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Wednesday, November 23rd, 2011
11:30 pm - Thanksgiving
A couple gets into the car at 6:10. Minutes of silence follow. The boy asks the girl a question. She gives a single-word response.

-Are you okay? he asks.
-Yeah.
-You seem mad.
-No.
-You sure?
-I'm fine.
-Why are you being so quiet and weird and clearly angry, then?
-You said 6:00.
-I did.
-I told you I wanted to leave on time.
-You did.
-Well you asked why I was upset.
-I already apologized.
...
-I told you I wanted to leave on time.
-Do you know what's happening right now? We're being my parents. You're mad at me over something inconsequential - whether we left at 6:00 or 7:00 it doesn't matter, but you set this arbitrary goal and I failed to meet it because I always do, but I only missed it by an almost negligible amount of time. And now we're quiet and you're angry and I'm getting angry as a result, and now we're going to be quiet for another thirty miles and maybe you'll apologize to me or I'll restart my apologizing to you and we'll pretend that it's okay - or maybe no one will apologize to anyone and we'll get there and act like no fight ever took place but either way the fucking holiday is already ruined regardless of whether or not we're able to fake it once we get there. And fucking Tim is in the back seat, and he's had to witness all of this, so his fucking holiday with a room full of strangers is going to be even more ruined than ours because the only people he knows are fighting and he knows it. And they're acting like everything's fine but they're also both drinking wine and he's worried they're going to start fighting again because he knows you get talkative when you're drunk and I get morose and defensive. All over the difference between six o'clock and 6:10.

After about ten seconds, they both start laughing.

-That was ridiculous, she says.
-Did you like my rant? he says.
-I'm sorry. she says, with gravity and conviction.
-I know. he says. Then he pauses. Then, -Seriously, though. Ruined.

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Friday, November 11th, 2011
5:36 pm - Suspension Bridgetown
I basked for fifteen seconds
but the hole in the clouds was quick to close
and while usually I don't mind the cold
tonight the fog seeped in through your old red shirt now riddled with tiny holes

and I'm waiting
and I'm hungry
and I don't know what time it is 'cause the sun went down hours ago
and I'm hoping
you're not listening
but I'm hoping you'll hear me in the feedback of the microphone

oh it's been too long
it's been too quiet
it's been too uncomfortable
still sometimes I wish you were here
'cause it's so god damn beautiful

I disappeared for a while last year
changed my address and my passwords and my mind
and I washed up on a hardwood floor
with a five-year plan full of question marks and a wristwatch full of time

and I'm shaking
and I'm dizzy
and the seconds ticking sound just like your heartbeat through your stethoscope
and i'm wondering
how many times a day
our hearts beat perfectly in time, two deeply flawed interstate metronomes

oh it's been too long
you've been too quiet
and I'm way too uncomfortable
still here I am and there you went
what makes you so god damn wonderful?

and I'm sorry
and I'm grateful
and I cringe each time I think about the time you spent alone
and I'm hoping
you're still happy
but secretly I hope that I am still your secret hope

Oh it's been so long
The night's too quiet
and this town is so uncomfortable
and even if we'd tried to make things right
it would take a god damn miracle

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Sunday, June 8th, 2008
5:52 pm - All The Pretty Horses
"She paused midway to look back. Standing there trembling in the water and not from the cold for there was none. Do not speak to her. Do not call. When she reached him he held out his hand and she took it. She was so pale in the lake she seemed to be burning. Like foxfire in a darkened wood. That burned cold. Like the moon that burned cold. Her black hair floating on the water about her, falling and floating on the water. She put her other arm about his shoulder and looked toward the moon in the west do not speak to her do not call and then she turned her face up to him. Sweeter for the larceny of time and flesh, sweeter for the betrayal. Nesting cranes that stood singlefooted among the cane on the south shore had pulled their slender beaks from their wingpits to watch. Me quieres? Yes, he said. He said her name. God yes, he said."

