Godel - 10:52 p.m. , 2009-03-22 awake - 8:31 p.m. , 2008-08-20 Auspicious Omens - 3:06 p.m. , 2007-07-19 the never - 12:03 p.m. , 2007-07-18 vbs - 855788 , dfbhhj Driving to work this morning, I heard Beck's "Soy un Perdedor" (Loser). Nothing so unusual about this, but when I drove back this evening to make a few calls, I heard it again. What's more, it came on the radio when I was at approximately the same place in the highway when I first heard it this morning. A dire omen. Last week, my Chinese fortune cookie told me that "Without bitterness, one cannot understand sweetness." Great. So, to recap since my last entry: Business sucks. Money's tight. Again. I haven't written anything since forever. I'm not going to graduate school. My oldest son is having anxiety and panic attacks. He says I'm remote, like an island. My mother and wife are at odds. That doesn't quite accurately describe the situation. I don't think there are words. My elbow still hurts. I'm 25 pounds overweight. I'm smoking like a chimney. I just ran out of books to read. My life sucks in so many ways, it's probably easier just to describe what's going good. Hunter is about the only bright spot. He's doing great. I loved watching him swim last night at the open house at his daycare. Everything else is just confusing, painful, or sheer impossible. Lately, I have been visited with the image of my heart as dark, rotting thing, like a heap of flower petals turned black with decay. I'm a robot whose purpose is to make money and affirm everybody else's existence. "Yes, of course I love you. Yes, of course I love you. Yes, of course I..." I don't want to go home, and I don't want to stay at work. But I have to go to these places. Where else is there? What else is there? Just a big nothing. Reality is a harsh motherfucker. A big, sucking emptiness. And don't let anyone fool you into believing it gets better as you get older. Somehow, the nothing gets bigger. Eventually, you disappear, "Phhhttt!". It swallows you up, or you go into it willingly; either way, it's coming. Get used to losing. I'm already vanishing.
a short history of nothing
Main Entry: plas�tic�i�ty
Pronunciation: pla-'sti-s&-tE
Function: noun
Date: circa 1783
1 : the quality or state of being plastic; especially : capacity for being molded or altered
2 : the ability to retain a shape attained by pressure deformation
3 : the capacity of organisms with the same genotype to vary in developmental pattern, in phenotype, or in behavior according to varying environmental conditions
NOOER
wicked old stuff