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Tuesday, July 29th, 2008
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5:53 pm - this is why i love /.
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You kids today don't know how good you have it. Why, back in my day, I paid ONE WHEELBARROW FULL OF GOLD, every week, for a 75 baud line that I shared with my two hundred employees, their families, and their in-laws.
Oh, and it was half duplex! Every time we were done sending and wanted to start receiving, we had to climb a ladder to the top of the building -- which was an 80 story skyscraper, mind you -- and switch the wires around. Even during a thunderstorm.
And mister, you better believe that when we finally got an MP3 downloaded, we cherished it. We didn't just cram it in an iPod Shuffle and forget about it like these hoodla do now.
-----------------------------------------
75 baud? You had it lucky. We only dreamed of 75 baud. Why, when I was a lad we had to sacrifice a family member every day for the privilege of whistling into the phone line to send while someone else jotted down the notes he heard to receive. And every night our Dad would thrash us to sleep every time we got a NO CARRIER.
-----------------------------------------
Oh yeah? Well, back in MY day we didn't HAVE 80-story skyscrapers. What WE did was climp up a ONE-story skyscraper 80 TIMES! And we didn't have half-duplex! We had one wire! One wire pigtailed to earth and in order to send a byte, you had to send 8 times using a bit shift register to move the bit that got onto the wire over one slot each time. All the other bits wound up on the floor, in your hair, everywhere! Oh did I mention that we used carrier pigeons for bits?
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(3 preachings | speak dead speaker)
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| Thursday, September 27th, 2007
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1:49 am - ugh
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...i hate this part. it's already beginning. early, this year.
it's gonna be long and cold and extra lonely.
fuck.
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(1 preaching | speak dead speaker)
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| Tuesday, June 26th, 2007
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1:31 am - shouldn't this be on tshirt hell or something?!
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| Saturday, June 23rd, 2007
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5:07 pm - when the hell did itunes get so smart?!
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i swear to you, i didn't rig it.
1. put your music player on shuffle
2. press forward for each question
3. use the song title as the answer to the question
What kind of pants you got on?
calendar
What does this year have in store for me?
o how i enjoy the light
What does your love life look like?
dancing with myself
What do I say when life gets hard?
bleed me an ocean
What do I think of when I wake up in the morning?
a song that crawls
What song will I dance to at my wedding?
malibu
What do you want as a career?
lives
Who is Tyler Durden?
jesus christ was an only child
Favorite Saying?
shaved gorilla
Favorite Place?
little earthquakes
What do you think of your parents?
evacuation code deciphered
Where is your posture?
from the see
Where would you go on a first date?
i'm talking to the women here
Drug of Choice?
trees and colors and wizards
Describe yourself...
tilapia
What is my state of mind?
pentagram
The one thing I like doing most?
dance this mess around
How will I die?
for to end yet again
The song that will be played at my funeral?
waltz of king karl
The song I'll put as the subject?
private conversations
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(1 preaching | speak dead speaker)
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| Friday, June 22nd, 2007
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6:54 pm - x post
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we're having a big lebowski party tonight at 1030.
@
4467 w 14 mile rd
royal oak, mi 48073
you're welcome to bring food/beer/hookers, but we're too poor to supply anything but the venue and movie. :)
a & c.
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(4 preachings | speak dead speaker)
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| Sunday, June 10th, 2007
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12:18 am - i rule you!
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(frylock! she said she rules us!)
Your Score: Master of Logic You scored 5 on the easy section, 10 on the medium section, and 30 on the hard section!
Congratulations! You have answered every question correctly on this test! You are a true Master of Logic!
