THIS IS A READ-ONLY ARCHIVE FROM THE SORABJI.COM MESSAGE BOARDS (1995-2016). |
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you are wonderful the way you are keep it up, pilate will take care of you you are SO much more than a sugar baby those of us who've had it easy feel lost too some days |
You could always become an actor, too. |
i HATE when i sound like a mom |
and don't let anyone ever tell you that you don't kick ass. |
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Be careful. |
I think it's good for Brendan to come here and talk about different issues. Of course, we talk at home too. Brendan, it's great to see you writing so much! Please watch your spelling. I checked your homework and it looks great. You did a good job, as always. You're doing very well with your vocabulary words. Your history is also coming along well. As bright as you are, you've got plenty ahead for you in your future and don't need to worry about it so much. But anytime you DO get worried about anything, you can come to me and talk about it, day or night. I'm here for you. Dinner is at 8:00 tonight. Be there or be square. |
many thanks |
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Hell, I'll talk to him about it. If he wants to give it a try, it's fine by me. I'm wondering, though, if he's not already overloaded with his lessons as it is. I think I got a bit overambitious during the past few weeks with my assignments and may need to ease up just a little bit. |
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She is now second in command for a popular radio station in one of the smalled towns in the South Island, and on the track to becoming a station manager. Someone took a chance on her, she had to start at the very bottom, but she is making it. The same could happen for you. |
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brendan, i will have some things to say to you soon, but i need to think about them more. i can tell that you are a good soul, though, i can tell you that for now. |
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you bring out the 'wanna kick someone's ass and take care of people' instinct in me something fierce luckily someone else is doing it |
You know, Brendan, your spelling is actually pretty good. I'm come across worse when I had to grade papers in grad school, so don't worry about it. Hell, I consistently mistype "the" all the time! About the ring: Just don't go around making frog noises and referring to it as "Precioussss" and it should be OK. |
Sometimes the memories never die but you can still have a good time. Sometimes it's all you've got. The French are ornery bastards, man----never mind the year-plus I spent going out w/a second-gen French immigrant......despite the rep they have as Surrender-Monkeys....the French rock and it took me years to appreciate it...I lived in France for a year and a half.....they go on strike at the drop of a hat-----they tie up the whole fucking country and they GET SHIT DONE. Workers in France get pissed and they grind the whole country to a halt....I'd like to see American workers try that. Ain't gonna happen, of course----because, unfortunately, American workers put A LOT OF STOCK in what they're told. |
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Brendan gets very frustrated sometimes while typing or writing because his mind moves a lot faster than he can write. There are also things he really wants to say but can't without help. Online, it's difficult because the computer tries to shut down if he doesn't move fast enough. Brendan is a very introspective, bright kid with a lot to say. He's just having a hard time saying it. Watching Brendan try to write can be very painful. He tries so damn hard. It's physically and emotionally difficult. Sometimes, he gets intense headaches. He concentrates so hard. The frustration kicks in, too. He says things out loud and then tries to spell them and it's really hard. He actually has a fairly good vocabulary and has proven on a number of occasions that he's really good at putting those words together. He DID learn a lot from preachers as a kid and can do great Biblical style rants, except that by the time he gets done, they're a lot more like Subgenius rants. In fact, the kid was probably BORN to be a Subgenius. The odd thing about Brendan's spelling is that after a few days it becomes infectuous, not unlike Crimson's weird typing style. I look at Brendan's papers every day and I read memos from Crimson. By nightfall, I'm writing just like both of them put together. Brendan's very bright. His spelling's not the best but it'll improve. I think it's improving with each month that goes by, if not each day. |
My hands couldnt keep up with my mind. this what they speculated when they whipped me to write neatly in grammar school. i suppose most are taught to pace themselves to be cohesive...but im kinda impatient. |
i've noticed a huge leap in spelling quality since the first post. and who cares. my spelling blew chunk when i was his age, and no one questioned my intelligence. hell, my spelling still sucks. you just keep working on it and try to remember not to spell it "intellegence". |
