Friday, June 24, 2005

Settling for nothing instead of any old thing since 2001

I hate conventions that tell us how we should be. If we lived by conventions,we'd be without some of the great thinkers and doers of the world. If we were more open to breaking convention, a lot more of those people would have lived much longer lives. We've become too safe. We've become boring.

Wednesday, June 22, 2005

backinthedaywheniwasyoungi'mnotakidanymore butsometimesisitandwishiwasakidagain

Remember your first crush? I remember everything about mine except her name. I remember her face, I remember her smell (strawberry shortcake signiture style shampoo) and I remember the kiss she gave me standing on the steps to her apartment at West Lowell Ave. Her name is consquential to releasing this feeling of anguish i have with in. And her name is on the tip of my toungue, even now, as it has been the last five years but it won't reveal itself to me. I even remember it was August when I was six years old. I long for the days when we had that innocent intimacy that we had as kids. It hink i've spent the last 22 years of my life trying to find an sustain that feeling with another girl, like the one I had for what ulitmately was probably a pretty short time with that girl in the apartment building across the way. And as our pasts are taken away from us day by day (I drove by the house i grew up in for a few years in Amesbury the other day and found that development projects had completely destroyed everything that could even remotely have had a memory for me. People are literally living on my memories) all we have is the memories that we can fall back on. And it's scyay that poeple I've now frown to hate, I can remember their names no problem, but this girl who was so importnat to be discovery of not only the beauty of the opposite sex, but my respect for it, I just can't remeber her name. Maybe someday in this big wide world of the internet I'll run across her happenstance, and it will all be proven kismet in the end. But for now I only have the memories of her, and really whjat a first crush means. It's so rare we feel this way about someone of the opposite sex (since that crush I think i can count similar feelings about other girls maybe once or twice in my life....I wouldn't go so far to say that i could understand the complicated emotion of love when i was six, but it was incredible exhilerating and most importnatly i know it made me smile) that I think our constant want for love in life is to feel the way we felt with that first crush always in any relationship we have. Us hopeless romantics will tell you that's really the only thing we've got going for us. That feeling is what keeps us hopelss romantics. So here's to all those people trying to fnd that feeling again. Don't ever throw it away if you find it because you have something more special than you'll ever realize.

I'm pretty sure her name was Jessica.

My oven feels like my freezer and my freezer feels like my oven....

Intriguing might be my favorite word both because of it's own definition and also because of what it can define. "Meeting People Is Easy". I'm still not sure if I stand with Radiohead on this. I guess it depends on where they stand on the word "meet". Interesting and exciting, when attributed to new people, are not exclusive to each other, but it's so much more envigorating when they could be. What is the next move here?

Tuesday, June 21, 2005

You'll never have as good as we had it with Galaxy High...

When we were kids we had it good. There was that one Saturday morning in September that was almost as good as Christmas. You planned out your morning like you were about to take a safari through Africa. You started early, jumped on the couch aroun 5 am or so...started the morning off with those reruns they had been showing since 1972. There's was some dirty puppet on what seemed to be a knock of a combination of Sesame Street and some bizarre fish auction in Gloucester. After that you has some show where all they did was speak a little english and a lot of Spanish and you weren't quite sure exactly what you were supposed to learn but you think you had some idea it was about gardening or community or something. Then some guy taught you how to draw all while mystifying you with his seemingly endless afro. Already hopped up on your four bowls of Sugar Smacks, the real fun started. You had pain stakingly gone through every page of your special TV Guide, staking out your path for morning viewing, trying to figure out if you would stick with the Smurfs for the whole 90 minutes or take a side trip down Muppet Baby Avenue. The cartoons just got better and better. And you didn't care how wimpy, how girly, how babyish those shows were because they were cartoons dammnit and they were made for you. Fuck Sunday, being made to wear those stuffy clothes and listen to some old guy babble on for what seemed like days about something you really didn't have the mental capacity to handle, this was your church. And it wasn't just Saturday mornings. It carried over the whole week. You and your friends running home straight from school to watch the next adventures of Lion-O or Inspector Gadget. Just waiting through that epic fight between Skeletor and He Man so you could find out what words of wisdom Orko would lay on you today. Waiting until that new Transformers or GI Joe mini-series started. (You see kids, before they were actually everyday series, they teased us with miniseries to whet our appetites. There were even Strawberry Shortcake and Rainbow Brite mini-series for the girls.) And the only show after school you wanted to see with real people involved a fucked up blonde mom and brunette dad with 3 brothers and 3 sisters, a dog named Tiger a maid named Alice and when they all got a little older a cousin named Oliver that was unlike any fucking family you had ever seen. And maybe just maybe, you'd allow your self a little education by the way of the Electric Company or 3-2-1 Contact. I mean, Mom and Dad got you the magazines every month, you might as well have watched the shows. We grew up in the early days of Nickolodeon, where You Can't Do That On Television And The Weekend Special filled up our Saturday afternoons; where Livewire and Reggie Jackson ended our Sundays. Where when you were home sick from school, the only thing to watch was Pinwheel and Today's Special (I still say they got the whole idea for this show from that Andre McCarthy gem, Mannequin) .And where every weeknight after Danger Mouse, the first kid's network actually went off the air. Imagine that.

