Monday, February 2, 2009
done moving
That doesn't seem like a lot of posts for 3 years of blogging on Myspace... but there you are.
out to get me
Friday, September 12, 2008
Current mood: tired
burrowing in like a tick
distracting me like planes crashing into buildings
blinding me like hot needles behind my eyes
always pretending you're on my side
what kind of fool do you take me for?
well, how many different kinds of fool are there?
break it open
like a snowglobe on wet pavement
let the dreams leak out
peel it back
like the rind of a blood orange
where did this fruit grow?
it brings you closer
to a place you don't want to be
you won't remember going there
stretch it out
like a little white lie, whispered
echoing in a dark church
who's best interest?
certainly not mine
your disguise only fools the stupid
your bridge to nowhere leads to me
Currently listening:Enter: The Conquering Chicken
By The Gits
Release date: 2003-10-14
Current mood: tired
burrowing in like a tick
distracting me like planes crashing into buildings
blinding me like hot needles behind my eyes
always pretending you're on my side
what kind of fool do you take me for?
well, how many different kinds of fool are there?
break it open
like a snowglobe on wet pavement
let the dreams leak out
peel it back
like the rind of a blood orange
where did this fruit grow?
it brings you closer
to a place you don't want to be
you won't remember going there
stretch it out
like a little white lie, whispered
echoing in a dark church
who's best interest?
certainly not mine
your disguise only fools the stupid
your bridge to nowhere leads to me
Currently listening:Enter: The Conquering Chicken
By The Gits
Release date: 2003-10-14
microserfs
Saturday, August 30, 2008
I found a really good passage in this book by Douglas Coupland:
"It's not love," he added quickly.
"But we *are* going to see each other again. But tell me, Daniel -- I mean, I knew you before you knew Karla. Did you ever think then that love was never going to happen to you?"
"Pretty much."
"And when it did happen, how did you feel?"
"Happy. And then I got afraid that it would vanish as quickly as it came. That it was accidental -- that I didn't deserve it. It's like this very, very nice car crash that never ends."
I found a really good passage in this book by Douglas Coupland:
"It's not love," he added quickly.
"But we *are* going to see each other again. But tell me, Daniel -- I mean, I knew you before you knew Karla. Did you ever think then that love was never going to happen to you?"
"Pretty much."
"And when it did happen, how did you feel?"
"Happy. And then I got afraid that it would vanish as quickly as it came. That it was accidental -- that I didn't deserve it. It's like this very, very nice car crash that never ends."
afraid of breaking
Monday, June 09, 2008
woken
from a
fever-dream
and she's there.
tightrope
not enough to push her away
not enough to be exposed
balance
afraid of breaking
is it real?
am i imagining it?
seems real enough
seems
have i left my guard down?
this might sting a little
maybe
maybe
maybe it's real
(can't be)
maybe it's the real thing
(don't count on it)
authentic
(what do you know?)
don't push too hard
don't push too soft
don't let go
afraid of breaking
her
me
us
between the lines
(don't push too hard)
straddle the fence
(don't let go)
hold the course
(afraid of breaking)
fine lines
I wake up
from a
fever-dream
and there she is.
-kj
6/9/08
(for my new muse)
woken
from a
fever-dream
and she's there.
tightrope
not enough to push her away
not enough to be exposed
balance
afraid of breaking
is it real?
am i imagining it?
seems real enough
seems
have i left my guard down?
this might sting a little
maybe
maybe
maybe it's real
(can't be)
maybe it's the real thing
(don't count on it)
authentic
(what do you know?)
don't push too hard
don't push too soft
don't let go
afraid of breaking
her
me
us
between the lines
(don't push too hard)
straddle the fence
(don't let go)
hold the course
(afraid of breaking)
fine lines
I wake up
from a
fever-dream
and there she is.
-kj
6/9/08
(for my new muse)
Everyone Suffers
Saturday, June 07, 2008
Current mood: angsty
I wrote this during the England trip, but I just found it.
everyone suffers
your struggle is not unique
there are millions that have
lost a loved one
suffered a broken heart
battled with substance abuse
didn't get enough to eat
what makes you special?
what makes your story more important?
everyone struggles
everyone suffers
everyone closes their eyes and pushes through the crowd
everyone falls asleep hoping it will be all-gone tomorrow
you think you are the only one who can't pay their rent?
you think you are the only one this is lonely?
you think you are special?
everyone suffers
every one of us has a cross to bear
a big rock to roll up an endless hill
a slotted spoon and water to move
your story is not unique
you are not a snowflake
you are just like everyone else
and everyone suffers
-kj 5/1/08
Currently listening:Poses [Bonus Track]
By Rufus Wainwright
Release date: 2002-02-05
Current mood: angsty
I wrote this during the England trip, but I just found it.
everyone suffers
your struggle is not unique
there are millions that have
lost a loved one
suffered a broken heart
battled with substance abuse
didn't get enough to eat
what makes you special?
what makes your story more important?
everyone struggles
everyone suffers
everyone closes their eyes and pushes through the crowd
everyone falls asleep hoping it will be all-gone tomorrow
you think you are the only one who can't pay their rent?
you think you are the only one this is lonely?
you think you are special?
