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rodneydangrfyld's LiveJournal:
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| Saturday, November 14th, 2009 | | 6:13 am |
"I'll rock the cradle when you're gone."
Every structure is designed to fulfill a specific function. Many of these "functions" only occur every once in a great while. It's thus fascinating that most of these objects spend the majority of their time denying their function, their goal; very rarely do these objects actually achieve what they're meant to achieve (think bells, leashes, church sanctuaries). What I'm trying to say, I guess, is that something awesome is bound to happen soon. Also, to the four or five people that still check livejournal, you'd be doing yourself a great disservice if you do not download Sam Amidon's album All Is Well. If you don't feel like springing for the whole album then at least get "Sugar Baby" and "Prodigal Son." Sweet Jesus, this is what is supposed to happen when you listen to music. I recently realized that I stave off going to sleep because I hate the feeling of waking up, so now, at 6:16 AM, I'm going to watch 30 Rock. | | Friday, November 6th, 2009 | | 12:56 am |
Sites of displacement, or a list of body parts that ache and their potential alleviations.
Head (dizziness; isolated, shooting pains). Medication to reduce the swelling of nasal and auditory canals can effectively be used to treat this condition. Ears (2). Same as above. Right knee (occasional shooting pains, especially when pressure is applied). 500-1000mg of acetaminophen every 6 hours, not to exceed more than 3500mg (3.5g) daily. If symptoms persist for more than one week contact your physician. In the event that you do not have a physician/health insurance, or if you are purposefully injuring yourself (consciously or otherwise), please see notes below. Stomach (general discomfort; occasional waves of nausea). "I believe I'll go back home. There they have food to eat, and I was starving here." Also, stop eating so many chocolates, Cathy. ---------------------------------------- ------------------ ________________________________________ __________________ ======================================== ================== ________________________________________ __________________ ---------------------------------------- ------------------ ======================================== ================== The Russian Orthodox Cathedral of the Transfiguration of Our Lord is just a couple hundred feet from my place of work. On Sundays they have a rummage sale. When I leave the store on Sunday evenings, I see all of their unsold wares assembled on the sidewalk. They're packed, rather haphazardly, into black trash bags. The quintessential black trash bags, spewing stained Cabbage Patch Dolls and tarnished picture frames onto the pavement. Every once in a while I'll pass by early enough to hear the church bells ringing. They chime much more than any other church bells I've heard. From the sounds of it one would assume that it's 37 o'clock, or somewhere in that vicinity. I've heard other passersby complain about the noise, the dull, resonating clatter that fills North Williamsburg/South Greenpoint. I don't know why anyone would complain; I enjoy the sound quite a bit. If there are bells, they should be ringing. Bells are meant to ring. | | Tuesday, October 27th, 2009 | | 2:23 am |
The dirtiest of fighting techniques (headbutting, scratching, biting, flamethrowing, bottlesmashing, bloodletting, uterinepunching), Science, have you no decency? | | Tuesday, October 6th, 2009 | | 9:24 pm |
One must sacrifice the notes that are too large for our hands to play. | | Monday, October 5th, 2009 | | 11:52 pm |
Today_|_Manietrillscunderges.
