i'm at that weird hour when i'm not sure what day it is... i mean, i don't *think* it's tomorrow, since i haven't slept, but it has to be because it's 2 in the morning here. and so, i will make a handful of weird and semi-contradictory statements, having to do with time.

so i went to see the doctor (yes, another one), today, and got referrals for three more specialists. weeee. a month of nothing but doctor visits. i can't wait. ::clears throat:: uh, or something..

but really, the important part is that i now have recent prescriptions for the stuff i have to take every month, so the pharmacy will quit bugging me about it. and it must have been amateur phlebotomists' day 'cos i got a few too many holes in my arms. ::grumble:: oh, did i mention it was a *fasting* blood screen? as in "don't eat after midninght"? yeah, well, i got that done after thirteen hours of not eating anything and getting progressively dizzier and crankier.

ahhh...i read this and i realise i'm not depressed right now. i'm back to my good old cranky self. more fist shaking and yelling, "you damn kids! git offa mah lawn!" yeah, i'll be 23 tomorrow, but try telling that to my knees... no, really, maybe they'll listen to you...

ahh, the joys of being flippantly and humourously bitchy...

so, i'm almost done with this ridiculous project for school. i decided, for some unfathomable reason, that my final project was going to be a picture book of the enlightenment of Muso Soseki. you have to realise what an absolutely horrible idea this has been: 1. no library within 40 miles of my house contains any information on the gent, meaning, i've had to go completely on class notes; 2. i can't draw worth a sick fuck; and 3. last, but not least, i've been too goddamn sick to do much besides forget to eat. yes kids, i've finally lost my mind, and set out to do something epic, that turned into a friggin' children's book.

well, back to it, i guess...


UPDATED: july 24, 21:30 local time

today, tomorrow, whatever. that fantastic ferret faced dj, of whom i am so fond, is moving to florida to go back to school. and he wants me to keep the relationship with him. why, god, why, does this sound so familiar? oh, that's right, because this is an established pattern. this is the way it usually goes. and then he won't come back, and he'll want me to go there, and then when i finally make a test run of it, he'll get around to telling me he's found someone better. as fucking usual. i don't have the time, or the patience for this shit, anymore. i'm not being unreasonable, here.

and so he wakes me up to tell me this, after i've had six hours of sleep in two days, on the day before my birthday.

i don't want to kill myself, i'm far too exhausted for that. i just want to die. i'm tired of it; all of it.

It is a sad day when all television channels are blaring at me to rejoice that four people have been blown away, among them a 14 yearold kid. Oh, what valorous sportsmanship by the most kick ass military power in the world! The two sons were responsible for the murder of thousands and Uday was a rapist, they say. Not good enough? Well, he also led a playboy lifestyle and was wayward and shot people on a whim. We had to make a big deal out of blowing away a cripple, his 14 yearold son, brother, and some other guy, you understand, because we're currently in a bit of trouble for lying to everyone's face about how this was all about WMD. We have waged a war that has an ever-changing premise and, frankly, we need to manufacture new bullshit day by day. Rumsfeld even set up a BS-maker called the OSP which ignored all that did not suit us and "sexed up" whatever looked slightly formidable. So we're hangin' in there with this welcome turn of events.

Isn't this debacle a little like the frog being gradually boiled to death? The most fervent opponents of the war just feel powerless now and are scavenging through daily details when they should be sticking to their initial argument. As it stands, people have simply forgotten how to perceive, thanks, in large part, to false intelligence, dead scientists, iconoclasm (likened to the fall of the wall or the demolition of communism as I rolled on the floor laughing my ass off), some bible thumping, cowboy jingo, pride-swallowing and, in the case of Tony Blair, madness.

Under circumstances governing the "civilized world", we would never have heard of Dubya or Blair ever again. It is no surprise, then, that the questionable presidency has locked hands with the black sheep of the EU and has hissed at the world for respecting consensus, conventions, human rights, freedom of speech and whathaveyou. I feel it is my duty to keep saying to everyone I meet that the people behind this war are worse than child-molesting pornographers who dance on their mother's graves. I really do.

I’ve surprised myself today, but I’m becoming used to that by now. I have, for some time, been turning conservative. I don’t know if this is due to my ripe old age of 24, but I’ve become more convinced that we’re becoming fucked as a functional society (rather than just as a bunch of people), and that personal responsibility and self restraint are the only things that’ll get us back on track. That is, of course if we ever were on track, which I am still capable of seeing as being doubtful

The strange aspect to all this is the fact that I’m becoming socially conservative, not economically. I’ve been vaguely for free-market economics for some time. I say vaguely, since I really can’t bring myself to give a shit about that stuff. Start mentioning interest rates or taxes or whatever, and my eyes begin to glaze over, as if I’m under some economically inspired voodoo.

