i hope it's a nice kitty

god my jaw is killing me from chewing this goddamned oatmeal granola bar. it's like chewing on iron ore.

i'm having thoughts about voldemort because i saw a picture of that dumbfucking andrew w.k. -- they could be identical twins, hair and ugly faced twins. the thoughts i was having amounted to: he simply used me to practice or train for convincing a girl who doesn't like him, to change her mind. he's a bad dude and knows it, and is trying to get a girl he likes but she sees through all his bs. i was a convenient training session for a guy who's such a narcissist that he's deluded enough to believe he deserves the best women, even though he's such a blatantly terrible person.

when he introduced himself to me, my intuition instantly put up warning signs around me. why did this guy like me so quickly? was i missing something, was i supposed to reciprocate? he made me feel so special over things i didn't know could be sentimental. he jacked up my confidence to gain my favor, and it worked. but i certainly pushed the boundaries and pushed him to a significant challenge. he didn't see it coming because he was too busy gazing in the mirror, or writing himself emails like "sub: i love you  text: miss you kiss kiss." i mean, does he write those because he just wants the satisfaction of seeing that praise.

he just wants the praise. that's all he wants. he's here for our applause. god, he's such a dirtbag. there's not a sincere thing about him. that's what's so fucking traumatizing about the whole thing -- i, the 'really rather intelligent' girl, got conned by the oiliest slick of the bunch. i got duped by the shell guy.

i was thinking about voldemort because i was outside smoking, thinking of the current drama in my life. heavy hitting drama, for you know, people under 30. and as i posed the question 'what is going on with this situation?' the universal response was 'this is a big test. you remember voldemort? that was a big test. how you play this one counts for lots of chips.' this is a situation where i may not be a rookie, this is where i have to feel confident and solid. i listen to her and i can hear everything she's not saying. this could be a potential end of the road for this situation. have i already made my decision? yes. now i'll wait for the response offer, and see how much each side wants to tangle on from there. in a way, she really is the enemy, but what kind of life do i want to live? bickering it out with her, or ending that energy and use my abilities to do good things with good people? just because you can't get along with some people doesn't mean you can't get along with anyone.

you need to put your energy where you feel the best, you can't spend your life putting your energy into the things that harm you. so cliche and so true. neither can i.

wow, i'm having a hilarious delusion: i'm having a vision that i'm with c, and he's left his girlfriend for me. we're together and everything is great, but a particular aspect of this girl will always be a sore spot for me. in my vision, i'm telling him that this characteristic bothers me, and am so manipulative that i say 'it would be like me telling you what my secret fetish is that you could never fulfill.' catty!

the funnier delusion is that c and i decide to spend our lives together. we go on some trip and decide to adopt fraternal boy and girl twins from some other country. i'm in my 40's and yet i feel like some proud 23 year old mother who is so relieved that she's met her ultimate life destiny. could happen. i could be 40-something and a parent. facebook would no longer exist, so no one could prove i made a big stink about how stupid and annoying children are when i was in my 20's. i can say, 'i mean, that was 20 years ago!' whatever. the world will be so different then, we just won't be able to recognize what happens and how fast it happens.

i'm really quite stoned. i pigged out on non-fat raspberry yogurt.

mmm, just saw something out of the corner of my eye, it looks like the tail of a black cat swishing around. i looked down, and it's just the strap of my backpack. i thought hello to the kitty, and then thought of the title for this post:

ah, the beginning of humanity, in the nile river valley in egypt, that was a beautiful time. i just took a long swing of water, and it tasted so good as though it were the first taste of water ever experienced by a person.

eye drops.

the water. when i drank, i could picture a man in that valley where humankind spouted from. gorgeous golden harvest hills, with blue river paths lined with green lush grasses easing with the utopic flow of eternal energy. where the river ran had no purpose - the best, most pure creation is on a path to nowhere in particular. letting go of the work one spends to withhold and restrain. only blocking themselves. 

the first time for everything should be as great as every time for anything - feeling the best means experiencing everything as though you've never done anything before.

that is *really* hard for old souls. we get grumpy and stubborn about it. but the purpose of life is to progress and grow - life is tougher for older souls because we're meant to endure more repetition. challenges are harder because we're working at a more difficult spiritual level.