by the way...i've been stuffing and labeling friggin envelopes all god damn morning. I don't mind it, but i take a minute to myself every 5...ergo im chatty today. |
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as for writing speed, sometimes i write slow because there isn't a word to describe what i think. and then if i write too long my hand starts to hurt. this excruciating pain in my right hand, at the outward corner of my palm, below my pinkie near the wrist. i've felt that pain so many times in the last few days, writing so much that i've filled somewhere around 30 pages in addition to schoolwork. one thing about writing is that i can't use infliction or different accents or do cool stuff like growl and moan. it's limited, but writing and drawing are the only places where i'm not a slave to my culture even if i use the tools it gave me. what about asl? he won't need many additional grammar lessons and he'd be able to communicate with his hands. bah-ah-ah. |
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saw an irish play tonight. "the weir". set in an irish pub. had several guinnesses with the cast aferwards. one of them read an irish ghost story. i taught them how to sing "molly malone". fun night. |
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fun factoid: heard on a TV documentary once that 2/4/62 was supposedly, according to one prophet (nostradamus?), the birthdate of the antichrist. guess when pug was born? might wanna stay on the man's good side when he takes over the world & everything. |
A friend and I caught some VH1 deal on John Cougar Melonhead today....he was going on about his misspent youth and how men are categorically useless 'til they turn forty....I guess that makes it official....I have one year left to be a complete shitheel. |
Love that part where they have the prostitute cornered and are trying to run her out of town and then she starts talking to the fine, upstanding men in the group, revealing that most of them have been her clients....and then they kill her....kinda like real life.... |
i've gotten in contact with the woman running the shop in ohio...i'm going to send her four copies. i'm in the midst of making the actual copies that i'll be sending out. if you want a copy, please email me before 3 pm tomorrow. |
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As for Oswald Jr. wanting a lover, we all know that at 15, he's too damn young to be thinking about that sort of thing. So, Brendan, just go to your room until you turn 30 and then we'll talk about it, okay? |
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he will be a mountain lion, with dreads and a deep voice. a savage creature, untamable, but he'll rub against my legs and purr. a mind of his own but he'll treat me like the slinkster cool nature goddess i am. he will bite me occasionally, but just little love bites because he likes the taste of my skin. and i'll be his woman because i want to, not because he's beautiful and strange, but because we understand each other without explanation and he likes to hear me purr when he rubs his hands on my body. love (or lust, rather) has to be savage and bloody besides being sweet, because i want someone i can clench teeth with, not a slave. |
That was kinda cool. A co-worker and I were looking for a contact high. |
i checked out a cd from the library yesterday. it's tarkan, a turkish man from istanbul, singing turkish/latin-type electronic music. i love it. |
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real guy. He came to my campus. Cool guy. Lots of cool things to say. Smart. He suggested some people start a Missoula hug-patrol. I imagine it'll happen. There really were a lot of people here in Missoula who'd happily follow him forever. They'll probably get their chance, too. He's got people clowning all over the world. His relationship with Robin Williams is interesting... Patch really liked him, lived in his home for a week or two, spent major time on the set of the movie... and out of the millions of dollars Robin got, he didn't give even a small donation. That's not to say Patch didn't ask. He asked for ALL of it. People are weird with money. |
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christ, can ANYONE give this kid a fucking break? anyone? as far as his being openly gay, fuck it, i'm openly bisexual & most of the people here are openly straight. people talk about their sexuality here all the time. brendan's got as much a right as anyone. he's also going through a period of trying to define himself as a person. most adolescents (& virtually all sorabjites) are a bit mesmerized by their own sexuality. the openly gay stance is just part of it all. at least he's not some kind of hand-wringing closet case. i admire his boldness & humor. i don't know what to say. the kid's really, really upset. of course, you've also got a right to say what you feel & we all acknowledge that. it's just that brendan thought he was doing pretty good w/ his writing, only to get shot down. he's a bit hurt, but you know, he'll get over it. he always does. |
