when you're sober around drunk people you realize who is really your friend and who isn't.
I am dangerously close to losing a friend.
on the lighter side..... I love my jobs for some reason... stocking is a great workout and working the music section at barnes & noble is pretty fun. Nicest people i've ever worked with.
Other side-notes: -i'm desirable to women again miraculously -cute girl at pet smart is cute -looking forward to visiting mass. for very sexy reasons -matt liked it when i put my arm around him (even though he didn't say so) -i'm not feeling sick anymore -i didn't regret the recent change in my life... but because of recent events i'm not particularly empathetic to anyone -that in turn is making me a very very happy boy! -monies!!!!
I'm an alligator, I'm a mama-papa coming for you I'm the space invader, I'll be a rock 'n' rollin' bitch for you Keep your mouth shut, you're squawking like a pink monkey bird And I'm busting up my brains for the words
Keep your 'lectric eye on me babe Put your ray gun to my head Press your space face close to mine, love
Freak out in a moonage daydream oh yeah!
Don't fake it baby, lay the real thing on me The church of man, love Is such a holy place to be Make me baby, make me know you really care
Make me jump into the air
Keep your 'lectric eye on me babe Put your ray gun to my head Press your space face close to mine, love Freak out in a moonage daydream oh yeah!
I think the human body was meant to sleep for 4 hours at a time twice a day. The reason that people don't sleep so well is because they're forced to sleep more and less often.
The mexicans have it right... damn their siesta time! I wish we had that... I'm going to hate being tired everyday for work D=
Vampire cat... added the blood and fangs and changed the eyes (kinda shitty, but I think it's funny and that's all that matters!)
One of the simplest/quickest/bestest jobs I've done. Creating a shadow in the back of the guns was a stroke of genius, however it still looks a bit too animated. I still love it though. It's a fucking rambo cat... how could you not? (I added the guns, toned the night vision, gave him a shitty bandana, added the shadows)
I made this because there are alot of people on all the internets that have alot of shit to say... (picture nabbed from google)
This is just self explanitory.... (picture nabbed from google)
Saw this and felt inspired. I even made myself laugh with this one. You can feeeeel the drama! (just added text... hard i know)
And just for the fuck of it... a Family Guy, Penny Arcade, and Animatrix banner I made a few years ago:
simple yet nice.
I like requests... so post something if ya like. (also: these are all done with a mouse, not a drawing pad. I'm crazy like that.)
The process does not end The reader much like science must take the pool of collected thought and build upon it
Language constantly unfolding upon itself
Barthes 142 Death of the Author occurs why?
The Author is only linked to his work at the point of writing eg: multiple drafts of papers or a fact that is proven false
The Author can not be held accountable for theories unknown to him/her
eg: what the author writes today would not be the same as what he/she writes a month from that time.
Therefore the death of the author is a nessesary function for the presentation of art and literature
In a way, the comprehension nof the author's writing is a reflection of what the reader had already known, based on Merwin's previous theory about the journey of autobiography.
-----------------------------------------
Comprehension by Eric Samuels
It is our own minds That limit our gliding Fingers to paper When it is raining outside.
These fingers were crafted To touch more surfaces Than just your lolely papyrus Mon frere
I told Paul to put "Bad Motherfucker" on his cup AFTER he wrote that.
blurry image, but that's me getting a bit drunker and doing the hoedown
Tom and Jay soaked a piece of bread with the beer pong table beer that spilled over... nasty
Literally 5 minutes before Jay put his helmet on Paul rubbed his balls all over the inside. Jackie and I were just sittin there next to him and he starts goin at it haha.
Getting drunker?
ROCK! yes... getting drunker haha.
I had no idea this ear action was even going on! funny picture, no tongue-to-ear contact though! =P
Creepy, creepy, creepy. and i'm peeing. also I look like this guy: haha right?