i was outside, thinking about why i've been having headache lately. i've been drinking more water, taking pain relievers, even taking electrolytes and monitoring what i'm eating. i've been joking about brain cancer. i'm standing outside and start having this paranoid that a medication i started taking 7 months ago is causing brain cancer. i was obsessing over the notion that 'would i be able to handle a brain cancer diagnosis? would i have surgery and chemo, or would i choose to live out my last days as i want and let myself pass over naturally?' 

would i choose to fight, or would i consider my work sufficient and decide to bow out? i had come inside and was in the shower, thinking over and over that i'm not scared of death and that if this was an option to go, i'm not offended or intimidated. of course, if i chose to fight cancer, well think of the brownie points, but choosing to fight does not by any means determine that the rest of my life will be great. i could choose to fight and end up with a life that might not have been worth it.

not that that's an actual decision i have to make, as i shall repeat: this was my paranoia episode that started when i was smoking, and i obsessed over while i took a shower. also, i thought over and over that i had to write down the idea that 'my medication is giving me brain cancer.'

see, being stoned isn't always about been high and aloof - smoke enough and you can get some spiritual development homework done. some people have the talent to just *poof* develop their intuitive powers very quickly, but for my it's like i need classes with lessons, and evidence of practice.

i just took the towel that i wrapped my hair up with. i brushed out my wet locks and thought about how much my hair is one of my pleasure points. scalp massage, washing (myself, or by a professional), brushing, playing. my hair is thick and smooth, always looks great.

my head is still killing me. no wonder i'm having paranoia that some medication i'm taking is causing me brain cancer. i can feel my pulse at the spot where my brain hurts. on the top, just to the left.

ha, i just thought 'well, this is the place you always thought you'd end up,' so maybe this is the end? that's all the time i got, and now i've arrived at my desired final location, and i'm going to die? that would be pretty funny if that were the truth. that's probably what i'd tell my parents on my deathbed.

this is what you do when you have an assortment of chocolate for your enjoyment. it's slotted in the hierarchy faster than then british monarchy was formed. you eat your favorite first, middle of the road second, and you save those horrible chocolates, those that have a bitter booze filling, that are the cry for help. i should have throw these out after i ate the first one, but i've kept it out of emergency desperation, and apparently i've been emergencily desperate three times since. homie don't play that game no mo'.

family

sometimes i feel as though i've been surrounded by incompetency my whole life - as though i knew how to recognize an adult's incompetence, even though i didn't understand what they were doing. this is what makes me grumpy: a rapid recurrence of run-ins with the incompetent. sure, we all err from time to time, but continually encountering incompetencies gets really frustrating.

what incompetency am i grumbling over? my brother's choice of fiance. i'm not upset with my brother, per se, as much as i simply by what this girl is. she's almost the worst: the naive, sheltered simpleton. an unintelligent adult, remarkably dull. 

sometimes i wonder just how much i'm supposed to put up with -- but everything i'm putting up with is as much as i'm supposed to handle. i just realized that one of my roommates, he and his retarded girlfriend are the nick lachey and jessica simpson of my life. i wonder why it took me so long to see that comparison, since i've lived with this guy for over a year.

hmp.

my sister-in-law to be and i don't agree on what i and many people know is a human rights issue. the tension is making me hope she'll dis-request me to be one of her half a dozen bridesmaids. she'll probably just ignore it, pretend like it doesn't exist, and proceed with the wedding and goings-on in a completely superficial manner. which is fine with me - i shouldn't expect more than that.

but if only i could amputate this issue - sometimes i wonder why family takes precedence over others? it's quite a bit of bull, the family principle. family members can be some of the worst in your entire life and there's little worse than the ignorance of the happy family-product flapped in the face of a not happy family-product.

i've got a piece of tape on my laptop, covering a little plastic bit, and it's becoming on the brown side. it's actually kind of nasty, if i were someone else, objectively looking at my laptop. 

i'm not sure why being nice to myself does not exactly equate to being nice to others. there are infinite examples of how being nice to others causes circumstances that are not nice to the self. i guess i've found treating others well is not that important in modern, contemporary society. kindness is crucial where these is need. that's why kindness truly is completely artificial in times or places of prosper -- no one's actually thankful when they're never in need. i think that's what kills me about this place i'm at now.

