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eioclides
21 September 2008 @ 04:08 am
Writing online tends to make me more strange than usual.  I am much more personable in the flesh, I promise.  Santa Fe doesn't exactly cultivate the rich atmosphere in my mind for healthy writing.  More, of interest, later.
 
 
eioclides
13 October 2007 @ 06:26 pm
This is just a mental warm-up exercise so that I can write a paper in one sitting; don't mind me.

**STREAM BEGIN**
I really like this new Kenna album, sucks that he's having problems w/the record companies, but at least he's still getting stuff out there.  I'm a tad bit disappointed with the new Thrice album, but it's probably going to grow on me.  Mid-terms are next week.  Tomorrow my 19th Century American Lit class is meeting in the library.  I want to come, but the damn Cowboys vs. Patriots game is on tomorrow and it's going to be a brawl.  I've got to do an art project before Monday also, this is going to be hard to pull off; I shouldn't really be wasting my time with this right now, but it's a better alternative then looking at a blank page on Word.  I just can't get myself to write engagingly today, I know that this is paralyzingly boring.  I just can't get any kick going tonight.  In other notes, it's laundry day today!  Huzzah.  I tend to put these things off and then when my pile reaches its Ultimate Culmination I completely take over the laundry room for the day.  For some reason, I'm afraid I'm going to fuck up my sheets; they're new and I haven't washed them before.  There wasn't any special instructions listed, but I'm male and so when it comes to things like this I automatically assume they will end in failure and sadness.  Even though this horrible guillotine of laundry paranoia is drifting to and fro over my neck like some fatal pendulum I still feel pretty good today.  Alrighty, I'm going to go take my sheets out now and see about this paper.  Keep on not-reading, un-readers!

With the greatest hubris imaginable,

-Jonathan J.
 
 
eioclides
09 October 2007 @ 07:07 pm
I like it that my subject lines make absolutely no sense.  Unless you're Terry Gilliam.  (By the by, I'm convinced that I can catapult out of nowhere to get a major Hollywood motion picture off the ground before Gilliam can these days.  Although that's changing with pre-production beginning on his next film, The Imaginarium of <something or other, I forget the man's name>).

That is the general result of my standard thought process.  Get used to it if you want to come back; even though I will make no attempt to even make friends on this service, I get the feeling that sometime, someone will read something here.  So yeah...journal.  I know!  Banal minutiae!

I have to be at work in 30 minutes or so, which generally consists of sitting in a very hot computer lab watching film students edit.  An AFI (The institute, not the shitty band) representative is on campus right now, so I imagine there will be plenty of direct-to-dvd quality Final Cut-ting going on tonight.  (In their defense, I only have experience with Sony Vegas.  I tend to keep quiet in there lest I be labeled as a PC Luddite).  SUBJECT CHANGE!

Lunch was way better than dinner tonight in the caf.   MMMmmmm chicken cacciatore.  BLLLLeeeehhh flour tortillas with some kind of shredded chicken and some color chili and some silly naive vegan rice (I always add the words "silly" and "naive" before vegan.  You're welcome to defend your dietary choice, I've got no problem defending my literary choice).  SWITCH!

I've been chewing on this toothpick for a couple of hours now, completely aware that small shards of it are becoming trapped in my appendix, whittling the clock down, down, to the time where the organ will eventually rupture in my chest and cause some sort of massive bleed.  Either that or a particularly nasty piece will play pinball in my liver and cause some sort of major systemic shutdown.  HAPPY PLACE!

My happy place: somewhere with no distractions...even this is a distraction from getting ready for work, I suppose.  If you're still reading know that I do this without any editing or revisions.  This is not my mission statement, this is my mental dumping grounds, and you're getting the glowing waste straight from the source, alpha-particles be damned.  RECOGNIZE!

I miss my cat.  Living in a college-regulated life-space doesn't allow for small mammals that run around on their own.  Even though the campus is completely infested with prairie dogs and rabbits that love the taste of spark plug wires (ask me and stand back, bile is spewed and I don't have the lab results back from California, it may cause cancer there).

How about those fucking Cowboys!  5-0 by the hairs of their asses those guys!  A pity they will be systematically deconstructed on national TV this Sunday by the Mighty New England Patriots (who I would absolutely despise if I didn't have Tom Brady, Randy Moss, and the NE defense on my Fantasy Football team, also 5-0 and you'd better believe I'm for fucking real, folks).  The Patriots have shown no mercy in their similar 5-0 season, although they've battled weaklings like the sweetly retarded Bengals and "goddamn Buffalo" as I call them.  Curiously enough, the Browns brought the best game to the Pats so far this season.  Anyway, Sunday, 3:15 et, Pats vs. Cowboys, an almost titanic match-up between two teams just coming off of their weakest performances thus far in the season.  We'll see if Romo has 5 more interceptions in him for Junior Seau.  Two teams will enter undefeated, one team will leave undefeated (the other will still win their division and enter the playoffs, and all the players are probably knee-deep in specialty hookers except Romo and Owens for being inept boneheads last night that will not have accidental juices on their $3000 lambskin jackets tonight.).  FOOTBALL MASCULINE YEAH!

Need to go to work...I think this is all I'm good for tonight anyway.  Keep doing whatever it is you do, non-readers!