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(speak dead speaker)
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| Tuesday, June 5th, 2007
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8:16 pm
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2:42 pm
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| That Personality Test :: Your Results | | The latest personality test from ThatSurveySite... now featuring more and better questions than ever! | | | | Emotional (21%) | [..........||||||....] | Logical (79%) | | Concerned about self (41%) | [..........||........] | Concerned about others (59%) | | Atheist (64%) | [.......|||..........] | Religious (36%) | | Loner (61%) | [........||..........] | Dependent (39%) | | Laid-back (63%) | [.......|||..........] | Driven (37%) | | Traditional (41%) | [..........||........] | Rebel (59%) | | Impetuous (42%) | [..........||........] | Organized (58%) | | Engineering mind (31%) | [..........||||......] | Artistic mind (69%) | | Cynical (32%) | [..........||||......] | Idealist (68%) | | Follower (49%) | [....................] | Leader (51%) | | Introverted (40%) | [..........||........] | Extroverted (60%) | | Conservative (51%) | [....................] | Liberal (49%) | | Logical (43%) | [..........|.........] | Romantic (57%) | | Uninterested (29%) | [..........||||......] | Sexual (71%) | | Insecure (42%) | [..........||........] | Confident (58%) | | Selective (10%) | [..........||||||||..] | Tolerant (90%) | | Pessimistic (33%) | [..........|||.......] | Optimistic (67%) | | Principled (52%) | [....................] | Pragmatic (48%) | | Tolerant (47%) | [..........|.........] | Opinionated (53%) | | Humble (50%) | [....................] | Elitist (50%) | | | | Take the test! |
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(speak dead speaker)
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| Thursday, May 17th, 2007
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1:44 am - my
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fucking dogs just got in the most awful fight. they tore each other up pretty good. nothing fatal, or hospital-worthy, but bath-worthy. it was absolutely horrifying. they didn't do anything to me, even though i was screaming and jumping and pouring water and pulling collars. and when they were done, they were oh-so-obedient, because they knew god damn well they shouldn't have been fighting.
surprisingly, buster is the most tore up. i think it's because his teeth are flat.
they are cuddling right now.
fucking dogs.
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(1 preaching | speak dead speaker)
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| Monday, March 26th, 2007
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8:23 pm - today was tremendous!
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we're almost finished painting in the kitchen, and we got brand new countertops that look absolutely fantastic, especially when compared to the lime green they used to be! also, we spent a good amount of the day out with the dogs, and i finally started training them to walk with me, and they did really well!!
now, all i have to do is write a research paper, write my final c++ program, and do four homework assignments, all by midnight, and i'll be almost home-free.
my dad is coming up this weekend to help us tear through some of the really big projects: putting walls in upstairs, reframing and trimming all the upstairs windows, putting an acrylic liner over the upstairs tub, and all kinds of other shit i've already forgotten about, and our house will be just about good to go. cris put down six pounds of grass seed yesterday, so theoretically we'll have a beautiful lawn soon, instead of the dog-spotted lawn we have now. then we just have to finish up some small projects and some landscaping, and we're good to go! my house officially went on the market today, with no showings until april 15th, which should be plenty of time.
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(speak dead speaker)
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| Sunday, March 11th, 2007
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4:56 pm
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i think i'm about to get a job. i applied to be part of the best buy geek squad.
i know, i know.
but i did. and they called me today. and i have an interview with them on wednesday at two pm. hopefully, i WILL get the job, because i'm one hundred percent flat-ass mother-fucking BROKE and we're behind on EVERYTHING.
if my old job ever does come back, I'll just work for them again, because they pay me more, and i have quite a bit of autonomy there.
my favorite job so far has been working the evening shift of phone tech support for provide.net. we rarely got calls, and had a big screen tv with cable and a dvd player. and we could play games. it was pretty bad ass. unfortunately, they only pay $8/hr, or i'd be directly back there. :)
eNOUGH.
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(speak dead speaker)
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| Wednesday, February 28th, 2007
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10:35 pm
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| Wednesday, February 21st, 2007
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11:35 pm
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| Tuesday, February 20th, 2007
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1:36 am
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| Saturday, February 17th, 2007
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11:34 pm
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i bitched and bitched and bitched about having to take this awful math class. the first week, we're studying fractions and decimals.
YEAH. I'M NOT KIDDING.
so i went ahead and did the homework.... and i only got 8 out of ten points, because i did the problem above the one i was supposed to. twice.
why am i so stupid?
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(speak dead speaker)
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4:42 am - in the meantime
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Blinking washes the blood away, I know. But I’ve blinked so many times, and I know the blood will seep over my irises again.
I wipe my sickly-wet brow with the back of my hand and climb from the floor onto my feet.
He’s gone, now. Out for cigarettes and whiskey. But he’ll be back. The blood will never stop.
