Sweet Nothings

So I decided to say, "Fuck you!" to NaNoWriMo and continue with my regimen of programming. So far so good. I won't reach my goal though, which makes me sad.

Started Programming again, excited about that. Will write next month for NaNoWriMo. Going to college in January.

So I've been sick for the past week. Fever, nose running, coughing my lungs out. Fun shit. Almost want to tell the powers to be, "Hey, that was nothing. Do your worst!" But then I might get boils, and I don't like boils.

Let's see, I need to do this website for a local band, and then this graphic involving flames that'll be cut out of vinyl and placed on an old black 80s van. I've been procrastinating from doing both and I have no idea why. Perhaps I'm secretly setting myself up to fail so I don't have to make anything else.

That's pretty much it.


<3

I'm bored.

And I just got a flyer in the mail for some local election. I'm not going to vote for this person because the flyer is addressed "To All The Voter(S) At:" my address.

Why are there parentheses around the 'S'? That usually says, "Hey, I can be read or not and the sentence as a whole will still make sense."

That's all I really wanted to say. Tool's 10,000 Days is looping in the background and I have bad indigestion from (I think) the left over jello shots and the two cheese quesadillas I made. Might be the Mountain Dew too. And the sour cream and onion chips with ridges.

In other news: work makes me smoke like a real smoker.

Dear Jon,

I never talk to anyone anymore. It's not you, it's me.

I still love you.


<3

The last week or two have been a blur of self-deprecating states. The last few days I've done hardly anything but sleep. It may have to do partly with what I consume in the way of food, which is hardly anything at all. I'm not exactly starving myself but damned near it. This is what absolute fear will do to a person, I think. I've been so afraid of doing something wrong, I haven't done anything at all.

I remember lying in a state between awake and sleep, planning out a trip to the store right next door. I'd go in, grab some orange juice, water, and AriZona tea, bring those to the counter and pay for them. This scenario repeated itself numerous times before I realized what I was doing.

"This is totally insane," I mumbled to myself.

Completely nuts, absolutely. But I kept going, unable to stop myself. After ten minutes or so, I finally got up out of bed and put a shirt on, combed my hair and went and bought my orange juice, water, and tea.

Perhaps I'm unmotivated. Maybe that's just it. Melancholy does that to people, you know. Makes them quivering piles of flesh afraid to get of bed in the morning...

I wrote a little anecdote recently for someone, I've no idea if she's read it yet or not, but I thought I'd share it with everyone else too...

What I've been doing since last update:

• Absolutely Nothing

I've also recently decided that the feeling I get whenever I see my roommate is somewhere a little beyond I-want-to-fucking-punch-him-in-the-face.

I just got my first appartment, right across the street from the local SBC central office. I'm currently waiting for super-fast DSL. Just got my phone hooked-up. That's pretty much it. Anyone want my phone number, leave me a message.

I have the biggest headache right now. It's insane. At times I find myself clenching my teeth and immediately unclench them, only to find myself clenching them again. I think this might have something to do with the headache, but I'm not entirely sure.

I think I might drink some whiskey tonight. I feel like writing.

So. It's been awhile my fellow deities, hasn't it? Where have I been and what have I been doing the past month or so? I think dead is a good overall description. Honestly, I can't really explain what I've been doing. There's been FFXI, of course. There's been work, of course. And in between these I loose track.

Apparently I have this book, Strangers by Dean Koontz, that I've been reading. I know I've also gone out and bought a few items a number of times. Two pairs of pants, two sunglasses, two willy-wonka goggles, a pair of shoes. I guess I've been in a buy-things-in-pairs mood. Yes. I know I've gone out and bought these items; afterall, things don't usually just magically appear in my room. Although this one time I came home to find a Nintendo 64 kind-of-storage case sitting on the floor.

I remember I had scratched my head while looking at it sitting motionless there. Seriously, it was just in the middle of the floor. I had no idea where it had come from and had every right to suspect magic was the medium in which it traversed space-time to it's then resting spot. My initial puzzlement was replaced by an emotion of delight, because it was obviously dated, and I enjoy dated stuff.

Upon inspecting the unit I found that it could hold 13 Nintendo 64 games, along with four controllers and the various attachments you tend to gather with these sorts of things. I desperately wanted to like the storage case. However, it was bulky -- much too bulky to be considered of any use. It's still sitting in relatively the same spot. I'm simply at a loss of what to do with it. Can you safely move that sort of thing?