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another thought: brendan's writing skills being compared to those of an elementary school student isn't the best news he's had all day. his kid brother is turning 8 & already reads & writes at a far more advanced level than brendan. it's hardly a source of pride & joy. that may be part of what bothered him so terribly. i'm just guessing, here. i'm not trying to rip PDQ apart. really, i'm not. i just wanted to point out that the comment did bother brendan. it's also left pilate & i in the unenviable position of trying to deal w/ a rather disturbed teenager right now. |
i really like seeing him post i really do, but not if it's going to upset him when the occasional "oatmeal boy" comes along, which they will, and for those who don't know anything about brendan, who don't know he's only a young boy....well they could speak to him as if he's an adult, which could hurt. Doesnt make it right, but its a potential reality. Since jim the Pajama boy left I kinda miss the outwardly gay stance on life. God knows the peeps i work with have no sense of humor. |
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on the other hand, realize that whatever you say in a public forum doesn't go away (oh, how i wish it did!) and you leave yourself open to other people's criticism by posting your thoughts. this is a good thing in the long run as it makes you think about what you're saying (unless you're fucking wasted) but it can be uncomfortable at first to see your thoughts get seriously attacked. relax. |
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I don't know where to start trying to explain this. Maybe I don't need to, but I'll try anyway. Brendan's approach to life is sometimes different than that of the average person. He sees things in a more simplistic way sometimes. There are Nice People and there are Mean People. He thought he had found some Nice People who would be tolerant of his flaws as a writer. He (and I) were wrong. Oh, well. That's life. Brendan's not some kind of spoiled brat who thinks everyone should cater to his every whim. Not at all. But he has also spent his entire life being called "retard" as if it were his middle name. Retard. Dummy. Stupid. He thought he'd found one place where people would cut him some slack about his writing and just listen to what he has to say. The comment may not have seemed harsh to an adult but it was hard for him to take. The grammatical skills of a nine year old? Please. This kid is trying his ass off. I guess people don't understand how hard it is for him to make these posts at all. He's an adolescent with a certain amount of dignity. He wants to feel fifteen. Not nine. He looks younger than he is and is often mistaken for being a younger kid. He's suspended halfway between adulthood and childhood and feeling more adult is kind of important to him right now. There's an essay that Brendan's been working terribly hard on for weeks. He went straight inside and tore the essay to shreds. He was shaking and having a hard time talking. His communication had reverted into wild gesturing and he was stammering and shaking. He finally managed to say that if people were just going to think he's stupid no matter how hard he tries, what's the fucking point? I have never seen him so depressed. Not petulant, not a kid throwing a pointless fit. Fucking humiliated. His friends called for him and Brendan begged me to tell them he was asleep. He didn't want to speak to anyone outside of the house. I watched my son go from being happy-go-lucky "Captain Benteen" (a very necessary alter ego) to being a very bewildered, angry and frightened kid with a learning disability and agoraphobia who suddenly wanted nothing to do with the outside world. It's not anybody's fault. But understand that it's certainly not Brendan's fault, either. He knows that tearing up the essay was the wrong answer. I could be a hardass and make him write the damn thing all over again. But I'm not. I don't have the heart for it. For right now, I just want him to be okay. If that means backing off of the lessons for a day or two, so be it. I just want him to understand that even though he's been taken out of the school system, there are still people who are going to be critical of his lack of finesse in writing. He seemed to think that the teasing would stop after school. Well, it didn't and it won't. I wish I could shield him from all that but I can't. Remember that Brendan also has difficulty reading. His comprehension is different than that of the average person. To him, the "creep out" thing was implying that HE is a creep (i.e. not a Nice Person) who should keep his mouth shut about being gay (i.e. Faggot) and who writes like somebody younger than himself (i.e. Retard). A triple insult. Maybe it wouldn't seem that way to you or me, but that's how it struck him. I don't know how to explain the whole thing. If Brendan's writing seems unusual, so do his comprehension skills and overall coping mechanisms. Sometimes Brendan is a complex kid. Other times he's not. He has an unusual way of seeing the world. He is a special kid. Read between the lines. He has a