Studying for finals is taking a toll on me to the point that i don’t care….
on brighter note, yesturday was james’ birthday. me and paul took him to TGIF, and then i’m buying his “Everything” ticket.
I’m on my 6th coke of the day. And I’m ready to pop that xenadrine. My muscles ache and I have a headache, and my stomache feels like it’s gonna burst.
Blather, platter,
the words roll off easily when–
when it’s not important anymore.
Glibly sociable, to others and then –
who cares when nobody important is listening to her blather.
Dewdrops– hackneyed,
Flowers– trite,
The concept of black and white–
stale as a box of old barbies and g.i. joes’ string chatter
reasoning behind tear glass windows and cracked prisms
feeling through broken fans and wooden chimes,
walking on the choppy ocean top–
i feel rather–
blather
“TELL ME when you’re ready okay, sir?”, the speaker box intoned, in that characteristic electric voice.
I had just pulled into a Jack-in-the-Box at 5:00 am after a rave, and I was rather surprised at the niceness of the tone. Usually it’s, “What do you want?”, “You ready to order?”.
“I’ll have the ultimate cheeseburger combo.” I had exactly five dollars in my wallet and a quarter in my pocket. I hoped it was enough.
“Will that be all sir?”
“Yeah.”
“That will be five-twenty-one, sir, pull up to the next window.”
I pulled up to the window, and before I could, a bum was digging on the ground next to the window for change he could scavange from people who dropped their change. He had a nasty expression on his face and he didn’t respect the fact I was there. I didn’t like him. He took a couple of pennies off the ground and walked off, waving me off in that “I don’t care you stupid asshole” way.
I pulled up finally, and a twenty-three-ish latino man greeted me. He carefully said, “That will be five-twenty-one”, and reached out with his hand. I took the five ones I had and placed it in his hand, and took the quarter, but I fumbled at the last minute and it rolled down underneath my car. The bum who was watching had a big smirk on his face.
“Don’t worry about it.”, said the guy.
“Ahh thanks.”, I said with a bit of relief.
I waited a bit in the car, and the guy interruped my daze, “So… where are ya comin’ from?”
“Oh, from this party in LA.”
“That right? Seems like everyone is coming home from a party today. But I have to work. And everyone ordered the same thing you did.”
“Well, no other place has anything quite like the ultimate cheeseburger… mcdonald’s comes close, with its double quarter pounder, but doesn’t have that special sauce.”, I explained.
“You mean the mayo?”
“Whatever it is.. it’s pretty good.”
“Yeah, I have to agree with you on that one.”
There was a small lull in the conversation, which I used as a chance to fidget with the audio in my car.
The guy added, “Must be nice being able to party… I have to support my little daughter. She’s eight, had her when I was 15. Anyway, here’s your stuff.”
“You have a daughter?”, I said, taking the bag.
“Yeah, love her to death, I work two jobs, goin’ to night school, and I talk to nice people like you in the drive through to pass the time. Nicole– that’s her name– her mother isn’t around anymore. She died a while back.”
My respect level shot all the way to the stratospeare. I nodded, at a loss whether to just drive away or stay there and keep the guy company.
“Anyway, see you later man. Take care.”, he said, breaking the uncomfortable lull.
“Take care.”
“Take care.”
I’ve been thinking recently about blogging– at what point do you stop revealing? Or in other words, when is it acceptable to be perfectly frank and honest? I don’t quite have the liberty of doing that because so many of my friends that I know personally and see everyday see my blogs, and even if I were to make an anonymous blog somewhere in the middle of nowhere, there is still a chance that google or some other search engine would pick my site up and I would get nailed.
But I want to be frank. I want to tell people how I truly feel instead of writing a couple of funny anecdotes and amusing pictures and other shallow and not “deep” topics. I want this to be a journal damnit, instead of a publication. For instance, I drank 3 beers because I’m worried about whether my mom could help me pay for a place to live next year, and whether I can make enough to afford things in case she stops paying for my college education, and whether I’m being an annoyance to certain people or persons and whether I’m being a good friend. I’m thinking right now about smoking a cigarette even though I promised myself I would quit and promised my sister that I would quit because it’s something my father does and I don’t even respect him enough to call him dad.
Even in the preceding paragraph I’m leaving things out because I can’t myself to say things I’d rather just reveal the world because I’m sure it’ll hurt people I know. It’s the feeling you get when that one girl you find walks away from you, never to be seen again, and you wished you’d say something, had a means of communicating, but she slowly steps further away, and you wonder at the things that could have been.
Why must this world be so strange in it’s awesome beauty? Why must I get so many hits from google from people searching for the oddest things (and a lot of perverts too, I must add). How is it possible for google.com to make my page #2 on a search for pussy, fuck, father, daughter (or close)? That’s so fucking sick. Why must I have absolutely nobody to talk to when I need someone to talk to, yet when I’m content, everyone seems annoying and talkative?
I’m outs. I’m going to smoke that cigarette. Maybe two.
recycled poetry that i wrote in high school
people equate
innocence
with a white flower
like a rose
but i know better
because innocence
is a nasty bitch
with nasty bugs
crawling toward her
putrid yellow hole
to eat out of.
and maybe she has white
petals, but really it’s because
someone painted it
with toxic carcinogenic
lead-based paint that
is plastered on like everything
else that is fake.
what’s the deal here.
Just came back from Urbahinism, which was this small scale dance that my school through for the benefit of the people living there. It was pretty cool, an MC battle, bboy/dance battle (and I battled a friend who’s like 2x better than I am, and lost). It was okay, got to dance, chill, listen to flow, etc..
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