gratitude has a correlation to need. that must make fulfilled people outwardly fake. if they're contented on the inside, then they're contented and balanced. the general population does not understand it quite right -- the concept that thanks, love and kindness are ever expanding and limitlessly available. that's not really the truth. if you're balanced, you're not taking, but you're also not giving away. you're just existing. giving away too much comes down to extorted bragging, which is also not balance. i feel like these ideas are an underlying truth to buddhism that is missed in western teachings. people here think you're a dick if you're not serving your gratitude and attention to them on a silver platter. people think that they can degrade some people as long as they exonerate others. that's an incorrect approach to balance. it really is better to less of a giver if that means you're also less of a taker.

that's a truth: it's better to be less of a giver if that means you're also less of a taker.

i find that idea interesting, a morally.... significant, if not superior, understanding. but i can't really write here about moral superiority. 

i'm listening to dri's 'don't wait' and it's making me feel like i can't wait any longer. i just cannot remain this bored for much longer in my life. everyone's having babies, and all i feel like doing is going everywhere and doing everything that is the opposite of settling down and having a career and family. i just my freedom. exploration is really the only thing that makes me feel happy. i'm so disenchanted with my life right now, yet i'm bound to it for a little while longer. everyone's asking what i'll do next. last time that happened, i cracked under the pressure and was demolished by the final test.

this time, my answer to everyone asking is 'fuck it.' 'you know what? i don't know, but furthermore i really don't give a fuck.' what will be will be. fuck it.

man i love being stoned.

great music is so good when stoned - you can feel the full effect of every texture, you can see the levels of depth. 

i'm looking for that thing that will thaw me, that thing that will melt my core. it's been centuries since i've even approached that feeling.

voldemort would be so proud if he knew how how deep my sentience is connecting with this album. no wonder that didn't work with him -- i was a non-stoner, dealing with a former stoner. at that time, i had no clue he was intensifying his feelings to get that high again, i thought he actually liked me. now that i smoke weed all the time, i'm understanding what all his obsessions must have felt like.

he's like my friend described -- a failing recovering addict. he may have kicked the substance, but he didn't kick the habit. i was the substance he found to make him feel good, so he used me. once i could no longer provide that high, he moved on. sick and cliche, but the most precise description possible.

puff... puff... puff your cares away...

puff... puff... puff the night away...

blow... blow them through the air...

silky little rings...

those little smoke rings i love, please take me above...

take me with you

a stranger's arm

a few thoughts, about my landlords.

they were having quite the yelling match earlier. they're in their late 30's, he works, she stays home with the kids. who know what in the hell they were yelling about, but it went on for a while, and this is a repeat occurrence. 

wow i just burned my lips on my tea - sharp!

my landlords seem like the perfect family with their two children. he's a psychiatrist, and after standing outside my basement door listening to them intently, i'm wondering if she's crazy. that would make sense, right? he loves getting in people's heads and figuring them out, so what alternative could there be than for a psychiatrist to marry a totally insane person, thus getting the joy of discovering the depths of their spouse's insanity until one of them dies? none, i assure you.

or i'm starting to assume. but then again i'm thinking that women always sound more insane in a yelling match because their voices just get higher and higher.

i still think it's too early to sip my tea.

i was standing out there, at my basement door, realizing that the cutest, happiest looking family maybe not be what it appears to be. nothing really is, it just depends how long you want to spend looking at it before you want to make your judgement final and move on. that's life; we make our judgments and move on. some faster or slower than others.

if the happiest looking family isn't that happy, then there are infinite misconceptions to be had, by anyone regarding anything. truth is the only correct idea, but untruth can be anything, really. 

i wonder why guys tape their balls to their legs, in some sort of 'jackass' stunt? i just heard my roommate enter his room, close and lock the door, rustled what sounded like clothing, and then i heard that long pulling sound of 

tea is still too damn hot

packing tape being taunted free, and my first reaction was 'what is he going to do with packing tape - tape is balls to his leg?'

tea is just hot enough to safely sip, but the flavor is no where near as good as i was hoping i could anticipate (ha ha for that grammatical clusterfuck). oh come on, blogger, how come your spellcheck doesn't recognize 'clusterfuck' as correctly spelled? it really sends the meaning home by putting the two items together, because 'cluster fuck' just looks like a hypocrite. 

this 'vanilla chai' tea tastes like paper. like hot, plastery paper. oh it just tastes like an empty gallery - nothing.

