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My mind is a perplexing place, lately. It seems to be stuck in loops, as if playing reels of old film hacked into bite sized chunks of meaningless media. It's happened for a while now; years, I think. At least as far back as I can remember- or can be bothered to remember. It used to take the form of conversations. It was contextualized, though. Characters, persona's, people. Some real, often a conversation between myself and someone I know. Some imagined, characters and scenarios that play out in the theater of my minds eye. Rehearsing, rehashing, remorse on how it should have been. Things I should have said, or things I must remember to say next time. From my limited understanding of my own peculiar mind and it's algae encrusted porthole into the depths of the subconscious; this is quite normal. Everyone does it. Don't they? ( Through the Looking Glass )Tags: rhetoric
Current Location: The Markets of Sinopes
Feelings:  pensive
Tunage: The Light Before We Land ~ The Delgados
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I do alot of thinking. It's a plague... One of the things I am coming to think about lately, though, is 'the truth'. Specifically, how much it offends me. Ask anyone, anywhere, any time, 'What is the truth...' about any given subject, and you will get seven billion different answers. Namely because you will have to ask about seven billion people. How is this 'truth'? Now, if you remove subjectivity form the mix, you end up with just the cold, hard facts. Which will weigh as 'truth' until scrutinized and overturned by someone else's colder, harder facts. Which is all fine and good, but I am a romantic at heart, so I tend to be prejudiced against 'facts' when it suits me. Which is most of the time. Now, what really jams in my craw and gets me riled up, is the concept of 'The Greater Truth'. People throw this one about a lot, and quite frankly; I don't think they know what the fuck it means. 'Greater Truth'? Here you have 'truth', which is already mired dubious provenance; steeped in a veritable VAT of subjectivity and preposition - the literary trans fat laced cornmeal batter, if you will. It is my position that any 'truth' arrived at by the human mind is flawed by design, and therefore should automatically be relegated to a default position of 'Lesser and Highly Suspect Truth-Like Product'. Current Location: Diogenes Barrel, Sinopes
Feelings:  Philosophical
Tunage: Placebo - Pure Morning
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I woke up this morning to a frightening realization... I only have one year left on my cellular phone contract! What the hell has this all come to? Me... in a 2 year contract. That's over half finished. I haven't even had a romantic relationship that's lasted that long. Oh, and it's only a month until my birthday. Turning 25. For the eighth time. Fuck relativity. Fuck it right in it's ass. Seems I have slipped back into Security like an old shoe. Worn, but comfortable, so what the hell, right? They pay me to sit in a mostly empty building at night and not be a complete fuck-up when something goes wrong. I used to save the emails I got praising me for not losing my head in the flashing lights and blaring electronic tones when someone leaves the coffee pot on on the 4th floor. Again. Now I don't even read them. The Elizabeth-daughter is doing well. We text frequently. I am not sure how I feel about that. I really do see the emergence of the internet and communication as a double-edged sword. It increases the ease of contact? But it also dehumanizes that contact. So much is lost in the translation to those tiny, tiny keys. But it's nice to know she got my temperament and not her mothers. Mary. Mary, mary, quite contrary. Love me, hate me, it's all elementary. Going to have a friend come up for a concert in April. The Killers. Should be amusing. Money goes in, money goes out. The whole thing starts over again. And finally.. Haiku. I waited four years. For you to run out of breath. Now I want to hear. Tags: rhetoric
Current Location: Home is where the heart is. The heart is open to definition.
Feelings: Alive
Tunage: Steamroller ~ Pigface
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Okay, I need to get something off my chest, and straight with all of you; my friends. I don't comprehend dates. It's a learning disability of mine or something. Historic dates, anniversaries, holidays and even the all important 'birthdays'. Hell, I don't even fucking remember when I get paid, half the time. I am sorry. From the depths of my heart, I offer to all of you, my sincere apologies. I do not do this out of spite. It's just how I am. I know dates are very important to many of you, and I may have trod on toes once or twice in my 'calendrical* ineptitude'. Yet it does not mean you are not all near and dear to my heart. From making out on New Years Eve, 1999, and 'ORANGE Millanos?!' To the cool discussions on anime, to the times I cleaned your house for money to pay rent. The countless hours of sharing other lives and other times in role-playing, to the lives in the 'here and now' that just sadly were not to be. There are so many other things about all of you that are ingrained in my very being, and will never be forgotten; I beg your indulgence on this 'dates' thing. I just lost a friend of 20 years because I forgot his birthday last month. You'd think he would have picked up on the fact that I forgot the other 19, as well. Alas, he's seen fit to take his ball and go home. And honestly, if this is reason enough for our association, partnerships, friendships or relations to come to an end; let me just save us both a lot of trouble, and just say: Fuck you. Get lost. Thank you for your time. Have a nice day. * = It's a word now, damnit. See? It's made up of letters, and everything. Tags: rhetoric
Current Location: Monday, I think?
Feelings:  angry
Tunage: The Beatles ~ Birthday
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Full reverse 
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=92.2){kind=small}
curious
annoyed
on the go