My jacket was too small, and my bag was too heavy. I was smiling on the subway only to later angry-smoke out of my window. Fedex can eat cholera-injected strawberries. The fraudulent self no longer recognizes the dichotomy between health and disease. The fraudulent self has been feasting on nostalgia and refusing to relieve itself. Now existing only in the Circle, the Circle that initially encompasses, but later, unwaveringly and paradoxically, induces V/vertigo. (vertigo: a longing to fall; Vertigo: a desire to be pushed). Vacillating between vertiginous vicissitudes yet always on the Border. | | Monday, September 7th, 2009 | | 1:29 am |
Currently I do this thing. It's this thing that I do sometimes. I don't think about things, but then, sometimes, I do. And when I think about these things, these things are fine things. But then when I do this thing that I've recently been doing, I realize that what I do when I think about these fine things isn't what I do when I talk about the same "fine" things. When I talk about things I think differently about them than when I'm thinking about them. Doing this thing, the talking-about-things-and-then-thinking-t hat-maybe-things-aren't-the-way-I-think-a bout-them-without-talking-about-them thing, worries me, sometimes. On a very possibly related note, I feel like I lose contact with more people each day. By the end of this semester I will know no one but fictitious, eyeless Guatemalans and numerous drawings of birds. But that's ok; they don't make me do that thing. | | Monday, August 17th, 2009 | | 1:07 am |
I am ready for the summer to be over and fall the come swooping in. Humidity sucks, dudes. Speaking without using subjects to no way to behave. | | Tuesday, July 14th, 2009 | | 7:59 pm |
The Greeks and the Romans were speaking Chinese to the women on the train. "Could you not teach us some German," they asked. "But why not Swedish?" "Creole?" "Sanskrit?" "Waste water maintenance jargon?" "Construction site terminology?" "Why, whatever would you want to say?" "Come back. Since you left my home I have not eaten a bite. My bones are full of holes. My skin has shifted and my body bends too easily. "To return. As you leave my house I am not eaten, the bite. My bones are filled with holes. My skin is shifted and my body bends too easily." "He shall return. Since you left my house I do not eat. My bones are full holes. My skin shifted and my flesh bends too easily." "Come back. When you left my home I have eaten a fly. My bones are full of holes. My skin has been moved and my body bends too readily." | | Monday, July 13th, 2009 | | 7:18 pm |
Las mujeres puertoriqueñas
He estado pensando en español y creo que está ayudandome. Necesito aprender dos más idiomas ("lenguas" esta bueno tambien, verdad?) si quiero ir al "grad school." Quiero hablar con las mujeres puertorriqueñas en mi edificio porque yo sé que ellas conocen todos que pasan en mi barrio (es vecino el mismo? no recuerdo.), pero no puedo hablar rapidamente y mi vocabulario es mierda ahora. Tambien, no comprendo cuando ellas hablan rapidamente; solo comprendo los viejos y los niños. La palabra del día (día es masculino, verdad?): galletazo - bitch slap. Fui al MoMA hoy. Porque soy un estudiante de SUNY, no necesito pagar para MoMA, es gratis. Había dos dibujos de Basquiat en el exposicion Mirando a la Música, parte 2. Es todo. | | Wednesday, July 8th, 2009 | | 1:56 pm |
| | Thursday, June 25th, 2009 | | 4:38 am |
You know what's really fun? When someone says to you, "Our whole relationship is a gamble," but by that they mean, "Our relationship is based on stupid bets we make with each other" (I haven't lost yet & plan to keep it that way.), and not that it's all a risky chance (or maybe a little of both). So is composing scientific hypotheses and formulating spreadsheets about doin' it. I hearby challenge all of you to Word Twist battles on Facebook. All day, everyday. I have lost twice (and I plan to keep it that way). I'm pretty sure I'm getting a job sometime soon. Either a) working at this call bank where nearly deaf folks call in, I connect their call to someone that can hear fine, and then I transcribe what the hearing person says so that the deafy can read it as text. This could be innnncredibly boring OR really, really interesting. I'm hoping to get all of the really offensive calls, or conversations where someone is talking about writing their memoirs and going over all of the crazy stuff they've done in their life. b) working at a New York chain coffee shop. This would be alright since I'd get some barista experience which is valuable to have, but my potential boss looks like a douchebag and it pays less than the typist job. And I think they'd be less flexible with my school schedule. c) call girl. You know, workin' it. Oldest profession in the world! And most likely to break you forever. d) drug dealer/liaison. I'm nearly certain there's a kid that deals from the stoop of my apartment. I go down there a lot late at night to smoke, and quite often he's either sitting on the stoop, or pacing up and down the block, looking kind of jittery. Once I heard him whistle really loudly at someone. He can definitely hook me up. Maybe I can just store all the drugs up here in my room, and just throw them down to him when he's about to make a deal. That way he won't get caught for possession, and I won't need to get into harm's way. If there's anything I'm look for in a job, it is most definitely not harm. Those are my career paths as of now. I'm opting for option A, but will take anything that comes my way. | | Sunday, June 21st, 2009 | | 1:59 am |
If the people in the pictures talked they'd say:
"My head hurts." "Are you stressed?" "Well..." "Don't even think about it. Instead, think about everything you've got going for you right now." "Well... Everything I've 'got going' is tentative at b'st. I mean, thrrrs..." "What's that smell? Have you been drinking? I thought you were going to stop!" "Well..." "You know that just makes it worse." "It's cheaper th'n buying smokes, and I'm broke!" "Didn't you just buy a pack earlier tonight?" "Well..." "Did you ever go to the doctor?" "No." "Why not?" "I'll get better on my own. I mean, I'm fineI'm fineI'm fineI'm fine." Current Music: stvvvvn stnnnbrink | | Wednesday, June 17th, 2009 | | 6:36 pm |
In the immortal words of Beverly Perez-Mercado: "I think I have a dumb-dumb disease."