-Cormac McCarthy

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Sunday, November 25th, 2007
5:01 pm
Hiro Nakamura's free reign over the space time continuum doesn't make any tiny amount of sense. It's a source of constant frustration for me. Does that make me a total nerd?

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Monday, October 1st, 2007
11:58 pm
I know that stare. I've felt it before. It doesn't come from the sort of person you think you've become. I'm staring back, glaring, I'll burn the flesh off of your fucking bones with my eyes. But that wouldn't do any good, would it?

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Saturday, September 29th, 2007
8:18 pm - my favorite band - ever - has returned


Awesome. Just awesome.

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Sunday, September 16th, 2007
6:21 pm - Dear Scott, Dearest Zelda
P. 92

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Sunday, September 2nd, 2007
12:53 am - GOD FUCKING DAMN IT WHAT THE FUCK WHY, part 2
I call it a little crush, but that's only relative to the massive clusterfuck that I can sense it becoming. I think I can handle this, but that's only because I still think I'm invincible, even though I'm constantly proving and re-proving to myself that I'm nothing close to it. I'm like a fucking child in that way, innocently and unsuspectingly self-destructive, and this is going to be impossibly difficult for me. So, enjoy your stay, and I'll try my fucking damnedest not to.

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Friday, August 31st, 2007
12:05 am - in a venue still secret from most myspace friends...
To: self
Cc: god's cruel sense of irony

GOD FUCKING DAMN IT WHAT THE FUCK WHY.

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Sunday, August 5th, 2007
11:28 pm - complaining about my amazing job that i love
I need a break. I need a break about once month, I think.

I'm happy to work my ass off for a good cause, and Tree House is definitely that. And I'm happy to take work home with me so I can continue to work my ass off on my own time, particularly when the "work" I take home is in the form of adorable kittens -


(this is me showing off Nora's cuteness before I continue to rant)

- but if I'm going to do that, I'd like more than eight days' paid time off. Or I'd like more than $8.47 an hour. Or I'd at least like some occasional thanks for the extra effort.

My performance at work is starting to suffer on account of the fact that I never really get away from it. The old motivation - that silly "this is clearly my life's ambition" business - isn't quite enough for me lately. But I know that asking for a raise at a non-profit is a laughable, if not scornable, offense.

So, alas, I'm a victim of my own need to feel good about myself as a human. Which sucks. I'd have made a pretty good defense attorney.

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3:16 pm
"Ask not what you can do for your country. Ask what's for lunch."

- Orson Welles


Someone please buy me food. I don't make enough money to be able to afford it for myself.

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Sunday, July 15th, 2007
4:43 pm - least flattering movie synopsis ever
From the Netflix envelope insert of "The Fountain":

"A man travels through time in an epic struggle to save the woman he loves and to understand the mysteries of life in this sci-fi drama. In three parallel stories spanning a millennium, Tom (Hugh Jackman) searches for a legendary tree believed to grant eternal life in 16th-century Spain; tries to discover a cure for his wife's (Rachel Weisz) cancer as a present-day scientist; and traverses the universe as a 26th-century astronaut."

"Travels through time?" "Astronaut?" "Traverses the universe?" "The mysteries of life?" Sure, all of these things are technically accurate, but could they have made it sound a little less L. Ron Hubbard? I would never have rented this movie based on this synopsis. In fact, I'm thinking about quitting Netflix based on this synopsis.

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Wednesday, July 4th, 2007
9:42 am
Dear Feet,

I'm sorry I wore flip-flops for those three miles of walking. But we had some good times. Remember? Fireworks? Burritos? Margaritas? Can't we just get past this whole three-mile-walk thing?

I've learned my lesson. Now please, stop being blistered and intensely painful. Please? I'll take you to the Pacific Northwest with me if you promise to stop hurting. Otherwise, you're staying here.