my computer's desktop has a travel photo i took nearly four years ago. small in a corner is a stranger's arm. i can't see anything else about him, i cannot tell if he's young, middle aged, old, what race, anything. but i wonder what he's like now. between the moment that picture was taken, and right now, how has his life stayed the same, and how has it changed? who was he then, and who is he now?

is he content? is he awake, or is he sleeping? is he even alive anymore? if he is alive, is he thinking of that moment in that place when i took that photo? does that moment hold a fraction of the meaning for him that it holds for me? or does he not think of that era in his life much anymore?

does he still own that shirt or jacket he's wearing? i recall all of the clothing i could have worn in that place at that time, and i no longer have any of that anymore, with the exception of a pursue that is somewhere in my backlog of forever-ago items, not within a 100 foot radius of me right now, either. the same with music; when i think back to what i would listen to, and how i'd listen to it, the tears of shame are not nearly adequate: a nora jones *cd* on a *discman.*

whoa.

i don't know if i've loved any other place as much as i have grown to love this place i took the photo that's now on my computer's desktop. haunting and enchanting don't even begin to describe it, those i spent time with there, the fine line between reality and fantasy.

i've been looking for that place ever since i had to leave. i'm looking for the weighty one, the one that leaves a lasting impression. 

ferre animus

i am sad that vampire weekend has not responded to my fan-email -- sounds like fanny mail.

i saw this guy on the bus today, so granola but so hot. there was a tattoo on one of his hands, and it said FERRE. i thought to myself, i should remember that and look it up. he was hot enough that i kept peaking at him, and eventually saw that his other hand said ANIMUS. together that makes FERRE ANIMUS, if you're reading it from left to right. it's also made to be read by anyone else but the man these words are tattooed onto. if he looks at his own hands, FERRE ANIMUS is upside down. 

that is a certain and definite statement he is making. i looked up it, and it's latin. well, i didn't have to look it up to know it was latin. let's see, i have to go do it again, i already forgot which word means which thing. on the first internet dictionary i find in a google search, FERRE means 'like iron; hard; unfeeling; cruel; immovable; firm." the same source defines ANIMUS as 'the spiritual or rational principle of life in a man.' so this guy has a cruel life principle?

odd; he didn't look like a veteran.

(haha, whoa.)

another translation source says FERRE means 'to show, exhibit," and ANIMUS as 'the soul, spirit or heart.' this means he's trying to say 'look at my heart' or 'i'm showing you my heart.' or maybe he's reminding himself 'to show heart!' as in his heart. but if it's a self reminder, i shouldn't be upside down when you look at it? maybe it's upside down so that when he looks at it in times of need, he remembers he had the balls to get his reminder tattoo tattooed UPSIDE DOWN!

what balls.

ah, so i stepped outside, and hear the electro beat of a high school saturday night house party. living the dream. before i went outside, i was playing with my hair. i divided it in 4 sections, crossed in the middle like a + sign. i braided the bottom 2 sections like pigtails. i took each top section and crossed it down the back of my head, diagonally, and held it there with a bobby pin. it's a bit sloppy, but the idea is really cool.

i had put my hair up like that, stepped outside to hear my neighbor's dance party, and when i came back inside and sat down, the universe told me that my helpers/guides/angels were teaching me how to style my hair as i did in one of my past lives. i was taught how to connect to my soul's past. very neat. after that i could see that i've had many different hair styles, good and bad, in my past lives. hair is a great creative medium -- when hair was not washed as often as now, or ever, it could do some amazing things.

i was just holding up a tropical pink guava coconut soy candle, inhaling very deeply and thinking about emoticono, cuban yuri. and now i'm sucking on the bitter chocolate dusting on a truffle, fearing that the filling is based on some sort of liqueur, which is always just the worst. it's like you're going to take the best sensation in the world, chocolate, and literally poison it. i have been quite badly behaved in airports lately, but i'm just so sick of the public.

yes! the white powder on the next truffle was indeed powdered sugar, but there's little hope for the 3rd truffle to be any better when the 2nd truffle was filled with toxic goo just like the first one. god this is so fucking bizarre.

i feel like i'm a kid taking their first communion, and truly knowing how terrible alcohol tastes. i gotta put a lid on the box, these truffles are bullshit.

i have 4 inch high twin bongos from cuba on my desktop, and standing next to it is an 8 inch high chocolate santa claus in tinfoil fashioned to look like claus with little stars on his robe. i bet having that there is why i wrote that thing about santa being a handsome middle aged man, not elderly, and then i keep thinking about that everything i have written since.

