4.30.2006

A Faulknerian Analysis: Part 2 of 10

In short, you often make me consider murder as viable means for human interaction, your every act and word an impractical path to selfish ends, never for a moment pondering the implications of your actions, often wondering why we don't understand, sympathize with or promote your irrationality, but, for reasons still under intrapersonal debate, I choose to associate with you--often wondering if your definition of "friend" is at all similar to my definition of "whore"--captivated, I suppose, by your expression of self, motivated to never act in a similar manner and endlessly amazed by your sense of timing and wit.

4.29.2006

After some thought, I decided to change this "mini-series" into something more interesting and unique. In very typical "me" fashion, I will change the series to A Faulknerian Analysis: Part X of 10. My previous words stand, and I edited the previous post to say "Part 1 of 1." That person gets their own special representation. Yeah for them. (Please note my use of plural pronouns in reference to a singular. It's the wave of the future. Hop on.) Continuing my tributes:

A Faulknerian Analysis: Part 1 of 10

Our conversations barely reach a level of absurdity saved for prepubescent adolescents discussing physics, your reluctance to share a clear sign that you don't trust me, but you, of everyone I've met, have taught me more about life, functioning, the importance of honesty and self-realization that I don't know how or if I could ever thank you, a part of me still afraid of knowing you--afraid of the implications of being your friend, afraid of the choices I have to make every time I see/talk to you--ever vigilant and careful in my thoughts and reactions, wanting to have a normal interaction, knowing it will never be possible--normal having such an interesting connotation on such a personal level--knowing that I can't have a successful friendship with everyone if I want to have even a basic friendship with anyone: you are a representation of everything I do not understand, and that's why I find you fascinating.

4.28.2006

As inspired by elphaba09, I want to talk about several people that've made a huge impact on my life, tell them things I can't to their face and so on. Of course, once I found out this was a "popular" "game," I immediately had to change the idea. So, I'll write about one person now, the others later and no one gets to guess. Well, I suppose you can guess, but I'm not going to tell you. Ever. You'll have to deal. If they're obvious, I suppose you'll have to deal with that as well.

So, I present, in no particular order:

To Whom it May Concern: Open Letters Part 1 of 1

Never would I have imagined a friend as openly male as you.

In high school, I opposed the idea of masculinity, or at least what I perceived as forced masculinity, as a rational manner of behavior. You have proven me wrong. Not only is your behavior rational, it's admirable.

Despite your impermeable projection of emotional infallibility, emotion and caring seep through your actions and speech, engaging my attention, respect, admiration. The fact that I know you on a surface level in terms of personal depth doesn't stop me from sharing the stereotypical "guy" banter, ever aware of your responses, mentally taking note of any would-be advice.

Your talents, aspirations permeate your empirical being, casting a brilliance on anyone lucky enough to find themselves in your vicinity, casting a shadow on the fringe sitters. It doesn't matter. Anyone who chooses to know you is well aware of the false security in shadows, fully aware that your genuine attitude makes the day a little more tolerable.

I plan to know you on a deeper level, a level of greater understanding and attainability; I anxiously anticipate the opportunity.

4.27.2006

Do I really not care about everyone's perception of the visible "me?" Certainly, the "me" they witness, experience is not the entirety of my being, but more certainly, they are allowed to judge my entire being based on their purely empirical experiences (since all experience is empirical, in my opinion, I'll clarify by saying that I'm referring to their experience of "me" on an impersonal basis, a process outside of "getting to know" "me"). What else would "they" have?

I genuinely care about the well being of others, particularly those in the categories friend, family or brother. It's hard to live a life based on a belief everyone thinks is evil. Shouldn't I make me happy? Shouldn't what I believe make me happy?

-----

Whatever that was, I miss it. I didn't expect my irrationality to return, but I suppose I should have. Life lessons aren't learned by trial and error; they're learned by trial, error, trial, error, trial, error, trial, error, trial and error. I wish for nothing more than perfection, want nothing less than nothing.

4.26.2006

Everyone's a philosopher. Even you apathetic folk with your anti-political, "down with truth" attitude.

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I go through very random stages of being, one moment able to communicate, entertain and generally teach. Seconds, minutes, hours, years later I find a line, deliberately cross it knowing the consequences and suddenly my ability to communicate is ctrl-"x"ed. No one is listening, amused or learning.

So be it.

I plan to continue as such indefinitely. This is my last warning. You can leave now with no hard feelings, regrets, etc. Leaving later might cause minor blunt trauma to the head.