everyone suffers
every one of us has a cross to bear
a big rock to roll up an endless hill
a slotted spoon and water to move
your story is not unique
you are not a snowflake
you are just like everyone else
and everyone suffers
-kj 5/1/08
Currently listening:Poses [Bonus Track]
By Rufus Wainwright
Release date: 2002-02-05
The trip that fought back
Thursday, May 01, 2008
We got up early to get on the plane to Madrid. Or I should say, I got up early because Jaime didn't really get to sleep because her roommate and friend came back from drinking at 3am. Nice of them. Five-thirty in the OH-MY-GOD rolls around and we are packing up and catching a cab to the train station because the underground is under repair. We get on the train with time to spare and I decide to go back for coffee. (Actually I said, "I don't think I have time" to which Jaime replies: "You have TONS of time.") When I get back the train is gone along with all my stuff. After a little freak-out session I hop on the next train which is only 30 min behind the first one. Jaime's phone has run out of juice during this time, so all she knows is that I'm on the next train. It only takes a few minutes to track her down at the airport, crisis averted. So we think. We can't check in. The little machines won't accept our passports. We go to the helpdesk and they tell us we've been bumped up to first class (woot!) due to overbooking. I don't think that's why we couldn't check in at the machines, but who really knows. On the way to the plane my boarding pass falls out of my pocket, so we have to stop and wait for everyone else to get on and then get them to print me out a new one. Ugh. We finally get on the plane, we are rocking first class, all is good. We get to the Madrid airport (which is really pretty, by the way) and grab a taxi to our hotel. Except the 4-star hotel we booked weeks in advance doesn't have our reservation. Awesome. About this time the nasty airline coffee is catching up to me and I'm very glad we took a cab instead of the 1 hr metro ride. By the time I get out of the bathroom Jaime has brow-beaten the poor Spanish hotel staff into tears and they are begging us to take their presidential suite on the house. Or maybe I just imagined that part. Either way, we got a room, and it didn't completely suck. FFW through 3 awesome days in Madrid, which I will talk about at another time.
It's time to leave. We get up (not early enough we find out later). We hit the metro, which we navigate flawlessly due to my awesome mass-transit skills. It takes a little longer to get to the airport than I had expected, and then we can't check in again. Stupid automatic check-in machines. So we wait in line. And we wait. And we wait. The line isn't moving. I'm not quite sure what is happening, but they started a new line for people that were flying into Gatwick airport and we rush over and join that, but then it doesn't move either, and now all the people that didn't join the new line are complaining. Loudly. In Spanish. I mean fistfights almost break out. We finally get to the front of the line, and the lady puts the tags on our bags, but doesn't check them in, doesn't give us boarding passes and tells us to go "stand over there" for 5 minutes. Five minutes pass. Another five minutes. This is getting stupid. Jaime launches into action. Everyone screams and runs out of her way. The ticket-jockeys all prostrate themselves before her might and ask for the privelege of carrying us to England on their backs. Or something like that. Either way we get our boarding passes and hurry to the gate. But our flight is delayed, so it was all for nothing. By the time we get out of Gatwick we are an hour-and-a-half late, meaning that much time less to spend in Wales, as that is where we are heading immediately from the airport. In a car. Driven by a madman.
True story.
We got up early to get on the plane to Madrid. Or I should say, I got up early because Jaime didn't really get to sleep because her roommate and friend came back from drinking at 3am. Nice of them. Five-thirty in the OH-MY-GOD rolls around and we are packing up and catching a cab to the train station because the underground is under repair. We get on the train with time to spare and I decide to go back for coffee. (Actually I said, "I don't think I have time" to which Jaime replies: "You have TONS of time.") When I get back the train is gone along with all my stuff. After a little freak-out session I hop on the next train which is only 30 min behind the first one. Jaime's phone has run out of juice during this time, so all she knows is that I'm on the next train. It only takes a few minutes to track her down at the airport, crisis averted. So we think. We can't check in. The little machines won't accept our passports. We go to the helpdesk and they tell us we've been bumped up to first class (woot!) due to overbooking. I don't think that's why we couldn't check in at the machines, but who really knows. On the way to the plane my boarding pass falls out of my pocket, so we have to stop and wait for everyone else to get on and then get them to print me out a new one. Ugh. We finally get on the plane, we are rocking first class, all is good. We get to the Madrid airport (which is really pretty, by the way) and grab a taxi to our hotel. Except the 4-star hotel we booked weeks in advance doesn't have our reservation. Awesome. About this time the nasty airline coffee is catching up to me and I'm very glad we took a cab instead of the 1 hr metro ride. By the time I get out of the bathroom Jaime has brow-beaten the poor Spanish hotel staff into tears and they are begging us to take their presidential suite on the house. Or maybe I just imagined that part. Either way, we got a room, and it didn't completely suck. FFW through 3 awesome days in Madrid, which I will talk about at another time.
It's time to leave. We get up (not early enough we find out later). We hit the metro, which we navigate flawlessly due to my awesome mass-transit skills. It takes a little longer to get to the airport than I had expected, and then we can't check in again. Stupid automatic check-in machines. So we wait in line. And we wait. And we wait. The line isn't moving. I'm not quite sure what is happening, but they started a new line for people that were flying into Gatwick airport and we rush over and join that, but then it doesn't move either, and now all the people that didn't join the new line are complaining. Loudly. In Spanish. I mean fistfights almost break out. We finally get to the front of the line, and the lady puts the tags on our bags, but doesn't check them in, doesn't give us boarding passes and tells us to go "stand over there" for 5 minutes. Five minutes pass. Another five minutes. This is getting stupid. Jaime launches into action. Everyone screams and runs out of her way. The ticket-jockeys all prostrate themselves before her might and ask for the privelege of carrying us to England on their backs. Or something like that. Either way we get our boarding passes and hurry to the gate. But our flight is delayed, so it was all for nothing. By the time we get out of Gatwick we are an hour-and-a-half late, meaning that much time less to spend in Wales, as that is where we are heading immediately from the airport. In a car. Driven by a madman.
True story.
Where the history comes from
Friday, April 25, 2008
History drips off this place. You walk in it and it gets on your shoes, on the cuffs of your pantlegs. It's almost overwhelming.
Yesterday I wandered around Brick Lane and Whitechapel (where the infamous Jack the Ripper killed some hookers). I like brick buildings. I liked Brick Lane immensely. I took lots of pictures of the buildings.
After that we went to the Tower of London. It's probably one of my new favorite places. We caught a tour with the coolest Yeoman Warder ever. He yelled a lot and was probably the funniest tour guide on the planet. We got him to dip Jaime. She's got the pic up as her main right now. It's hilarious. He was actually saying something about boogers in her nose, that's why she has her hand over her face. She's going to kill me when she reads this.