I waver on my feet for a moment, wondering if I have to go to an emergency room. I’d rather not. It’s so much easier when you don’t have to fabricate excuses. It’s especially hard once you’ve lost too much blood. And it doesn’t matter what you say. They still look at you like they know the truth. Like they’re deciding whether they should involve the police, or if they should just keep profiting off of your continually bizarre “accidents.” Since I’m not usually near death, money always wins that argument.
I look around, remembering where I am. The curtains are drawn, leaving the atmosphere that of a hole-in-the-wall bar. Motel rooms are never well-lit. They want to hide the depravity lurking in every shadow. If they keep it dark enough, you might not notice the tiny bloods stains left on the dark carpeting. But the beds are always crusty, and you’ll always know the wretched state of yourself when you’re in one.
I heave a sigh from my tar-crippled lungs and pull a cigarette from the now-misshapen pack in my pocket. The denim is rough on my tender knuckles. It’s enough to make me wince, but not enough to dissuade me from shoving the pack back into my pocket, crushing it just a little more.
He has the only lighter. It’s the kind of thing a smoker never remembers until they’ve already got the filter in their lips, dangling from one side like an appendage. My shoulders slump slightly. I am defeated once again. My failure leaves me too lazy to put my cigarette back in its pack, and I decide to let it hang from my lips until either he gets back, or the world bursts into spontaneous flames.
Maybe I should clean up. Check-out’s in two short hours, and there’s a lot to clean. My eyes are on the clock, and I’m deciding whether or not I care. I don’t, though. I never do. I’ve been sober for hours, and everything hurts.
I blink the blood away again, suddenly remembering it. I trudge to the mirror to decide what needs to be done. There’s a cut on my forehead. It wouldn’t be so bad if it were carved with a knife, but it’s from the twist-off cap of a beer bottle, and the flesh is jagged and torn. I can’t see the skull, I don’t think. I’ve had far worse injuries. If I had some glue, I could glue the edges back together, but I don’t. All I have is duct tape. It’ll work, for now.
He comes through the door with a brown paper bag, and I can see him behind me in the mirror. Who’d ever think? He looks like any average guy: brown suede jacket over a white t-shirt, faded blue jeans, and the kind of brown slip-on shoes you only find on the feet of middle-aged, middle-class men who live in the suburbs in homes they can’t quite afford. His shape is that of a man who obsessively watches what he eats, and goes for the occasional jog. He’s trim, and without the overbearing muscular structure of a steroid-freak. His hair is short, the average length, and a soft light-brown. His eyes are really the captivating part of his image, though. They’re big, like a puppy’s, and a hard brown. They complement his adorable face perfectly.
He’s not adorable now, though. His eyes are wide, and his mouth is hanging slightly open. He is looking at me in the mirror, with the brown paper bag under one arm. He’s watching me tape my forehead back together and wash the blood away with finality and a white complimentary towel.
“Good Lord,” he says. “Are you alright? Do you need stitches?”
He is genuinely concerned, and I smile at his reflection in the mirror. I can’t help but notice that he is unscathed from our struggle.
“I’m alright,” I say, going back to my forehead. “I’m just cut.” I run my fingers over the tape so I can feel the wound underneath. It’s sore, but it’s not life-threatening. It’s acceptable. “It just needs to be held together for a couple of days,” I tell him. “It may scar, but that’s fine. You’ll love me anyways.”
My eyes flick back to his reflection, and he grins. “Yeah,” he says. “I sure will.”
I stop for a moment, before turning around, to see if I need to change my clothes. Surprisingly, I don’t. My black tank-top is still in tip-top shape, showing off just enough of my cleavage to still be considered sexy. Another half-inch, though, and it’d cross the line into sleaze. And jeans are just jeans. Nothing’s ever wrong with jeans.
I turn around and look him in the eye, leaning back on the counter. He’s closing the door behind him now, and turning to survey the room. He raises his upper lip, but only the left side, into the perfect Billy-Idol-Grimace.
“It’s trashed,” he says, and I nod my head in agreement. He returns his lip to its rightful position, still observing the disarray. His eyes rest on mine. “I don’t want to clean,” he continues. “Maybe we could burn it down.”
I shrug. The risks are minimal, as we had purchased the room with someone else’s credit card and ID. Whoever Loretta Henley was, she could’ve been my twin. This is a perfectly plausible plan, and a fantastic alternative.
“Before we do that,” I start, lowering my eyelids and sliding my lips into a coy smile, “we ought to make better use of this bed.”