It is so.

4.25.2006

a friend: Not gonna' lie, when the guy at Taco Bell asked me if I wanted them "hard or soft," I got a little excited.

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No.

4.20.2006

Lately, I've been drinking the confused coconut milk, if you know what I mean. You probably don't. Ask him. Anyway, my confusion isn't even about you! Isn't that exciting? (Ok, probably not to you or you, but it excites me.)

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Academic: Breaking/Breathing - I'm finally caught up in a lot of classes. But alas. Just as I catch up: writing theory shoots me in the face, at point blank range, with a magnum of the 357 variety. JMS proposal? What's that?

Social: Breaking(?) - Established friendships are getting back on track, and new ones are finally beginning to develop, but I'm also burning a lot of bridges as of late. My problem is I often find myself standing on them as I pour the gasoline and light the match. Most of the "burnings" are healthy for me even though its hard to see right now. The rest are essential. Please see.

Personal: Breathing? - Analysis of difficult situations, even when they're depressing or, admittedly, hurtful, gives me a better understanding of the greater entity in which I live. In one day, I was threatened, complimented, been told I can "suck" someone's ... (use your imagination), smiled at, loved, detested, revered, told I was a genius, laughed at, laughed with, an accomplice to a smile, an accomplice to character assassination and propositioned by a man (jokingly, of course). How does one judge that day? Additionally, I'm confused. Read above.

4.17.2006

I don't really hate men. I hate the concept of man. Then again, I don't really hate the concept of man. I hate the stereotypical concept of men. Yes, that will do.

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That seems reasonable, right?
a short adaptation by Daniel T. Richards

"I'm in deep shit," he said, looking more nauseous than worried. He gazed straight at the bar, took a slow drag from his half spent cigarette. A solitary bead of sweat escaped his face, falling with near comical perfection into his line of sight.

With every intention of being cliche, I warned, "Those things will kill ya, ya know?" I immediately regretted it.

Without movement, eyes transfixed on the sweat--now, egged on by gravity, trying desperately to reach salvation on the floor--he nearly mumbled, "I'd probably be better off. At least I wouldn't have to make my decision."

"For God's sake, just tell me." My begging wouldn't do any good, but I persisted. "It can't be that bad. I'll help you if I can."

Silence. A country song of no particular importance invaded my consciousness and decided to make its home in my cochlea. The bead of sweat found salvation at last. Silence.

My impatience eventually persuaded me to leave, but just as I grabbed my coat, he broke, more like shattered, the stillness:

"I've been screwin' around with three women." He lit another cigarette with the remaining stub of his first. "They all want to marry me. What the fuck am I supposed to do about that?"

I suppose it was that bad. How can I help him? What am I supposed to say? I can't even breathe. I wanted to know, had to know his most personal problems, and now I have nothing to say. When he needed my help, I could only sit, blankly staring at the man I've looked up to since grade school, and wheeze. Blood, DNA, ancestry--in which we have no choice--mean nothing; he was my brother, and I hated him. I pitied him. I envied him.

"Bitches, that's what they are. How the hell am I supposed to decide?"

"Which one do you love?" Trite.

"Every one of 'em at least three times a week." He grinned, half amused but completely satisfied with himself. "Love ... fuck it. You can't define it; don't ask me to."

I let him words stand unchallenged. Would someone please change the radio station? He looked more perplexed than nauseous.

"I did come up with somethin' a while back. Somethin' to see if they wanted me for my money." Thankfully, he was out of cigarettes. James Dean he was not.

"I gave 'em each $1000 and told 'em to do whatever the fuck they wanted with it. I figured 'What the heck; I'm loaded.' I asked 'em what they did with the money a month later."

"And?" The excitement in my voice made me sound young, gay or a combination of the two. He laughed at me, fully expecting such an outburst. I couldn't contain myself when he told stories; they were awful, dry and often resulted in a premature climax, certainly a euphemism for his life, but they fascinated me like a bad wreck on the interstate.

"Sarah, the bitch, spend the entire grand on clothes. Who the fuck needs sixteen purses? Jackie was no better. She spent half on clothes and put the other half in the bank. I don't need no indecisive wench."

"What about ..."

"Ellen? Put the whole thing in the bank. Saved it." He was finally loosening up, enough so to ask the guy next to us for a smoke.

"That seems reasonable, right?"

