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The Lines Inside My Head
Feel free to Discuss
Thursday, April 18, 2002 01:13 p.m.
I have just rediscovered how wonderful a band Dave Matthews Band is. Not only are these five men far more talented than I'll ever be: they are caring, loving, and decent people. I was reviewing info on them, hadn't checked up on them for a long time.
A bit of background on the band:
Their first concert was at an Earth Day concert.
Dave Matthews hadn't had much music training at that point, didn't know what a time signature was.
The front man considers the rest of the musicians his musical superior
Carter Beauford has been drumming in concerts since age 9.
Boyd Tinsley occasionally models clothes for: Tommy Hilfiger, Gucci, some others i believe. He also did a Kit Kat commercial which money made from was donated to chariety.
They started a foundation intitled: Bama Works which donates to many numerous charities.
Numerous charity concerts. All of which were with things that are hard to say may not be a good thing, beyond Planned Parenthood.
Helped run a campaign against hate, with civilrights.org
It occurs to me that the point of life could just very well be that there is no point.
I'm serious.
Wednesday, April 17, 2002 09:06 p.m.
JAM SESSION:
Bommm ch-k| bom bom| <-Beat
WHhhhA|aaaaA! <-lead guitar w/ some improv
whicka-whicka| whicka-whicka| <- DJ stuff
Lyrics:
Let me take you down
To the lyrical sound
This is how I see
repeat after me
Fuck off Fuck off
Fuck. Off.
Sounds a bit rude
but i'm with that 'tude
know it all everyday
Perhaps I'm just a
Fuck off Fuck off
Fuck. Off.
Tuesday, April 16, 2002 03:10 p.m.
Restlessly biding my time.
Saturday, April 13, 2002 10:36 p.m.
Connections crumble into ruins. Plowing the ruins down they fade to memories. Skyscrapers are erected with money the money that was made. The Skyscrapers are hollow.
Stonehedge is buried beneath it. Lear and his three daughters are forgotten.
Steel eventually corrodes. Stainless steel is flexed enough until it snaps. The skyscrapers fall. A monstorous cacophny is made for fifty three seconds.
Stonehedge is buried beneath it, no one remembers what it stands for.
Wednesday, April 10, 2002 02:26 p.m.
Overheard:
"I thought he was a girl with the curly hair."
Tuesday, April 9, 2002 10:32 p.m.
4 cards:
First Card Side One:
HAPPINESS
First Card Side Two:
Is it what it's all about?
Second Card Side One:
It's like orange juice falling.
No does not explain
Neutrailty
equalibrium
I strive for it.
Is there perfection?
I will never find an answer
Second Card Side Two:
Everything is too too too too too too too deep.
IHATEITALL
I want to break everything and create it. I want equilibrium.
Third Card Side One:
Two directions
I don't want to hurt anyone...
Third Card Side Two:
I WANT TO KNOW
Forth Card Side One:
Now I can consentrate. All is well contimplation is good.
::a drawing of a guitar::
All experience is Grand ->
Foggy
Forth Card Side Two:
Something I want to explain beyond gossip, beyond pens, fingers, fossils, beyond it all.
Too oh-my-god.
I feel so burdened.
Monday, April 8, 2002 09:24 p.m.
I live by a Baptist Church, it's is across the street. A few blocks down is a Luthern Church. They both have bill-boards advertising the church like Super-market grocery stores do. Such as:
ETERNAL SALVATION $3.99/lbs.
Anyway they typically have very irritating messages. Ones that I find offensive to the religion that they supposidely stand for, and some that I find offence to my own believes and their supposide desire to impede on mine. Recently:
3 NAILS AND 1 CROSS EQUALS FOR-GIVEN
I have not heard anything so mocking and sacriledge to the single most important event in Christianity believe. I am not against poking fun at important things, i do so with my own believes. But, I don't make puns about pain and suffering of the most important being to my faith. I felt sorry and embarrased for those that go to the church to truly worship.
NO GOD. NO PEACE.
KNOW GOD. KNOW PEACE!
The only religion I know that really encourages peace and harmony are the ones that don't neccisarily focus on a god, but inner struggle and desire of harmony. Perhaps the most annoying part is the all capitals as if they need to be big and flashy and bold and obnoxious to attract my attention. My biggest irritation is:
Religion isn't a bumper sticker.