I stop for a moment, going over that sentence in my head again. I don’t know why I said “better use”. I look at the bed in question. The blankets are balled up on the floor, and speckled with blood. The sheets on the bed are anything but unused.
My eyes reconnect with his, and suddenly, we’re seeing the same thing in our brains. Naked flesh, glistening with sweat. Bodies interlocking in hard and passionate ways. Closed eyes and gaping mouths. Barely understandable whispers, forced through our quivering lips.
His eyes are on the bed. Our pornographic mind-link is broken. His eyes travel to the right, to the corner, under the sink, next to me.
“God,” he says, with slightly over-exaggerated exasperation. “She was a fighter, eh?”
My eyes meander to the same spot where his are resting, and then traverse the nude form slumped there. God, she was gorgeous. I can’t see her face, and I can’t quite remember it. My brain has pixilated it. Blacked it directly out, and forgotten it forever. She couldn’t have been more than twenty-three, but I can’t quite remember that, either. Her blond hair hangs just past her perfect nipples, and the curve of her body leads my eyes across the pristinely shaved spot where hair should’ve grown to her smooth, lightly tanned calves.
“Yeah,” I finally respond. “She certainly was. Dumb as hell, though. Dumb. As. Hell.” I hesitate, thinking about our earlier excursions. “She tasted sweet,” I inform him. “Straight off the vine. She tasted young, and fresh.” My eyes move to the cavernous gash I had put in her throat. I can see her spine, I think. The blood is still draining, much more slowly, now. Dripping down those beautiful breasts and joining the coagulating pool on the floor.
Ugh, that mess. I’m trying to remember, now, if we decided to start a fire, or if we really are going to have to clean. My eyes squint painfully at the mere thought of cleaning. “Please,” I say in a low, hollow tone. “Give me that whiskey.”
He pulls it from the bag already capless. He takes a few desperate gulps before turning it over. I pull the unlit cigarette from my lips with one hand, and press the bottle to my lips with the other. I tilt my head so the bottle is upside-down.
When I’m done, I remind him of our options. “Alright,” I say definitively. “It’s either raunchy sex and arson, or cleaning.”
He tilts his head to the right and slightly down. From under his brow, his eyes are saying come on. “Obviously,” he starts, in a jocular tone, “it’s raunchy sex and arson.” He lifts his head, grinning. “Put that bottle down and take off your clothes.”
I grin and set the bottle on the nightstand.
We’ve never been the type of people to choose the path of responsibility. We’re enthusiastic fans of hedonism and sociopathy. I briefly wonder if it ever shows.
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(speak dead speaker)
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| Saturday, February 10th, 2007
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11:43 pm
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| Saturday, February 3rd, 2007
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11:39 pm
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My slobbering gut speaks to me in the tone of a thirty-year drunk. "Whajaya thank yer do-an?" It demands.
I lower my eyes and whisper softly, "I'm using our brain. It knows the ins and outs of things. The ups and downs. It knows the science, and the physics of things."
Its bloated purple tongue lulls to one side, processing my response. Slowly, it speaks again: "Furk ewe," it spits. "En furk are brayn. It schdoesn't no. I no how it freels. Howe irt FEELS."
My eyes wander sideways. "But shouldn't I use logic to think about things?" I ask, not breaking my soft whisper.
It smacks its bruise-colored lips, and slides its tongue along them, formulating its next phrase. "Lerk," it starts. "Ewe ken youse all the lergic ewe warna. But in the ernd, wert mathers moast is har ewe FEEL. Schremember?"
My tie-tack brain speaks to me in the tone of a white-collar executive. "What, EXACTLY, do you think you're doing?" It asks.
My back straightens a bit, and I whisper softly, "I'm using our gut. It knows the feelings of things. The softs and hards. It knows how I'll feel at the end of everything."
It turns on its point, which is as sharp as a razor split in half lengthwise. "It doesn't MATTER," it scolds, "how you'll FEEL. What MATTERS," it continues, "is that you make the most logical decision possible. I've worked through all possible events to their outcomes, and I know the quickest way to achieve the most desirable results."
My neck bends slightly. "But," I whisper quizzically, "will the most logical events and desirable results bring me joy or sorrow? Will they leave me apathetic?"