Love,
The Rest of the Body That You Belong To

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Monday, July 2nd, 2007
12:10 am - maybe i'm not what i thought
It's a dull, shallow, and centerless pain to look into a past of which you were not a part. It hits so much harder, with so much more focus, when you finally come to realize your dull, shallow, and centerless present. It leaves marks. Sharp, deep, and pristine marks.

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Friday, June 22nd, 2007
9:06 am
So apparently the new Dillinger Escape Plan album is going to be a bunch of amazing seven-minute drum solos with music thrown over the top of them. Gil Sharone: holy shit.

Eat this, Coheed and Cambria.

I have a pretty amazingly good feeling about this. Apparenly they're starting a new tour in September, but Gil isn't going to be their live drummer. Regardless. Hot.

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Wednesday, June 13th, 2007
1:21 am - Thank you wikipedia
for pointing out that "Concerning the UFO Sighting Near Highland, IL" by Sufjan Stevens is written in a 65/16 time signature. Now I'll never stop listening to it or thinking about it or counting it in my head.

I swear, in reading that one wikipedia article, I have turned severely OCD.

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Friday, June 1st, 2007
9:10 am - obsessed
Mouth of the Architect - 7/12, Empty Bottle

It swelled to the surface and broke the skin
A growing storm, uncontrollable
You let it die in your arms
Our tears couldn't carry you
We watched you fall into the fire alone
Our hearts broke without you
Our hearts would have followed you

---

Sinking deeper
Drifting further
Fading away
Rise and fall, collapse and crawl to carry the weight of everything
Our heads hang low
So low
No one wished to settle here

---

Our hands withstood the aches of time to find the will to carry on
Stretch my skin across the sky let the light bleed through me

---

What was once held so close has decayed
All hope turned to dust
With tired eyes we've wept in defeat
Each step forward was lost
Then you were gone
We did nothing to deserve this

---

I cannot save you
There is nothing left inside of me
I will wash away into the sea
Drowning my lungs with your memory
Turn away from me
I will fail you

---

This truth has buried its fire
Deep into your kiss
Burning clean everything
My honor holds the ashes
As the light exposes the regret in my eyes
The sky embraces the flames
A phoenix reborn
Let it hold your heart
I will never leave your side

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Tuesday, May 15th, 2007
12:13 pm
Two of my favorite things in the world:

1) In the winter, sleeping with a window cracked under as many blankets as I can gather.

2) In the summer, sleeping with the window cracked, sprawled out on a nearly bare mattress.

The key to both of these things is sleep. I've not been doing much of that lately.

First, there's work. I tire of 7am shifts, as much as I love the job. I'm just not a morning person. My performance is starting to suffer from my having to wake up at 5:30 or before 3 days a week.

Then there are kittens. It's the most rewarding thing I've ever gotten tired of. I'm foster parenting two month-old kittens (i've had them since they were tiny, but I think I've mentioned that here before), and they demand so, so much attention. I'm the sort of person who stays up until he is about to pass out. Except now, I start feeling like I need to pass out, and that's my cue to go feed and medicate and hydrate kittens for half an hour or more. And the feeding schedule is such that I can't allow myself more than six hours of sleep even if I have time for it.

But then there are the dreams. I need to start keeping a dream journal again, I think. Maybe if I wrote these things down, they'd stop bothering me so often. Last night I dreamed a song came on the radio that was clearly based on my life, down to small details, and all the people around me (several of which may very well be reading this) started glaring at me as the song played. Not angry glares, but hurt and indignant ones. Then someone started telling me I was supposed to have made dinner, and I was practically crying over having forgotten as everyone started to leave. (At least my subconscious isn't subtle about its metaphors.)

And I woke up because Thor was rubbing his face against mine and purring loudly in my ear. The dry food had run out overnight and he wasn't going to stand for it.

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Friday, May 11th, 2007
9:43 am - step out of the way of the charging bull
http://blog.myspace.com/lockealike






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Monday, April 30th, 2007
12:31 am
Dear Life,

We used to get along so well. What ever happened?

Call me some time. We'll do lunch.

-Justin

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