2011年9月11日 Funny

It's funny that the first thing I wanted to post about on this blog was something related to being "between a rock and a hard place." It's funny to me that it has no relation whatsoever to this specific date in general. 

Today, is just another day. 

Just like December fifth when the Japanese attacked us.* 

I recall once that I brought up WW2 to a Swedish dude in Japan, but what they said to me shocked me, "That was like, 60 years ago." I remember rebuttal was something like, "I hope when you're 80 years old explaining your life to your grand-children or whoever, that they say the exact same phrase to you about your experiences in Japan." I think he was 20 or so. He frowned a bit, shrugging, and I grinned at him with my best "I caught you--" you-typical-no-penis-Swedish-person face.

Today also was extremely productive work wise. 

I got work done on Cabal, you can sign up here to play it (for free). No ads.

Then later I met with Fozzjnen for our ritualized meeting of food, conversation, and vulgarities. Actually it's more like me being vulgar, especially... You'd rather not want to know I imagine. 

Although we have a tendency to go to the same place, the place we normally congregate sure can serve the food up super spicy. I was also happy that the food accommodated my recent lapse in quality humor, though I was barely I was able to come up "with something new." Albeit it 80 percent in terms of quality, if I were to mention it here, you would probably refuse to eat anything that could be vaguely associated with scatological humor. You'll also think twice about asking for extra anything that isn't a vegetable or meat on your next dish. 

Maybe it's the weather or stress of life, but I got the feeling that Fozzjnen wasn't in his normal wakka wakka mood. Today was not so much average, rather than it was slightly depressing and entertaining. Yet, I don't think it was wasted at all. Let's see what the Swedish Chef has to say:

*In fifty years, no one is going to remember any of this anyhow, or care.

2011年9月10日 "Life is complicated."

Within the past few days people have been going out of their way to tell me about 9-11.

First of all 9-11 wasn't that bad, at least not for me. I know people who were more concerned about what happened in Fukushima than they were about 9-11. I'm specifically talking about Americans more worried about Japanese. That's how detached some of us are at times, including myself. As for the actual day of 9-11, I'd probably forget about it if it wasn't such a big deal for a lot of people, whom I don't know beyond cordially. Personally the Friday of that week was a day that I won't forget. September fourteenth was the day I had a really difficult test, and I couldn't get any studying done because everyone was freaking out over 9-11.

So was it really that bad?

Yeah the test was pretty bad, but let's get back to 9-11.

It was bad, pretty bad, - 9-11 that is - but I think what is worse is how we've as a nation (the U.S.) have reacted to it. Our economy sucks and we've basically functioning on self-sufficiency at any cost. Sometimes it goes to the point of blasphemy against the memorial of those who suffered, such as those during the events of 9-11. Sometimes it goes beyond just that date itself. Sometimes that blasphemy is with us in our daily lives, happening against our friends, neighbor's, and worse: our own beliefs.

So how am I going to remember 9-11?

How do you try to remember?

Tomorrow I'm going to play GTA IV. 

That's how.

2011年9月9日 "Such is life"

I hope Ned Kelly is wrong.

Ned Kelly, murderer, outlaw,
and douchebag

Some people "grow up" as they age. Some don't. 

What if you're already grown up before you age? 

Are you twice as old? 

Did your friends die before you met them?

Is the vanity of youth genuinely valuable to prior people?

How does tea taste to the old? 

Does the bitter flavor remind them of the sweetness of yesterday?

How can they smile, with all of those wrinkles and scars in their mind and heart?
Do they hang up their soul like a jacket BEFORE they leave the house?

How can they smile?
When all it looks like is sorrow on a throne?

All these questions, and no answers.
Although, I think Ned did actually get the one answer he deserved.
Which is probably why he said those three words.

I mused about this yesterday and it lingered all the way until today. It didn't bother me a bit to ask myself these questions, or whether or not they matter, or rather if it mattered that I was asking them versus someone else. Does it matter who asks or answers the question? Or does it matter that the question is asked?

I was talking once to my dad on the phone, and I complained about how life sucked and things were difficult. His best advice was, "It's only going to get worse."
My best reply was silent agreement.

2011年9月8日 Today, Tomorrow, and forgetting yesterday

Today I am making steps towards things I could have only imagined 7 years ago or so. It is funny, since Jacob had to work 7 years for the wife he wanted, yet was screwed over and even he ended up doing 14 years before he was satisfied. He also nabbed two chicks in the process, albeit only one of them he actually loved. Such is the life of the Jews.

Do things in life even resemble this anymore? 

Honestly? No, they don't or rather, I don't see it, so I don't know if it exists. When it comes to humans, including myself, for the most part I can only claim that I know enough to the point where I know nothing of value on the issue.

I know people work hard to achieve their monetary goals. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure people have dream careers too, but I'm pretty sure that career entails what someone considers a reasonable or even tolerable amount of money.

I had dreams again last night. People coming and going, going and coming. It reminded me of Rick's office from the fiction I write (Is-it-fiction?). Maybe I need to spend less time thinking about Peter Lorre. I'm not going to say much more about it.

Basically the worst part of today including the title is that I lost my journal.
It's not at my mom's nor at my home. And no I didn't miss place it. The biggest concern I have is two things, someone I know finds it, someone I don't know finds it and then spouts shit off on craigslist about how angsty it is to them. I don't really give a damn, nor even if I had a surplus of damns would give one, to any schmuck mick bastard who would consider such. If my journal is angst-laden, then almost anything by Roy Orbison must be 30 times as bad.

