You're A Waste Of Time

You're a waste of time so best be moving on. You're a waste of time and being with you it irritates my teeth. They begin to itch, chatter, whine. I can't stand what you stand for. I have to get out of here. I have to leave. You're a waste of time. I can't stand being in your presence. I have to get out of here. You're a waste of time.

If This Thing Were Only Too Good

Tried to read and tried to sleep. I didn't get much of the latter done, but could and that would frack up my night and so I've been forcing myself to stay awake...reading...writing...and creating all this hell of conscience with my mother, willful and unrelentingly demanding things be done my way, then storming off to go do whatever I want, even though it's changed. Well, so what? It's all worked out perfectly. She's got done what she wanted, and I got done what I wanted. So, there! It's perfect. People don't always get along. Some times there's no compromise. Fixed what I fracked up several weeks ago, but we'll really see tomorrow when I get to actually try it. Broke a pipe or two and finally got to where I could fix it. But fix it I did. Now again I'm hungry and I don't want to eat what I'd eat at work on the weekend. (Turkey Sandwiches and Chips.) I want to go and get something out. I want to get laid. I don't have the money. I have it but I must save it for bills coming soon. I have a book and I have some fumeric acid coming for my skin, and it's not here, none of it, yet I'm getting catalogs from these health companies for products galore, but I don't want any thing from them, I didn't ask them to send these things...it's horrible. What to do now? Drink more water. Take some Silver Colloidial...think about the Anime Expo next week you have a pre-paid $25.00 One Day Pass for. You need cash for attending that. Cash money to drive up to the Willow Street station in Long Beach, and then cash for food, eating breakfast before going...and then some there...eating...and oh, of course, your real reason for going: BUYING MANGA!! Bring your list of wants...be open to other possibilities...bring your camera too...get a photo of you and some hot young manga chick in costume as one of those, you know, manga "heroes", I dunno. Whatever. Sheesh. Get a life. Do something. Move. Get out. Close storage place. New job, real job. Get rid of this fracking stiff neck and shoulders. Pain in the arse from sitting here typing too. It's horrible!! What to do, what to do, what to do?

Believing As They Say We Should Believe

If we have it so that, well, we are sentient beings and we have a soul that lives on to either be punished for all time or not...
If we have nothing to look forward to, because, there's nothing after, that whatever consciousness we have now, dissipates into the cosmos just as it appeared as we came in/developed and grew tired and moved on...
Believing as they say we should, what more is there to it? What does there need to be? Why must there be any thing? Before? During? After?
It seems to me that all of this, every thing, is just a time waster, something to do while we're here...some kind of semblance of "order" by and by to keep civil and not wipe us totally out while we're here futzing around...but we should be believing as they say we should believe, it's just a control thing, trying to make sense of things and order life as if we all had some kind of control over it. Which, I don't consider we have much spin on. Not much any way. It's like gardening in a whirlwind, grasping ghosts with shovels. What do you believe? Why? Isn't it all just by the by with what your parents raised you as, your culture demanded, and that, if you were born elsewhere and in a different time, you'd certainly believe and actuate other visions and other dreams. Maybe there's nothing else in all of this but this. That, this is all there is, and, to consider and think and wish and hope is just ridiculous, just another futz around with the precious amount of staying-ness (time) we have here. It'll all be gone soon, all according to some crazy plan of you doing what you do plus what others are doing and...help yourself, good luck, we're all going to die and that's about it. Boompf, nothing more. No sense being bothered by any thing really, is there? Yet we do. We are. We create these worlds and messages and myths and realities...all so that we won't be so scared of the inevitable I think we all realize deep deep down: WE ARE ALONE AND FRIGHTENED TO DEATH OF ... DEATH ... and that's the one last thing going we have to conquer in life, of a way of going where we go through experience, realizing things, unique to us, but in many ways common to all...more or less...and then we're gone. Oh well. So what. Why the beef or comment or in some cases: bother.