Last night was a fine day at work.

It was full of wonder and intrigue, almost. I keep clocking in hoping something awesome is waiting for me in the subsequent eight and a half hours but the awesome keeps eluding me. I came into the break room a full fifteen minutes before I had to clock in, which was a welcome change from my customary thirty minutes.

In the breakroom as you walk in, you have a wall imediately to your left and the room opens to your right. Along that far right wall there's a table and a refridgerator. Above the table there's a series of manila folders resting in metal holders so there's four columns with a number of rows each. We each get a manila folder with our name on it when we get our name badge and employee ID number.

Anyway, when I walked in last night there was a black velvet bag resting pleasantly inside my folder. I assumed everyone got one, as a number of the other folders still had a bag in them. Inside the bag I found a nice little oval pin with a picture of the tazmanian devil and the writing "ATTITUDE IS EVERYTHING" on it. I threw the bag away, as it had "for all you've done" or some equally retarded line printed on it. I feel like throwing the pin away too.

So these past two weeks have really just been a blur. Last weekend, the weekend of the 8th, I visited the E.R. because I was hurting when I breathed in. Apparently this is a sign of pneumonia, because everyone was telling me to go see a doctor. Anyway, I went in, they took x-rays and everything looked fine.

So the doctor was like, "It could be one of two things. A blood clot or a pulled muscle."

And I said, "Wow. That's, uh, quite a toss up there."

So he ordered a bunch of blood tests, I guess. Or just one. Anyway, that came back negative too. So it turns out I just had a pulled muscle somewhere. No pneumonia. No blood clot.

I spent the entire following week doing absolutely nothing. Just sleeping and coughing and blowing my nose. It's now Monday, and I still have the sniffles and a cough. At least my throat isn't swollen or sore anymore.

I have a cold. :(

Howard sat in his soft reading chair sipping his morning coffee and reading his morning paper. He sat cross-legged and was wearing his Tuesday slippers. They were the blue fuzzy, comfortable ones that were also fashionably inappropriate. His robe matched his slippers with tackiness only possible in middle class America. He was half way through an interesting article about the local bakery when he heard what he thought was a muffled scream.

He looked up from his paper and took another sip from his coffee, listening. A moment later another muffled sound confirmed it. It was a scream. He frowned. He got up and looked out his front window. No one was in sight.

He took another sip, and put his coffee on to the end table by his reading chair. Disregarding the inappropriateness of his slippers and robe he walked outside. Howard made his way down the driveway to the street, and his mailbox. He looked down the street both ways and across. He was still listening. Still no one was in sight. After a moment he shrugged, checked his mail, and went back inside.

The muffled screams came again while he shifted through the mail. He put the mail on the end table, by his cup of coffee. He slicked back his hair with his hand, went to the door of the basement, and pressed his ear to the door. The screams were definitely louder now. He opened the door and stared into the black expanse.

No longer muffled, the screams worked their way up to Howard with a haunting slowness. They were tired screams, incoherent in any language. It seemed they originated from far below. There was a cold draft. He tied his robe tightly around himself before starting down the stairs.

Flights of stairs later Howard found himself still climbing downward. There was a faint light from below. He didn’t slow his pace, but he felt a mounting apprehension. It worked its way up into his chest until it was hard to breathe.

His feet touched solid ground. There was a hallway before him and the screams where louder now. They were louder, and coherent. He could make out what they were saying.

“Help me! Please, oh God! Please!” There was pain in the voice.

Howard felt a chill run slowly up his spine and he swallowed even though his mouth was dry. Sweat broke out on his forehead as he started to slowly walk down the hallway. The light was coming from a doorway on the left just up ahead. He paused when he reached the edge of it.

He swallowed again, and wiped his forehead. Slowly he took the step into the room on the left. He stood for a moment, wide eyed at what he saw. And then he screamed until his throat was raw and all was black.

September 19th, around 11 PM I soberly said, "After we came home I just played FFXI, which I've decided is my escape." The conversation before isn't really important. I was just ranting off lines, and, apparently, so was she.

"You really need a Saggitarius with a Gemini." She replied.

"Saggitarius? With a Gemini? You mean, like, a threesome?" I was all for that.

"Oh. My God. I WANT. THE FF11. THE FF11. THE WONDERFUL, FF11. WHAT ARE YOU! SHARE THE LOVE, BROTHA?" She spat out in almost orgasmic bursts.