special way of seeing things sometimes. It's not his fault. He may come back and post. Then again, he may not. I don't know. We'll see what happens. Either way, he's had a lot of fun. He was feeling very proud of his writing here, which is part of the problem, I suppose. It's the most he's ever written. He felt as if he were communicating on an adult level at last. I'm trying to help him build up his emotional "immune system". People WILL cut him down from time to time and he has to learn to cope with that. Brendan responds to insults by internalizing. He almost never becomes upset with the person who cuts him down. He becomes upset with himself and goes into self-attack mode. If someone says something less than nice to him, it must be because he's dumb. I'm trying to teach him that if someone says something less than nice, then maybe they're just a fucking jerk. Or they're careless. Or he misunderstood. Or it's just a goofy comment on a public message board. Brendan is obsessed with having people like him, and God knows he's a very likeable kid. But not everyone will like him. Not everyone will accept him, regardless of how hard he tries. This is going to be a hard lesson for him. He'll learn it, though, just like he's learned everything else I've thrown at him. That's because he's a very smart kid, whether anyone else realizes it or not. |
Hope to see you posting back here soon. |
Take hope in the fact that most of us here (at least the ones who count) like you and like what you have to say. I think it's pretty typical sentiments you have for your age, and whoever has aproblem with the fact that is same-gender, should go back under the rock he lurked under. I know it's hard for some people to think before you speak, but how dim do you have to be to type out something and post it without thinking about what it means? Especially if you have been lurking around a place like this for a while, and you still haven't caught on to the culture here. Makes you wonder if PDQ stands for "Post Dumbass, Quickly!" Sheesh. Fuck'em if they can't take a joke. |
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Jes' curious.... |
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Is it possible, he needs to just be a 9 year old? Im not saying stump his enlightenment, but perhaps he shouldnt be concerned with such large looming issues that are really more adult issues, such as sexuality, or being succeptable to being judged as an adult in a grammatical sense by strangers. Is a 9 year old really mature enough to wrangle with societal implications of sexuality? I dunno.... Shit, when i was nine, i was still playing army, riding bikes, and grossing out girls. I dunno, he's your kid pilate, you know whats best. As everyone has said the core of us want the Cap around to wow us with his amazing abstraction and general "punk rock" mentality that we all wish we had but maybe we are expecting to much. |
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brandon, writing isn't all about spelling and grammar...that's why we have computers to run spell and grammar check. they can be taught and learned. but does a person normally read a spelling or grammar book for personal interest? no. the imporant thing about writing is something that comes from within, the style, and that is something you've got in spades. it's beautiful writing that you don't often find anywhere. metaphorically, i'll say that writing is fruit. there's lots of apples, oranges, peaches, plums and loads of berries. your writing reminds me of watermelons and strawberries...and stawberries are only in season for six weeks of the year here in oregon. it's juicy and sweet, and these past couple of weeks i've begun to crave your writing as one craves those few sweet berries during the summer. please don't stop. cap'n, i'm going to send a letter stuck to the inside of the zine i'm sending to crimson. write back if you like. just keep writing, no matter who sees it because it's the only way you can improve on it. it's exactly like playing an instrument, you practice for years and years and you still have more to do better. and you know that old cliche, "practice makes perfect." |
pilate says: "The comment may not have seemed harsh to an adult but it was hard for him to take. The grammatical skills of a nine year old?" "He wants to feel fifteen. Not nine. He looks younger than he is and is often mistaken for being a younger kid. " in otherwords, i havent seen anyone correct PDQ on his age. |
"As for Oswald Jr. wanting a lover, we all know that at 15, he's too damn young to be thinking about that sort of thing." |
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I'm soory, did I just say that? Well, shoot me! |
i need to write that letter. |
at least i use my own name when i'm being a jackass. |
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i don't see daniel defending himself. |
Not that my opinion matters dick.... |
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and shush, antigone. that doesn't help the draconian police efforts. we need someone to blackball! send out the goat! |