It stops its slow and purposeful spin, and stands erect. "Look," it condescends. "It doesn't matter. You can feel your way towards an outcome all you like. But in the end, won't it be more worthwhile to have been the best, and gotten to the best goal?"
I sit back for a moment, staring blankly into space. I whisper-wonder: "Softs or ins? Outs or hards? Happiness, or success?"
My slobbering gut and tie-tack brain speak to me in the combined tones of a thirty-year drunk and a white-collar executive. The harmony and unison of the two are the tone of a gentle and wise voice, carried on a warm summer breeze. "What are you doing?" It asks.
I bring my eyes back to eye-level, staring in joy and amazement at nothing ahead of me. I whisper not-so-softly, "I'm trying to decide between the two of you. Who is right? Who is wrong? How will I ever know?"
I feel my body relax, all the muscles suddenly at peace with each other. "You must use your brain to think logically." It says. "Without logic or reasoning, you are sure to fall into hedonism. But you must use your gut to feel. Without feelings, you will become an organic robot, uncaring and cold. Without both, you are incapable of original thought."
I squint my eyes a bit. "Am I?" I ask, my whisper almost breaking into a normal tone.
"Yes," it responds. "You need both for a worthwhile existence."
My eyes open, and my lips curl into the faintest of smiles. In the tone of a calm and happy child, I speak: "Thank you."
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(3 preachings | speak dead speaker)
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| Tuesday, January 23rd, 2007
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1:54 am - i
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just wrote a haiku. it goes like this:
hey, you fuckin' prick.
yeah, you. you're a fucking prick.
you stupid-ass prick.
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(5 preachings | speak dead speaker)
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| Saturday, December 23rd, 2006
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11:38 pm
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i always think that resolutions are such empty, bullshit promises to oneself.
nonetheless, i have made one. and if i don't keep it, i will fucking kill myself for being a useless sack of flesh.
a!
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(4 preachings | speak dead speaker)
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| Wednesday, December 6th, 2006
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4:01 am - argh
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i suck.
i have to write this bloody essay. an ethical evaluation. it must bedone ideally two weeks ago, preferably by tonight, or just by tomorrow. i have started writing it so many times. i'm just not pissed off about anything simple enough to write a three page paper on. i either give a shit, and need more than maximum room, time, or research i'm willing to do, or i just don't really care, and i could do it in a paragraph, but no more.
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
i won't fail if i don't write this paper, but it could mean the difference between a b and a d. this teacher's kind of a hardass, too.
i have been staring at the walls for literally HOURS and i just can't come up with anything compelling enough to write about.
eff this!
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(1 preaching | speak dead speaker)
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| Sunday, November 26th, 2006
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8:26 pm
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PAULA. G.
is my hero.
if all of zachs should burn to the ground, my only hope is that paula g makes it out alive.
this is not sarcasm.
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(5 preachings | speak dead speaker)
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| Thursday, November 23rd, 2006
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3:25 pm - thanksgiving
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i am making food for anyone who doesn't have plans. if you need directions, call me at: 734 748 7221.
i've already started, and let me tell you, it's smelling fantastical. this is the only day of the year i can cook. any other day i try, i fuck it all up. any other day i can't even make cupcakes out of a box.
so anyways, even if we don't know each other very well, if you have nothing to do, this food's got your name on it.
EAT IT!
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(speak dead speaker)
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| Wednesday, November 22nd, 2006
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11:44 pm
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| Monday, November 20th, 2006
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5:13 pm
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| Monday, November 13th, 2006
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6:28 pm
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i have to spend the night downstate tonight for an appointment early in the a.m. therefore, starting at either 9 or 930, i will be sitting at dennys. if you want to hang out, call me at 734 748 7221, because i have nothing to do.
a
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(1 preaching | speak dead speaker)
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| Tuesday, November 7th, 2006
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9:43 pm
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on the upside, i have time to do whatever the fuck i want, but not anything that costs money. so, i'm going to take this opportunity to quit smoking and start working out again. ...soon.
but if anyone wants to "chill," i'm free monday-sunday from 12:00AM to 11:59PM.
a
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(1 preaching | speak dead speaker)
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3:05 pm - so
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i just (JUST) realized that i don't have a fucking job for i don't know how long. neither does cris. this fucking sucks, and i'm pretty upset about it. i don't think unemployment will cover our bills.
