It's my journal. Thing.

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My God.
Ron Hollander looks like Frank Sinatra.
RON HOLLANDER LOOKS LIKE FRANK SINATRA.
On a similar note, Hotmail is down.

no we don't need no sleep
My VCR was broken last night, and they showed the best episode of Invader Zim so far.
Man.
It was goood.
The first one centered around the main characters being turned into bologna: "I taste....delicious!" "INTRUDER IS: BALOGNA" "Oh, and Dib? My Vengance is complete now."
Number two was centered around Gaz's aqusition of the GAME SLAVE 2. "Son, Video Games improve reflexes and turn children into better human beings!" "Are you still playing the old GAME SLAVE ONE!? WHY!?!? Have we OFENNDED YOU SOMEHOW!?!?" Also, some extremley knowing banter about the video game industry, including japanease imports. Also, this episode included an incredibly funny and unexpected parody of Vampire Hunter D.
So there you have it.

all night we rock that beat
Last night I realized something.
CNN was airing a brief clip of Bob Dole and Bill Clinton sharing a podium in support of those who gave thier lives in WTC. As I saw them standing there together, joined in spirit and purpose, I realized something profound:
These guys would make a fucking excelent comedy duo.
Am I right!?!? Eh!? Eh!?

woo ha
Oh, and I'd like, as a native Missourian, to apologize to everyone everywhere for John Ashcroft.
Um. Yeah. Sorry.
Well, I've been feeling really good. Mostly because for the first time in my life I feel like I could actually be a writer. Like I have enough perspective now that taking courses in said subject would not be a exercise in shitty self agrandizing masturbation. How cool izzat!?!
Speaking of which, Evan came by and showed my some charatcers he had drawn - they're like nifty mega-man esque robots with big swords. I come up with some funnyfunny - we get together - mabye we could have something really cool.
I promise to archive this page soon
Andrew - no I haven't written anything recently. I think I'll be drowning myself in Borges and other good stuff for a while - but I'd love to see whatever you have.
Now I pass out.

roll up on you like Christoper Reve
Hellloooo.....
Okay. my father and I have this thing. We get something in our head and we repeat it, both out loud and silently, forever. Especially during work. So today I spent all day saying "Bring it on you son of a (carpenter)!" which is from a Space Ghost Coast to Coast episode with Mike Judge - Zorak and Mike get in a fight, and Zorak says: "Bring it on you son of a bitch!" Except bitch is edited out and it says "carpenter" in this monotone voice.
I think I scared some people.
Last night I experinced semi-lucid dreaming. My heart still feels like it's going a little fast, but I managed to relax myself enough to sleep (yay). The result was I had real real intense dreams. Here is my best recolection, in no particular order.
1. Running down hill at a breakneck pace from my high school into the downtown area. Grinding my feet a la Sonic the Hedgehog on the railings on the way down.
2.This strange hotel room had all my stuff in it. It was all like computers and comics. The carpet was red and the room the size of a basketball court - it was filled with people milling about. So I was wondering if I could kick all these people out - I called the manager of the place to see if my parents had paid the rent while I was away. The answer was no, and the manager was really obnoxious about it. I ended up winning the argument - hence the rapid heart beat.
I still had to move all my stuff out, though.
3. Something about Tom Green making a movie or show revolving around a strangely intense parody of David Duchovony. Aparently I was involved in its production somehow. It seemed really damn funny during the dream - as I recalled it in the fazy moments of the early mourning I realized there was really - really - not funny at all. Then later on me Tom and some other people were this strange version of the fanatastic four - I was The Thing. I kept on thinking that I could fall pretty far an not get hurt if I was the thing - but I was wrong.
4. Something really stange about Dragonball Z. Yeah, I know. Eat my shit, okay?
5. This one was the most intense. I, along with about thirty or forty other people - were stange spy charaters. Very cartoony and extreme - all of us were traped inside of a hotel being hunted by nazis. This was VERY realistic feeling - we kept having to try over and over agian because reality had sort of a videogame shean to it - we aparently had multiple lives or had to try the stage over again. Anyway. When the Nazis machine gunned someone it was very frightening. Also, the goal was to find the room with Timothea.
And now I gotta go.

mmm. bananas.
Okay. I got a mess of sleep and still feel odd. We will see if I survive tommorow's work - and the several days after. Okay, I give up. No content today. I wonder how many more entries I can make untill I have to start getting space somewhere to archive these things.

throw down
The walk here was pretty incredible. Cold, biting but not unpleasant, mixed with the first fireplace smoke of the year. My apartment is about a 15 minute walk from downtown - not too unpleasant but MAN there are SO MANY WAYS FOR YOU TO DIE between here and there.
I really should have just gotten up and watched Adult Swim on Caroon Network last night instead of tossing and turning. I love cartoons. Love love love cartoons. The Braks of Life is pretty damn funny. I really need to hire someone to follow me around with a xylophone to punctuate my blinking eyes upon being surprised or shocked. Secretary, take a memo. If we woke up one day and classic Warner Brothers cartoons were the actuall basis for reality, our own being some sort of sophmoric diversion, I think that would be alright with me. Or maybe it would be an incredibly exquisite hell.
Well, I dunno Andrew. I'm not saying I actually AGREE with myself from yesterday. It's just that this is my little public/private life experiment. I'm trying to make it as honest as possible considering its nature. Really, it's a way for me to trick myself into writing. The whole public nature makes me want to exhibition-ize myself, while at the same time I'm actually producing something that will hopefully have some value to me 5, 10, 15 years into the future. Know What I Mean, Vern?
Well. Let's not call this page Heart Attack Station. Why? Because my actuall physicall heart has been feeling pretty fucked up for the last couple years. So let's back on up, carfully, out of any possible irony. I got enough of that as it is. I should be getting health insurance for the first time in a long long time soon - I'm going to the doctor till they fix my ass.
I was going to put down at least one Borges story upon getting here - but man. I took a nap but I still feel really, really odd. Guuhh. Kinda scary. I keep wondering if this is actually physicall or psychologicall.
There was this girl working at the McDonalds on the quad of the MU campus - she was reading Johnnen Vasquez comics. And she wasn't a freak, or anything. I think I'm going to like this town alot.

