revelations:
once upon a time, there was a certain gent whom i casually referred to as the MSLT, partly because acronyms are a lot of fun (stringing random consonants together and then trying to pronounce them usually is), and partly because i felt the overwhelming urge to indicate what a Melodramatic, Solipsistic Little Tool this kid was without being so bold as to just say so. in the intervening years id forgotten about this delightful habit, making this soul in his present incarnation the OYIFATAB ("Oh Yeah I Forgot About That Acronym Boy"), or, better still, the MTAWRITSEAAPALNB ("My That Acronym Was Really Inappropriate, Though Still Eerily Apt, And Perhaps A Little Negative Boy"). which actually has more vowels than id like, but so it goes: mmm-tah-rit-see-pal-n-bee.
i really like my new sewing machine, but i seriously need to work on my skill with darts; either i grow pointier boobs or i figure out how to avoid that fake-nipple-in-the-fabric look.
the catch-22 of my right-now favorite ignorance being: some questions are impossible to ask if you dont already at least sort of know the answer. i really want to know not why some things happen - things tend to happen at general will, especially if they make a lot of sense on paper - but why do they keep happening, once you realize that the theory isnt translating? if, in other words, things arent as good as they could be, how long do you ride it out to see if some day you can achieve the ideal? at what point do you let things (friendships, friendships that accidentally ..., pseudo-relations, real bona fide Relationships...) just die their miserable little deaths?
what in hell are the intentions?
isnt that what we all, ever, always want to know?
id like to slap some sense into many, many people right now; i know im being tooled on, and fucked with, and on, and around, and all sorts of fucking prepositions, but i usually at least kind of know it, and kind of condone it (in this tacit little agreement of mutually beneficial fucking-with -- although im pretty good at grudges despite my catholic aspirations, so chances are ive had to sit back & give you some kind of consent somewhere along the line, not to mention im unemployed & have a fucking lot of time on my hands to think about these things, so really youve probably done something to piss me off and unless youve seriously paid your dues, ive probably had to actively, vaguely pretend i ahem oh just didnt notice, oh-my-egos-infallible-anyway-who-cares, GET IT TOGETHER, ASSHOLES, no but i seriously am working on that saintly sort of socratic ask-the-right-questions autodidacticism-for-dummies thing;), but sometimes its just people being idiots, just not thinking before they fucking speak, or act, or commit, or imply, thats when its really a fucking issue (about 25%), and the sense-slapping becomes really the operative action here.
ugh. and here id thought id started avoiding the sucked-dry, so-soulful-im-soulless, sensitive bastard types.
i could just out with my intentions most of the time, but that wouldnt clarify so much as "scare," "foretell impending doom" or even "induce agony/incontinence/obscene amounts of pressure/embarassment/fight-or-flight instinct" or maybe even if im lucky some sort of self-fulfilling prophecy, but given that im not generally an optimist that wouldnt, generally, be a good thing.
{oh, and that asshole in colorado? mostly, i like it when people get what they think they want. plus, ive always thought that square plates are really satisfying.}
two goals for the immediate future:
one, to return at least to the realm of parametric hinting, probably the only form of subtlety i know, if not a wholesale plunge into the realm of Embarassing Honesty;
two, no fight-picking, no defensive sarcasm, no penting-up, be good (ok, at least better) to your mother, appreciate the glories of celibacy, get up at a fucking reasonable-r hour, read the paper more often, reconcile yourself with relative meaninglessness or at least try to move past those Wrong Things. and drink, of course, as much coffee as necessary to do all this. you can even have it with sugar. mmm.
i really like my new sewing machine, but i seriously need to work on my skill with darts; either i grow pointier boobs or i figure out how to avoid that fake-nipple-in-the-fabric look.
the catch-22 of my right-now favorite ignorance being: some questions are impossible to ask if you dont already at least sort of know the answer. i really want to know not why some things happen - things tend to happen at general will, especially if they make a lot of sense on paper - but why do they keep happening, once you realize that the theory isnt translating? if, in other words, things arent as good as they could be, how long do you ride it out to see if some day you can achieve the ideal? at what point do you let things (friendships, friendships that accidentally ..., pseudo-relations, real bona fide Relationships...) just die their miserable little deaths?
what in hell are the intentions?
isnt that what we all, ever, always want to know?
id like to slap some sense into many, many people right now; i know im being tooled on, and fucked with, and on, and around, and all sorts of fucking prepositions, but i usually at least kind of know it, and kind of condone it (in this tacit little agreement of mutually beneficial fucking-with -- although im pretty good at grudges despite my catholic aspirations, so chances are ive had to sit back & give you some kind of consent somewhere along the line, not to mention im unemployed & have a fucking lot of time on my hands to think about these things, so really youve probably done something to piss me off and unless youve seriously paid your dues, ive probably had to actively, vaguely pretend i ahem oh just didnt notice, oh-my-egos-infallible-anyway-who-cares, GET IT TOGETHER, ASSHOLES, no but i seriously am working on that saintly sort of socratic ask-the-right-questions autodidacticism-for-dummies thing;), but sometimes its just people being idiots, just not thinking before they fucking speak, or act, or commit, or imply, thats when its really a fucking issue (about 25%), and the sense-slapping becomes really the operative action here.
ugh. and here id thought id started avoiding the sucked-dry, so-soulful-im-soulless, sensitive bastard types.
i could just out with my intentions most of the time, but that wouldnt clarify so much as "scare," "foretell impending doom" or even "induce agony/incontinence/obscene amounts of pressure/embarassment/fight-or-flight instinct" or maybe even if im lucky some sort of self-fulfilling prophecy, but given that im not generally an optimist that wouldnt, generally, be a good thing.
{oh, and that asshole in colorado? mostly, i like it when people get what they think they want. plus, ive always thought that square plates are really satisfying.}
two goals for the immediate future:
one, to return at least to the realm of parametric hinting, probably the only form of subtlety i know, if not a wholesale plunge into the realm of Embarassing Honesty;
two, no fight-picking, no defensive sarcasm, no penting-up, be good (ok, at least better) to your mother, appreciate the glories of celibacy, get up at a fucking reasonable-r hour, read the paper more often, reconcile yourself with relative meaninglessness or at least try to move past those Wrong Things. and drink, of course, as much coffee as necessary to do all this. you can even have it with sugar. mmm.
posted by j; at 00:13
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