i should title my writing 'mary jane's diary.' i thought 'yea, not like that will be popular' on google, but it's not that obviously popular.

the men just aren't that exciting out here. not at all. even if there were some who were very strong in the courting stage, none would really be more exciting as p in the long run. life is pretty dull, especially for those people who just become life zombies because they're tired, confused, they got issues, are depressed, etc. there are plenty of zombies out there, and sometimes life really is like 'shaun of the dead.'

special delivery

weed delivery is the best. 'when do need it by? you need it now? you need it tonight?' it moves so quickly. my broker says funny things like 'it's getting cheaper' when he quotes me a price indeed cheaper than my last purchase.

i wonder if he's a criminal. there's probably a reason he doesn't want people to know his last name. total zing there.

this granola bar was completely insufficient. i'd rather a nice bowl of some cereal i can picture but can't think of the name of right now. i was meant to be a stoner, i've loooooved cereal since the very beginning. 

weed dealers.

it would be funny to make a cereal about bowling, with the pins being little oat shapes, and the balls being colorful marshmallows. it would obviously be called 'strike!'

'who gives a fuck about an oxford comma? i've seen those english dramas, too; they're cruel.' great song.

i had a hard time today, being the boss among peers. waah waah.

double decker toast is pretty great.

i'm not looking forward to seeing my dealer, as he looks like a guy from my past who was real bad news. i think that guy really didn't feel good about himself, but he's a master projectionist. he's a big old douche.

it's about time i start meeting new people.

2151

i went down the street to the park and smoked. on my walk back home, a blazing silver "2151" flashed in my mind. it looks robotic, like it were numbers on an old-fashioned digital clock.

i was just talking to a friend, and a list of all the ways i miss p spilled out. sitting on his lap when he was leaning back in his desk chair. have i mentioned his desk chair already?

i'm thinking of 2151 in the form of a digital clock, which makes the time 21:51, or 9:51pm. i don't know what the significance of that time means. maybe something will happen at that time. it could be a house number, i'm just not sure.

let's do some tarot card readings:

Appreciation - Death - Shadow

Psychic Awareness - Survival - Compromise

Boredom - Shadow - Business

Discipline - Creativity - Solitude

******

i'll be so nostalgic for this era of my life, later on

cream cheese and strawberry jelly on toast. in sandwich form. the tongue must manipulate and explore. i really love toast, and i need to get laid bad.

yea, i prefer bigger boobs, too. i get what the rage is all about - but unnatural-looking boobs are real bad. i get what the scorn is all about. 

yea, i was in the bath, feeling really horny but not exactly turned on. rubbing your clit in the bath without anything slippery hurts quickly. i was thinking about p and his huge dick, and about the fun that could be had if he hadn't gone. i miss looking into his eyes. i miss hugging him at the bus stop downtown. oh bon iver, you're making everything so nostalgic already. a year ago, right at this time, was the best time with p. the most fun.

the song is 'skinny love' and i think it's the universe setting the scene of my look back:

come skinny love, last just a year...

if i could go back a year, to when we'd smoke in his room. he'd have the heat turned way up and the window wide open. he'd recline on his desk chair, and i'd balance on the armchair. we talk in the gentle breeze, every superficial word a clever but obvious disguise for what's really being expressed. it's not lingual, it's spiritual exchange.

yes, we could be "interesting" tonight

i just devoured that not quite ripe enough banana. just massacred that thing, it makes my gums feel tangy.

ick.

it's like google is the universal id maker, the most central identification center possible. if you have that gmail account name, then you own that identity. if you coin a phrase or release a new word into the world, then you are sole owner. that's sort of funny. google is the new god. just by creating a new way to access information, a new power has been created in the universe. we're all working on some thing, we're all on a mission, and information is a key component in the game. it's one of our strongest tools. gaining access to information quickly and accurately will always help the player make the best choice in the shortest amount of time. if we're working against time, the information-knowers are the group that just complete this level/world faster than the rest of us. tru dat.