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welcome to america, land of the free- dom of the overly hypocritical society. overthrow the rules to make our own and liberalist ideas we all condone. welcome to america, land of the made, manufacturers in taiwan rule every trade. when someone trys to be successful by hand people cry it's a waste of land. welcome to america, land of statistics, where millimeters on paper make everyone go ballistic. tallys on the public, keep counts on your misfourtunes, take rivals to court and your lawyers make a fortune. welcome to america, land of the lies, kill the pigs like "lord of the flies". try to stop and exclaim your ideals, criminals will kill you and get out on appeals. welcome to america, land of the dammned, disguised to immigrants as a holy land. mine every mountain, chop every tree, "fuck you, america!" from sea to oily sea. fine kettle of fish we have here. i think i'll live in a commune. |
But I still refuse to believe Daniel would be such a bloody moron as to hit out at a vulnerable 15 year old kid. |
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Or hold out for a REALLY GOOD commune...TBA Quoting the Stones: "These days it's all secrecy and no privacy. Goodnight. Sleep tight." |
Remember what he said above about wanting a blond boy with blue eyes? Fuck me if he didn't come home with one. Brendan's buddies knew he was a bit down so they took him to the mall. They found some kid there sitting alone in the food court wearing a huge button on his black trenchcoat proclaiming "It Takes Balls To Be A Fairy". I'm surprised the kid didn't get the shit beaten out of him. They talked to the boy, decided he was cool and brought him home. To MY home, that is. Brendan's all goofy about it. This new kid is definitely a cutie, all blond fluffy punk hair and big blue eyes. Nice fingernail polish. From the way he was dressed I think his folks might have some money on them. The boy can also apparently play some keyboards and Brendan's praying that he's just met a new member of Captain Benteen, the band. It's weird, watching Brendan's heart go all pitter patter over someone he's known less than 24 hours. I hope he doesn't get hurt or anything. Brendan has never expressed much REAL interest in dating or seeing anyone. He jokes about it a lot but that's as far as it goes. But I think this boy is tripping his triggers on several levels. I hope they become friends (and STAY just friends). I may have to have the old father-and-son chat with Brendan soon. Not that he doesn't know what's going on. He just needs some responsible information now that the hormones have been reactivated. Like I said, Brendan sees the world in a slightly different way than the average person. He could easily be taken for a ride or fucked with, which is the last thing I want to happen. |
Nope wasn't me, and I will encourage Brendan to return, though it is a public forum, and though there's a share of ruthlessness here. As a teacher of writing for many years, I would not criticize at all. Keeps me coming back. But again, PDQ isn't me. Geex, Cat, your Virtue? |
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Chug little honda chug!!!!!!! (insert random Johnny Cash tune) Im a little nervous, some of thoseu roads to big bear are hairy as a "Bear" convention in San Fran. Oh man, though, once we are there, its rancho relaxo!!!! I think maybe I'll get some shrooms today. |
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my parents wanted to have me put back on it last year even though i said no and i had a book all about it that i showed them. then the psychiatrist i was going to said i was right not to take it. yea! i'm glad that i don't need drugs to survive in the world. if there's anything i don't need, it's chemical dependance. just the odd asprin once in a while. good luck with the dorian duck. i've found that ducks are the best ex-boyfriends...maybe because they don't fuck with your head like straight guys do. |
Good luck with Dorian, he sounds like a cool kid. I keep having to remember that there are two Traces and one is really Pilate. Too confusing for me. quack |
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i've got a two-ton screaming headache. i'm going to lie down in the dark & try to forget that my head's about to explode. about the two "traces": there's one trace who posts here. the other trace, pilate's lover, has never posted here. one of my rodents has escaped. i have a rat running loose in the house. at the moment, she's underneath the sofa. we're trying to coax her out w/ her favorite food (cheese-nips). |
