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-/blah/2024-08-20.html
-
-: story p1
-
-One summer evening about a year ago, I was sitting next to Tracy watching
-television when there came a terribly loud series of knocks on our door. I got
-up to go find out who it was when Tracy silently raised a hand, reminding me I
-couldn't answer. She walked over to the door and was about to undo the lock
-when the knocks turned to thuds.
-
-I ran, as silently as I could, to the door and grabbed the aluminium baseball
-bat from the small coat closet across the narrow hall. I positioned myself to
-the right of the door, the opposite side from the hinges, and readied the bat
-before nodding at Tracy. She shook her head. Still - thud! Thud! Thud! She
-squinted through the peephole and looked back at me and shrugged. She raised
-her fingertips to the deadlock.
-
-"Ah!" she let out a yelp as her fingers contacted the wooden door. I didn't
-understand why at first but as she withdrew her hand from the door I noticed
-the residue, or film, or syrup, or some sort of non-Newtonian fluid that was
-following her index finger, like a string of melted cheese following a piece of
-pizza. "It's melting."
-
-"The door?" I asked before I realized. The door had a matte, waxy texture to
-it - a texture I hadn't really seen since dropping acid. The deadlock and
-doorknob both began - subtly, or perhaps it was my imagination - to fall down
-the fluid and the top of the doorway started falling backwards, outwards.
-Little red drops, colored by the paint, presumably, crawled towards us along
-the surface like drops of water on a shower wall. "How is that possible?"
-
-The thuds stopped. Tracy and I looked at each other. Tracy looked uneasy. Then
-her eyes widened and as I turned around, swinging my bat with me, I watched
-pitch black fingers gripping the door from the top peel it from the wall, then
-blend into the inky darkness that had replaced our usual lit porch. The bat
-slipped from my grip and was flung into the darkness, landing about 10 meters
-away at the same height of our apartment floor despite our living on the fourth
-story of this building.
-
-"I'm calling the police. Something's wrong. Something's really wrong."
-
-Tracy started toward the phone but I grabbed her sleeve. "Please. We can figure
-this out."
-
-She looked into my eyes and held her gaze there before slightly smiling. A
-quiet: "Okay."
-
-I went over to the kitchen window. I could still see the bright, yellow night
-sky polluted by the thousands of streetlights below. I opened the window and
-took the screen out. Tracy waited behind me, watching the doorway. I crawled
-out onto the porch and helped her make her way with me. All seemed normal. We
-crept to the front door of the apartment. I turned the corner to the entrance
-but nearly ran into a man, dressed in a suit and tie, sitting on a folding
-chair outside our intact, red door. I could feel the blood leave my face.
-
-Behind me, Tracy gasped as she found us. The man stood and looked me in the
-eyes. His irises were gray.
-
-
-/blah/2024-08-14.html
-
-My blah has made my life worse. That's why I publish rare, clumped updates - I
-don't know if I still want people reading it. But I don't have a diary and my
-stuff outside git forges doesn't last, never lasts. Hard drives rust, SD cards
-shatter, eMMC chips fry. but there is redundancy on the Internet. And I want to
-remember what I've written. And I think some of it is worthy of others' diets.
-
-while it lasted
-the words warmed my heart
-and gave me something
-i didn't know i had
-while it lasted
-your bed comforted me
-i had never slept so well
-and i never did again
-while it lasted
-i saw a sky i'd never seen
-breathed air i'd never breathed
-heard songs that fascinated me
-while it lasted
-it meant everything to me
-in a hard year
-it was something soft
-when at last
-it meant to leave
-for a hard break
-its resolution was too soft
-and a while later, i forgave it
-
-how did trent reznor feel
-when johnny cash took
-his song Hurt
-and put more hurt
-the hurt only age could give
-and put it into the song
-performing it,
-in even reznor's opinion,
-better than reznor
-i would have burned
-red hot rage, and jealousy
-for every poem is a lover
-and the strummed chords
-a tighter matrimony
-than any could be given by a priest
-a song married to one
-that one married to a dozen others
-each one means the most
-to take it
-sacriledge.
