How do you tell someone they are clueless without publicly embarassing them? Not in a general sensse, but for a specific incident. When you don't think they'll get the message if it's given discreetly. Hrm.
When for once I'm counting on people discussing, they don't. I spose I shouldn't have pushed so hard against it for this particular thing. Hmph - ruin my fun, why don't you?
I feel almost like another one of those bizarre and messed up in the head spells I can't rteally describe as last Saturday night happened coming on. But not quite so pronounced. Or perhaps merely a bit different.
The men and women are not merely players. They are fools.
"The game is sex. Marriage is the penalty." Sleuth, by Anthony Shaffer.
Interpret that last as ye may. I think we're just rehearsaing and it struck me as rather amusing and the above players bit dislodged it. You're welcome to draw your own conclusions - especially since we cannot understand one another anyhow. Why should any faulty view of another be better or worse than another? Surely I'd hate to be thought of as a rapist or something. [Though I have been in certain dreams, so I'm told.] But in all honesty, what the fuck's the difference sometimes?
Eat, drink, and be merry - it's the American way, after all. Right after the life and liberty rights - pursuit of happiness, don'cha know? I still say happiness isn't everything. But even more strongly PLEASURE ISN'T HAPPINESS. Then again, most who think so tend to find out, I think. Eventually. Maybe.
For tomorrow you may die - and what of it? The beat goes on. The drums of society, of individuals, of life, of hearth, of faith, of lovers, of friends, and many more drums keep pounding a rhythm to my brain.
La de da de de.
La de da de da-aa.
And in that sleep of death, what dreams may come!
The quality of mercy is not strain'd; it droppeth as the gentle rain upon the place beneath. [Close enough for government work.] I wonder if I'd rather media without government than government without media. I think so, but I wonder what media without government would be like. I think that old chap got it right.
Mercy, mercy, mercy - I wonder at that idea sometimes.
X-MEN the movie. They wrote Magneto so people would identify with him. Ah yes, your continuing search for hope. With the implication that it is a hopeless search. I love that line. Analyze that - I don't think you'll be far off the mark.
But then, I know what you'll say anyhow, or what you should. I'm a learned individual. (The second syllable is pronounced.) I've had classes and had to pass multiple choice tests about this crazy psychology stuff. So that means I know what you should say about it.
It. IT. The big IT. The terror from beyond space! Space has a terrible secret. Humans must be shoved. WE ARE THE SPACE ROBOTS. Robbie, take that pistol and point it at the Commander.
Destroy. Death and destruction! Long live hate and contempt, rebellion and death.
Rebellion. We talked about that in class outside today. Have I ever? Not really. But the good doctor says its a normal part of the conflict between dependence and independence, for the parent and for the child. Maybe I was just always an independent cuss.
Now I don't know where to put this. It started for the public diary. However, now it seems a little more appropriate for my own. Even if it doesn't really match up with the rest.
And you all think I'm nuts, or at least long-winded by now. Congratulations, you made it this far. The secret password is given by this riddle: abcdefghijkmnopqrstuvwxyzsdafowerpwrkafj.
And as for me, friends, Americans, countrymen, I am but a foolish box of hot air. Regard not, it is a most capricious zephyr. You can't trust the wind, you know. Although it does come in handy for flour and giants now and then.
And lo, all was as darkness, save for the stars in their wonder. And Man said Let there be light. And there was light. And it rent the darkness in two. And Man said I feel safer. And he went to his bed, and slept, while the light poured out its energy for no one.
I shouldn't wear this shirt or that other one anymore. They imply too much. And then there's that other one. They're still amusing, I think, but people will get the wrong idea. I don't think I should have those sort of things emblazoned on my chest if I can't be behind the sentiments thereof.
PIOTR plays with his bottom lip. All is silence, save the blowing fan and the clicking of keys. He tilts his head to the right. Props it on his hand after a bit. Rubs his forehead.
It is a reminder to me that all things come to an end.
It is of endings that I wish to speak.
History is replete with turning points.
Even our personal histories, it seems.
Aren't you bored yet?
You#1: I want you, and can't have you. Not sure.
You#2: I want you and can't have you. Not free.
You#3: I want you and can't have you. Not clear.
You#4: I want you and can't have you. My fault.
My fault
May fault
My fault
You may fault me. I fault myself. But it's too fucking late now. Sometimes it's too fucking early. But that is usually wrong too - I might think it is, but there's not an opportunity anyhow. Is there a fucking right time? Sometimes you just have to fucking speak up. Grow some balls.
Fuck. Profanity - such an interesting concept. Makes you feel a little better sometimes though.
I don't like what the fuck's going on here. As nearly every word in a sentence: Fuck the fucking fuckers.
You don't understand. You can't. By definition humans are separate. No, this isn't that personal fiction crap the psych boys have labelled. This is reality. Dickens agrees with me. [Then again, do I want to claim his support?] I wish I could believe in Bruce Coville's stuff. It would be nice. Scary at first, as he says, but really beautiful. But that is not that way we are built.
Plays with items on his desk: box containing cufflinks and studs, box containing paperclips.
Scratches head. Plays with liquid paper. Wonders if Indian dude was right in his suspicions about the dubious state of his roommate's sobriety.
Types.
Sighs. Finally, after all this crap, resumes work.
Please don't take all of these as my words. You'll doubtless recognize many of them as stolen, but more are that you don't know, surely. Things aren't always what they seem, after all.
Final quote of the entry: "One of the symptoms of an approaching nervous breakdown is the belief that one's work is terribly important." -Bertrand Russell
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Perhaps you passed these by:
Life {in Chicago} - 04 October 2005
Chicago - 13 September 2005
User - 09 August 2005
scattered - 05 August 2005
the way it is - 19 July 2005
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