Ends up the area I'm staying in is a big party district. I got like 2 hours of sleep. Apparently breaking bottles in the street is the second national sport of England behind Soccer. I wished many times that I had brought a pellet gun. Oh, the sweet, stinging revenge I would've had!
This morning was kind of a blur. Sleep deprivation is more fun than hallucinogens. We went to a swanky shopping district to buy some presents for the baby shower of one of Jaime's friends. We went to Selfridge's which is like Harrod's, but closer. I have a picture of Jaime wearing a $300 hat. Then I got yelled at for taking pictures. Like I was going to go sell the pictures in Taiwan or something. Highlight: a neoprene (the stuff wetsuits are made of) jacket that cost $2000.
Jaime wasn't feeling well later, so I nutted up (haha, Mike!) and struck out solo on the tube. Compared to the Munich U-bahn it's very confusing, but it falls into place quite quickly. It's very hard to tell which direction the train is going, since the maps don't say E or W anywhere. Apparently it's faster to get from East London to the city center by going E on the Circle line. I think there might be a time paradox in there somewhere.
The initial view of the Houses of Parliament reminded me of Munich. You walk up out of the subway and BAM there it is, right across the street. I really can't describe how massive it is. Pictures really don't do it justice at all. The thing is friggen huge. Big Ben has a ton of gold leaf on the top that never really shows up in pictures, either. I was just awe-struck by the whole thing. I guess they don't let you go inside though. Kind of a bummer.
I felt the same way about Westminster Abbey. The thing is just gigantic. You can't really appreciate it's size from a picture. I even took pics with people in them so maybe you could gauge the size in comparison, but it doesn't do it justice at all.
Then I walked down to Trafalgar Square and almost got hit by a cab. It's hard to tell yourself to look the wrong way before you cross the street when you've been looking the other way all your life. I don't think I could drive here.
The stuff in Trafalgar was impressive, but I didn't know what any of it was other than the big column... and then I thought that was Trafalgar. It's Lord Nelson, actually. I had the right guy in mind, just the wrong name. Battle of Trafalgar. I'm good with history, really.
The trip continued to get exciting on the way back. I had to use some creative mass-transit skills since the train that stops in Trafalgar is on a different line than the one that would take me home. Good thing I picked that specific route because there were some loud and obnoxious drunk teenage girls on the platform and one of them barfed on the floor just as we pulled out. Did I mention they drink a lot here? Like all the time. Everywhere. People walk down the street with beers in their hand. I'm not used to that at all.
Wait! There's more! Just as I was walking towards the exit in Liverpool Street station a bunch of bobbies swarmed in and chased down a guy. They had dogs and everything. I never did figure out what the guy did. Trist said he was probably a donut thief. Wacky British humor.
That's it. I'm exhausted. Tomorrow we go to Madrid. Neither of us speak a single word of spanish. Wish us luck!
History drips off this place. You walk in it and it gets on your shoes, on the cuffs of your pantlegs. It's almost overwhelming.
Yesterday I wandered around Brick Lane and Whitechapel (where the infamous Jack the Ripper killed some hookers). I like brick buildings. I liked Brick Lane immensely. I took lots of pictures of the buildings.
After that we went to the Tower of London. It's probably one of my new favorite places. We caught a tour with the coolest Yeoman Warder ever. He yelled a lot and was probably the funniest tour guide on the planet. We got him to dip Jaime. She's got the pic up as her main right now. It's hilarious. He was actually saying something about boogers in her nose, that's why she has her hand over her face. She's going to kill me when she reads this.
Ends up the area I'm staying in is a big party district. I got like 2 hours of sleep. Apparently breaking bottles in the street is the second national sport of England behind Soccer. I wished many times that I had brought a pellet gun. Oh, the sweet, stinging revenge I would've had!
This morning was kind of a blur. Sleep deprivation is more fun than hallucinogens. We went to a swanky shopping district to buy some presents for the baby shower of one of Jaime's friends. We went to Selfridge's which is like Harrod's, but closer. I have a picture of Jaime wearing a $300 hat. Then I got yelled at for taking pictures. Like I was going to go sell the pictures in Taiwan or something. Highlight: a neoprene (the stuff wetsuits are made of) jacket that cost $2000.
Jaime wasn't feeling well later, so I nutted up (haha, Mike!) and struck out solo on the tube. Compared to the Munich U-bahn it's very confusing, but it falls into place quite quickly. It's very hard to tell which direction the train is going, since the maps don't say E or W anywhere. Apparently it's faster to get from East London to the city center by going E on the Circle line. I think there might be a time paradox in there somewhere.
The initial view of the Houses of Parliament reminded me of Munich. You walk up out of the subway and BAM there it is, right across the street. I really can't describe how massive it is. Pictures really don't do it justice at all. The thing is friggen huge. Big Ben has a ton of gold leaf on the top that never really shows up in pictures, either. I was just awe-struck by the whole thing. I guess they don't let you go inside though. Kind of a bummer.
I felt the same way about Westminster Abbey. The thing is just gigantic. You can't really appreciate it's size from a picture. I even took pics with people in them so maybe you could gauge the size in comparison, but it doesn't do it justice at all.
Then I walked down to Trafalgar Square and almost got hit by a cab. It's hard to tell yourself to look the wrong way before you cross the street when you've been looking the other way all your life. I don't think I could drive here.
The stuff in Trafalgar was impressive, but I didn't know what any of it was other than the big column... and then I thought that was Trafalgar. It's Lord Nelson, actually. I had the right guy in mind, just the wrong name. Battle of Trafalgar. I'm good with history, really.
The trip continued to get exciting on the way back. I had to use some creative mass-transit skills since the train that stops in Trafalgar is on a different line than the one that would take me home. Good thing I picked that specific route because there were some loud and obnoxious drunk teenage girls on the platform and one of them barfed on the floor just as we pulled out. Did I mention they drink a lot here? Like all the time. Everywhere. People walk down the street with beers in their hand. I'm not used to that at all.