-trent reznor is cooler than i am
-johnny cash was cooler
-than i'll ever be
-i understand why Not,
-and of course Not,
-and obviously Not,
-but if i was reznor
-i would have killed that motherfucker
-
-
-/blah/2024-08-13.html
-
-There oughtta be more trash bins around on the street. I eat my 50 cent Cow
-Tail (not the type of Cow Tail that the CIA paid DPRKoreans to cut off their
-cows to cause them to be unable to stand up, thereby compromising their food
-supply chain, but the Cow Tail that they sell at cheap corner stores - by that
-I mean expensive corner stores that sell stuff for a penny that sells at the
-Kroger a dozen for a nickel - with the cream filling and the caramel that looks
-so good and tastes so bad and gets lodged in your head as looking bad but
-tasting good) oh, you forgot what I was talking about because of the long
-fucking parenthetical? Good luck with Baudrillard. And I seek to throw it away
-and I can never find a place to throw my fucking wrapper. Tonight I held mine
-for the fifteen minutes' walk home. O me miseram et cetera sed fuck you I could
-have (and should have) littered my little white piece of cellophane out on the
-street. You never see garbage out on the street next to garbage bins - it's
-almost too much work to throw it next to a bin than into a bin. It peers at you
-from the puddle it landed in when you walk by. Wanna "solve" your homeless
-problem? "Solve" as in sweep all the unfortunate souls off to some outskirt of
-your city so you don't have to look at them on the way to your six figure job
-at some corporate firm conspiring with landlords to raise rent prices. Nobody's
-gonna wanna sleep on the street next to a garbage can. One every two meters -
-bam, fuck the homeless, clean up the streets, yeah yeah cool thanks Bezosito.
-
-George Carlin playing on the television. Myself playing with my little
-keyboard. Now they've put on Voyager.
-
-What's my religion? I saw a bunch of deer outside walking last night. Nearly
-ran into them. I thought they were statues at first; still, silent, elegantly
-grazing silhouettes standing in the grass lit by the occasional passing car.
-"Hello?" One lifted its head. "Hey." I gave a wide berth as I walked past them
-for worry that they had some sort of wasting disease but then I realized one
-said hello to me and they were simply some animals doing animal things. For a
-good while my Prime Directive was to serve Gaia; to give back to the world,
-make it better than it was before my coming. This was, to me, the most logical
-goal, or at least one that would serve me decently for the entirety of my life.
-There's only so much matter on this planet and, for now, no practical way to
-transport more water or carbon or anything else over. Why pollute it? Gaia has
-finite capacity for hosting human life - though we aren't close to reaching it.
-Why lower that capacity, and make everyone's life worse? Before learning about
-the Dharma I still had some sense of Kharma, though my sense was more of a
-feeling - treat people poorly, and everyone will be poorer for it. Treat people
-as best possible, and everyone will be better for it. Serve Gaia; make the
-world a better place. "Gaia" is what the Buddhists call Kharma; the health of
-our planet, spiritually, physically. I gave the deer berth and let them go on
-about their evening. And they didn't bother me either.
-
-i wanna take someone
-tie them to a post
-in my basement
-in a position
-where they can only stand up
-so they slowly get
-more and more fatigued
-break them mentally
-then cut them loose
-and watch them
-stick
-around
-without external relationships
-without ambitious desire
-without resistance
-without worries
-without hope
-i wanna take someone
-i want to keep them
-alone
-but really i am
-alone
--
-that being said,
-
-
-/blah/2024-08-11.html
-
-It's been two years since I updated my Thinkpad X200 Tablet page, probably
-because it's been about a year and a half since I started using Raspberry Pis
-as my daily drivers.
-
-Four years since I coined "catfella". Someday it might catch on.