Saturday, April 6, 2002 12:55 p.m.
I hold on to introversion in many ways. It is my crutch, my happiness, my inner-peace, my howling wolf. It is me in many ways.
I have come to my attention that some people who are realitively close to me have no idea what an introvert is.
It is not being shy, though this is a common trait of an introvert. Though, the introvert I am often enjoys being around people he is close to and trusts. I desire personal and close contact. Rushed and impersonal interaction is a part of life, but I don't like it. This attitude can be interpreted as shy.
It is not something like a speach impediment, no you don't need try to overcome it. I didn't sleep with someone without protection and now have to live with it the rest of my life. I don't want to get rid of it.
I like it.
It is the life I live. If I didn't like it I would attempt to change. I do have many problems that some people associate into that catagory, from what I gather. Many of these I try to work on. Some of them will never change.
Regardles I am staying an introvert.
Perhaps not written well, but it's what I have been pissed off about.
Saturday, April 6, 2002 12:44 p.m.
I was pissed off last night. I ranted and raved. Despite my irritations I was still reserved with my anger. But, I felt the boiling inside. I was burning and around me tingled with electric excitement. I didn't act. I don't act on anger alone. I did let it out. I found fault in areas where fault may not have been. I discovered the hatred I have. I reviewed my comments. I made ammends. I don't hate anyone, except during the intense bright scalding times. They are few and far between, they don't last long.
Hatred/anger/irritations are breeded from internal struggles. I find these emotions in my life when my environment shines a light on them. Then I blame myself. I wish to find fault one way, the way that encourages me and gives me glory. There is no glory in accusations, in little superiority complex statements, in anger, in hatred, in revenge.
But,
There is glory.
Friday, April 5, 2002 06:09 p.m.
I have been very productive today. Researching all sorts of things. But the funniest thing I have found is a graph, not just any graph but a graph that bobbles. I have never seen a bobbling graph before.
Thursday, April 4, 2002 07:57 p.m.
Kris had this on his live journal. I ended up with the same duck. Oh well, time for a picture anyway.
All ducks aren't sweet and innocent and you prove that. You have a nasty streak.
Find your inner rubber ducky.
Thursday, April 4, 2002 07:54 p.m.
snipet from IM message:
"yeah, so if you don't leave give me a call before you don't hypothetically leave when you would have..."
Could be that kind of night.
Thursday, April 4, 2002 02:04 p.m.
"You want some bud?"
"Huh?"
"You want some bud?"
"Still didn't understand you."
"You need some bud?"
"No."
Wednesday, April 3, 2002 03:51 p.m.
Summer is coming. I read Great Gatsby and think of parties. Of potential. I realize I never can fulfill it all. While summer can cheer me up, I will not be everywhere and do everything. So who do I favor?
Responsibility
Love
Music
Progress
Booze
Loyality
Service
Wolves
I'd like to meet the wolves again. Get away from everything else. I won't. But, I'd like to.
Wednesday, April 3, 2002 03:36 p.m.
Witch Trials Act 2:
I walk into class. First thing I do is look for the witch. Not around. Proof! She is a witch!
I sit next to some guy. We joke about how we may not be able to get into the class, massive amounts of people with both of us on the waiting for the waiting list. We're joking around and he comments how he thought he might have been in the wrong class because his friend that he is taking the class with was not around. Mild chit-chat.
The witch arrives. He acknowledges her. "Oh my God!" I'm thinking. She's trying to get on the inside. Trying to discover who I am through 3rd parties. The remaining of the class they are never receptive at the same time. He seems a bit over-zealous and she seems overly concentrating on the class, taking overly-detailed notes I assume. I suspect mind-control.
What else? She puts a love curse on him, he becomes infatuated and does whatever she asks. She then is able, while in his confidence, to enter his mind and control it. I'm on to them all.
Monday, April 1, 2002 02:26 p.m.
I met the girl from my dreams today. My girlfriend doesn't need to worry because she is a witch. The girl from my dreams must have put herself, or magicked herself, there. I saw her in my class. She was sitting next to me, she reminds me vaguely of an ex-girlfriend, the way she looks. I looked at her as if to make eye-contact to see if this was actually her from my dreams. Though she didn't look at me. The girl almost turned, but never did. I wasn't sure if she was or was not so I kept my eyes open. Spied on her.