Wait! There's more! Just as I was walking towards the exit in Liverpool Street station a bunch of bobbies swarmed in and chased down a guy. They had dogs and everything. I never did figure out what the guy did. Trist said he was probably a donut thief. Wacky British humor.
That's it. I'm exhausted. Tomorrow we go to Madrid. Neither of us speak a single word of spanish. Wish us luck!
Welcome to London!
Thursday, April 24, 2008
So I flew into London yesterday, a quick 8-hour trip (for some reason I thought it was 13 hours, but I remembered when we went to Munich we had a 4-hour layover in Chicago). Overall the trip was pretty uneventful. I was at Seatac with like 2 hours to spare (obviously they don't really care too much about people leaving). The plane was full of unattractive British people. There was a little turbulence on the landing, but not too much (I still have get queasy just thinking about the trip back from Germany). It took 30 min to get my bags, but then I found the correct train right away, and I found Trist's house easily enough.
This brings me to my first impression of London: Do you remember reading about the Aztecs or whoever that would get bored of all their buildings and then just fill it all in with dirt and build new ones on top? So the archaelogists had just a big layer cake to play in? Well, London reminds me of that, but like they forgot to fill the old buildings over first. It's almost organic how everything is just built everywhere. In Germany there were lots of open spaces and lots of new buildings. Not here. It seems like there's a law that you can't tear anything down. Trist lives in a giant castle-looking building that was originally a water tower, ffs. Then they turned it into flats. A water-tower into flats! (I took a picture of it, I'll post it later).
Other than that I got really sick from the jetlag at about 2pm or so. I spent most of the ride to Jaime's place trying very hard not to decorate the train with airline food. I crashed out at like 4pm and slept until 7am. Next time I really want to follow Rick Steve's advice and get some Ambien. I guess it helps.
So I flew into London yesterday, a quick 8-hour trip (for some reason I thought it was 13 hours, but I remembered when we went to Munich we had a 4-hour layover in Chicago). Overall the trip was pretty uneventful. I was at Seatac with like 2 hours to spare (obviously they don't really care too much about people leaving). The plane was full of unattractive British people. There was a little turbulence on the landing, but not too much (I still have get queasy just thinking about the trip back from Germany). It took 30 min to get my bags, but then I found the correct train right away, and I found Trist's house easily enough.
This brings me to my first impression of London: Do you remember reading about the Aztecs or whoever that would get bored of all their buildings and then just fill it all in with dirt and build new ones on top? So the archaelogists had just a big layer cake to play in? Well, London reminds me of that, but like they forgot to fill the old buildings over first. It's almost organic how everything is just built everywhere. In Germany there were lots of open spaces and lots of new buildings. Not here. It seems like there's a law that you can't tear anything down. Trist lives in a giant castle-looking building that was originally a water tower, ffs. Then they turned it into flats. A water-tower into flats! (I took a picture of it, I'll post it later).
Other than that I got really sick from the jetlag at about 2pm or so. I spent most of the ride to Jaime's place trying very hard not to decorate the train with airline food. I crashed out at like 4pm and slept until 7am. Next time I really want to follow Rick Steve's advice and get some Ambien. I guess it helps.
Another visit to the tooth torturer
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Current mood: disappointed
So I went back to the dentist today to have some more work done. I had the molar I had a root canal on (in?) done on Saturday. I got a temporary crown put on. It’s actually pretty amazing. They make a quick mold of your teeth beforehand (it takes 2 min for the mold to set up), do the shaping, put some wierd gunk in the mold and then put it back in your mouth for 2 more minutes. Voila, instant tooth. Anyway, that visit went fine, but I went back in today to get my other crown replaced (sniff. goodbye gold tooth! I loved you!) and two other cavities filled. The problem came when I could feel the drilling. Apparently there was one section of my mouth that just didn’t get the message. No problem, he gave me another shot and off we go again... except. I guess that 3rd shot sent me over the edge. I started shaking uncontrollably. This time made the root canal look like a sneeze. It was like a total seizure. My mouth was twitching and the muscle in my left ass-cheek were just going crazy. The dentist said it wasn’t really a big deal (thank god). Of course people already have high adrenaline levels when they come in, and I guess they actually put adrenaline IN the shot. (omgwtfbbq!) I couldn’t think of why the hell they would do that to people until I was telling Dotson about it this evening (I had to go rescue him because he walked to Greenwood for some reason and got stuck in the SNOW!) and he said they probably put it in there so that the novocaine would take effect faster. That makes sense to me, but I just really hope I can order my anaesthetic sans crack-cocaine next time. All-in-all another horrible experience at the dentist. And the best part: I get to go in again next Friday to get the last (hopefully) cavity filled. Then I only have to get my two temporary crown made permanent, a process that requires no drilling (probably) says the tooth torturer.
I’m really starting to hate the dentist. But hey, my teeth are nice!
Currently reading:Red Mars (Mars Trilogy)
By Kim Stanley Robinson
Release date: 01 October, 1993
Current mood: disappointed
So I went back to the dentist today to have some more work done. I had the molar I had a root canal on (in?) done on Saturday. I got a temporary crown put on. It’s actually pretty amazing. They make a quick mold of your teeth beforehand (it takes 2 min for the mold to set up), do the shaping, put some wierd gunk in the mold and then put it back in your mouth for 2 more minutes. Voila, instant tooth. Anyway, that visit went fine, but I went back in today to get my other crown replaced (sniff. goodbye gold tooth! I loved you!) and two other cavities filled. The problem came when I could feel the drilling. Apparently there was one section of my mouth that just didn’t get the message. No problem, he gave me another shot and off we go again... except. I guess that 3rd shot sent me over the edge. I started shaking uncontrollably. This time made the root canal look like a sneeze. It was like a total seizure. My mouth was twitching and the muscle in my left ass-cheek were just going crazy. The dentist said it wasn’t really a big deal (thank god). Of course people already have high adrenaline levels when they come in, and I guess they actually put adrenaline IN the shot. (omgwtfbbq!) I couldn’t think of why the hell they would do that to people until I was telling Dotson about it this evening (I had to go rescue him because he walked to Greenwood for some reason and got stuck in the SNOW!) and he said they probably put it in there so that the novocaine would take effect faster. That makes sense to me, but I just really hope I can order my anaesthetic sans crack-cocaine next time. All-in-all another horrible experience at the dentist. And the best part: I get to go in again next Friday to get the last (hopefully) cavity filled. Then I only have to get my two temporary crown made permanent, a process that requires no drilling (probably) says the tooth torturer.
