some other word, something involving the force of circumstances and may i say i am quite sick to death of circumstances at this point?

and if you thought under the couch was crazy, do you know what happens under a refrigerator over the course of a decade or so? i'll tell you what happens. unimaginable horror is what happens.

all my energy is spent again
but i can't remember where or when
so i crawl back where i should have been
to tell the truth it's more than energy that's being spent ...
shoulda gave it away

tired the mind says stop the hands say write the glands say fuck the rest tends to mutter & sputter some incomprehensible shit doesn't it? spent the weekend camped with life packed outside except ofcourse computer re: last-minute waiver. regret regret regret is at the moment infinite. everything. every thing. and every whatif comes complete with its own wouldbe regret wrapped innate inherent there isn't a right answer is there?

i don't want to let you down, but friend
there's something nice about the sound of drowning

in the interest of digression, an observation: recent bouts of clarity rudely intruded upon my own idealized interpretations, truths that maybe could be taken enraged at the sources but in my case the rage is taken internally (an hour or two before sunrise usually).

though you pray my soul to keep
but my conscience is a flake
now i lay me down to sleep
but i scratch myself awake ... try to keep it away

i do not regret the reason i rage. i regret everything else.

should have my head adjusted
i simply can't be trusted ...
shoulda gave it away

**sound of drowning, pinching judy

i mean it. really. clutch your slimy little thoraxes and keel over already. may as well, considering the epic amount of geekery being directed in your direction at the moment. yeppers, may as well give up and go away quietly. oh sure, it ain't over yet, but let's just say the big-boned lady is warming up backstage, ya dig?

ok, yeah, i have some issues with this. issues. i have issues. and can i mix an obfuscated metaphor or two, or what? sorry, i'm a little woozy from life & stuff. but i'm up for this, oh you betcha.

in english:
Jay Allen has written a plugin.

here is more information on my plans for world domination the implementation of this plugin on this server. i was a little babbly there too, but i've linked the documentation (it'll say "related article" at the bottom of the post, that's the stuff)

well, i haven't quite left just yet.

Into the great wide open,
Under them skies of blue
Out in the great wide open,
A rebel without a clue

so he calls me up and he says, i haven't been sleeping more than three or five hours a night (welcome to my world) and i get these moments that feel like catholicism (yeah i know exactly what you mean only i wouldn't call it that exactly). then he says he wants to fuck (yay!) i can hear by the squawking and barking that he's at the pet store, so i hurry on over almost stopping at the bar for a beer but there he is standing outside smoking and we're climbing all over each other in the parking lot decide we can't do it out there. we discuss the likelihood of either of our roommates (it's like a boarding school, except with a pet shop and a bar, okay?) and by this time i'm naked and we're walking upstairs (and dick clark is not looking at my ass) but his** grandparents are in his room and his gramma makes a wisecrack about boobs and cackles like a madwoman as i back out of the room clutching a pillow. then we're watching this comedy, it's young and kinda urban and contemporary and it's well-written and the actors have flawless timing and we're laughing so hard and finally he catches his breath and asks, why is comedy so much better now? and i say it's because we finally got rid of all those vaudevillians with their playing to the cheap seats.

fade to wake up.

** not dick clark's grandparents. the dreamsex guy's grandparents. who may in fact have been dead, come to think of it. yeah 'cause he said he sent them money and it came back no forwarding address, isn't that dream for dead? hmm.

spirited protesters outside von's -- manning, womaning, and childing the picket lines with amazing energy. i'll get my toilet paper elsewhere (later - i blew my toilet-paper-buying window of time taking pictures)

so, i don't quite have the hang of low light pictures (and lack a tripod, and am generally wobbly), so this is like, artsy-blurry, ok?

so i ended up crossing the street to get a better picture. here we have some von's employees, their kids, and a random stranger that happened by and decided to join the fun. if i hadn't had dinner getting cold and soggy in my car i might have joined 'em too.

striker: where are those pictures going?
me: on the internet!
striker: cool! where!
me: sigh. it's just a weblog.

two hours so far full awake stalling. road rash raw through & through. i have wandered, i have walked through rooms like water, thick history family swirling around me, body temperature mostly but icy in places. is this giving it time to sink in or is this wallowing. i am breathing through the pain. i wonder what it is that is keeping me from screaming. it is nowhere near empty yet. if i take the vicodin i will feel less but not enough. i save it, it is maybe the only thing i can. now. a better person would sacrifice these house to herself hours & get on with it.

me?

oh the hell with reality. i mean it. hell with it. i'm gonna get really drunk while i'm packing. and take lots of breaks to do drunk blogging. probably.

