Mon, Sep. 3rd, 2007, 05:09 pm
I just got my first prank phone call in like five years...
They told me that they were Castle (in Phoenix) and that my order is ready. I asked them what the hell they were talking about and they told me that my box of sex toys is ready. Fucking bizarre.
Sun, Sep. 2nd, 2007, 05:35 pm
Today I have watched: Reservoir Dogs, The Professional. I am currently watching The [original] Omen. I am rather bored and don't know what to do with my time. I keep falling asleep randomly.
I was going to write something drastic, but decided against it.
Sat, Mar. 31st, 2007, 12:09 am
To get the banality out of the way first:
I've got myself wedged innocuously between a chair, a desk, a bed and a bag of garbage and I can't quite seem to figure out what's got me feeling so far away from everything. I'm not sleeping well again. I shouldn't say that I'm not sleeping, only that I'm not doing well in my sleeping. I'm either sleeping too much or not at all. My entire body itches as though I've somehow managed to get a huge rash that refuses to show up. My legs have turned red from my constant scratching. I almost feel like I'm on meth or something; bugs crawling or something similar. It's really as though a thousand little stickers from some wayside plant have come out and stuck to me and are poking me with microscopic spores.
Becoming less banal:
I had a migraine yesterday. It left me totally apathetic and furious at the same time, which, sadly, is frustrating. It's like having bouts of apathy and then bouts of anger over the apathy. I can't stand to think that I am apathetic, only because I know that I'm not. Perhaps it's more that I realize I want something I can never really have. Something that, as far as I know, no one can ever really have. I want to just be. I want to just be able to live my life and have it be entirely my own. I want people to ask me about me, and actually, for once mean it. I understand that people ask others how the other person is doing, but I'm starting to wonder if it's only for some weird sense of common courtesy. Do people only ask how others are doing or ask what others are interested in to get to the part of the conversation where they get to talk about themselves? I'm starting to wonder if people listen to the response to, "How are you today?" Do they? Do you? Honestly? Take some time out of your day to think about it. Do you really listen to what others say when you ask them questions, or are you simply biding your time until you can say what you want to say? I'm not even sure where I fall into those two categories, or if people really can fall into one category or the other (even on a moment by moment basis). It seems that there should be some sort of medium between the two, but I'm not sure that there ever really is. Is anyone ever completely fulfilled by a conversation that they have with others? Is anyone ever actually fulfilled by anything? Can we actually recognize fulfillment if it happens to us? I'm not sure that we ever can. I am not sure that we can ever actually accept anything for exactly what it is. How can we? How can we ever even know exactly what something is? I'm almost certain that the only way to accept something for what it is is for someone to accept that the thing is nothing like the way we think that it is. Does this make sense? Can we ever let go of our acceptance? Can we accept that nothing we think is comparable to what others may think?
Is there a common experience? Is there something that everyone perceives in the same way? I'm becoming more and more doubtful of this. There is no commonality. My perceptions and ideas will always be and always have been different than yours or his or hers or Sally's or Joe's. Or, perhaps that is a trick of the Ego. Do I really have the right to say that I am a completely different person/entity than you or him or her or Sally or Joe? Can I really validate saying that no one else can experience what I experience? I'm not sure. Can we validate a statement that says Joe and Sally read the same book and felt the same way about it? Can we say that a statement that says Joe and Sally read the same book and felt the same way about it is invalid? How can we possibly know this?
How do we communicate with others in order for others to truly understand us? Do we ever really want others to truly understand us? I'm starting to fall under the impression that everyone wants to be their own version of a Kafka story; someone else is always seeking the answers and the meanings behind them. Is this what people need to feel validated? Someone to seek out who they really are, but never necessarily find the answers? Some to seek meaning behind the person, constantly? Are we trying to make others understand us, but only to the extent that we are willing for others to understand? Do we want to expose others by exposing ourselves? Do we only share enough of ourselves to learn about others? Are we always afraid of the ultimate exposure, that someone will figure out our secret, our meaning, our mystery? Are we all martyrs the way that the minister in Hawthorne's "The Minister's Black Veil" is a martyr? Are we simply hiding our own dirty secrets publicly so that others will become more aware of their own dirty little secrets? Is this supposed to set us free? I'm not sure.