our heads will spin at the technology that comes out not in the next decade, but in two to three years, five years from now, 2014, will seem like 2040 to me right now. just watch our heads explode. we get to see the birth of really the most beautiful blooming of creative energy ever, right before our eyes. we think this is the worst of times? there is so much going on right now, so much raw material being fed through us perceptives. those who can accept and then channel this incredible energy into voices, arts, innovations, higher levels of belief, to those who can help teach and lead the world. this is where we are getting our inspiration, this is the beautiful era to the next centennial universe. the way we study the ancients and their creations, we will be studied in the future. we're the human of the birth of computer technology. we'll be reflected upon as sentimental trinkets, the way we think of the europeans who conquered native americans and called themselves pioneers. we're the cute ones who got these amazing things called 'ipods!' and will be thought of as indolent souls, the way we think of the public who adored silent movies so many years ago.

time for toast.

the toast popping from the toast startled the crap out of me. it was really funny, but my roommate is engrossed in the new episode of 24 and wouldn't even acknowledge the funny. whatever.

blueberry bagel with fake butter is pretty good. i was in the kitchen thinking about if i ever had the choice of only getting to eat toast the rest of my life, but whatever kind of bread and spread i wanted, i might just do it. it's my bread and butter. there's a reason that's a saying.

now i'm thinking about a guy my dad used to work with when i was a kid. this guy was the 'guy who's married but openly has affairs.' i didn't really understand that as a kid, but my intuition was just creeped out by him.

i can taste the salt in my fake butter now and it's just about the best thing i ever tasted. 

aw shit, now i'm on im and my friend is telling me he met a new girl. i asked how and he said 'over the internet.' what the fuck, people still do that?

to commune with music is...

to commune with god. that's direct communication.

to connect to music is to connect with god.

music is an art form as to allow every individual to like a unique blend. music is the code.

listening to vampire weekend for the first time, with my big retro headphones. the bass quality is so much better in the headphones than from my laptop.

the song campus has a thick bass line that i can feel in my core, right in my pussy. this base line feels great. it feels like someone's sex style. i feel great. i love listening to music when i'm stoned. it's a classic way of communing with god. music fans are the most devoted, the biggest praying, close to god individuals in our society. if they can't feel what music can do, then they have a long path ahead of them in their faith.

right now, today, this very second in my life -- this is a great day for music. epic day for music. music lovers are extremely spiritual.

it's a saturday night, after the first weed of spring term. whoa, first week of term. that's not even a freudian slip, i am stoned. it's raining outside, melting away the last of the december snow. it's almost mid january, such a nothing time. holidays are over, school has started, but nothing's stressful now.

it's funny how the english dress up for outings and are so concerned with fashion when they're so unfortunately really ugly.

this song walcott is amazing.

i'm having fun rocking out in my desk chair to this song. i'm actually feeling the joy of punk with 'a-punk' right now. i have the delight of feeling what others feel when they hear this. i have the privilege of feeling how someone else feels, of sharing their experience. getting their perspective. it's nice to visit someone else's joy. i can feel joy in new things, it can be my new joy, too. i'm having so much fun.

this sounds like something john cusak's high fidelity character would like, if that movie were set today. that would be interesting, in the future, take any movie and a computer could instantly update all the content as time went on. the way that computers can take old stock footage and create a person saying something new they'd never said as a statement while they were alive. to have a computer that could update slang, political events, fashion and technology. that would be insane. to see every moral of life in real time. i hate that term 'real time' because ALL time is REAL time. we're just catching up with reality, we're barely even cracking the beginning of it.

now's a fun time. everything is so RIGHT NOW. i'm dancing in my desk chair, loosening my core and abdominal muscles and belly dancing. this song oxford comma is really fun, i feel the joy in this the same way i feel about the music in spongebob squarepants. organ pianos are the best thing ever. that 60's semi-church organ music is cheesy and so very close to god. it's funny because it's true. it's funny because it's close to god.

we really do worship comedians as closer to god. they can access these feelings for us the way god does. we can see how they make us feel so good, but we can't figure out how they do it. they're magicians, they're god's messengers. unless those working in the church are especially funny, they're no closer to god than anyone -- they don't really know anymore than anyone else does. the same gods for any religion, any culture, anywhere.

this is my job. to get stoned and to let it flow. if i just stay put here through the summer, working and smoking and writing, i could produce a solid amount of written work. yea, just go out for my brother's wedding in the summer, but not plan a trip of a move until this fall.

maybe.

oh, toast popped.

people who don't like things with crusts are weird. crust is so great. crusts are great because they have layers. doing things while stoned is allowing yourself to immerse - wow i had the hardest time trying to figure out how to spell that word.

so what should i do in the future?