The first thing I notice is that she took too many notes. Every little thing the teacher says is written willingly down on her piece of paper. Her handwritting is near perfect, as if she had spent more years than her age appeared to be working on her penmanship. Do witches have good handwriting? I become suspicious.
Next is she has a few too many moles. Witches obtain moles from the weird concotions they make every day in their cauldrons. My suspicion rises
She never makes eye contact at me, doesn't even turn. She realizes she is being caught and is worried. I feel proud that I can intimidate a witch.
I know she was there in my dreams. I don't know much about her, which makes me wonder what she knows about me. I know she smokes pot. I know that she is cuter in my dreams, which makes sense. It must be an image of herself not actually herself in my dreams. Of course she would make herself prettier.
But, that is really all I know, which isn't much at all if you think about it. Just some vague clues. Hell, it could have been tobacco she was smoking for all I know. She certainly didn't seem high.
But she was in my dreams, then in my class. If she doesn't show next time I'll know. But if I do see her again it doesn't mean she isn't a witch, just that she covers her tracks or likes music. Perhaps then I can expose her for the witch she is. Maybe I won't. Maybe it will be our little secret. Two strangers with a secret. I wouldn't want anyone to burn her, despite her messing with my head.
Oh, I never liked Apirl Fools Day...
Sunday, March 31, 2002 10:24 a.m.
I have witnessed the eminsity of the sky and ocean. Feeling how small I am. I am content in this knowledge. I am happy to know my insignificance, but proud to realize that deep within me is the keys to the universe.
I have questioned the gods and found no answer. Earnestly asking myself the deeper and cliche questions of life. I have physically felt the burden of these questions. I have confused my friends and myself. I have put the burden of these questions on all our shoulders.
I howled at the moon expressing my pain, my excitement, my fears, my love. I empathized with wolves and ran with them along the beach.
I have watched a storm roll in, with only a small fire to protect me. I have starred at the fire, questioned it's existance, talked to it, sang to it, gave it life whether or not it was truly alive. I have feared the storm but also found exaltation within it. I have questioned my friends whether storms can be happy.
I have played the extrovert, drawing energy from my own energy, recycling and reusing. Desiring and starving attention. Wanting comfort and rest from solitude.
Accepting everyone, everything, and being so aware wether falsely or not, but knowing. Finding truth when I know truth can not be found. I opened my eyes, my mouth, my mind.
The doors of perception.
Wednesday, March 27, 2002 08:49 p.m.
"Lorn... my dearest lancer, there are times when I can almost see that there are thoughts running through your mind, and you look as through youu ought to be talking, and I think you are hearing all the words you would speak. Then, I think you sometimes feel you have spoken them."
-from Magi'i of Cyador
Sometimes I'm amazed where I find insight to myself. A simple fantasy book from a series I enjoy. While I have noticed this aspect of me, I have even tried to voice it, but this says it quite clearly.
Maybe I'm just bad with words.
Tuesday, March 26, 2002 07:29 p.m.
My best friend is a Jewish carpenter.
Tuesday, March 26, 2002 07:27 p.m.
I am not longer a child of faith. I am too sceptical and too cynical to have faith. I am envious of my prior ways, my ability to have faith, to know without knowing. But now, all is lost I'm done for. I'm unable to believe in anything. Faith is a lost trait, a foriegn and strange ideas, a sad thing to me. A poor unfortunate little ideal that I will never have again.
Monday, March 25, 2002 09:22 p.m.
I:
No children. And because of this preferance I am going against some inner instinct, some sort of biological desire, to create offspring, to continue my family line, to add to the gene pool, continue the tradition of crazy hair.
But the simple fact is, I don't want children. I haven't ever wanted children. I have never felt that paternal urge.
But:
I have come to the conclusion that as a male i will never be as close to my offspring as the bearer of my children. The simple explanation is: I won't be the bearer of my children. I am physically incapable of doing so. There will always be a connection between the mother and the child that, as a father, I will never have. Selfish of me.