I’m really starting to hate the dentist. But hey, my teeth are nice!
Currently reading:Red Mars (Mars Trilogy)
By Kim Stanley Robinson
Release date: 01 October, 1993
old and lonely
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Current mood: contemplative
I was discussing dental care with a co-worker today (as I am now vehemently militant about the subject) and my age came up. He was very shocked. I guess he thought I was much younger. I said thanks, because I wasn’t really sure how to react, and I figured hitting him in the face was not the best course of action. I realize girls love this shit (Jaime remarks on it every single time she is carded for booze) but as a guy, I’m really not sure it’s very flattering. Was he saying I acted immature? Do I look like a little kid? I’d say that little kids don’t normally have gigantic goatees, but I’ve had it since I was 15, so that doesn’t really hold. Either way, it saddened me to find that someone thought I was so young, for whatever reason. I’m proud of my adult status.
As a strange coincidence, I finally was able to download Social D’s "Somewhere Between Heaven and Hell" today. It has to be one of my all-time favorite albums. Of course I haven’t heard it in years and years, and listening to the lyrics I realize most of the songs are depressing as fuck. (Yes, children, fuck is depressing when you get old.) So here I am, being old, listening to songs about being "born to lose" and how lonely it is being locked up after stabbing your girlfriend with your knife. (I find it very odd how songwriters sometimes refer to their weaponry as "my" instead of "a". Do they really think they can fool us into thinking they carry knives? And that they are so close to said weapon that they talk about it with loving ownership? Please.) Plus it doesn’t really help that this album is 16 years old.
So I wallowed for a bit and then had some cake.
Currently listening:Somewhere Between Heaven and Hell
By Social Distortion
Release date: 11 February, 1992
Current mood: contemplative
I was discussing dental care with a co-worker today (as I am now vehemently militant about the subject) and my age came up. He was very shocked. I guess he thought I was much younger. I said thanks, because I wasn’t really sure how to react, and I figured hitting him in the face was not the best course of action. I realize girls love this shit (Jaime remarks on it every single time she is carded for booze) but as a guy, I’m really not sure it’s very flattering. Was he saying I acted immature? Do I look like a little kid? I’d say that little kids don’t normally have gigantic goatees, but I’ve had it since I was 15, so that doesn’t really hold. Either way, it saddened me to find that someone thought I was so young, for whatever reason. I’m proud of my adult status.
As a strange coincidence, I finally was able to download Social D’s "Somewhere Between Heaven and Hell" today. It has to be one of my all-time favorite albums. Of course I haven’t heard it in years and years, and listening to the lyrics I realize most of the songs are depressing as fuck. (Yes, children, fuck is depressing when you get old.) So here I am, being old, listening to songs about being "born to lose" and how lonely it is being locked up after stabbing your girlfriend with your knife. (I find it very odd how songwriters sometimes refer to their weaponry as "my" instead of "a". Do they really think they can fool us into thinking they carry knives? And that they are so close to said weapon that they talk about it with loving ownership? Please.) Plus it doesn’t really help that this album is 16 years old.
So I wallowed for a bit and then had some cake.
Currently listening:Somewhere Between Heaven and Hell
By Social Distortion
Release date: 11 February, 1992
Brush Your Fucking Teeth
Thursday, January 31, 2008
I have never been militant about oral hygiene. Actually I've been quite lax. This doesn't mean I don't obsess about my teeth; I do. But my mom was a teacher and we had awesome dental insurance. I got fluoride ever single time I went to the dentist, which was once (or twice?) a year, until I was no longer eligible to be on her healthcare plans. I never had a cavity. Ever.
Fast forward to Fall '07. I get back from dinner with a friend and I'm inspecting the grill. I noticed something black on my back right molar. Oh fuck, I think. That's definitely not broccoli. I had an appointment to see the dentist in a few weeks (the first time in several years), but this couldn't wait. I obsess over shit like this. I called in for an emergency visit. I went in, got a filling, first cavity in 30 years, problem solved. But life is never that easy.
The filling was very sensitive. Liquids, food, pressure, even cold air would set it off. The fucking thing would hurt so bad it would hit the nerve in the right side of my face and throb and throb and throb. When I went in to see my regular dentist he said there was another cavity on the the front side of the tooth, and that the original cavity was located in such a spot that it had probably entered the nerve space. And do we know what happens when a cavity enters the nerve space, children? Me neither. But he did. Fucking root canal.
I suffered through the first visit like a champ. He drilled away the majority of the nerve, put a cotton plug in there and a temporary "sedative" filling. I needed a visit to a specialist to finish the rest. Then he said "some people suffer discomfort from the cotton plug expanding if they fly." Chalk up another one, I had a trip to Europe scheduled in a few weeks. Overall I did fine. Pain flaired up occasionally, but I'm tough. At least it didn't hurt when I breathed cold air.