Somewhere along the way kids lost their way. You allowed our sacred ritual of sugar cereals and technicolor fanatasies to be taken over by the corpoarte masses. You kids out can have your Poke-things and Yu-Gi-Whatsits. I'll keep my Picture Pages, thank you.

Sunday, June 19, 2005

Burnt Sienna is redundant by nature

Do you need any other reason to be afraid for our future than the weather in New England the last three weeks? Abnormal more than a state of being or mind, it's in the sky right outside the window. There's no longer seasons here, it's only about hot and cold, wet and not wet.

(I don't use the term dry because with the humidity, it's really never dry, sweat included.)

It's getting to be that a person can't even enjoy a day here anymore, because nature won't permit it. Nature won't permit boys and girls, because we've been bad. Get ready for the flood. It's coming. All those disaster movies were true.

(These are the things people like Johnathan Edwards would say back in the puritanical days. Only he'd say it was all God's wrath and not nature.)

I am far from religious so I don't believe this.

(The rest of my thoughts on religion will have to wait for another day though.)

However, I have become a huge believer in karma. And the way our atmosphere is treating us right now, this is a huge karmic bitchslap from mother nature herself. Floroclorocarbons be damned. We're being taught a lesson.

Don't ever confuse religion with spirtuality. They are completley unrelated.

Saturday, June 18, 2005

The temperature is dropping and so is my IQ....

"Being independant" is more than just a verbal phrase. Society sometimes piles on our shoulders that we always have to be involved with someone, that we can't enjoy the time we allow for oursleves. While there is a difference I believe in what is healthy alone time and unhealthy alone time, I don't understand why beyond that some people feel the need to have those they are emotionally involved with define them. Definition should come from within. While another person can compliment you, I don't think they should ever definie you. Your own definition is what gives you charatcer and depth. I'm tired of the girls I come across who need a boyfriend for no other reason than they've lost their own personality and need this other person to define them. We should, however, never confuse defintion and personality. I think a person can be shy and quiet and that is their definiton. I think they can warm up to people and become loud, outspoken and boisterous and this is there definition. What is scary is when you need antoher person around to tell you how your going to be, what your going to be, where your going to be, and most eggregiously who your going to be. If you don't have some sense to the answers to these questions, than the problem is you don't need any on. you need to figure yourself out first. It's find to find yourself, but if you haven't found yourself, what makes you think anybody else is going to be able to find you. And then your starting down that dangerouly slippery slope of deception with whomever you are trying to be with. While we're all left with temporary insecurites and unsecurities as to who we are, (it comes with the territory of growing and maturing and being a human being) what's so sad is some of these people who I see who have no sense of core deep down inside. It's these people who are lost. Acting fiercely independant and being fiercely independant are two completely different things. I wish some would understand that independence and simply being single are not mutually exclusive.

Friday, June 17, 2005

Hell in a hand basket I say...hell in a hand basket...

Not being a declared democrat or republican, but being liberal in my politcal thoughts and makes me sick that we've actually turned our political voting system in this country into a huge popularity contest. It hit me like a ton of bricks the other day. What other reasons could you give to our current president, the son of a former president, and that really being the only he's got going for him getting elected into office. Yes, he was a governor, but he only got that job because, bingo, he was the son of a president. Name recoginition, folks. That's what we are voting on. What else would explain the governor of our largest, most populated state being elected. It can't be based on his shining past politcal record. No, it's instead because he starred in movies like The Terminator and Predator. What else explains The Kennedys, who depite being insiders in Washington for decades, can't seem to give away an election when they run due to the fact that their name alone is probably most associated with American politics. What else explains a president who was embroiled in controversy first over real estate dealings and then because of his "affairs" in the white house and yet still walked out smelling like roses with one of the highest approval raitings ever, having people actually state they would vote for him again. We perpetuate our own crooked system by the attention we and our media draw making all these re-elections self fullfilling prophecies by the fame we give these officials. Folks, we're not voting for ideals or issues anymore. We're voting simply based on a name. A name and a word associated to our beliefs. "Conservative or liberal." "Red or Blue". We've allowed ourselves to all be pigeonholed into these convienant slots, all the while those we've elected into office make this a murkier and more depressing world in the name of our basic rights, that were supposed to be protected by the bill of rights. The only bill of rights anybody seems to stand by anymore is the one drawn up by big business. "He who write the checks has the rights." I don't want to be seen as a percentage point or a color anymore. I don't want my ideals to be summed up anymore by what is largely an understood convienient term thrown into our politcal vocabulary. It simply means I am one of many, and that my part of a percentage point doens't need to be listened to because I will have no matter in the outcome. I have no power as a percentage point. Whatever happened to revolution?

Thursday, June 16, 2005

Ten minutes later you would've seen a suicide.

It took me 4 years to stop holding grudges and five more minutes to get over myself. I don't have time for anger, just time for people whose company I enjoy. I love it when your realize your own maturity. (Which hypocritcally, is kind of immature.)