I feel I could never be the parent I would want to be. I would need perfection. I don't think I can ever grow enough to raise children without doubting myself every second. Everything would be my fault, my error bestowed on my kids.
Hopefully I die young so that in my old age I won't desire children to put me away in a home.
Wednesday, March 20, 2002 10:44 p.m.
Screams from behind a door: Oh No Stop! Stop! Oh God! Stop stop! No!
Confused. Still the screams straggle through the door. I confess I did not help. I looked to my roommate. I was scared. I invisioned guns and cruel big men. I was afraid for my life, when I should have been afraid for hers. I am weak.
I picked up the phone and called 911. Related all the information to her, on the other side. Her voice reminded me of the scream. I renew my shame. I ask her for advice, but legally she cannot give me advice.
I called for help, but she will only help the one behind the door. Should I have?
Wednesday, March 20, 2002 02:27 p.m.
Road Trip:
We are the rulers of the road. I lead them in our rulership. We can go as slow or fast as we want. We choose fast. We smoke cigars. We listen to Jim Morrison. We accelerate. Head-lights and tail-lights blend to one. All lanes are free to use. A mile in each direction is ours to own. We pass cars and blow smoke in their direction. We feel alive. We need not poison wine. Our anthem is that of the rumbling pipe under the highway. We fly. We travel through time. We are the rulers of the road.
Bad Ass.
Tuesday, March 19, 2002 11:15 a.m.
imagine:
a 50 something man singing Gin and Juice. His crackly voice discussing such things as:
"Rollin down the street, smokin indo, sippin on gin and juice
Laid back with my mind on my money and my money on my mind"
and
"I got a pocket full of rubbers and my homeboys do too
So turn off the lights and close the doors
But (but what) we don't love them hos, yeah!
So we gonna smoke an ounce to this
G's up, hos down, while you motherfuckers bounce to this"
Luckily, I don't have to imagine. It's a wonderful memory. The man had a Rat Fink Telecaster and a fedora. Wonderful.
Monday, March 18, 2002 09:29 p.m.
"Since what I am to say must be but that
Which contradicts my accusation, and
The testimony on my part no other
But what comes from myself, it shall scarce boot me
To say ‘Not guilty’. Mine integrity
Being counted falsehood shall, as I express it,
Be so received. But thus: if powers divine
Behold out human actions - as they do-
I doubt not then but innocence shall make
False accusation blush, and tyranny
Tremble at patience..."
- The Winter's Tale
It amazes me.
She is so self sacrificing in all her actions to defend herself.
That her love can overcome her confusion.
That she can put aside all traces of pride.
That she loves her husband so much his exiling her allows her to prove her unconditional love.
It is amazing.
She is amazing.
I wish I could do this.
Sunday, March 17, 2002 09:39 p.m.
Reminder: I am not in a Green Day cover band.
Sunday, March 17, 2002 05:28 p.m.
I am unallowed within the realms of social ettiquette to question my sanity.
Saturday, March 16, 2002 03:57 p.m.
Snowing in March, glittering through the window blinds. Friends bustling here and there. Friends marrying, friends loving, friends crying, friends exploring sex. I don't neccisarily understand. Though, I keep in vague touch with them all. I watch from afar. I partake of their shared emotions. I yearn to be near to help them all through life. To be with them. To listen rather than read. To see rather than imagine. To touch rather than dream. They are all living and seeing and feeling and loving and hating and joining and leaving...
But I don't understand any of it, especially the snow.
Friday, March 15, 2002 11:36 a.m.
We sit through American Literature together. We listen to the teacher paraphrase the reading asignment. We yearn for actual discussion. Yet, we sit through American Literature. After class, outside the door, he smokes a cigarette I stare at the hills. It's a nice view and the rain has only upset us once or twice. We joke about the teacher, about her ability to paraphrase the stories we read and never actually involve any thought. about her constantly talking about her sons. One an indian of Brazil, though indian is the wrong name she knows this too, he is a native of Brazil. Her other son a not so native Brazilian. We laugh and joke and tease. We talk about literature the way it is supposed to be talked about. Hesse, Whitman, Dickinson, Twain, Palahniuk, Eggers. We talk music, guitar, Dylan. We learn. Sometimes his girlfriend joins us. I don't know her name, but I am bad with names. We discuss life and solve problems of society. We construct pyramids in honor of our awakening. These things we discuss we relate to, all within the confines of 3 minutes.