Going To Take A Shower

Hot, going to take a shower. Have to. Tired. Must. Also, for all this "dehydration", must drink: WATER. And, reduce this beer intake. Not that I'm drinking heavily or anything, but I am steady of late, my other supplemental skin related pills aren't taking any effect with my red bumps on my skin, the damn "psoriasis" or whatever the hell it might be. And on that score, I've got some FUMERIC ACID coming in a few days, that will I hope REALLY do the trick in regards getting rid of this dreaded skin difficulty. It's supposedly what the "problem" is with the body that has this condition, it's a lack of Fumeric Acid. And, meanwhile, one is not supposed to drink or eat a lot of high sugar foods, etc. Don't dehydrate basically.
Okay, so, shower, hydrate, skin drinks water...why not? Moving on. Moving on...now something else to do...sleep in some, and move on from here. Move on.

RE: Emails...

Friend of mine sent me an email to my regular address and it contained a link to a bit of movie of Henry Miller, the famous writer, and he talked to the camera on a movie set of New York City, talking about New York, and what a hell hole it was for him as a kid. Weird. I'd never seen it before. I'd never heard him speak before and I've never actually read any of his books, though through the whatever it is you know someone, I've known him.
I wrote to my friend to thank her and I was out of it, I just sent the email and I didn't even write any thing...so, this first email attests to the fact and then describes in detail my life that day...

"Crazy, eh? About like that recent missive about Miller...yes. He's like you'd think he'd sound...and, why the movie set any way? Hmm. Interesting....Like me just now. I could have sworn I'd gotten up at 7.45 AM Wednesday morning. And I was to report to work on Wednesday, at 6.15 AM, and thought I was late.(It's 7:48 PM Tuesday, 6.10.08 as I originally wrote this.) I called work, told them I'd be in, in about an hour. Sorry I'm late...and they told me I...it's...are you...It's Tuesday...Did you wake up from a nap just now? Uhhh...Yeah, thanks. See you tomorrow. Good Night.
The light out my windows these days of night and morning low clouds, is just the same here (overcast) and I couldn't tell that I just went to sleep at 6 and then woke up, bright as day, clear in the muddle as can be, an hour and 45 minutes later, but thinking that, I'd slept the night through, just like I'd planned.
I was kind of pissed. Stupid assed alarm clock. I'd been meaning to throw it away, get another one....dammit!!! But, it's only an hour or so later. Okay. Buena Suerte, good luck, getting back to sleep now and then, getting up at 3 and getting to work at 6.15 AM.....Wednesday."


AND THEN MY NEXT MISSIVE ATTESTING FURTHER TO THE FACT:


"AND NOW @ 3.07 am, the alarm clock rings. I got up a few minutes earlier, got rid of that water that had been bursting the dam, and laid back in bed...just, unmotivated....and then somehow I needed to write to continue this odd story, and sure enough, this time, the alarm rang. Sometimes the hours just don't carry, and I'd been worried that I'd over sleep. Hate being late...you're really in trouble if you don't show, don't call in...big points against your name where I work. A real nazi prison concentration camp. But seriously folks; if you don't like it, you can always leave, right? Any thing? Any place? Any where? Hmmm. I like it all right...just wish, I's doing something else....what I don't know, besides writing...they don't even pay enough for monorail piloting....how much less me and my writing....
I'm just saying...
---WILLIAM

Freak Angels

Oh, and by the way folks: Here's a great FREE online comic you ought to check out:

http://www.freakangels.com

(Sorry, you'll have to copy and paste it yourself. This blog deal does not at least at this time approve/accept the link/live.)

Warren Ellis written story and Paul Duffield artwork. Warren Ellis approved this link, and my pasting it into my blog.

It appears every Friday, and is a very interesting tale.

--William.