Wow
Okay. I had a pretty good time at Panera today! It's a lot more fricking complicated than City Dock. But the people were pretty cool. Man. I didn't sleep a wink last night, and I was barely conscious through the last few hours. But then I had a lot of fun at the end, met some old aquaintinces from high school (yes, ones I remember) and the resulting social fiesta combined with my lack of sleep is making me all warm and tingly. On my epidermis. So I should probably go home now.

Every once in a while God decides to remind me that: 1) He just might be there, and 2) You, Seth Lombardi, have little or no grasp of the world in general, or yourself in particular.
So I walk out of the University of Missouri Library (size of a Death Star). I had completed my previous entry. I was contemplating food, which would hopefully improve my condition to the point that I could write about something that has been doging me for for a few days.
Previously I spent a few days in my parents' house in my old room. I dedicated a lot of time rooting through a certain drawer. This drawer contains corespondance and photos of my youth, specifically high school and just prior.
So I'm reading letters of people (well, girls) I met at Unitarian confrences, and squinting and fuzzy photos of academic camps I went to.
Who the fuck ARE these people?
I have no idea! It's scary: goddamn scary.
1. In the case of letters - you'd think I'd remember some of these girls. I mean: they're girls. This instance is far more excusable, especially if I met them only once, but I can't even remember the circumastances. The name of the Con. The location. Oh, sure I have vauge impressions and images. But names? People? Thier characteristics? Very few.
2. I spent two years at Joseph Baldwin Academy, an academic camp in Kirksville, Missouri. One month each year living away from home for baisically the first time, at a highly impressionable age. I can probably think of five or so individuals, including my teachers, from that time.
I remember the name of one person. One.
So, I'm thinking that's pretty fucked up. Contemplating this; how and if I'm going to put it down here, I head downtown to get some food.
I walk by a crowd of people. A somewhat heavy guy, a certain sly intelligence shining through his relative homliness, is both talking to a girl and giving me the eye. So I'm thinking - this guy either dosen't like my looks or he really DOES like my looks. And from his looks and look either seem possible.
So, feeling a little odd I proceded to take the long way around him.
Halfway around: "Hey. Is your name Seth?"
"Uh. Yeah."
"Seth Lombardi?"
"Yes." I say. I am now attempting to apear both friendly and confident.
"You're from Jeff City? You went to J.C.?"
"Uh huh." (smile)
"My name is blah." (I've already forget his first name!)
"Blah Blah" (He hits me with first and last) then amends himself to see if he can jog my memory. "C.J."
"Oh!"
This is the part where I'm supposed to reveal that I have no idea who the fuck he is. It is not the first time for me. Then he'll tell me who he was friends with - I'll do the same. He'll reveal we had classes together. I'll pretend like I remember him.
But due to the serendipity of the situation, I could only shake his hand, smile, tell him to take care of himself and walk away. Pretty quickly.
It's this kind of shit that makes me feel like I'm different from other people.
My past is shadows in mist. Maybe a lot more than everyone else. Maybe not much more. But my whole personality and worldview is built on this thing that isn't there - like water in a river. My perceptions are subjective and flawed. The world is filled with unique people and facts that I think I have a hold on. But I really have no fucking clue.
So that's what God wanted to show me this afternoon.

Maybe I should stop reading Pascal in my freetime.

Paragraphs.
Pragraphs rock.
See the drama. The sheer dividedness of my thoughts.
Let no man or child doubt
my newfound skill
of making paragraphs.

Heart Attack Station
Oh. So my non-sequitors aren't content, Remi? My non-sequitors, in the near future, will be used to cure cancer. Back up out my bidness. I realized today, in a discussion about Janet Jackson's smile, that I have become incredibly vile. This was with a friend who had, and perhaps still has, a reputation for being gross and bitter, about wemon in particular. He said: "Wow, those things sound a lot less disgusting when they're coming from _my_ mouth." So I'm reasonably proud of myself. I added the date and time, largely by guesswork. I start my new job tommorow, at Panera. You may know it by its old name, St. Louis Bread company. I'm pretty sure I'll do alright, what with the Barista experince. I'm just scared of making actuall food. Especially sandwiches. With my newfound sleeping habits, someone just might find my thumb in thier pastrami. Also, not so many cute tennaged or otherwise girls work at this facility. Ah. Well. I guess not every job can be like my last one. I bought Borges LABRYNTHS at a used book store today. With money I don't have. Then I went accross the street and bought an issue of THE NEW WARRIORS from about 1992. All things in balance. Well, I ate well last night and got a decent amount of sleep. Which is why I feel feverish. Obviously. So I go now!

Heart Attack Station
Just like a bunch of little fonzies.

Heart Attack Station
I have a web log. I do!

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