Dropping the cigarette and hastily standing, he yelled, "Hell no that's not reasonable! Do I want some stuck up bitch who doesn't know how to have a good time? What the fuck is she saving for, a rainy fucking day?" His quick change in demeanor and flailing arms caused the bartender to look disapprovingly in our direction. I couldn't help but smile. Payback for the damned music.

"So, what are you gone do?" I asked again. Ad nauseum was my nickname in high school.

He sat back down, defeated. The bartender poured him a shot, on the house. ("You look like you need it," he said.) After a series of uncomfortable looking faces--apparently the shot was stronger than his will--he looked me directly in the eye, and with all the honesty this broken, bigot could muster, he simply said:

"Eh ... fuck it. I'll probably marry Sarah. She's the one with the biggest breasts."

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If you didn't get it:

A man is dating three women and wants to get married. He has to decide which one to ask. He gives them each $1,000. The first one spends $800 on clothes and puts $200 in the bank. The second one spends $200 on clothes and puts $800 in the bank. The third one puts the whole $1000 in the bank. Which one does he marry?

The one with the big breasts.

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My version is more English-major-esque.

4.15.2006

In question: The last 48 hours

How are you? How's college? Are you dating anyone? Why not? I know you're not, but are you gay? Why don't you marry someone around here? How about her? Is she too tall? What ever happened to that girl who lived down the street from you? What about ... ? Why do you get so defensive? Do you like her? Why can’t I remember her name…? Will you get the phone? Please ... will you bring me my medicine? I haven't had dinner, so I'm not driving to Kankakee; will you do it? Do you want me to come with? How far is it? What's bothering you? Do you want to talk about it? Are you mad that you have to bring your grandmother's medicine? Who's responsibility is it then? Hasn't your grandfather done enough already? Don't those clouds look ominous? The rain is bad; are you going to pull over? Do you think we'll get a tornado? Are you watching out for the guys in front of you? How far is it now? Do you think we should pull under this overpass? Are you just being brave for me? Aren't you scared? Shouldn't you turn right here? Are you sure this is the hospital? Is this the entrance? Do you know what room she's in? Should we ask? What way did she say? Is this the right way? Did the doctor say she could have these? Did you bring the medicine? Where's your grandfather, out getting drunk? How was the ride here? Do you hate me? Are you sure this is the way we came in? Where did you park the car? Can we stop for coffee? Is it safe to stop here? Do you want anything? Will you put on 780 AM. Is this the exit for Thawville? Shouldn't you turn right here? Are you still upset that you had to go? Are you going to bed now? What time are you getting up tomorrow? ... Are you playing against real people? How much do you play for? Win anything? Want some Oreos? What do I do with your grandmother? … Are you getting up any time soon? ... Have you been up to the town sale yet? Did you go to any garage sales yesterday? Plan on buyin' anything at the auction? Sir, do you need a buyer number? Danny, will you get me a hamburger or somethin'? Do I hear six now seven ... seven now eight and eight now nine ...? What can we get you? How much did this cost? Isn't that outrageous? Do you want a quick job, sir? Will you find buyer number 613 and stable this paper to his ticket? How are you? How's college? Dating anyone? Did you find the number? Want another job? Oh, how your grandma? Is she still in the hospital? Are you gonna work the sale next year? Tell your grandma we’re thinking about her, will ya? Have you been home yet? Did you find out what your grandmother wanted? When did she get home? … Where’s your grandfather, the bastard? Do you think he could come sit with me? Where’s my medicine? Will you get me some potato salad? Are you sure I dropped it? Did I break the potato salad? Do you think I’m crazy? Will you get me a cold Coke? Where’s my medicine? … See anything good up there? Is your mother still working up town? What do you want for dinner? Wouldn’t you rather have a pot roast than pizza? Don’t you eat pizza all the time at college? What vegetable do you want with the roast? Does your mother have any green beans? … Honey, is something bothering you? Why do you look depressed all the time? Would you even tell me if there was something wrong? When did they put you on the website? When did they take the picture? You know I’m very proud of you, right? Does your aunt want any other vegetable? Is that ---- across the street? Are you gonna say hi? … How the heck are ya? Where have you been? When was the last time we played poker, last summer? Do you play often at school? How’s college? Dating anyone? Are you gonna set up games this summer? How’s your grandmother? … Are you gonna eat? How were we supposed to know when you were coming back? Will you make sure your grandmother repays the neighbor for the green beans? Is that all you’re gonna eat? Do you want ketchup? What do you think about all the illegals? What are we gonna do with ‘em? Do you think Bush should be impeached? Why not? Are you happy with the job he’s doing? Didn’t you vote for him? Don’t you go to church as school? Don’t your friends? Do they try to bring you along? What will you do if you fall in love with a girl who wants to get married in a church? What if she wants to baptize your children? Shouldn’t everything you do glorify God? Aren’t you grateful for everything he’s given you? Then who made the trees and the flowers and the sky? Would you vote for Hillary? Who would you vote for? Isn’t a liberal between a Republican and a Democrat? What exactly do you value? So, you’re selfish? What have we solved by arguing? Aren’t there still problems? What are you solutions? Then who’s job is it to solve the world’s problems? Do you want a Coke? … Which headlight is out? Do you need an oil change? Do you care if they approve of the way you live your life? Does it matter what they think? Pull the van around the back, will ya? Do you want to clean it out while you’re here? Who’s coming? Is it Ted? Where are you living this summer? Are you living there next year? Who are you living with? How did two girls end up in the house? Isn’t it strange to be living with two girls? Do you people run around naked? Where did Ted go? To hell with what he thinks, eh? Are you certain it’s what you want to do? Are you happy? Then what the fuck does his opinion matter? Are you going in the house? … Will we see you in the morning? What time are you getting up? Are you to church? It’s Easter, why not? Oh, Danny, does college do this to everyone? … Will you get me a cold Coke? … What are you working on? Free Financial what? Is your computer still holding up? Why is it so dusty? Do you want breakfast in the morning? What do you want? … Will you get me a pretzel? Where’s your grandfather? … What? … Are you still working on homework? When is it due? You know I love ya, right? Do you need anything? Are you leaving tomorrow or Monday? … Do you want to save the changes you made to this document? … Have you forgotten your password? Post? Sign out? … Will you get me a cold Coke?

