January 31st, 2002

The view from up here

His mind is run by this machine

Dear God in Heaven, I had lost faith in you; in your very existence, until I heard the very beginning of Coin Toss. Bless your little heart. If you eva need one-a mah h0s, ten picent off, no kestions axed.

Yesterday I saw a Blue Jay outside. Not an entire sports fan of them; just a single one. I wonder to where the cardinal we had last week has gone. The cardinal was a great sign and symbol, as I'm a Louisvillain. We base our feelings and intuitions on spring on the cardinal and the red-breasted robin (one of which I also think I saw last week), just as Pennsylvanians believe in the groundhog. But blue jays... what pricks. What? Pricks? Yes, pricks. The most sanguine example centers around a bird feeder, which one or two jays used to guard militantly, despite there being more than ample bird seed for everyone. I mean hey, it's on the humans, and they're buying every round, so why not share? But really, they're viscious, viscious birds. They're still birds, though. Which makes me wonder about Canadia; the most ferocious animal they could muster for a sports team is the Blue Jay?

Nevermind, God. I'm back to not believing in you. Logically speaking, you are the weakest link. Good-bye.

But bright and proud birds, whether for good or evil, I herald as signs of something very vivid, very vibrant. Considering that that is the exact opposite of what I'm living right now, I welcome it. Bring on the interesting times.
  • Current Music
    Molly McGuire - Coin Toss

My turn to make the building shake.

  • I am getting my rudiments back. I never lost the paradiddle, nor the flamadiddle. *snicker*

  • I am getting REALLY good at triplets. I don't even realize I'm doing them. And on eighth notes or faster... they must be practically thirty-second notes. If I can achieve sixty-fourth notes one one hand, I can do the legendary hundred-twentieighth notes with two hands.

  • Hemidemisemiquaver

  • I think I clocked my foot speed at six beats per foot per second. Gotta get faster. Though I hit with an incredible amount of force, hence the entire three-story building actually shaking. I wish I had a dynamometer to measure the force.

    It's in response to what felt like an earthquake upstairs last night, plus my general hatred of my downstairs neighbors loud-no taste-all hours of the morning music. Christ, was the full grown man upstairs physically wrestling with his two year old son, or does he just beat his family?

    "Walk away, walk away.

    So far away..."
    • Current Music
      Molly M G - Plastic Pirates
    Jigen Daisuke

    What I wants.

    I want to write three entries today, time permitting. Dunno, since I get home at 7:30-ish.

    But I was thinking this morning; there are far too many hours of the day that I squander. Consequently, I pondered a Top 5 list of things I want to spend about two hours one day a week doing.

    + A martial art. baka has suggested Aikido, which sounds like a very good choice. I want something that's going to work in real life (especially despite being ganged up on) and that I can practice by myself (which means no judo).

    + Drumming. Another night of the week, I'd like to spend two hours teaching myself to drum. Real drumming, not dicking around with my sticks on my tv table.

    The idea here is to establish a disciplined schedule. Are you following so far?

    + Driving. Not just driving around; I mean real driving. There have to be clubs somewhere where they let you drive around a closed course, upshifting and downshifting, hugging the turns tighter than you would your attractive redneck cousin. Then, on the weekend, I could spend my Saturdays (after cartoons) maintaining my machine.

    + Writing. I already do this, but I aim to be more like Mr. Bek and actually work on projects. Along with the drumming, I could do some songwriting, but I really need to get to the point where I am setting at least one thing, or one chapter of something, down a week. I have another story I want to post tonight, but then, I have a non-fiction (personal) story I want to post. I also wanted to write something about god (No, not my novella) in the machine; or rather, as the machine. Is he the initial condition, or the protocol? Anyway, these are just notes for me.

    So I'm up to Friday night, or something, as far as the imaginary week goes. Hmm... what to do last?

    + Exploration. A cop out? I dunno. I need to find a #5, and the best way to do it would be to have a wild card night. One week, I will try some sculpture; another, I will paint. Maybe one week a month, I will play pool, or shoot hoops—do something—anything at which I seem to have a n@ural talent. But I seem to be talented at everything, so I will have plenty of time.

    This list still leaves my weekends free for doing things like cleaning and laundry and fishing and hiking and reading and watching cartoons and working on my car. My most crucial problem seems to be my ties to this box and everyone in it; and a car. If I had you people here, I wouldn't need to spend so much time here.

    I really just want someone I can come home to and say, "Hi. BLAH BLAH BLAHBLAHBLAHBLAH blah..."

    Without logging onto AIM.

    And yes, I really am Type A. Well, Type C. But I'm A until I realize my own limits, and then I slack off. I'm a patient Type A. Like the whole waiting for a car thing. There's nothing I can do until I have enough money saved. But I have a lot of things I'm burning to do once I get it, as detailed above (I can drive to the shrink's office/aikido/etc?) I'm always burning to do stuff. It pains me when people think me a slacker. And when people think me unintelligent, I pain them. That's one of those zero tolerance things. It's all I have; my mind.

    Oh, and my arms/abs. I have to remember to write an entry on body issues and my weight (back above one ninety, but dropping again), as inspired by that short span at Tamara's party when it was just me and the women, and they made me do things to demonstrate my power. =\
    • Current Music
      M McG - Wish Number One
    Grrr!, Dammit!

    For the last time.

    HOW. IS. IT. GOING. ?.

    That is the correct order of the words. Next person to pull a Jesse and ask me "How goes it?" gets banned from everything. Period. You are no longer original, and certainly not clever. Maybe, long ago, when D&D was a new invention, there was some novelty to the question, but now you are just ungrammatical.

    Oh, and Erica, stop dropping words. "You about" is not a question; there is NO FUCKING VERB in that sentence. Stop dropping your dids, too. "You go into the city?" No, but I did go into the city. I don't think they stand for that kind of Westchester shit in Montana.
    • Current Mood
      great cop