being high makes me feel like it's the future, as well as the present.

i'm eating this mediterranean hummus and at first i thought 'wow, why didn't i try this earlier?' and my guide said 'yea, why don't you try more new things more often?' and i said 'well, i just don't know until i know.' which is true. then i ate a few more crackers with this new hummus, and it's too spicy to my liking, and i thought 'this is exactly why i don't try more new things more often!' and my guide said 'well don't be too sure of what you know too soon.' knowledge is seeing how lessons progress over time, after the lesson has been learned. a lesson learned is only as valid as how long it's been adhered to since.

zing!

you can't (i can't) talk about how much you know unless you're living by what you've learned. which i'm not doing fully right now. i aspire to living in accordance with what i've learned in my life, but i procrastinate on that they way i might with school work or growing up.

dream man

melty cream cheese on crispy toast -- that's like me all over my dream man. one would be too rich and creamy, the other too hot and rough -- but together they temper each other perfectly. their combination is greater than the sum of the two parts. it does exist: if not soulmates, at least several perfect-match choices. there are options, depending on how i choose to proceed. i feel like leaving this place, and i think that would work out just fine.

me and my dream man -- i was in the kitchen, thinking it's yuri, that's my dream man. he's got the right physical chemistry even if he's not as tall and i was anticipating. we have that manic, mad chemistry -- the one i've hardly even started to even realize it exists. 

i love how the current era's use of sitcom humor is mocked, but it is one of the best carry-overs from other times of knowledge. sitcom humor always teaches us something, that's what all story-telling has always been. there are just so many souls out there existing that everything moves slower and at a lower grade -- and really, dumb people are slowing us down. but that's how the game goes, we're all working towards and objective, and against the clock. the closer we get to the end, the harder it gets as the faster it goes. sitcoms generally annoy people who have already learned the lessons being taught.

that's a no-brainer.

so let's get back to my dream man, stupid brain tangent. stupid angel chat tangent. haha, just kidding.

it's like weed was invented to maximize the pleasure to be had from toast, chocolate, and sex. god my laptop is dirty.

so i picked yuri to be my dream man. the equitable eye-level. the great smile. the greater laugh. the sorta guido-ish sunglasses and gold chain necklace. he has the face of a man who knows how to relax. that's a man who can hold his liquor, and his intensity increases tenfold when he's drunk. but after the drunk storm passes, he can sleep it off looking like a baby. he's just so handsome, looks as though he's a legitimately nice, but still cool, guy. i'm over the nice but dorky guy. i'm having these visions that i can see voldemort, and i think to myself how icky he is -- selfish and careless. He needs lots of stuff/choices/options/alternatives around him at all times because he constantly wants to pick. He just wants to pick and pick and chose and include and exclude. a big, chesty bravado. a cock. 

now i'm thinking about googling him or logging into his facebook, since i know his universal password. i know that because he told me. pretty manipulative, 'i love and trust you so much that i'm going to tell you my universal password without warning and put a huge burden of guilt on you for wanting to use my password to spy on me.' but why would i want to check-up on him?

but my dream man, focus on my dream man. he can dance. he can court, that's what i love -- he can sing, and will lead me dancing, be very attentive but know not to smother me. he'll just know, it won't be hard for him to know when to speak. we're just reading from the same scrip, we're on the same page. great metaphor. he's tan, but sort of spanish or italian. he loves me. 

that should be first of importance on my list: he loves me. shouldn't accept anything less. yuri my dream man nourishes me, being with him gives me more to offer, he makes me a better version of myself. he's really invested in my future. he wants to meet my friends. he likes my special french toast. he'll take care of me in the ways that i need to be taken care of. will i be lucky enough to get a guy who's a great listener?

i keep scratching back at the very base of my neck, just above where my shoulders meet. you might say, 'yes, that's the neck' but the bottom of that part. for some reason, i'm hearing this narrative as molly shannon as british woman. anyways, she tells me 'that's right, ask myself why i feel hot there.' yes, i feel hot back there. yes because i am hot back there. i have a hot back side. he'll nibble my neck to no end. magnetic spoon. he'll burn me skin to skin when it's hot and humid, and he'll rub me up warm when it's cold.

the great thing about my dream man is that i can imagine him and i together in any context. the best two are us in some wooden, breezy, open, luxury but rustic hut with a nice bed in the jungle. steamy but not quite suffocating, lots of sweating. hot sweating. panting, from behind. arched back. raw and loud, like the jungle. not sounds like monkeys, but of the roar growing out of the jungle. intensity and intention.