The Peak Performance of Peaches McCormic

Harvey Korman's gone. "You're a Tomato!" director among a myriad of other things: Tootsie too; Sydney Pollack, has left as well. Now what?
When you're feeling blue, read something really sad. 1 Liter Of Tears, by that Japanese girl who had some kind of spinal disease, heart wrenching stuff! The title, spelled Litter and Liter, should be by my account spelled: Litre. Is the diary entries of this girl from 12 to 20 years of age and then a couple of entries by her mother and a doctor. Sad. Horrible. Tragic. It'll make you stop feeling sorry for yourself, I hope. And it is the best one can hope for, it is the peak performance of peaches mccormic. What we can all ascribe to when things go rotten in our lives. When the life long dreams we have cannot seem to be materialized, etc. That kind of thing. When car accident after mortgage forclosure after tornado and earthquake and child gets killed by bus, etc. all that gut-wrenching stuff occurs.
We feel so sorry for others it seems some times. Some of us only feel sorry for ourselves. But, it is hoped, not all the time. I do know that we do have to take care of our needs but have to have in mind the needs of others as well. We have to be careful as we gently tread along.
Just a note. Hello. Hope you're there. Hope all is well. Hello. If you need me, all you need is to call.

GREETINGS FROM THE MAYAN RIVIERA

It's warm here but very nice. The breeze blows constantly. Can't think of a single place else I'd rather be, except maybe alone. Yes, family vacation. It's fine, and it's a blessing and wonderful to behold all this time with the fam and all...to travel and get into and out of places people I may never ever see again. Great. I do however need alone time. I do however need time to spend with and money to do it with, to get into and out of other people's lives, the people I can meet here only if I go alone. But, be that as it may, it's great to be here with the fam.
Spent 12 plus hours to/from Chichen Itza, the last known place of the Itza tribe. Fantastic. HOT. Melting in the sun. Said you'd better go in the morning or night. Catch the show they put on at night. Extra bills for the headphones to hear and understand what's going on.
Read some site some where about the place that said that it's 12.22.2012 that the world ends when the snake, the plumed serpent Kukulkan comes out of the ground of the playing field. No. Every solstice, the snake, the plumed serpent, Kulkukan, rises either up or down on the main pyramid as a trick of the light and shadow of the pyramid and the sun and shadow, on the building on the solstices, happens every one. So, no big deal there. (I just can't remember which occurs when: which solstice it comes up and which one the "snake" or serpent Kulkukan, comes down.)
The big deal will be on the solstice of 12.21.2012 because there will be a complete solar eclipse that year (unknown date) and all of the planets in our solar system will align, making a cross in the "sky". So, in the day, some where on the globe, there will be the shadow of the moon? Or what, that will fall on the sun, blocking its view from those lucky/unlucky persons on earth, and with luck: good/bad, the folks looking up in their night sky, will be able to view the "cross" pattern of all of our planets.
The Mayan calendar will on that date 12.21.2012, will return to zero...the number that they created for the world and one that all of the people on this globe use to this day.

The Neck

My mosquito bite as a "friend" calls it, is going down. It's not so much with the pus ooze any more. Washing it this morning for the bandage change, it bled a bit...more blood than ooze, so, yeah, washing it out. It's washing itself out. I hope to see some more...Well, no. But, you know, I want more improvement tiempo mas...you know, as time goes by.
The local witch doctor Doctorio Z has graced me with some bottles of things and will have another for me manana, all so that I may clean myself up in due course and move on away from bandages and worry. I really need to get rid of that scheiss! That's the part what makes every thing "worse", eh? Worry stress, your body gets ill.
A little rain. A lot of thunder. It's ever so nice. Need to sit out more on the porch and enjoy the peace, quiet, and cool breeze. Las Brisas. Muy Bueno. Very good indeed. More later and or on another day perhaps. Tah!