-
-my wifi antenna doesn't work
-i have connection problems
-i say hey how are you doing to strangers
-no reply
-
-: cigarette
-
-i flick my lighter
-i flick my lighter
-i flick my lighter
-i hold the cancer stick in my mouth
-and cup my hand around the business end
-i flick my lighter
-inhale
-i hope the entire end is burning
-so it doesn't canoe
-it doesn't canoe
-inhale
-open my mouth a little more to draw oxygen too
-deep into my lungs
-my ears start ringing
-i can feel my blood pressure spike
-head swims
-i see stars, i'm so light-headed
-inhale
-from the pleasure end
-i feel so calm
-my body is anything but calm
-my head hurts
-a dull ache
-inhale
-i check the news, can't read it, put it down
-look at the clouds
-look at the other clouds
-stub now
-the cherry's in the filter
-i put it out on the bottom of my boot
-i smell like it
-and everybody with an olfactory nerve knows
-i'm cheered up as i go back inside
-i feel like shit
-
-: radio silence
-
-i called
-you didn't answer
-i threw myself at the walls
-of my cat carrier
-i got cuffed in steel
-and they were tied to the floor
-and i didn't really feel
-l'amor
-i called
-you didn't answer
-i heard you were doing fine
-i dug into my skin with an x-acto knife
-looking for what changed
-i dug into the chat logs
-looking for what changed
-i heard you were doing fine
-i called
-you didn't answer
-my friends figured i did something horrible
-i figured i did something horrible
-and i started grasping at straws
-i cut my hair
-i smoked more heavily
-i stopped looking both ways
-i called
-you didn't answer
-i called a friend and asked for advice
-they said nothing could justify that kind of silence
-except- maybe- had i done something horrible
-i didn't know
-i called them again
-they didn't answer
-i called
-you didn't answer
-and because you didn't answer
-i didn't have anyone to call
-when i was alone at 2 am
-holding an x-acto knife to my wrist and thinking
-but i thought
-i had to know so
-i called
-you didn't answer
-i sent yet another text message
-i posted on my blog
-i laid awake at night again
-i went in early to work again
-i left late again
-i did everything but kill myself
-i called
-you answered
-i was overjoyed to hear your voice
-after all that time
-i had decided maybe i could move past the silence
-after all that time
-maybe you had been really busy
-during all that time
-when i called
-when you answered
-you said it was over
-and i had mourned it already
-had already cried my tears
-had but a spark where once a fire burned
-in the catacomb cage in my chest
-and i said hallelujah
-
-: equilibrium
-
-take my box cutter and
-take my arm and
-box cutter
-and move down to my wrist
-and go with the flow
-cover yourself in it
-under me in the bathtub
-cold like me
-but soon i'll be colder
-hot blood works faster than a blanket
-to warm your skin
-with the heat of my heart
-pumping out my coolant
-into the thin air
-i'm still breathing
-so do my neck
-kiss it
-with the blade
-before plunging it
-in a carotid
-and pulling it out quickly
-like you hesitated
-but you didn't
-so i get pulled out too
-and end up
-all over you
-i would give myself
-all of myself
-every drop of myself
-til i was pale faced and dry
-and the hair drew from my tightened skin
-and i had triangles in my eyes
-if
-you would just
-hold my head in your hands
-look into my wet eyes
-still blinking
-saccading
-focusing
-pupils dilating
-bloodshot
-and just
-say
-it's going to be okay
-
-: old playlists
-
-i want tender love, a Miracle Musical
-but i get loveless love, Mindless Self Indulgence
-i've wanted something sweet like Guster
-but the best i've gotten is short; My Chemical Romance
-and then returned to a spectre, haunted - call me Laura Les
-i watch the shadows on the streets, a non-passing Susanne Vega
-from a diner on the corner blue like Sinatra
-and the devil's beating his wife til she dies and then a Creedence Clearwater
-	Revival
-and i listen to my old playlists and Childish Gambino
-fuck this is corny
-
-: said who
-
-come downstairs and say hello
-  how are you doing
-                    say something
-  your answer is?..
-                    say please
-     you're welcome
-          you don't say
-               then say so
-    that's what she said
-                    say uncle
-please rise for the pledge of allegiance
-                 be quiet
-it's not your turn
-      why would you say that
-              don't swear
-                    apologize. now
-          you could say that again
-
-
 /blah/2024-08-09.html
 
 Last night I got pretty drunk and then smoked a joint and got very high,