There was a time when I didn't think I was too bad at life. I had it down. When I was at The Manor I had a job, went to school, paid my rent, had a budget, shopped for groceries, and was the most popular guy on the block. Something in the past year, however, has changed (besides my locale). I buy Downy and expect it to clean my clothes; I have no clue where the tortillas are in a grocery store; I open all of my food stuffs (once I manage to find them) from the wrong end; I have trouble participating in small talk. In the olden days (O! Six months ago! How far you seem!) I had plans and I achieved them. Now, I have plans, but am perpetually realizing that planning is an obsolete art. | | Sunday, June 14th, 2009 | | 4:55 am |
"Oh how you screamed."
New Mirah CD is so good. "Love might just be an economy, but I don't believe in property. We don't owe nothing. And you wondered why I was so terrified." | | Saturday, June 13th, 2009 | | 2:12 am |
| | Thursday, June 4th, 2009 | | 10:10 pm |
Also, my computer is dead for a while, don't judge my bad grammar right now. This iPhone screen is too tiny to go back and edit on. Jerks. | | 9:41 pm |
What is up with the world, huh? In the past week - had a long, long, long discussion with my brother about sexuality/treatment of women by idiot boys that he hangs out with - next night, my boyfriend gets punched the face, resulting in a chipped tooth and a night of insanity, because we "faggots" wouldn't let this macho asshole come into Robbie/Beverly's birthday party. I think seven people in total were assaulted - a photo of a sticker that someone saw on at Portland bus stop is posted on facebook. The sticker says: "Don't catch AIDS! Don't have sex with drug users or blacks." - another state says I can get gay married starting in 2K10. - said goodbye to my favorites in PHX & PDX again - started to live real life (i.e. Grocery shopping & job hunting) in brooklyn. - got "wacky" proposed to, turned it down Insane. Now here I sit, in a new apartment wondering what could possibly be next. Hispanic female supreme court justice, perhaps? The incident at the party was the first time I've been directly affected by homophobic violence. It's also the first time that my "fight" (or at least "protect") instinct overpowered my "flight" instinct. Made me realize how much I love that kid (really cheesy & ridiculous, I know, but true). Needless to say, I have a lot of thoughts about it that I'm still not sure I'm done formulating. Let's all just calm it down, alright? | | Monday, May 25th, 2009 | | 5:50 pm |
You were Daniel Webster; I was the devil himself.
Last night I dreamed of a gang of Shakespeare scholars pulling swords from their throats and threatening my friends. Each of the gang members had five scars on his/her face. Cross-country travel is exhausting. Partying in as many cities as possible in May. This isn't real life, but it's strange how quickly it's come to feel like it. Lying in bed at my parents' house, watching weird reality TV, posting on livejournal. I think I'm great at adapting. I might become an NYC bartender. What up, connections? I stole an 8-ball from a Portland bar. Don't tell on me. My wife is deadly:  | | Monday, May 11th, 2009 | | 12:11 pm |
Frank Rich, I'm looking in your direction.
I refuse to read one more article written by some whining, entitled journalist who is bemoaning the death of the news industry as we know it (I was tricked into my last one. Silly me for thinking that an op-ed piece called "The Press On Suicide Watch" would be about the fact that returning soldiers are now more likely than civilians to commit suicide.). Haven't they learned anything? Newspapers are closing; the public is becoming increasingly upset with the mainstream media's lack/disdain of/for objectivity; independent and freelance writers/bloggers/etc. are taking over. So why is the mainstream media's response to talk exclusively about how badly they're failing? Clearly, people DO want NEWS, but you've been viewed as insular demagogues for so long that, now that the means are viable, people are revolting, seeking information from alternative news sources. If you're going to go down, why not do so with dignity so that when you're at your final journalist gala brouhaha you can say, "Well at least we tried," right? Fucking quit crying and start doing some reporting. | | Saturday, May 9th, 2009 | | 5:49 pm |
The air is humid. Let's read in the woods. |
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