Back Home Again With All The Dogs

Three years ago almost to the day--off by a few--I was here last and was in much better shape physically, I mean as far as not being visited by a little present from nature saying, Hola, welcome to middle age. And so now you have an infection in your neck which is producing pus that's the consistence of the interior of someone's implants--sticky and gooey--and just quite a mess...bacteria in there and it's producing the stuff right quick and who knows, may even have to be lanced again if it doesn't clear up, dry out, soon...what a mess. What a mess...2.5 cm deal...quite the scary thing for me. This kind of crap never happens to me, you know? Sure, every thing's perfect, I'm spoiled beyond belief, and have had for the bulk of my life both my parents to see me through. Got a lovely sister that I think loves me more than I love myself. It's incredible.
Here we are in Ajijic, Mx. and just settling in. Getting into the Ex-Pat life here with all the new locals. Gabachos people. Gabachos. Not gringos. They don't call you gringos. You call each other gringos. Numbnuts. Pretty nice people over all...every one here I mean. It's great.
Excellent food and drink and it's nice and relaxing. I've needed this for quite some time. Must get sorted a bit and into the hay...
Ta-tah for now, space travelers.
Amigo mio, mantengase con sed
Stay thirsty my friends.
---William.

HOW ABOUT IT?!

Okay so there you go, you know? You don't want to but you do any way. How do you stop it? There doesn't seem to be an answer. What do you do in spite of every thing any way? What is the answer? There isn't one. Okay. What do you do? How do you resolve it? HOW ABOUT IT?
I mean, you know? What do you do? There must be some means for ameliorating the pain the anguish the frustration the compounded stupidity that is life some times...you know? Get a girl and secretly, to yourself, fuck with the anger and frustration in you and have the thought the saying: I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU?
You know, one of those (You don't really hate your partner) really good "hate" fucks? Do you know what I mean? I don't. I don't have clue one. I'm not in the program. I'm not part of the parade. I'm not involved with the rest of the festival. I'm not involved. I know nothing about it. Sure. Run. Go running with your dog. That's that beautiful slightly older Chinese chick on the sidewalk just now, with her pet, and black shorts, tight, beautiful...sweet scene...running...ah, shit. Fuck. That's right. Hate fuck. Running down the sidewalk just as fast as you can...trying to get off the fucking hate hell shit fuck there is in life, out of your system...out of life...to exhaustion to peace...like what you experience now and again after a good hot shower...relaxing in clean comfortable cotton clothing...warm sun or not....gray cool skies out and you're inside with a cup of hot cocoa/chocolate (mint) and marshmallows....and sipping right there next to the window in a comfortable chair and great book. Journal and perfectly working favorite medium point fountain pen....ah, yeah. PEACE. Grant Us This Peace. Please. FOREVER....at some point in the future, let us please have this peace and when it comes then, please, please, please, please, PLEASE!!!!!! Never let it go away, EVER!!!!!!!

CHECK THIS OUT

If true, this really sucks. Yes, the world...if you...and they...but you...



http://www.luclatulippe.com:80/2008/04/18/book-publisher-in-china-plagiarizes-and-steals-illustrations/


This artist had a website and this content was taken and made into a book in China....supposedly...and you know, no one is getting rich off it I guess...but, the person is getting exposure, eh?

What price to pay for fame.
Oh it's easy to say over here, well, I'd rather not have my peace lost if I have to have my self out there and on 24/7 just to make a living...f-that, you know? But, with issues of international art, stealing...well, shouldn't it all be free? Not if someone is taking your stuff and selling it.
Only is that wrong? I don't know. Don't even know if any of this is the truth.