what are a lizard's favorite things? wingnuts on roses and flippers on kittens, sure, but her very very favorite things are guys in dresses. without further ado, here's a ... guy in a dress (what you were expecting flippered kittens?)

breakfast = string cheese, cookies, yogurt, naproxen, erythromycin, beer. *urp* may be able to keep computer hooked up here till (tomorrow) morning, maybe not. really tired of this constant highpitched ringing in the ear near the tooth.

not exactly sure where i'm going.

aside from that everything's peachy.

a while back this stopped being a choice i made and turned into, as my son put it yesterday, "me and daddy are moving to a new house, and you're moving somewhere else. do you know why?" and i said why and he said "because of this mess!" (pointing at my computer table) "look what you've done to this house".

so yeah, it's alllllll worth it isn't it? leaving a situation that *felt* grim, for one that actually, materially, physically *is* grim. dunno, if i did still have a choice, i'd have to go with the life of quiet desperation in a house having luxuries like a phone than the one i'm headed out into right now.

on the plus side, it does make the bit about 'i'd sooner chew my leg off' hardly an exaggeration at all.

fuzzy math: in the course of the bitching out this morning he accused me of "spending at least five hundred dollars" on clothes in the past couple months. let's see - an average $7 at the 99¢ rack, times maybe 6 times i shopped -- hey! that's why i'm broke! it's not because he took all my income last month! oh yeah, and this is on "things i don't wear" (except that they are all i have to wear, my old clothes didn't fit).

still. what's worse? living with an idiot in a house, or ... not?

bottle the first:
pain to ease the pain, burning to ease the searing, shivers to the illusion of warmth. if i had any fucking guts at all i'd take a needle no maybe that wouldn't be enough a scalpel but i don't have a scalpel - exacto knife? and i'd release the pressure. but i cannot bring myself to make the incision into perhaps the worst square centimeter of inflammed tissue ever to exist on my body. pain would ease the pain, but the best pain i can manage at this juncture is seventy proof and burns like peach.

bottle the second:
pain = answer. used to lick my lips too much. chapped cracked sore as hell and unattractive oh yeah fancy ugly, not just plain. insert large stainless steel barbell in tongue. walk out into the night floating on the pain and feel the tongue try to make a move on the lips. denied, courtesy of pain. dear b.f. skinner, you were right about everything, love, me.

there is no third bottle:
they were tiny bottles of course. to be honest i still struggle with bottle the second, i am not the wild irish alcoholic i once was. however who and what i am is mostly the result of various answers involving pain. punishment. rewards i take first undeserving even knowing i will turn on my self after. cycle circles around comes to rest like a knife at the base of the throat, thin line of shimmering red suggesting the worst yet to come. i do not know whether or not i ought to be struggling.

there is another answer. it involves pleasure. i will not ask.

i don't have a point. it's only a toothache.

the yellow glow spreads over the glass hazy with years of vanilla scented smoke i sit listless distant staring straight vacant into this the last of this light which hesitates and is lost on me for ever and ever and more, and - and please, please realize i never intended it to end this way i never intended any ending whatsoever, have i ever mentioned how back in the newness of this, how i wished we could live forever, just to keep loving each other and this is the loss, this innocence

is this love still inside me, dead rotten maggot ridden mass of doubts violence pathos loss? is that what this is? will it kill me

how long? even an estimate? how about a guess? oh. whatever

and what is this, this vivid almost physical craving, this ridiculous wish for a lapse in space and time and unconsciousness in sufficient quantity so i may once again awaken in the same dream i fell into in the first place and if not may i please have a moment and if so i would like one of those on the balcony on the hill and the county fair fireworks flashing over the ocean and with one voice a whisper 'life is good' yes we were this innocent once and yes we meant every word every last perfect pure infinite word

i would like to please believe love please just this one time if you could please just a moment please just the joy of that good life just one last minute of it

yes i see
i understand. yes. wait no, no i don't. but that doesn't matter yes i guess i have learned that much from this

and that is progress isn't it. of course

goodbye is a matter of days away, though the loss of love was consummated long ago, years and years ago, and it has been a long dying gasp of a last five six maybe even seven years, yes

i can already feel it, the moment i leave, leaving behind this house this home this family for what it's worth for the last time. i know goodbye as well or better than i know even my own self, which i have been known to lose on occasion, while goodbye is an always, a constant, ever perched restless ready on the tip of this tongue of mine

the water flowing, the endless river ... forever and ever

baptism by fire extinguished consumed with torrential rage & i swallow my bitter lesson poison & spiritual emetic alike & nature of course takes no chances vomits ash & stench & molten granite & iron into the clarity of the gaseous myth-ridden separation of our latter half-lives & shows you winter just like me nuclear & i stand back hold back hold on hold what i can & until i can no longer stand & laugh like bells rattle bones & confess yes this has been my most realistic simulation so far & funny thing i think i had you for a minute there i did didn't i?