the second context is the opposite. deep in a winter forest, in a log cabin with vaulted ceiling, a smoldering fireplace, a big deep bed with heavy red velvety blankets. total peace and quiet in the forest, a clear night with a crescent moon, so the stars could shine. it's not as though we're laying down, but somehow floating in the sheets and blankets, just joined at sea. there isn't a steady rhythm in the sea, but an ever-changing melody that keeps getting better the further it goes along. my dream man and i will still have fun sexing when we're old. we'll still know how to find the joy in it, the fun of it even if the sexuality goes in and out over time.

it's really important that we laugh in bed. it's important that we laugh. we need to laugh. hopefully every day. my dream guy loves my stories. i can make anything into a story for him. that's the only thing voldemort had going in favor of him with me, really.

yuri... yuri... i need to escape my current situation, and i will most likely spend a lot of time feeling bad about living here, feeling sad, but it's a needed push to make the next decision.

as in, i need to pee.

garlic and 'erb cream cheese on toast

yea, i like the sound of cullinary terms when i'm stoned.

how can i be upset about not getting what i wanted out of a location, if i didn't put my all into that location. yea. it's like i'm trying on a dress that looked great on the hanger, but when i put it on i suddenly start to question my taste and fashion sense. so i thought this was the one, and it's not. i just have to keep trying locations on until i find one that i like, that looks GOOD on ME. i need a location that flatters me and helps me be my best. this present location i chose because i thought it was exactly my type just annoys the crap out of me now. it's like getting that disproportionately attractive mate, which makes you think you're just soooo awesome, and you find out that that ideal mate is actually completely inane and makes you want to scratch your tear ducts out.

hm. so another locale, that's fine with me.

i feel as though my strength grows as my hair gets longer. i know this is silly, even for a stoner, but i cut my hair quite short just about a year ago, so now it's just starting to move past my shoulders. i feel more feminine, i feel much more like myself. yuri looks like prince charming to me, the dark hair and eyes, the dashing haircut, million watt smile. it's just that he's a little shorter than i am, but really makes up for it in the chest and torso, really wide shoulders.

i just folded together some cheap chocolate coins' tin and some other candy foil, and made an orb with a silver "shrug" around it. i'm pretending that i'm in architecture school and i'm dreaming that my professor loves my idea.

i used to do this all the time as a kid, this is what it's like to feel like a kid again. sometimes joyful, but the dreaming, the obsessive dreaming. it's when making choices was novel and fun. as we age our choice patterns may get in a rut, or we don't spiritually grow and thus our perspective narrows until we die. but when i'm stoned i can see all the possibilities, the extensive peek into that option window. but these dreams also create expectations, and i just hate being disappointed. that's one of my major life issues, coming to terms with how disappointing everything is. if you learn to accept the disappointment then you become numb to it and stop realizing that you're dreams aren't coming true because you forgot you ever had dreams. 

i completely forgot about my dreams. i was so busy on an emotional tangent that i just got separated from who i am. voldemort really got me, like in a video game. in the video game, i'm the hero and he's the monster i have to beat to clear to the next world. but i died by his hand, that was one sad, slow death. really pitiful. i guess voldemort was set there as a challenge i technically could beat, but i just couldn't undue the puzzle before i got burned. god that sucked. he's just sitting there, like an extra waiting for his next guest appearance. i'm the writer and i'm calling in the contributors as i go along. each time i look out into the waiting room of potential comrades, sidekicks, nemeses, and loathsome roommates, i look around as though he doesn't exist. the vibe i get back from him is 'go on and make me wait, i've got a magazine and more patience than you do, so just let me know when you're ready again.' at this point i'm (beyond positive to 99% sure to mostly sure to, no wait, why aren't i sure) not interested in ever being in contact with him again.

that's a lie, i'd try to let him say what he wants without any reaction, and just leaving. whatever i'd do, i know i'm still curious to know what's going on with him. but i have to sternly tell myself that 'no, i do NOT want to ever have contact with him again.'

anyways, if he ever IS going to come back into my life, make sure it's right after i've just done something awesome and he has nothing to say that will make me feel bad. that's probably never (at the same time).

what else am i looking for in the new year. 

yea, just sex. lots and lots of sex.