But, we are satisfied.
Thursday, March 14, 2002 10:14 p.m.
Oh for a moment of: 
Not so much intergalatic ninjas but... yeah.
Thursday, March 14, 2002 09:51 p.m.
Experiencing a mental breakdown.
The setting:
I'm alone in my apartment playing TFTD (an old kill the alien game) and listening to the Dave Matthews Band newest live album, Live in Chicago.
Information:
When I was younger I had these really scary dreams that encompassed more of a feeling than anything scary happening. So it wasn't the events in the dream but the god-awful feeling they gave me. To reiterate: It was really scary.
So?:
So. I start having this feeling that I got as a child, except it doesn't go away. Everything I do, the game I'm playing the music I'm listening to intensifies it. My mind is exploding I don't know what to do. It's so out of control I feel like I'm losing my mind. I instantly grab a pen to write this down. The table is closest but the pen doesn't write on it, so I grab a pencil. I scratched all of this down as quickly as possible. It was written primarily during "What Would You Say" and "Rapunzel" I kept the line breaks that occured naturally on the table.
Insanity:
Shallow insanity.
Everything so slow and fast at
the same time. So intense but
mellow. I am insane... My
nightmare from my childhood foreshadow
it. I am insane. The emotion insanity
all emotions rolled into one. So
strange concentrating my hand writing
is so fast but mellow No normal
Yet urgent maybe I am about to die
but that is cliche So
many odd memories
coming back
By God I’m writing on
a table.
Mybe I am insane
God it’s so weird. Help
me God. I’m running out of
space. Will I remember
to breath?
Nightmares. Insanity
maybe I should
smoke a cigarette
It really is fast
slow intense
normal. So fucking
out of control
it hurts the clacking
of my pencil noise
intense. the music in
the background
equally intense yet
adding to the
intensity. I am
going to die.
Or maybe I
am partially
insane
So intense
death
The feeling
passed on.
Thursday, March 14, 2002 07:27 p.m.
This man a teacher? Image not on page because of size, though it is on my background. I recomend checking out the other pictures by the artist here.
What are teachers? Are they rolemodels? Are they our guides through life, or are they people? and if they are, are they allowed to do what people do? I don't mean eat drink sleep, but get trashed every friday at the local bar. Do we allow this? Or do they have a precious reputation?
I address these questions because today I was confronted with them. My buddies RockNRoll History teacher brought in his band and they played a bunch of songs. Hearing that this was happening I, of course, wanted to sit it. I am glad that I did so. The first thing that the teacher said was that he wasn't hungover! In fact he was still drunk from last night. Tee hee!
Still drunk from a Wendsday night adventure. So the question is: what do we expect out of teachers. To note: my favorite teachers either have done such things or are in support of such activity.
Further questions:
Would youth respect teacher more if they were much more open with actual life?
Should their be classes about drugs and drug use? beyond DARE... hehe DARE...
I'm still forming ideas about what teachers are in this society. And what they should teach. Furthermore what is ethical to discuss in class. Shouldn't everything be up for discussion.
Perhaps the real reason is the insecurity that exists towards issues that are part of life: sex, drug, and ROCK AND ROLL! Which is really what life is all about. Tee hee!
Wednesday, March 13, 2002 09:13 p.m.
My roommate proposed to me. It was just slighty awkward. I definately wasn't expecting it. Besides how was I to know that he was into that sort of thing. He definately didn't show any signs. Doesn't even come on to me while drunk. He even told me often about his crushed and who he liked, some of which turned out to be lesbians. But he proposed right in some cheap resturaunt off campus. Strangely neither of us are attending the college that the resturaunt was off campus of.
A girl heard him propose and looked at me. We made eye contact. I gave her a quirky smile that I am half known for.
Perhaps she thought I was flirting with her, which would seem odd for all parties involved. Except me in which it would be perfectly normal, besides the fact that I have a girlfriend. She was cute though and we held eye contact for longer than I usually do with strangers. Most times there is the brief scan, if even, and then the look away. But their we were my roommate, mystery cute girl, and I having a strange little moment.