the lizard would rather we skip the forking, if that's alright with you.

you asked for understanding, whereas the lizard is as usual faking the holy living shit out of everything and therefore, your answer:

rss feeds are the technological embodiment of the fundamental interconnectedness of all things. rss feeds the lizard within with its endless unquenched thirst for ... things. and stuff. if you listen closely and you can almost hear the songs the pings sing as they travel, light or wired or not . the music of the sockets must be composed and played with the utmost precision, dissonance in this case produces disconnection, and whatever is lost in the process drifts into the blackhole of dev/null, perhaps leaving you knowing naught what might have been, perhaps not -- you just never fucking know.

i also sent you an email, there is an insignificant but relentless small hope it made a little sense?

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i have hijacked everyone using skins one thru three, your old outdated skin choices will be re-enabled when i damn well feel like it.
this is the new skin
click that go on click it. there you go.
it is not quite completely finished; nothing is.
◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

q. what it feels like to have a penis
a. nancy? this is all your fault. allll your fault.
q. to quit sniffing glue
a. i picked the wrong day, too.
q. lizard dan day
a. dan! we have a day! i did not know that.
q. liz tongue
a.
q. alien reptile sex
a. which leads us to hale bopp will bite who in the ass? which features a poster called friendofsonofturkeyf*cker. small world, man.
q. insane fucking
a. why not check out the those halebopper assbiters? i hear they're friendly with the turkeyfucker family.
q. "s'il-vous plait"
a. greetings, person from housegate.house.gov, what do you think of those mad photoshop skillz? mad i tell you. mad. besides it's a metaphor. i found on the internet. by accident. the dog ate my homework. i'm innocent! haven't you heard of false aralia? look! over there! boobs!
q. boobacious one
a. ahh, the good old days...
(yahoo asks: did you mean boodacious one? no, yahoo, i don't think so.)
q. i do not expect any luck but bad and know that if gods or spirits exist, they are arrayed against me
a. rock the fuck on. i am so not the only one running around with that quote in my head.
q. pimpin' at work
a. and yahoo conveniently provides a link using the query to set the worksafe skin. isn't that sweet?
q. lizards rule the world
a. fuckin' a we do. oh you betcha.

... and other things that didn't happen today:

today, a starbucks was not firebombed, its employees not cooked slowly and excruciatingly into blackened lumps of carbon by the gasoline-fueled flames in spite of the lies, the lies, the filthy lies, they could have broken that fifty, you know it, i know it, they knew it. also, we have it from the disgruntled staff members of some very reliable sources that there were no consequences of any kind visited upon the deceitful evil bitch behind the counter with the shriveled twisted excuse for a soul, even though the universe is just a little further from balance as a result.

in other non-news, a sanctimonious ex was not found justifiably chopped into bite sized morsels, nor was his flesh shredded from bone by a small but determined group of angry wolverines. he did not trip and fall under the wheels of anything big enough to matter, nor did he lose any appendages in an unfortunate axe accident. after none of this happened, there was no rejoicing, no parade, nada, zip, zero, the big diddly squat: no liquored-up nekkid folk were caught on tape as they swarmed into the streets in celebration, there was no lootin' the pharmacies, not a dang thing (sorry, the network won't let me say goldang). on the bright side there were no arrests.

this has been brought to you by stolichnaya peach and a tremendous effort of will.

this morning, i woke up slow, in layers, gentle, warm, emerging from the unfolding dream blending smooth and easy into the waiting day. the Son of lizard noticed this, and as usual had things he'd been waiting impatiently to tell me:

the son: god is real. and she is everywhere.
the mom: ¿she?
the son: yeah, i think god's a girl

there you have it.

okay, so, so, there was ... i ... had a little ... and then i ... i couldn't stop ...

liz

because "wtf?" is just so vague. now this, this, is perfect. succinct, direct, to the point, says it all.