In Times Like These

In times like these we learn to live/love/learn again. In times like these. These are the crucial hours where you're alone and you have no one...not one soul to turn to or talk with to even conjecture a theory about a premise of life, or any thing, that, could save yours...nothing and no one....and you rely again on your self and you are saved. You set your self free as it were...
Something happens. You have time. You write in a journal. You release the hell that is within side you and you are free. On paper the recording of the thoughts and feelings and utter sickness is vacated...and some how, you are free. Some how it can if you believe, save others. Who knows? It could save you at a later date. Never know. Never know. I hope so. I hope. That is all. That is all.
I go to bed. I go to sleep. Now. I have to. I cannot do this any more. In times like these. I have an idea of what to do tomorrow. Search that book off place again. I want a book. I want a manga or three. I usually find something. I can. I must sleep (NOW!) and I cannot afford and to be quite honest I have plenty to read here...but not for me to do now, NOW, be inspired...to ... to do more reading...not like the manga the fiction therein where I feel alive that way...the Chinese writer...the words the work the stuff like that...what is it? What? What makes the magic happen like that? Where can I find it in what I have? How? How can I get it in re-reading stuff like Spider Jerusalem's tale in the comics I have...and move on? Move on. Move on. Move on....and not consider that these those recurring thoughts like: Get the Fool Moon book by Jim Butcher. Look for it at all the used book stores around you...stop. STOP. STOP wasting time like that. After the juice. After the whatever what have you, get to the damn thing, get to the coffee shop and sit and read with the Berlin Alexanderplatz. Get the bagel and cream cheese. Sit. Drink cool tea. Get Greek food. Relax...sit...sleep. Now, sleep. Go to bed and sleep now. Maybe you can stop shaking your leg up and down like a sewing machine and sleep. Shit. What a day. What anger. What that crap did and what it does...man...relax. Sleep. Be unaware. Oh oblivion, where are you?

Triumph and Disaster

"If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same;"
---Rudyard Kipling
YES, that's the ticket. If. If you can...if...but secretly, maybe, you can't. Most of us rarely can, and it's not from a lack of trying, but despite that, we often fail...though it's true we often succeed!
Best deal is to move. Move along and treat most elements like you're blind or deaf in one ear or something like that. Yeah, sure, why not? Why bother fretting or complaining all the time? Why bother thinking all the time? Singing or whatnot such as that? If you do any one thing too much...that's just that...it's too much on one subject/topic. You have to have balance. You have to be able to do many things....and maybe that means master of none, I don't know, I don't care. It doesn't matter either way, I'll bet. Just doesn't matter.
I like to read. I love to actually. I love to write. I love to go to bookstores and pick out books. Buy them with endless supplies of cash and gumption...to buy at will, totally free, and fully expect I'll read all these things and enjoy the hell out of them. For the most part, I do. But, it's getting to them that's the major pain in the ass.
Ran into Claudia today. It's been a year since she left, and what were the chances I'd be there at that coffee shop and we'd meet and chat and all such as that? Or, that we'd been meeting at work where we used to work and meet and hug and say hello and chat? What? What are/were the chances?
I got the Killawatt-3 unit for DAD today as well as a book: Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio, by Pu Songling. Just a book of stories...some so old...from a man who wrote for the kings...way back when....way back when....1640-1715. (Never published in his lifetime. There's another book as well: Story of the Stone, by Cao Xueqin, (In 5 volumes!) which, if I like these, I might get.)
Went by a used book store twice for manga books at a discountlooking, looking, looking...trying to find something else to buy, to read, though I really didn't/don't need it. IT'S CRAZY! Must go somewhere to have my head cleared. I have a craziness. I have $173.00 in my bank and must make it into next week.
The Lab that had as their job my ground off tooth impression, blew it. So, I have another 2 weeks to wait. Eating still on my right side. Got a needle in my gums for my effort to make it on time to the dentist today. Okay. Right. Perfect. Saw Street Kings, the James Ellroy screenplay story. Brutal is right. I liked it. Probably won't see it again, but, you never know...I sort of guessed what up as it was finishing, but, what the hell, crazy ride. And that's what's expected...so, it delivered. Can't complain. A lot of manga / yakuza film tales are like that, so what's the difference? It's in Japanese, right? Big deal. Domo Arigato. Moving On.

WORDS

Don't wait for your "ship to come in" and feel angry and cheated when it doesn't. Get going with something small.- Irene Kassorla


This is the word of the day, you know? That's it. Start with something and keep it going...maybe you'll end up somewhere you thought about as in big dreams big time, etc., but if not, it might be a blessing...because from what you've seen, tis' a big dumper and maybe as Kipling once said of I think it was failure and success: that they're both imposters...if it wasn't that, it was that if you think you've failed or succeeded, you're going to be right in both cases or...who knows...I'll get it back to you later perhaps...