When I smell things on the street or walking past someone, the scents automatically bring up some sort of memory for me; the memory does not always make sense, sometimes the scent will just remind me of someone I knew once, or the first day of fourth grade, or a feeling in the bottom of my stomach; I cannot necessarily place these scents or thoughts. When I first meet someone I try to recognize in them someone I already know or are familiar with; I will think to myself that this new person reminds me of someone I knew when I was younger, someone I loved, someone I hated, a family member, a friend, an idea of a person I've never met but have heard about; I compare behaviors and speech patterns of this new person to the ideas of people that I have previously had ideas about; I cannot truly place why I come to these poorly founded conclusions, as these conclusions are but brief moments of pondering. Seeing images or scenes does not do this to me. Sometimes I will taste something familiar, but out of place, and will have an image in my mind of something, but nothing concrete follows. (I am about to generalize and assume that most people have something similar to the above descriptions.) Do we have these memory triggers to minor things in our lives? Do we generally create a memory because something is oddly familiar to us? Do we even know what truth is? Not capital T Truth. Nothing like that (how could we?). Just some small semblance of truth? Can we ever be true? Can we ever recognize if someone else is true? Are there hidden agendas and hidden memories behind each image, scent, taste, texture, sound? Can we be true if we struggle to understand these brief glimpses into memory?
The banality continues (as it was probably doing up there as well):
Hooray for going for walks and not making it past the garage and a pack of cigarettes.
Wed, Mar. 14th, 2007, 08:23 am
The supply of time is a daily miracle.
You wake up in the morning and lo! Your purse is magically filled with twenty four hours
of the unmanufactured tissue of the universe of life.
It is yours!
The most precious of your possessions.
- Arnold Bennett
Beyond that, I fell asleep last night before I could even hit "play" on Tideland. I'm devastated. Though I did have a lovely moment when I woke up at 3am and realized that I shouldn't be awake yet. That was also the point when I realized that I had not set my alarmclock, as well as the moment when it occurred to me that I left my (really good) book at work (like a loser).
Now I'm at work. I'm going away.
There was just a commercial on for ......... I don't know............ that had a bunch of women running around with big cartoon flowers coming out of them. These women were flapping around their dresses and the flowers were coming out of their crotch regions. It confused me quite a bit. It still does. But, seriously, why were flowers sprouting from the genital regions of women and falling onto other women's shoulders? What does the commercial mean?
I signed on to the internet just to talk about that... and now I'm distracted.
Join www.last.fm add me as a friend "phaereyfarm"!!! it'll be the most rewarding thing in your life! Well, seconded only by knowing me in general. If you become my friend, I promise I will actually listen to more music!!! Perhaps even "muzack"!!!!!!!!!
p.s. "Macromantics" is not a word. "Macromolecular" is.
Tomorrow night at The Rhythm Room in Phoenix, AZ is "your favorite band." The Red Elvises. Yes. Ladies and Gentlemen, The Red Elvises are back! Thursday, March 1, 2007! The Rhythm Room! Doors open at 8pm! Only $10!!! Quite a cheap investment for such a badass night! You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll dance like you never imagined you'd dance before!
Stop by. I'll be there.
Sun, Feb. 25th, 2007, 10:30 pm
last night i had dreams of scrabble and newspaper clippings.
i'm almost sure that the Phoenix Art Museum ruined itself with its remodeling. well, i'm not sure that it's because of the remodeling, but i'm certain that the extra space does not add a thing to the museum experience. They've definitely ruined the firefly room (a dark room with lights and reflections), they let a bunch of people in at once, ruining the experience of solitude, peace, meditation. they almost ruined the burnt Texas church thing... they closed it off in a corner so that you can no longer walk around it. there is no real use of space in the museum, the walls are huge, and mostly empty in the new wings. interestingly enough, Philip C. Curtis
didn't always suck; in the hallway by the Asian art, his gallery and the cafe they put up a bunch of his earlier stuff. there were some neat things, he never did understand perspective and depth perception, but he did manage to get some stuff directly from a spiral drawing pad into a frame into a museum... holes and all. in the Asian room/s they had a collection of the backs of mirrors on display (how very post-modern). Andrew and i sat there in awe for quite some time. the Italians of the 17th century didn't quite have perspective down like the masters (ha! Curtis never got it........). They had some interesting paintings though in the exhibit. there was a lovely (lovely is NOT the word) painting of St. Andrew, he was incredible- wrinkles, hands, eyes, face, armpit even. there were quite a few really stunning pieces, and quite a few rather over-the-top pieces (pthalo blue lasts longer, i swear, than any other color!)