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to tell you the truth, i'm beginning to regret not having followed my gut instincts in my youth & left the state. i mean, i DID leave, many times, but keep coming back. i think that if i'd have moved permanently to one coast or the other, i would've been able to find more co-conspirators. now i can't fucking AFFORD to move. i am also, for the largest part, a recluse. it doesn't really matter where i live, because i'll keep on doing my reclusive thing regardless. i can go for months w/o stepping outside the front door. the paradox of this is that i'm also a bonafide maniac who will do damn near anything onstage. when i'm performing, i turn into a whole different person. i feed on people & their reactions to me. otherwise, i REALLY don't like being around people. in arkansas, i always seem to fit in. i can fake it w/ the locals long enough to convince them i'm human. then i shut the door, throw the locks, & stay hidden. in other states, i didn't seem to fit in, to the point that it becomes ridiculous. i mean, i can do my little bullshit act for a while, but when i truly reveal myself, it doesn't work out. in AR, as weird as it sounds, i've got a chance of eventually hooking up w/ a like-minded lunatic. |
Maybe the most important thing is that my crew here in Arkansas are my soulmates and they're the coolest people I've ever met & played with. We don't need nothin' else! |
for instance, i don't keep house well. i live in a crappy little place, nothing expensive or fancy. but when people come to see me, i'm happy to give them what little bit i've got. i'll cook for them, let 'em crash on the couch, give them clothes right out of my closet, whatever. i want them to put their feet up on the table, take a deep breath & RELAX. i want them to be well-fed, taken care of, comfortable & happy. well, i used to live close to the east coast for a couple of years. man, it was spooky. i was so poor at the time that i didn't have a single piece of furniture. no bed, no table, nothing at all. SO?? i mean, christ, there are poor people all over. ain't nothing new in the world. but these people freaked the fuck out over the fact that i didn't have furniture in my house. you'd think they would've just shrugged it off, sat down on the floor & started having a conversation w/ me like a normal human being. wrong. they kept on & on about how poor i was. how bizarre. i fed these people, offered them anything they wanted & they just kept going on about my lack of material goods, as if that makes a fuck. i live in chaos. i can groove on chaos. i like sharing my chaos...but ONLY w/ people who are laid back enough to understand it. people are often uncomfortable around me & i can smell it a mile away. it makes me sad. i want to take them in but they make it impossible. anyway, the few people i've managed to draw into my inner circle are from (or now live in) arkansas. weird, eh? maybe it's because they actually understand what the fuck friendship is for. i dunno. i know that i find the (general) lack of pretense here kinda refreshing. |
I've dated urban guys. If I hear one more anorexic gay guy with a coarse New York accent blathering on about his portfolio, I'll have to go on a killing rampage. I've mostly found such men to be useless twits. I've got a nice Southern boy. He's equally at home in an art gallery or at a goat roast. He's 100 percent FOR REAL. My kid is also a prime example of the kind of down to earth behavior (mixed with heart-melting sweetness) that seems to be a Southern specialty. |
he said it don't get much better than lexington. he also said lexington sucks. my brother loves being from tacoma. i wouldn't want to even be buried there. i like where i'm at. if cuba ever falls, i'd move there in a heart beat. fuck. the word retirement scares the hell out of me. i think i fucked up big time. i'm drunk. |
knowing that you lied straight faced while i cried. As I pass through my incarnations in every age and race, I make my proper prostrations to the Gods of the Market-Place. Peering through reverent fingers I watch them flourish and fall, And the Gods of the Copybook Headings, I notice, outlast them all. We were living in trees when they met us. They showed us each in turn. That Water would certainly wet us, as Fire would certainly burn: But we found them lacking in Uplift, Vision and Breadth of Mind, So we left them to teach the Gorillas while we followed the March of Mankind. We moved as the Spirit listed. They never altered their pace, Being neither cloud nor wind-borne like the Gods of the Market-Place; But they always caught up with our progress, and presently word would come That a tribe had been wiped off its icefield, or the lights had gone out in Rome. With the Hopes that our World is built on they were utterly out of touch. They denied that the Moon was Stilton; they denied she was even Dutch. They denied that Wishes were Horses; they denied that a Pig had Wings. So we worshipped the Gods of the Market Who promised these beautiful things. When the Cambrian measures were forming, They promised perpetual peace. They swore, if we gave them our weapons, that the wars of the tribes would cease. But when we disarmed They sold us and delivered us bound to our foe, And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "Stick to the Devil you know." On the first Feminian Sandstones we were promised the Fuller Life (Which started by loving our neighbour and ended by loving his wife) Till our women had no more children and the men lost reason and faith, And the Gods of the Copybook Heading said: "The Wages of Sin is Death." In the Carboniferous Epoch we were promised abundance for all, By robbing selected Peter to