Fast forward to today. Visit with the specialist. 8:45am. I'm scared shitless. Don't ask me why I was more afraid of this visit, anxiety doesn't really make much sense. Might have had something to do with the vision in my head of this dude using a file to remove the nerves in my tooth. I get there, they guy shoots me with novocaine and I get the shakes. Not a big deal, happens to me sometimes when I'm freaked out, usually goes away quickly. Then they say they have to put a dental dam in so the tooth shit doesn't get in my mouth. Imagine a big square of that latex they use to make dishwashing gloves stuffed into your mouth. They don't do the normal thing where they suck out your saliva, because it's all trapped behind the dam. Choking you. Awesome. Then, I guess because of the dam, they can't get me to open wide enough to get up in there (could also be because I was still fucking shaking) so they stick a thing in my mouth to hold my jaw open. Forget the dude removing the nerve in my tooth with small metal instruments, forget the rubber glove in my mouth slowly suffocating me with my own spit, this jaw thing fucking hurts. I can only go about 5 minutes at a time without asking for a break. My jaw is on fire. Luckily when he starts to do the filing they remove it. When it's all over the assistant says, "I'm so sorry for you." Sympathy is nice. But my jaw still hurts and they didn't give me any prescription medication.
Moral of the story: Brush your fucking teeth. For once in your life, listen to advice given by someone else that has gone through the pain and suffering so you don't have to go through the pain and suffering yourself.
(I now use mouthwash and brush in the morning, brush at least once, usually twice at work, and then I floss and brush once more with prescription toothpaste at home before bed. I will be seeing the dentist every 6 months. Fluoride treatments every 3 months. If my teeth rot, it will be no fault of my own.)
I have never been militant about oral hygiene. Actually I've been quite lax. This doesn't mean I don't obsess about my teeth; I do. But my mom was a teacher and we had awesome dental insurance. I got fluoride ever single time I went to the dentist, which was once (or twice?) a year, until I was no longer eligible to be on her healthcare plans. I never had a cavity. Ever.
Fast forward to Fall '07. I get back from dinner with a friend and I'm inspecting the grill. I noticed something black on my back right molar. Oh fuck, I think. That's definitely not broccoli. I had an appointment to see the dentist in a few weeks (the first time in several years), but this couldn't wait. I obsess over shit like this. I called in for an emergency visit. I went in, got a filling, first cavity in 30 years, problem solved. But life is never that easy.
The filling was very sensitive. Liquids, food, pressure, even cold air would set it off. The fucking thing would hurt so bad it would hit the nerve in the right side of my face and throb and throb and throb. When I went in to see my regular dentist he said there was another cavity on the the front side of the tooth, and that the original cavity was located in such a spot that it had probably entered the nerve space. And do we know what happens when a cavity enters the nerve space, children? Me neither. But he did. Fucking root canal.
I suffered through the first visit like a champ. He drilled away the majority of the nerve, put a cotton plug in there and a temporary "sedative" filling. I needed a visit to a specialist to finish the rest. Then he said "some people suffer discomfort from the cotton plug expanding if they fly." Chalk up another one, I had a trip to Europe scheduled in a few weeks. Overall I did fine. Pain flaired up occasionally, but I'm tough. At least it didn't hurt when I breathed cold air.
Fast forward to today. Visit with the specialist. 8:45am. I'm scared shitless. Don't ask me why I was more afraid of this visit, anxiety doesn't really make much sense. Might have had something to do with the vision in my head of this dude using a file to remove the nerves in my tooth. I get there, they guy shoots me with novocaine and I get the shakes. Not a big deal, happens to me sometimes when I'm freaked out, usually goes away quickly. Then they say they have to put a dental dam in so the tooth shit doesn't get in my mouth. Imagine a big square of that latex they use to make dishwashing gloves stuffed into your mouth. They don't do the normal thing where they suck out your saliva, because it's all trapped behind the dam. Choking you. Awesome. Then, I guess because of the dam, they can't get me to open wide enough to get up in there (could also be because I was still fucking shaking) so they stick a thing in my mouth to hold my jaw open. Forget the dude removing the nerve in my tooth with small metal instruments, forget the rubber glove in my mouth slowly suffocating me with my own spit, this jaw thing fucking hurts. I can only go about 5 minutes at a time without asking for a break. My jaw is on fire. Luckily when he starts to do the filing they remove it. When it's all over the assistant says, "I'm so sorry for you." Sympathy is nice. But my jaw still hurts and they didn't give me any prescription medication.
Moral of the story: Brush your fucking teeth. For once in your life, listen to advice given by someone else that has gone through the pain and suffering so you don't have to go through the pain and suffering yourself.
(I now use mouthwash and brush in the morning, brush at least once, usually twice at work, and then I floss and brush once more with prescription toothpaste at home before bed. I will be seeing the dentist every 6 months. Fluoride treatments every 3 months. If my teeth rot, it will be no fault of my own.)
Frank
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
Current mood: vehement
I just bought Frank's newest two (I had to order them from the UK at like $25 a pop, sweet jesus!) and thought I would revisit his two earlier albums (I'm not a huge fan of the whole country swing he went on there.) This song stuck out.
..>
Song : You Can't Crucify Yourself
Album : Fast Man/Raider Man
Artist : Frank Black
While I sit and think of another song that we can sing
You can fret and think of another wrong I did bring
And I can't move the sun, babe, to make you shine
I'm the only one who can say that this light is mine
I think I'll close my eyes while you snap,
"Where's my map,"
I think I'll go
And did you know
You can't crucify yourself,
No, that takes two
Maybe you could use some help
And if you do
Just say you do
Every pickle comes from cucumber
You don't have to act appalled
Where's my door and where is my number
I'm lost in these halls
And I'm not saying I don't like your carrion
But your preacher's pride is just like Marion
And when I felled a bird
Then you'd laugh at your half
That you let rot
Now doll here's a thought
You can't crucify yourself
No, that takes two
Maybe you could use some help
And if you do
Just say you do
You can't crucify yourself
Now that takes two
Maybe you could use some help
And if you do
Just say you do
Current mood: vehement
I just bought Frank's newest two (I had to order them from the UK at like $25 a pop, sweet jesus!) and thought I would revisit his two earlier albums (I'm not a huge fan of the whole country swing he went on there.) This song stuck out.