Matsuri (the Japanese festival in Phoenix) was pretty cool... well, I'm not sure that "cool" is the right way to put it. Matusuri was sort of a non-cultural slap in the face. if you were to just walk into the festival from the parking garage, most likely the first thing you'd see would be a bunch of rather stupid looking teenagers dressed up like Anime
and video game characters. sixteen year old girls dressed up for the pedophiles. you would see gatherings of goths
(with bat wings coming off of some of their asses), gatherings of furries, gatherings of the washed-out, gatherings of just about anyone. i am not a very discriminatory person, but Matsuri brought it out in me.
i don't understand how it's cool to dress up like Anime characters (strictly in terms of short skirts, pre-pubescent, and somehow still sexual)... i wonder about these girls' parents, where are they? do they realize that their daughters are in the thoughts of every pedophile in the downtown Phoenix area? perhaps what bothered me most about these kids dressing up as their favorite characters was not that they were exposing themselves, but that they went to a Japanese festival not understanding that Anime and video games aren't the only things the Japanese ever did.
i don't understand the furries
either. there is something so wrong there. how does one somehow get under the impression that it's acceptable to be attracted to animals and to dress as them to get their kicks? i just don't understand it. it's not that i'm opposed to these people, i'm just opposed to their set of morals. and, out of curiosity, how does a Japanese festival somehow bring out every furry in a fifty mile radius? well, to answer my own question: Kemono
is a genre of Japanese art that features anthropomorphic characters. "Their design differs from artist to artist, but they generally employ animal traits considered cute and endearing. However, most kemono characters retain a fundamentally human personality, seldom behaving as the actual animals from which they have been anthropomorphized; as such, kemono are typically depicted living as humans do." Kemono art and Furries seem to be based on very different things, but i suppose there is some sort of correlation there... though slightly off.
Goths... what do you have to say about goths? silly people.
Matsuri did smell really good. I would have liked the food there better than at that Uno's place... stupid generic Chicago food."The Number 23"
sucks. i have never been more upset about seeing a shitty movie. also stupid bitches with babies in rated R movies suck. don't waste your time or money on it. War
is the longest and silliest game ever.
I made my parents watch "Slither"
tonight. My dad thinks it might be his favorite movie ever. My mom laughed her ass off. My grandmother tried to watch it, but left with a disapproving look on her face. :)
I have to go to bed now.... goodnight.
Wed, Feb. 21st, 2007, 09:31 pm
I started two sestinas. The first one is about office supplies, the second is about a ham and cheese sandwich. I left them both at training today by accident, I'll post them tomorrow night. It'll be neat.
I drew pictures of robots today. They're pretty spiffy ones; maybe I'll post pictures of them tomorrow too.
In training we based an invention for case managers on "The Fly." You know, the machine that eventually was the downfall... we drew a picture. I won't post a photo of that.
look into www.last.fm mine is http://www.last.fm/user/phaereyfarm/
I don't have much up yet... but I'm getting there.
I saw my friend Ryan tonight (Ryan from high school), I think he's tweaking. I think that's why he hasn't called in months. I think that's why he won't look me in the eye (he's never been able to when he's tweaking). I don't know what to do. I'm not sure that there is anything that I can do.
Chase is doing really well. He's in a stomp band (I'm not sure...I'm probably wrong...). I guess they played at the Glendale Arena (aka the Jobing.com Arena) last night... something like 10,000 people showed up... I think that he should have given me tickets. I mean, it's Chase, I'd go see him play.
Justin's good. Pushy. Crazy used-car-salesman-esque-ish. But good. He's a good guy when he's not being totally daft. I can't live with him. I'd go crazy. The house is too much... I couldn't do it.
Pat's ridiculous. A good guy though. I was itching my head while driving and he thought that it was a good idea to itch it for me so I could fully concentrate on driving in the rain. His paintings are getting better and better. I'm rather jealous. I'm thinking of asking him for lessons/pointers. I'm very proud that I got him hooked (and pirating) The Unicorns... I made him a cd, but forgot to give it to him, so he resorted to piracy. FOOL! Doesn't he realize that Sony's after him now? (He should have been wearing a tinfoil hat to block out their rays).
I dunno. I'm going to turn out the lights and lay in bed now. Good night.
Also, I want to be clear, if you can think of anything I can distract myself with at work for eight hours (not online), I'll take you out for coffee.
Sat, Feb. 17th, 2007, 12:52 pm
My feet hurt. I need new shoes for work. If I have to wear my shoes that I already have to work every day, I don't know what I'll do... they'll be attached for the rest of my life...... fucking "professional attire."
"She walks, she talks, she crawls on her belly like a reptile, just one thin dime, one tenth of a dollar. Step right up folks."
"I went and bought myself a ticket and sat down in the very first rooooooooooow. They pulled the curtains up and then the spotlight way down low. Then Little Egypt came out struttin' wearin' nuttin' but a button and a booooooooooow. Singin' 'yiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnng-aaaaaaaaaay.yiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnng-aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. a coochie coochie. yiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnng-aaaaaaaaaaaay. yiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnng-aaaaaaaaaaaay.' She had a ruby on her tummy and a diamond as big as Texas on her tooooooooooooooe. She let her hair down and did the hoochie-coochie real sloooooooooooooooow. When she did her special number on a zebra skin I thought she'd stop the shooooooooooooooow."
p.s. hooray for child-hood favorites!