4.14.2006

Read this article titled "The Friend Zone" and read my response below. It is imperative that you read the article; otherwise, my brilliance (B.S.) might baffle you.

Mr. Ellicott begins with a quote by Shakespeare. As "pretty" and "eloquent" as Shakespeare seems, he knew this much about women: he preferred penis.

Anyway, the point Ellicott is trying to make is that seemingly wonderful guys are being shafted (and not in the "good" way) by inappreciative women. Men enter what Ellicott calls "The Friend Zone" when they are very close to woman mentally--and perhaps spiritually--so that said woman, when asked about her "relationship" with said man, refuses to elevate their relationship beyond friend because they're "just too good of friends."

Ellicott contends that these "good friends" are the ultimate mates. Instead, women choose men who abuse them in every possible way, content in their seemingly perfect friendship with a would-be soul mate.

Bullshit, Mr. Ellicott. Bullshit by the pound.
It is the very same area in which a male has invested serious quality time, understanding, and conscientiousness towards a girl in hopes of something meaningful.

What does he mean by something meaningful? A life-long, loving relationship in which both partners are equally satisfied with the other? Lies. If a male is really looking for something meaningful then why does he care if he earns rejection? Isn't the perfect mate someone who reciprocates?
Of course, it has only amounted to wasted time, effort, and no doubt, wasted cash. Even worse, however, this is the same area that dooms a man to a life of searching, hoping, waiting, self-doubt, and inevitably, the construction of a porn library, complete with the wasted time and empty feelings that excessive masturbation brings.

Oh, now Ellicott's point is clear. Why would men build a porn collection if they can't have a "meaningful" relationship? Oh, because by "meaningful" he means sexual. Men waste "time, effort, and no doubt, cash" so they can have an alternative for masturbation. Bravo, Mr. Ellicott. You're essay has proven the "all men are jerks" theory true beyond a reasonable doubt.

If a man truly cares about a woman, even if there is no reciprocation, then he should want something in return but expect nothing. How can someone say they truly, with utmost sincerity, care about someone, love them even, and expect something in return?

Are the "guys in the friend zone" any better than the "abusive guys" women date? No. Ellicott proves that the "nice guy" facade is just another attempt to get in a girl's pants. Here's an idea: try being genuine. Novel, eh? Don't stick your life goal in your trousers, and perhaps, just perhaps, you'll A) reconsider the "atrocity" that is the friend zone and B) relocate some day.

I hate men.

4.12.2006

Duplicitious thoughts? Or doublethink? An interesting contrast.

Unrelated: When females tell me they're not mad at me, I assume they are (twice in two days). When males tell me they're not mad at me, I assume they are not (once in two days). I preach honesty, truth as virtues. I can't even be honest with myself.