Right now it's 10pm and I'm putting off a seven page paper that is due tomorrow at 4pm. I can get this paper done in 3 hours but I'm putting it off because my brain has turned to shit since it's already been tapped by one of the best papers I've ever written on the death of the author giving birth of the self cultivated reader.
Basically the paper is about how the author of a piece of text doesn't matter because something could be 200 years old and completely lost all meaning that the author intended yet we can still read it and get meaning for ourselves (hence the cultivation). There were diagrams and all... my professor said that she liked diagrams after I drew mine on the chalk board. My professor was a 35 year old Russian woman (hence the class was named Russian Autobiography) who would always smile at me when I talked. I felt like she was treating me like a kid on the short bus, she was inches away from pinching my cheek and sending me off to play in the sand box. But back to her smile... her smile was like an interlaced series of tiny nails. She could make kids cry with this smile. Don't get me wrong, this Russian woman was actually very attractive and I wouldn't mind letting her vladamir my nabokov.
That aside, it would ruin my train of thought whenever she would smile at me, so I would have to, in a way, multitask in my mind by thinking of stuff that I would have to do that day after the class, while explaining what I wanted to convey. All this probably gave her a reason to smile at me the way she did. OOOO maybe it was because I was the only boy in the class and her vagina is frozen over... Russia is very cold you know. ok enough of that. Basically this class pushed my limits and I have thought about life and death like I never thought I could. I challenge anyone to have a conversation with me about life and keep up with me on the same level... it just won't happen anymore. I feel enlightened.
Shifting gears: back to the title of this entry: 'changes'. Lets make this a bit easier first. Changes in the past 6 months:
depression to happiness in record time attachment issues to people have been dissolved i sing really loud to music in the car whilst making funny faces to people passing me... such as licking the crack of my fingers (haha love it) i laugh easier i denied my ex-girlfriend the chance to be with me again i'm not afraid to say it wasn't my fault ooo this is a good one: i learned that my ex didn't tell her ex-boyfriend that we were dating i've also been cheated on in the past 6 months i've been deathly ill for 2 days and then returned to normal after a 104 fever and spasming in my bed i made my grandmother cry out of happiness upon reading my 'thank you' note my grandmother is full of life and the reason i write as much as i do i've learned that life is too short to blame anyone unless you get an STD (ouch... yes i'm clean) I've finished school and i'm on to looking for a full-time job I'm moving to hartford and looking forward to seeing people I havn't seen in a while I've made a deal with myself/becca that I will write a poem a week at least (i wrote one today) I'm unsatisfied with one lone aspect of my life
I'd like to fix that last part but I can't at this point in time. When I move into my new place maybe i'll build up the courage.
robert frost once said "poetry is a momentary stay from confusion", and life as an entity is confusion. I'm going to try to get a job being an editor/writer or designer for a publishing company or magazine. Life is alot like language, we all have alot to say but not enough words to be able to say it.
ok back to my paper, but first (i should really make an ljcut here, but oh well) I'll leave you with a poem that I have come to love over the course of this summer, written by the late Robert Frost:
Acquainted with the Night
I have been one acquainted with the night. I have walked out in rain--and back in rain. I have outwalked the furthest city light.
I have looked down the saddest city lane. I have passed by the watchman on his beat And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.
I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet When far away an interrupted cry Came over houses from another street,
But not to call me back or say good-by; And further still at an unearthly height One luminary clock against the sky
Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right. I have been one acquainted with the night.
As the jazz music picked up I was tapping my foot like my Guitar teacher—The lonely pervert Had taught me.
Tap your foot by lifting your knee, Stomp your heel, not your Toes. That’s how you Listen to jazz he would say. I should have been a drummer.
Its an open mic’ at the local coffee Shop, and I’m starting to feel where This band is moving. The half Poetic jazz at the coffee house was never my thing.
Some events are too cliché to try Without someone forcing you through The door. Yet I’ve Fallen Victim to their sound.
The creeping flow of the guitar— Thump of the bass, crack of the snare. I sit in sweet anticipation; And they’re just getting started.
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haibanegatsu's journal
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