• entenmann's ultimate crumb cake is not the answer. wait. yes it is.
• i will not kill anyone. else. today. unless it becomes necessary.
• i will not hang out at ruinyourlife.com thinking, hmm.
• i will not be tharn. unless i look really cute doing it.
• i will not make melodramatic lists with ulterior motives carefully designed to elicit certain reactions, and then go tharn and hang out at ruinyourlife.com rather than answer my email.
• i will not have a beer before noon. that's right there will be no sleepdrinking whatsoever.
• i will not avoid my email because it makes me nervous. even though i have every right to be nervous. all that spam yeah that's it.
• i will not bite my toenails. or anyone elses.
• i will not put anything larger than my elbow in my ear. or your ass for that matter. thank me. thank me now.
• i will not use my blog as a tool of hypnotic evil. you are getting very sleepy. probably because this is so boring. but maybe not. [insert spooky theramin effect]

kid: mommy, can i tell you something?
me: what?
kid: god's real !
me: um. ¿what?
kid: ¡¡ god's real !!. i was sitting in my room and one of my toys went [insert toy sound]. i heard it! it's god! god's real!
me: ...

i realize i am confusing and confused. i tend to vent and babble here in a seriously surreal, circuitous fashion, however i do have a point. well, not a point exactly. but a plan, albeit a somewhat nonlinear, amorphous one:

someday the facts of the matters alluded to in these ramblings here will be fictionalized, some slightly some entirely, until they become more than the sum of themselves. in the process i fully expect to discover other levels, for certainly they exist within me already, however they are inaccessible from my current perspective, which is in fact the depths of the worst of the material facts, with a few shining exceptions of course. those are keeping me alive, and will be woven into with the darkness and fear as written, as they are here now in life, only more artfully (hopefully) (at this point they are awfully bloody awkward)

so i am at this point taking copious notes (some 45,000 words thus far) and when i can see something in the reflection that is more than the image itself, ... well, i don't exactly know what's going to happen then.

i'm looking forward to finding out.

i was going to say 'this will all make sense someday' but honestly i don't know how much actual coherence the finished whatever will have, coherence is not my strong suit. but there will be wicked vivid imagery and all the pretty euphony and taken as a whole, this will all have some purpose beyond the telling of the story behind all the confusing allusions.

so if you get an official looking email from microsoft telling you to run the attached file, it's not from microsoft. it's a virus writer social engineering you into installing a worm/virus on your computer. it's the easiest way, you know, get people to do it to themselves, that way it cuts down on the code you have to write. more information here

beware social engineering.

mexico threatens to turn off tequila

[via christine.]
* * * * * * * * * *
and in other news:
* * * * * * * * * *
with alacrity:

1. get really drunk (i haven't managed so far, but there's still hope)
2. get really drunk and send a drunk email (it's just been too long since i've done that, dammit)
3. quit my job and move to another country under an assumed name, possibly Jean-Luc or Pierre.
4. go cliff driving (look, it's always an option, so i was obligated to list it, but don't worry, i'm afraid of heights)
5. nothing. lay on the couch till someone physically removes me. wander off and find a nice park bench till someone physically removes me. repeat.

i'm going to go lay on the couch and see if that seems viable, after that we start from one and see how two goes, after which three will be lookin' good. there is no fourth thing, don't worry, i'm just in a freakishly weird mood. freakishly. weird.

it's not that i expect things to make sense, oh hell no. i expect the inexplicable, i expect the very worst of it (well, i try, the worst often manages to manifest itself in heretofore undreamt-of levels of what the fuck?). hell, i even make an effort to be pessimistic, since it's my dreamer's nature to consider all things possible, because anything can happen, and has, on several occasions.

and then something comes so randomly out of left blue nowhere and blindsides me, not necessarily because of its bizarreness, that's normal, but with the sudden overwhelming knowledge that not only am i not prepared to deal with this, i can't deal with it. my mind, which has faced some horrifying truths in its time, has rarely faced things it has not, in some way, prepared for. worry isn't all counterproductive, running negative outcomes through the mind prepares the pathways to deal with them in life. when you can turn around and say, you know, i was afraid this would happen -- you're saying many comforting things: 1, this is a logical outcome because it among my predicitons, 2, having expected it on some level, i am now in familiar territory, and of course 3, look, i was right. now, i'm not advocating more worry, or less worry, i have no idea if people in general tend to worry too much or too little, just that a good balance in this is a good thing.

but no matter how much you worry, there will come a time somthing you never thought to worry about is going to come into your life like a random chunk of frozen blue shitwater off a passing jet plane, only in this case you will know what hit you. and that is all you will know. and to know anything further, you must in some way understand what it is you don't know that you need to, and you know that is going to take some time. the questions are always harder than the answers, i'll take a good question over its answer anyday, a good question is where everything begins.

well i have no idea where or how to begin, or even if i should. maybe i should remain utterly silent and make no sudden movements, maybe i should fashion a crude weapon out of paperclips, a rhododendron, and a can of aerosol cheez, or maybe i should just run like hell. i don't kn