pay for collective Paul; But, though we had plenty of money, there was nothing our money could buy, And the Gods of the Copybook Heading said: "If you don't work you die." Then the Gods of the Market tumbled, and their smooth-tongued wizards withdrew, And the hearts of the meanest were humbled and began to believe it was true That All is not God that Glitters, and Two and Two make Four- And the Gods of the Copybook Headings limped up to explain it once more. There are only four things certain since Social Progress began:- That the Dog returns to his Vomit and the Sow returns to her Mire, And the burnt Fool's bandaged finger goes wabbling back to the Fire; And that after this is accomplished, and the brave new world begins When all men are paid for existing and no man must pay for his sins, As surely as Water will wet us, as surely as Fire will burn, The Gods of the Copybook Headings with terror and slaughter return! |
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I drove home in a n icestorm/blizzard on thursday. I stayed two days, hung out with Mavis and m parents and left again. I couldn't remember my buddy Kiko's number, which was a disappointment. I'm going back up again next weekend to see Ladysmith Black Mambazo, and get the rest of my stuff that I want to keep with me. I don't think I will be back for many months, which is sad, because that place is near and dear to me. It makes me understand why people will fight to stay in a place. |
working in retail, esp. in a variety/dept. store like freddy's, has let a major pet peeve surface: i don't care how poor you are, i don't care why you're coming in here, but please just wash your hands. if you're touching my shoes and want my help, please be clean. i've found that some of the meanest people are also the dirtiest. i'll wash my hands several times a day--i need to keep clean. the day i'm screwed, folks, is the day i can't afford soap and water. * * * i've lived in oregon all my life, in fact, i only live 20 miles from the hospital where i was born. i try to be high and mighty artsy fartsy slinkster cool, but in reality i'm scared of so much shit it isn't funny. i used to think that i thrived on fear...but it didn't help a bit. i don't know. why did i say this, anyway? |
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i think poetry would make a very nice stew. i like it thick, so i can dip my spoon in and slurp it up. tomatoes and carrots and potatoes and celery and a hint of corn and beans. nice good hot stew making my stomach happy. i need to go downtown and see if the energy bar is still across the street from the central library. they have a vegan stew to die for. |
Am I dirty? I don't think so. I don't leave grease marks on things I touch or anything. My hands don't stink. I also don't need hand lotion. Every female I know in Montana and a great many men use lotion daily. We do have exceedingly dry air, but scrubbing down with soap every couple of hours is hard on the skin. What are you getting on your hands that you need to wash them several times a day? I suppose if you have to touch people's feet or something, it makes sense. I took a really rockin' poetry class a while back. Some of the students in there did some incredible things with words, sound, imagery, and story telling... Others wrote poetry like they were reading Poetry for Dummies or following a recipe. There were a couple people who occasionally did some things with words that would have been really cool if they hadn't put so much energy into making sure everyone saw what they were doing. Subtlety can be very important. My favorite poems are ones that are still enjoyable if you completely ignore what they're saying. My humble opinion is that poetry should make the ear happy. It's something I wish I was better at. |
I try to live by that credo----I don't always succeed..... |
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As long as I didn't get any on me, I'm good to go. It hasn't caused any illness or infection that I know of. But my girlfriend does regularly shake her finger at me... |
I'm such a crackhead. Sheesh... I'll do anything to avoid work. |
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never mind the coordinating conjunctions for now. we timed brendan on this exercise. he clocked in at just over 24 minutes to compose the above sentences, a major improvement on a previous at-home score of 40+ minutes to accomplish the same task (& the earlier sentences still had major errors). i'm proud of you, cap'n! by the way, i'm really sorry to hear about nicky's dog. |
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i wash my hands every time i go to the bathroom, before and after putting in and taking out my contacts, and before i eat. sometimes i wash my hands before i play flute. and always before i work. sometimes i really don't mind people being a little dirty. it's just that some of the dirtiest people in the store are the nastiest. i don't mind if you've got oil under your fingernails or something like that, but some people smell really bad and then they go get something to eat and without washing their hands eat it right there, dropping bits of food on the floor. nasty! |