FUCK
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(4 preachings | speak dead speaker)
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| Monday, October 2nd, 2006
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12:01 am
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| Thursday, September 21st, 2006
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11:41 am - before
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before i knew him as a rapist, i knew him as the secretary of the law firm down the street. we hung out too often, drinking guiness and vodka and watching russian films. we chatted, often, and he told me about how the law works.
he told me, one night, how the law felt about rape. what was considered a rape that no one really thought of as that, compared to how it used to be in the days of yore. i thought it an odd discussion, but i knew he was a strange boy.
the law firm fired him, in the end.
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(4 preachings | speak dead speaker)
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| Sunday, September 17th, 2006
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7:38 pm
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i was considering doing a postsecret card, because i think it would be fun, but i realized: i don't have any secrets. i can't think of ANY. perhaps this means that i am too open in general. or perhaps this means that not everyone has deep dark secrets.
man, i wish i had one, though. maybe i'll begin murdering people while explaining my musical tastes. or perhaps i'll begin kidnapping the handicap only to feed them cocaine and return them to their families.
we'll see.
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(4 preachings | speak dead speaker)
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| Saturday, August 26th, 2006
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10:51 pm
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| Monday, August 14th, 2006
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12:33 pm - beyond alone; spiritless and out of context
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my feelings are hurt. what an entirely lame and pathetic state of existence for me.
this week has been strange, without a doubt. through my own insanity i almost lost the most important thing to me in the world, of my own volition. lucky for me, i can still think straight some of the time, and spent last night jotting down my internal monologue and realizing what a useless asshole i am as a person. i am selfish and uncaring. this ends now. it is important for my existence. i have also been obsessing about drinking and have smoked a couple of cigarettes. as you know, these are not a worthwhile activity for me. i will need to stop entertaining these thoughts for any amount of time, and start reading the book again.
i feel like i am slowly suffocating up here. fate waves that stupid red flag of escape from time to time, and we charge full force ahead, excited and joyous, only to have it pulled away at the last second, leaving us stunned, feeling hopelessly trapped. what can be done?
i have yet to figure that out, but i suspect that if i dont figure it out soon, i will end up rejecting this entire life (growing pains, as cris said) to live in a shitty apartment with a shitty job in a place where i can feel happy again.
good lord.
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(1 preaching | speak dead speaker)
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| Monday, August 7th, 2006
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5:05 am - with my
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awesome wireless router and new lifedrive, i am in my room on livejournal. so cool! i thought it was frivolous (ok,maybe it is), but i use this thing all the time. i lerve it!
current mood: whee!
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(1 preaching | speak dead speaker)
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| Sunday, August 6th, 2006
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12:16 pm
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sometimes i like what i always thought they were saying better than what they're actually saying.
stupid misleading ears.
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(1 preaching | speak dead speaker)
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5:32 am - !
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| Sunday, July 30th, 2006
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11:32 pm - rape me once, shame on you. rape me twice, shame on me.
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| Saturday, July 29th, 2006
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1:59 pm
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my work out schedule keeps me from being home often, as i am an addict with everything i do. cris hung the bag up, though, so i can kick that around for a bit.
i am going to join tae kwon do and kick all of your butts. the lady at aerobic kickboxing said i have good roundhouse kicks. shizam!
also, i got two copies of elder scrolls: oblvion (those who pay attention will remember that my dogs ruined the first one), and the broken one i took back on the warranty. so i gave aaron at work the one, and instead of paying me, he gave me this. frickin awesome.
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(speak dead speaker)
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| Tuesday, July 25th, 2006
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8:05 am - culmination
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my favorites (except for the pixies) will be touring through an area near me SOON! Before november, I get to see Deadboy and the Elephantmen, katatonia, opeth, and will oldham! woohoo!!
also, for some reason, every time i press the shift key, my pictures opens. that's not a good sign.
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(3 preachings | speak dead speaker)
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| Sunday, July 16th, 2006
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2:19 pm
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i dont know if i mentioned this before, but the black heart procession is gonna be at the magic stick 8/5/06 if anyon'es interested in joining me.
also, bonny 'prince' billy will be playing at stormy records in detroit on 8/18/06, which is a friday, is anyone is interested, or knows who that is.
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(speak dead speaker)
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sita12691's journal