I break eye-contact because my roommate continues to explain why we should get married and I bust up laughing. I can't stop laughing, it's crazy. I'm laughing and laughing and my roommate is spilling his heart out to me. The girl and I make one last brief eye contact session then it's all lost she goes back to her meal, me to my hysterics, and my roommate to his confessional love. I was slightly hurt that my roommate would do such a strange things, especially when I was having a moment with a complete stranger. The laugh was good though.
My roommate didn't even pick up the bill.
Wednesday, March 13, 2002 07:30 p.m.
"I am nothing in the world compared to Tyler. I am helpless. I am stupid, and all I do is want and need things. My tiny life. My little shit job. My Swedish furniture. I never, no, never told anyone this, but before I met Tyler, I was planning to buy a dog and name it “Entourage.” This is how bad your life can get. Kill me." - from Fight Club
Ben Fold's sings a song on his newest album about a man named Fred. I don't know the song name because I'm bad with names, but it talks about a man who gets fired from his job and he discovers that no one in the building know's him. His 20 years, longer than I have been alive, at this newspaper is gone forever. The time seems pointless and his life in turn is similarly treated.
My fears of life...
Wednesday, March 13, 2002 11:27 a.m.
Ever since my right contact was ripped a few days back in a very painful exchange with my eye I have been wearing glasses. While I hate the way they look, I have noticed that I see quite a bit better. My resolution has been notched up from 400x600 to something quite a bit larger. A few questions arise from this. Do contacts just not work for me? I believe my perscription has not changed for a good while. So is there some large amount of protein build-up that blurs my vision? If so are glasses just inherently better for me?
The main point: I can see better now. I realize the beauty of SO many more things. It's wonderful. Since spring is coming ::cue "Here Comes the Sun":: Trees are starting to blossom. Right now on the bus ride to LCC there are some trees (I know nothing about them) that are purple/pink and others that are white. These are the sort that eventually come raining down in a spring wind. But I can see the clarity of each leaf. It's amazing.
What the hell is up with contacts?
Tuesday, March 12, 2002 10:38 p.m.
A Plethora:
I stepped away from the ignorance of day into the knowledge of night.
I make fictional characters reality.
Take a moment
Take a moment and wait at the bus stop.
Take a moment to dwell on your faults.
Take a moment to write a thoughtful message.
Take a moment to forget your problems.
Take a moment and watch the stars, or clouds, or trees, just nature.
Take a moment to reflect on life.
Take a moment.
Maybe I am suffering inner trauma. I don't seem to function too well these days. I'm confused about many things. I struggle with my thoughts. I'm just preoccupied with some problems that I don't know how to deal with. So, I don't eat well. Don't sleep well. Have Nightmares. Food isn't appitizing. I'm sick in a way. Inner turmoil that affects my body which in turn affects my mind etc. Doesn't sound fun, doesn't feel fun, inside and out.
I sit alone after group social activities. Someon just as alone is pacing by me. A car pulls up he steps inside. I sit alone after group social activities.
Monday, March 11, 2002 08:52 p.m. entheogens ethics
"The only freedom which counts is the freedom to do what some other people think to be wrong. There is no point in demanding freedom to do that which all will applaud. All the so-called liberties or rights are things which have to be asserted against others who claim that if such things are to be allowed their own rights are infringed or their own liberties threatened. This is always true, even when we speak of the freedom to worship, of the right of free speech or association, or of public assembly. If we are to allow freedoms at all there will constantly be complaints that either the liberty itself or the way in which it is exercised is being abused, and, if it is a genuine freedom, these complaints will often be justified. There is no way of having a free society in which there is not abuse. Abuse is the very hallmark of liberty."
- Former Lord Chief Justice Hailsham
I've been thinking these thoughts for a long time. The problem is that there must be a line somewhere. Some order to what is right and wrong. Where do I find that order I wonder? God, family, conscience, love, hate, friendship, dreams, what feels good. Are these not all just as questionable of reality as liberty, justice, and truth? Where does one find right and wrong when one cannot commit to anything?
Monday, March 11, 2002 04:08 p.m.
A guy meets a girl. A girl meets a guy. They breathe.
Monday, March 11, 2002 03:36 p.m.
Here's to the first entry, used primarily to check how the page looks.
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