..>
Song : You Can't Crucify Yourself
Album : Fast Man/Raider Man
Artist : Frank Black
While I sit and think of another song that we can sing
You can fret and think of another wrong I did bring
And I can't move the sun, babe, to make you shine
I'm the only one who can say that this light is mine
I think I'll close my eyes while you snap,
"Where's my map,"
I think I'll go
And did you know
You can't crucify yourself,
No, that takes two
Maybe you could use some help
And if you do
Just say you do
Every pickle comes from cucumber
You don't have to act appalled
Where's my door and where is my number
I'm lost in these halls
And I'm not saying I don't like your carrion
But your preacher's pride is just like Marion
And when I felled a bird
Then you'd laugh at your half
That you let rot
Now doll here's a thought
You can't crucify yourself
No, that takes two
Maybe you could use some help
And if you do
Just say you do
You can't crucify yourself
Now that takes two
Maybe you could use some help
And if you do
Just say you do
Random...
Monday, May 28, 2007
Couldn't think of where else to put this. Who says The Red Green Show is completely without merit?"I built my own thermonuclear generator, but I don't want to start it up until I'm sure I don't want a family."
Couldn't think of where else to put this. Who says The Red Green Show is completely without merit?"I built my own thermonuclear generator, but I don't want to start it up until I'm sure I don't want a family."
ANGRY POEMS ARE WRITTEN IN ALL CAPS
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
found this one in a notebook this weekend, it's in CAPS just cuz I wrote it that way:
I TRY TO WRITE POEMS NOW
AND ALL I END UP WITH
ARE ROWS OF EXPLETIVES
HOW DO YOU VOICE MORE ANGER THAN THAT?
CAUSE ALL I AM NOW IS ANGRY;
ANGRY AT THE WORLD,
ANGRY AT FATE
ANGRY AT MY UNCEASING BAD LUCK
ANGRY AT THE LONLINESS
ANGRY AT THE GIRLS THAT BROKE MY HEART
ANGRY AT THE BAD DECISIONS I'VE MADE...
ANGRY AT EVERYTHING
ANGRY AT AN UNEMPLOYMENT CHECK THAT DIDN'T COME ON TIME
ANGRY AT THE PRESCRIPTION I HAVE TO PAY FOR ONCE A MONTH
ANGRY AT $500 IN BOUNCED CHECK FEES
ANGRY AT A CRAPPY SHOWER HEAD
ANGRY AT THE RICH, SMUG PEOPLE I SEE EVERYWHERE
ANGRY AT THE GUY I BOUGHT SOMETHING FROM WHO NEVER SENT IT
ANGRY AT THE COST OF A FERRY RIDE
ANGRY THAT IT'S SO HARD TO MEET PEOPLE IN THE CITY
ANGRY AT TRAFFIC
ANGRY THAT EXPANDED BASIC CABLE COSTS FORTY DOLLARS
ANGRY THAT I'VE MISPLACED MY FINGERNAIL CLIPPERS
ANGRY THAT I CAN'T FIND MY BLANK VIDEO TAPES
ANGRY THAT I'M ALONEA
NGRY THAT THE WALLS AREN'T THICKER
ANGRY THAT THE CABLE COMPANY CHARGES IF YOU DON'T BRING BACK THE REMOTE
ANGRY AT THE PARENTS OF THE SCREAMING CHILDREN
ANGRY THAT I'M TIRED ALL THE TIME
ANGRY THAT I'M ANGRY
ANGRY THAT NO ONE CARES
-kj 10/7/03
found this one in a notebook this weekend, it's in CAPS just cuz I wrote it that way:
I TRY TO WRITE POEMS NOW
AND ALL I END UP WITH
ARE ROWS OF EXPLETIVES
HOW DO YOU VOICE MORE ANGER THAN THAT?
CAUSE ALL I AM NOW IS ANGRY;
ANGRY AT THE WORLD,
ANGRY AT FATE
ANGRY AT MY UNCEASING BAD LUCK
ANGRY AT THE LONLINESS
ANGRY AT THE GIRLS THAT BROKE MY HEART
ANGRY AT THE BAD DECISIONS I'VE MADE...
ANGRY AT EVERYTHING
ANGRY AT AN UNEMPLOYMENT CHECK THAT DIDN'T COME ON TIME
ANGRY AT THE PRESCRIPTION I HAVE TO PAY FOR ONCE A MONTH
ANGRY AT $500 IN BOUNCED CHECK FEES
ANGRY AT A CRAPPY SHOWER HEAD
ANGRY AT THE RICH, SMUG PEOPLE I SEE EVERYWHERE
ANGRY AT THE GUY I BOUGHT SOMETHING FROM WHO NEVER SENT IT
ANGRY AT THE COST OF A FERRY RIDE
ANGRY THAT IT'S SO HARD TO MEET PEOPLE IN THE CITY
ANGRY AT TRAFFIC
ANGRY THAT EXPANDED BASIC CABLE COSTS FORTY DOLLARS
ANGRY THAT I'VE MISPLACED MY FINGERNAIL CLIPPERS
ANGRY THAT I CAN'T FIND MY BLANK VIDEO TAPES
ANGRY THAT I'M ALONEA
NGRY THAT THE WALLS AREN'T THICKER
ANGRY THAT THE CABLE COMPANY CHARGES IF YOU DON'T BRING BACK THE REMOTE
ANGRY AT THE PARENTS OF THE SCREAMING CHILDREN
ANGRY THAT I'M TIRED ALL THE TIME
ANGRY THAT I'M ANGRY
ANGRY THAT NO ONE CARES
-kj 10/7/03
Nothing Rhymes With Empty
Monday, May 07, 2007
a head full of words
but a mouth full of bees
standing unsteadily
on trembling knees
the fingers are numb
the vision is blurred
worn is the spoon with which
memories are stirred
second attempt
is more desperate and vain
a face full of smiles
hides a heart full of pain
an empty bed
a love turning cold
vein-slashing discount
everything must be sold
but the leaves always fall
winter comes every year
slow passage of time
dries up every tear
-kj 5/7/07
a head full of words
but a mouth full of bees
standing unsteadily
on trembling knees
the fingers are numb
the vision is blurred
worn is the spoon with which
memories are stirred
second attempt
is more desperate and vain
a face full of smiles
hides a heart full of pain
an empty bed
a love turning cold
vein-slashing discount
everything must be sold
but the leaves always fall
winter comes every year
slow passage of time
dries up every tear
-kj 5/7/07
It's not called an accident...