I used to be a lefty, as should all youngsters. But, my God, I was wet about it too. None of your radical left unionist type, but rather a whiner. I’m not saying that all people on the left whine, but man, I was one of those that did. Constantly. My basic problem was that of all young idealists. I could see that the world just wasn’t fair. I failed to realise that people did have a dark side to them - everyone has - and that the cold light of reason would not be able to illuminate all the corners of people’s psyche. As us Buddhists point out - people are poisoned by hatred, greed and delusion. That’s another thing. I’m religious! I used to be a die-hard, Dawkins wielding atheist. Now, although I’m not one, I don’t mind that people believe in God. In fact, I think I might even understand them.

One of the oddest things I have come across in examining my newly crystalizing thoughts is that I may be - and I am being very candid with you here - I might be a monarchist! WTF!?! Me? A monarchist? I used to be an anarchist, for crying out loud (although I hid that behind a respectable veneer of liberalism and vague socialism).

I believe this has come about by realising that the ideas of myths and Jung-style archetypes still make themselves known in the modern world. We think we’re so rational and modern, as if our minds are in some way fundamentally different to those of humans thousands of years ago, but that’s actually one of the myths. The idea of progress is one of the biggest of the modern age. Why do the works of the Greeks and Romans still affect us? Because, although we’re not wearing togas anymore, what it means to be a human is the same now as it was then. Cold rationality, the preserve of the Left (allegedly, anyway) isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

The notion I held dear of absolute individualism. Although I essentially see people as being good, some people just don’t seem to be able to behave themselves if left to their own devices. With their button stuck on ‘hedonism’, they well and truly spazz it up for the rest of us, usually resulting in such delights as pavement pizza, fights at closing time and 14 year old mums. Cheers guys.

There’s so many other things I’ve changed my mind about, and I believe it’s by becoming more realistically informed about things and less of an idealist, but I won’t go into that. I see I’m becoming a bit of a tedious old man, and to be totally honest with you noders, I’d be in danger of political incorrectness.

Hey, how about that? I had to end on a cliche, and I did. This right wing lark is fun! I won’t, however, be reading the Daily Mail. That’s still a complete rag of a ‘news’ paper.

I can't beat the greeting cards idea by arcanamundi -- nice one!

I can, however, whine and moan about mortgage lenders.

We went in July 2, 2003 to apply for the mortgage. We told them over and over again that we had almost no money to put down, or into closing costs (the builder provides $6,500 for closing costs and upgrades, so we were theoretically okay). The lending broker kept saying "no problem" and "you'll be fine". The next week, we got the phone call we'd been hoping to get -- "congratulations, you're approved!" ... and there was much rejoicing (yay).

Yesterday, a letter arrived from the lending brokerage. It all looked in order, except for two items. One, "we need a check for $279.00 for the appraisal," was quickly resolved with a phone call ("uh, it's a new house, and you said you weren't going to charge me for that"). The other was far more sinister:

We need to verify you have at least two months' mortgage payments in reserve in your bank account.

!@#$

Didn't I spend the last three weeks telling you idiots I don't have lots of cash? Why else would I be borrowing 100% of the house's value? Stupid buttmonkeys.

The most amusing part of all this is they just need to see my checking account's balance go up above approximately $2,100 long enough for them to verify it from the bank. Then they don't care. This can occur at any time between now and closing.

Now, I understand the need to verify my income. I understand they want to make sure I have the money to repay their loan. I don't have a problem with that.

But I would have thought that after providing two years' income taxes, letters of reference, statement of business relationships, months of bank statements, verification of employment, and apparently acceptable (i.e. average) credit scores, that'd be enough damned verification!.

Especially considering how !@#$ing idiotic this particular verification step is... they don't even care how the money gets there or whether it's even mine. They just want to see it. WTF is that about?!?!

...they could have at least told me they were going to spring this on me a month ago when I could have started a second job in time for its income to matter.

Thankfully, I appear to have nice parents. They kicked in the money we need to get up to that level, just long enough for these arses to verify the balance then get the money wired back.

I do not need this stress.

  • I am uninspired.
  • A heavy writ, desolation of mind, has taken up residence upon my being.
  • My blood has approached toxic levels of banality.

How many fucking ways can you say the same thing?

I have no problem with depression. I can be one of those sick fucks that actually revels in its intensity. It had better be the result of a loss of a pound of flesh or the terror of gut-wrenching despair. Darkness has a life all its own. This gray mist I find myself lost in holds no purpose.

My muse is punishing me

She is strangely absent from my pulse of creation. Her flow of vitality is a dying water main; only a black ice leaks forth.

Our blank canvas doesn't reflect the world; Our blank page does not echo the raging of mind. My guitar mocks me from across the room, its croon issues no more from strings laden with sorrow.

Why can't I just let her shuttup for awhile and take solace in something else? Why must I continue to spit forth weak mediocrity? Why do I sound like a pretentious fuck? Fuck art. I don't do art for art's sake. I am not an artist. Art is the reason I get up in the morning, but my definition ends there. You know, it doesn't seem fair that I'm living for something I can't even define.

There you are right there in the meantime1


1Ani DiFranco - Out of Habit

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