certain distant thinking

2002-05-06T09:59:00.000-05:00

tricked into thinking that there's hope when there's no hope at all

2000-12-29T13:07:00.000-06:00

go mother fucking figureall jokes about "what are they going to do, fire me?" and all that shit are now prophetic (and pathetic) funnies what with the fact that i don't have a job anymore.or a website. or anything to do with anything. lookit me. fraggle rock.

2000-11-27T12:09:00.000-06:00

octasyllabicstomach upset and lame, loud lovesouped up, disarmed, chances blown off.i'm lonely like i haven't beenalone before, like i don't knowwhat this loneliness will become.like my visitors and all myvisitations resolve themselvesinto weekends of depressionleft alone at last and feelinglike it's all just time lost to me.remember winters come and goneand lived through, and died through, and

2000-11-20T16:01:00.000-06:00

nonasyllabic i'm thinking too hard about numbers. and every time it comes to this, trouble reigns supreme, lording over me, laughing, singing, dancing, gloating, like victory is its already. but still i fight, though not inclined to do too much, waste too much breath this time, i'm tight-lipped and short-winded despite my nature, my wordy roots and blood.

2000-11-16T14:17:00.000-06:00

words and phrases i've been using lately "jinkies" "fuck 'em" "fat fuck" "twenny bucks" "~" "terrifying" "brilliant" "fuck you, don't you dare think about taking my jigsaw, you haitian bastard."

2000-11-15T14:17:00.000-06:00

i am a bit more substantial today those feelings of wispy inconsistency are gone. i'm grounded, solid, down-to-earth. today. is it the weather? the pit of my stomach? yesterday, who was i to feel that nothing could touch me? it is the little pains. the little tears. the cuts and bruises. the headaches. the constancy of discomfort.

2000-11-14T14:23:00.000-06:00

I AM ABSOLUTELY FUCKING UNREAL yeah, you heard me screaming. yeah, you saw me sink to my knees. yeah, i slammed my head against the wall of the elevator, bang bang bang bang, four times and as the doors opened, i returned to normalcy, i returned to me, i returned to the fourth floor. reminded to remember who i am. yeah, you saw me shrinking. yeah, you heard me thinking. yeah, i remembered to

2000-11-14T13:18:00.000-06:00

2+everything

how do you add it all up anymore? it seems like it's becoming...something else. like everything's changing. not just in your pitiful vertical bullshit marketplace, but everywhere. everything. everywhere. you used to love me for my formulas. for my formulaic approach. for my endless forms i had you fill out. i just

2000-11-14T11:37:00.000-06:00

buzz your words of the day: differentiator information silos human capital disconnect verb(i)age look it up! use it! wear it out! (as they say). navel gazing

2000-11-13T13:21:00.000-06:00

"i. was once. misinformed. about. your intentions." what am i even thinking anymore? shit, if i'm even thinking about anything. one minute, it's this, next minute it's that, and don't even get me started about minutes number three. that's when all bets are off. all bets are off. timecode and any given sunday this weekend. and very little else. doughty still in my head. that smile still in my

2000-11-10T11:38:00.000-06:00

think again, mothah-fuckah why so vulgar? and so bold? it's crazy, but this election, go figure, is pissing me off. or perhaps the reactions. or perhaps the fact that i can't stop thinkingtalkinghearingwondering about it. when was the last time i read a newspaper? when was the last time i cared? freaks. motherfuckers talking about people who can't figure out a ballot shouldn't be voting in the

2000-11-08T13:41:00.000-06:00

Above Top Secret - Uncovering Government Conspiracies In the mood for some excellent paranoia? For the love of crimony. This is amazing stuff. And then there are the numerologists going crazy on the "809" area code scam. (which, by the way, is interesting -- 809 is the area code of the dominican republic, not the bahamas, as all the documents claim...not sure why that's been overlooked...)

2000-11-08T09:24:00.000-06:00

thorough. read new yorker article on train on way to work about meg,ev,jason,etc.,etc. typical new yorker article style -- journalist feels need to put self into text as usual. all new yorker articles are like personal blogs. "As Hitler and I sat down for coffee (I was wearing a gray jumpsuit) he complimented me on my personal appearance." no journalistic separation. just report. i still read it

2000-11-06T10:39:00.000-06:00

it is morning on the monday of my discontent everyone is either dead or damaged or married or me. sleeping and dreaming or tossing, turning in fear. it's simple to think these thoughts have never been thunk. but i try, i'm trying. eyes burning, body floating, never knowing.

2000-11-03T15:50:00.000-06:00

instead it comes to this -- good night, gracie heave a big sigh for the end of the week for the beginning of the weekend of the beginning of the end. or something along those lines. i really couldn't tell you what i'm telling you, except that these little talks of ours have already helped out a lot ( thank you very much) and it's all in the guise of getting me back in that

2000-11-03T14:26:00.000-06:00

so much to say so much to say so much to say so much to say but tight lips keep sinking ships from breaking up and falling down. big man broken up -- more compelling images are rarely seen. how can you answer that? obvious dedication. obvious commitment. true breakdown. let's pretend we know what we're doing: no dry eyes in room emotional visine drops redness still remains.

2000-11-03T12:43:00.000-06:00

only good for a laugh found myself once again in top5's ruminations, slightly (and i think inefficiently) edited from my original submission: Just once I'd like the answer to the question, "Honey, why are you crying?" to be "Because you know too much and I have to kill you." Instead, it's "You watch too much football and never take me

2000-11-03T11:37:00.000-06:00

pills bury dough boy ...i keep thinking, "i must, i must, i must have more thoughts than this" and i feel doughty roll in the soul coughing grave. there is no reason for me to have more thoughts than i have -- i am not that special-edition collector's-item version of myself that i used to be. these girls last night told me they have binders full of the old thoughts, the old "songs", poems, etc