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
It's not called an accident when you intentionally drive your dirtbike off a bridge and your fucking parachute doesn't open. It's called idiocy.
p.s. I really hate Stunt Junkies, but it's 2:43am and there's nothing else on TV. Where's Mike Rowe when I need him!
It's not called an accident when you intentionally drive your dirtbike off a bridge and your fucking parachute doesn't open. It's called idiocy.
p.s. I really hate Stunt Junkies, but it's 2:43am and there's nothing else on TV. Where's Mike Rowe when I need him!
pure awesome
Friday, February 09, 2007
I think I actually remember this one... I wrote the first 8 lines several years earlier, and then came back and finished it in 2003. Even though I think it's easier to get your point across with straight writing, I have a soft spot for poems that rhyme.
One second, two seconds
three seconds, four
Blow me a kiss,then I'm out the door.
Five seconds gone
and I'm already decaying
I wish it took longer
is all I am saying.
Six seconds past
and I'm in a hole
don't have an option
don't quite have a goal
skip ahead three seconds
then back up just one
did it all mean something?
or was it just fun?
time has eroded
foundation and floor
six seconds, five seconds
hold your breath, back to four
only three left
and the countdown begins
care to make wagers
on who loses or wins?
I float in my bubble
above everyone's heads
will anyone miss them
in half-empty beds?
The barroom has closed
the clock has unwound
last click ticks away
no more time to be found
can you say it was worth it?
was there less bad than good?
did it leave an impression?
was the voice understood?
I can't see you laughing
or I guess I would know
please leave via the exit
hope you enjoyed the show.
kj 6-20-03
I think I actually remember this one... I wrote the first 8 lines several years earlier, and then came back and finished it in 2003. Even though I think it's easier to get your point across with straight writing, I have a soft spot for poems that rhyme.
One second, two seconds
three seconds, four
Blow me a kiss,then I'm out the door.
Five seconds gone
and I'm already decaying
I wish it took longer
is all I am saying.
Six seconds past
and I'm in a hole
don't have an option
don't quite have a goal
skip ahead three seconds
then back up just one
did it all mean something?
or was it just fun?
time has eroded
foundation and floor
six seconds, five seconds
hold your breath, back to four
only three left
and the countdown begins
care to make wagers
on who loses or wins?
I float in my bubble
above everyone's heads
will anyone miss them
in half-empty beds?
The barroom has closed
the clock has unwound
last click ticks away
no more time to be found
can you say it was worth it?
was there less bad than good?
did it leave an impression?
was the voice understood?
I can't see you laughing
or I guess I would know
please leave via the exit
hope you enjoyed the show.
kj 6-20-03
another one
Friday, February 09, 2007
It's old-crappy-poetry night at Kris' house:
I don't need much
just a bus pass
a radio and headphones
somewhere to go
a full belly
antidepressants
a cellular phone
warm, stylish clothes
the love of two or three good women
a roof over my head(preferably with plenty of closet space)
people to drink with
beverages to drink with them
a job that doesn't bore me too much(and pays well enough so I don't have to worry too much about money)
a room full of computer equipment
a camera
a dark room to develop the photos in
a television to watch when I'm bored
a cat
this pad of paper
this pencil
kj 5-1-02
It's old-crappy-poetry night at Kris' house:
I don't need much
just a bus pass
a radio and headphones
somewhere to go
a full belly
antidepressants
a cellular phone
warm, stylish clothes
the love of two or three good women
a roof over my head(preferably with plenty of closet space)
people to drink with
beverages to drink with them
a job that doesn't bore me too much(and pays well enough so I don't have to worry too much about money)
a room full of computer equipment
a camera
a dark room to develop the photos in
a television to watch when I'm bored
a cat
this pad of paper
this pencil
kj 5-1-02
old painful wounds
Friday, February 09, 2007
so I've been cleaning my house (mind boggling in itself) and i came across an old letter Katie wrote me... strangely enough it was very sweet. I guess I'll never understand how something so good could go so bad in the end. but on a lighter note, I found a bunch of old poetry, several of which I really like. so without further ado...
I was chasing you
and you ran,
not on the outside
but inside
Your eyes were so far away.
Every time I looked into them
I got hopelessly lost
and I stumbled
through the darkness
of your mind...
trying to find your hiding place.
I wanted you so bad.
Then I woke
and realized
you were only fever.
But you made me
hungover and sick.
I can't wait to forget you.
Bitch.
kj 2-21-00
meal preparation
Saturday, April 22, 2006
...means making sure there's a clean fork for when the microwave dings.
...means making sure there's a clean fork for when the microwave dings.
Soul of a Peach (pit removed)
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
Current mood: bored
I wrote this yesterday whilst waiting for the bus:
"Even though several years have passed, I am still tormented. It took a long time to forget her face. Now the empty hole that contained her pulls at every error, every failure, every doubt. All that could've-been begins and ends with her. What's in-between is irrelevant.
Repetition fertilizes familiarity, which, as we occasionally hear, breeds contempt. I don't think it's a coincidence that contempt is bred. Disgust must be born and raised; cultivated by a simple routine.
You only hurt the ones you love."
Current mood: bored
I wrote this yesterday whilst waiting for the bus:
"Even though several years have passed, I am still tormented. It took a long time to forget her face. Now the empty hole that contained her pulls at every error, every failure, every doubt. All that could've-been begins and ends with her. What's in-between is irrelevant.
Repetition fertilizes familiarity, which, as we occasionally hear, breeds contempt. I don't think it's a coincidence that contempt is bred. Disgust must be born and raised; cultivated by a simple routine.
You only hurt the ones you love."
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