2011年9月7日 Guests

I woke up slightly hungover to a tapping noise coming from the office door. At first I did my best to ignore it, and in most cases my best isn't much. Thankfully I believe in having a back up plan, or plans, so I motioned towards the 45 player. Vivo Sohando started to play and I turned up the volume until I couldn't hear anymore tapping on the door.

At my desk there was some beer left in an opened bottle, warm or not I finished it off and wondered about having another for breakfast.

"Hello? I know you're in there, open the door." The familiar and disembodied voice said over the music. Can't she take a hint? Without turning down the music I walk for the door unlocking as I pulled it open slightly.

"Rick, I was hoping..."

It's her alright.

"Just sit the hell down." I said piping over her quiet voice, opening the door just enough for her to come in. Tatige placed a tote bag next to a chair adjacent from me. She appeared to have some conscious desire to make her self as comfortable as possible, and it was even more clear as she crossed her legs. I decided to stand and I watched her lips purse in a unnatural fashion as she stared at my hands while I opened a new beer.

"It's not even after 2 o'clock yet, look at you."

"That may be so, but it is after 10 am."

"You didn't meet me at Le'Blanc so I was worried about you."

"Like that matters. What do you want?"

"If you'd give me a minute I could explain, and you can't tell me what I can and cannot feel."

"I can if you've told me."
"Things change." She said pivoting in her seat to turn off the record player.

"No they don't, they just get tolerable over time."

"Are you even-"

"Just give me the fucking file." I said almost spitting at her. I was so angry, how could she interrupt a man's breakfast, for the love of God. She motioned towards her tote and pulled out a file, there couldn't have been more than three or four pages in, and maybe a picture or two from the angle.

"Now I don't really know how to explain these things, it's all just a mess and I'm sure you'll understand when you see it." It came into my hands and just skimming over the first few paragraphs I realized why Tatige was in my office and not elsewhere. We have worked together on some assignments in the past, when things were getting out of hand with some out of towners. I didn't need to finish even the first page before my tongue took over.

"Get the fuck out of here!"

She shook nervously at my voice. 

"Get the fuck out, get out now!"

I watched her hurriedly pick up her tote and walk out. Thankfully she didn't slam the door. After a few seconds, I threw the file on the ground near the file cabinet. Then I got up and put a sign on the outside of the door. Unavailable until further notice. I walked back to my desk and started to work on the beer I had neglected from her interruption.

Glancing at the file from across the room, I had half a mind to chuck the fucking beer at the office door. Then what would you do for breakfast? I smirked slightly, sitting down behind the desk. Rubbing my head frowning, I couldn't help but realize that nothing was gained at all today. But isn't there tomorrow? Not if it doesn't have booze. You're an alcoholic. You enjoy it too. Yeah, but do we really need it? Unlike women this bottle isn't going to grow legs and walk out. Keep telling yourself that. The voice of reason, albeit hungover, countered. I didn't enjoy having dialog with myself when I felt this way. 

"There wasn't anything else that I could do." I chimed under my breath. At least we agree on something.

***

Outside the building the woman approached a neatly dressed man who was smoking by a telephone pole.

"So?" The smoking man said whistling the words as held a cigarette between his teeth.

"Well, I'm actually surprised, because before this he generally denied how he felt about it."
"Hmm?"
"I let him keep the papers, but you should have seen how he reacted! What a child."
"Can you blame him?" The smoking man said as he reached inside his jacket pocket for more cigarettes.
The woman made a sharp stare at the man, who did not seemed bothered at all.
"What I think is that it's none of your business."

"Do you really think it's okay to let him decide on this?" The man spoke raising his eyebrows towards her.
"Let's just go, I don't want to be here right now."

2011年9月6日 Letters

I was hoping for a warm reception at home. Outside of the ninety plus humidity and beer that was half cold, I guess I wasn't far off the mark. 

I came into the office, which was more like home since I didn't really collect my thoughts alone anywhere else. With mail in my hands, sorting through the bullshit, I flicked the radio on. A nonstandard envelope was the third piece down. Usually these things are from old flames. More like a wildfires.

It had no return address on the enveloped, which was beige. I was really expecting something from one of my other resources since they use similar envelopes, until I realized whose handwriting I was looking at.

Rick, 

I'm sorry it's been a long time since we've talked, but you know I still care. I'd like to talk sometime but I can understand if you don't want to see me again.

I pursed my lips as I put a nicely polished shoe dent on the side my desk.

You can meet me over at Noir- Le'blanc on Wednesdays at noon sharp. 

Tazmanian Tiger

Fuck.

Tatige, haven't heard from that Tazamanian Tiger in some time. What the holy hell. I didn't think twice about this kind of shit, nor did I like to, since I generally stick to the stance that I'm at from the beginning. The only time you need to shift your stance is when the Earth changes its own. I mumbled quietly opening the first, or third beer of the night. It didn't matter to me, since no real business through this door would actually happen at this point.

Did I even leave the open sign out?

It didn't matter to me walk-in business would happen anyway. Everyone knows that only desperate women, double-agents, and double or even triple-agent women only come without calling or mailing first.

The last thing I remember before passing out was Holy Thursday still playing on the radio even though it was a Tuesday.

2011年9月1日 Break

When I heard the word "sabbatical" from people in academia, all I can think about is how lazy a person sounds when they use it in reference towards oneself. I have a hard time understanding the concept of sabbatical at times, and mainly it's because I came from a (factory) working-class family that could not afford such luxuries.

With that said, I'm in a position where I do not have the resources to update my blog daily. So I'm just going on "break" until I can fix it. Hiatus just sounds like some sort of uncontrollable disease of laziness.