Good job there, Brendan. 7 sentences for the price of 3. You should demand an extra dinner. |
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I wish I could write as well as you can. You've got so much in you worth writing out. I'm happy for you. |
It's also rich in vitamin B12. But dogs don't care about that. |
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Excellent sentances...so what did you have for dinner? (Other than blue balloons, which one can't really eat...although I'll have to keep the hopeless sexy powers in mind.) That and mentions of vegan stew. Dogs eat cat poop because it's kitty roca. Much better than almond roca in some circles, apparently. |
one of the best things that i've done was to attach poems to objects. i wrote around fifteen poems and i glued them to plastic eggs, milk cartons, old photos and in the pages of a magazine. combining words with objects/kinetic sculpture is the most amazing feeling. i wrote a paper (not an essay, a paper) this morning that was basically a parody of "i think i'm paranoid". "i think i'm a primate". it's interesting, to say the least. did you get the zine yet? i'm tired of wondering if you got it. |
I like very much. I haven't had any free time to read more than the first few pages, but I like so far. |
let me know what you think of it. |
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well, tbone's got his, so your should arrive anyday now |
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i'm all happy 'cause in about a week, pug, pilate & the whole crew (including yours truly) will be going down to the gulf coast for mardi gras. can't wait. |
please tell me what you think! i love feedback. |
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i'm in contact with marconi and gustav (another dj) and i'm already working on the second issue and might get an internship with the station! the letter is...awful to say the least. i'm not in the habit of writing lots of letters, i get off topic fast. that's why i'm doing the zine, so i can get my writing to the point that it's understandable. good luck w/dorian, brendan. maybe you borrowed my boy luck....you're welcome to it at the moment. |
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wish they did- it must be worse not to. |
the moment i hate in a relationship is when the guy has you where he wants you and changes. he doesn't want to listen or hold hands or play games. he gets a cold predatory look in his eyes like a machine and has to push you further further further. so it's no longer two people in like in love but a free whore in a car. may dorian never be like that. |
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i read recently that the average person today would be committed to the looney bin in the '50s. it's a crazy place. for years i tried to do everything to keep everyone else happy. as a result i destroyed my own happiness. an old song that i used to listen to: "you can't please everyone, so you might as well please yourself." the wiccan rede says: "an it harm no one, do what you will." and then they expect you to think about everything you do so you won't harm anyone even indirectly. use some common sense. if you're unsure about something, try and reason out why. and always listen to other people. everyone loves an audience. you're only what, 15? i made a lot of mistakes when i was 15, mainly in how i treated people. try and take it easy and be a teenager. cliche i know. there are plenty of fun things to do other than "sexual stuff" to show how you feel. play games and joke (my most recent ex loved it when i got him with silly string one day!). just try to do what feels right, i guess. and always listen. what was ok yesterday may not be today. i guess that's all. * * * yesterday i did my math with a cute boy named adrian (i'll just call him a here). he'd been watching my in math class, so i asked him if he wanted to study together. a is fairly tall with dark curly hair and brown eyes. i think he's italian. so we were studying and he kept on asking me questions. it turns out that he's afraid of asking questions in class. (preety stupid if you ask me, but i didn't say that.) the weird thing is that people kept on walking up and talking to him about the weirdest things. "hey adrian, did you get your car painted or is it a new one?" "what car?" "the bmw." "oh, that's new." upon hearing this it was like, omigod. a rich kid. gimme a break. and here i am, a shoe girl who works to pay for school, drives an old clunker and wastes whatever money she has left on a magazine. i tried to make small talk with him for a bit, but it was a tad strained. it's just feels odd, i guess. |
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Hold me, Gee. *SOB* |
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Don't lose it! I couldn't bear the rejection! (Someone down the hall is having a conference call, and she's yelling into the phone, "LINDA, the DIORAMAS don't go out until MAY!" Funny.) |
I'm going to mail your mixes on Saturday, I promise. |
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