"A Mithra," I replied. "People think I'm a girl and give me stuff. Heh."

She laughed. "Are you a female character?"

"Yeah. I figured, if I'm going to be staring at an ass all day, it might as well be a woman's. Because the camera is like, right there." I said. I used a gesture, but she didn't see it. "At first I was like, 'Hey, this isn't right.' You know, everyone thinking I'm a female in real life. But now I just kind of play into it. When people ask specifically, I just quietly ignore the question."

"Oh my god. We could have like, unofficial lesbian love one day."

Beethoven makes me happy. Gin is agreeable. I fucking want to die.

xoxoxox

EDIT: WHEN I SAID I WANTED TO DIE I DIDN'T MEAN I WANTED TO KILL MYSELF, I THINK SUICIDE IS STUPID. THANK YOU FOR THE CONCERN PEOPLES. NO I DON'T KNOW WHY I'M TYPING IN CAPSES.

Go here: http://jasonscheirer.livejournal.com/242335.html

And vote 'yes'. Because you know it's true.

A person I've seen numerous times, but seldom spoken to, passed me in the hall tonight. I was on my way to get some change for a nice 20oz bottle of Nestea Cool Lemon Iced Tea. (The machine was not wanting to take my bill.) She was on her way out, off to her home or to do other things.

She offered the pretentious over-friendly smile almost everyone here uses (at least for me, since getting my mohawk), like they were dealing with a child that was acting out. I smiled back, a weak smile, the one I always give here, like a cringe.

"Goodnight," She said. No eye contact, no sincerity.

"Have a good one." I replied. Vaguer is better. I hate saying 'goodnight' to strangers. It doesn't feel right.

She laughed; an unnecessary act. I was willing to end it there. With the vagueness. This tired exchange.

"You too."

"I will..." I said in return. It was flat sounding, and unnatural. Replaying the conversation later had me laughing. I can only guess what she thought of that last remark.

I will. Like a child lying to it's parents' "Don't get into any mischief" line. The perverse tinge in it. Implying that, yes indeed, the man is up to no good.

I laughed about it for a few minutes. Maybe, in the moments after we parted ways, she thought I was insane?

The moon shown bright when I woke. It was around 3 am. Totally unpredicted, as I went to sleep around 4 pm the previous day. Making my total sleep approximately 11 hours. I, uh, didn't do anything for the rest of the day. Heh.

Just played Final Fantasy XI and worked a bit on my cluster. Which, according to Jason, is the same thing basically. I had talked with him briefly in the middle of the day. "Do you find it wrong of me to give up working on my cluster for the moment to play Final Fantasy XI?" I had asked him.

"Is there a big difference, really?" He dubiously replied. "Both involve typing. Both are pretty much games."

He was using logic here, and there was a piece missing. But I went along anyway. "That's true... I guess." I said.

"I don't know, what will this cluster be used for? So you can say 'I have a cluster'?"

"Pretty much."

"Sounds like a game to me."

It did sound pretty pointless to me too. Which kind of proved his logic there. Pointlessness is Games, and Games are Pointlessness. With that in mind, I guess I had just played games all day. Heh.

Anyway, I'm supposed to do this; the gods (just Roya, actually) have decreed it.

SET 1:
List 3 things that bug you - things that others may find trivial.
1) Mispronunciations. Like, "Supposedly" with a 'b' sound instead of 'd'; "Comfortable" with three syllables instead of four; "Prolly" instead of "Probably"...
2) Pointless Gossip.
3) Pointless Bitching.

SET 2:
List 3 things that make chocolate even better.
1, 2, 3) I don't really like chocolate...?

SET 3:
List 3 things you'd rather be doing than playing a game of LJ tag.
1) Stabbing my eyes out with a blunt object.
2) Drawing Jason in awkward yet erotic poses.
3) Masturbating to supposed drawings?

He opens his eyes. Tired light of the afternoon. The air conditioner humming. There's music in the background; somehow distant. He's trying to think. Trying to sleep. Feeling like he's going insane. There's too many jumbled ideas floating about and he's racing to gather them all before they pass.

He briefly thinks of the two outside, gossiping. That doesn't really matter. Back to the story, what about the story? He rubs his temples. The ceiling is out of focus. He glances at the clock. 12:28. He needs to go to sleep. Something tells him it'd be pointless.

He can't stop thinking in third person. He gets up and goes to the computer. Two steps total; step, step, sit. He takes a sip of Gin, and starts typing.