Well, later on....I'm thinking....I'll have to research the Kipling poem IF, and that's where I recall it from....I can't quote it here I don't think....I don't know if I can use the opening quote in here. But coins. Of the realm. Reality. Things having two faces: Janus: Happy Sad well, they're both impostors. You deem what you deem or redeem what you do all along the way and really, the reactions to things....they're just what it is....that, things can be other. Stuff isn't all black and white. It's gray. It's all dependent on your viewpoint and you shouldn't belabor stuff I guess. More later. When time/opportunity allows. We might even scrap all of this yet....

AND SO...

This odd realization comes over me in waves, while watching Three Days Of Rain, presented by Wim Wenders; "I could be reading manga right now. Yes. I could even be reading some kind of short Japanese novel, be sitting in a chair by an open window, sunlight over my shoulder, pen in hand, paper there too, writing....but, as it's night time and feels like rain as I'm watching this film by Don Meredith's son, with my mom on the couch nearby, what a waste in a way. I should have just watched the Japanese Sci-Fi flick or Horrorshow I was originally considering."
Yes, I was really considering it. Felt like shutting the film off. I had on earlier the (Wanted to see this film long ago: "The Good German".) Section 8 film, a collaboration between Clooney and Soderbergh. Both these titles were bummers...but I felt really good earlier about finding them and wanting to watch them...because I thought it'd be easier to watch them than the weird/violent Japanese/Korean films or the Russian title (Andrey Roublyov, as it's in some places spelled, but you probably won't find the title in the Netflix queue like that, it's more Russian in spelling...the Cyrillic characters I don't have, but would use as my search just found it.) I thought to see several different items...and to come home and eat some of the Mint flavored crunch green and white M&M nuggets, a promotional line for the new Indiana Jones flick, due next month, entitled The Crystal Skull or something such as that.
Yes, found a new comic store....this one in Fountain Valley, outskirts of Santa Ana, and a fella in there that has tons of books, and has them laid out and easy to find and a big store and method and madness of doing business. Birds in his place. Parakeets and Doves. TV going.
Got my hairs cut. Found a gal who had vacated another store I used to frequent, but used a different one because it was near, an old chain, but near where I was for lunch and Manga book purchase...pen ordering possibility, and, who knows what all. I have checks to do. I have things coming in the mail: TPB of Ellis. Chinese book of supernatural short stories. An electronic meter, for DAD in Mexico. It should be fun.
Went for a walk with Mom this afternoon. Some kind of deal. Went by a place I go to some times for pizza and beer, forgetting that it's cash only. And ordered, cracked open the Heineken did they, and oops! Sorry. Fuck. Well, that's that then. Moving on. Walked back home and then drove to the Burrito place and went by the bank and took notes by the window before the meal and for the digestion of the Dos Equis Amber and lime wedge. (Note to self: Don't pop the lime wedge in and not expect a frizzy backwash of beer coming out the top of the bottle. It will. Be careful.) On the way, I was a bit frustrated. Mom was lagging behind and it required a bit of waiting for her to get ready before we took off even. What to do. What to do. What to do. I'm tired. It's my Sunday, Saturday the 5th, and I'm just now only relaxing and ready to sit and read and you know, it's time to prepare for Sunday (My Monday.), and the new week. FUCK!
Didn't read any of the new comics I purchased. Not Anna Mercury, the latest from Warren Ellis, or Ben Templesmith's Dead Space. Nope. I did at the place in Fountain Valley, pick up a couple of superhero comics of Ellis', some kind of stupid thing I don't know what all...and some Spawn issues, with Brian H's name on them. He's the fella I met at Wizard World in Downtown L.A. at the Convention Center a while ago. I hadn't seen Brian in yonks. Went to school with him and Chip S., Martin F., and cousin to Renee, (A gal I know from CSM, dated ol' Dave T.), Anthony C.
Spoke with Jim D today and felt like I'd really like to just get on the train and go to downtown and sleep it off...just get shit-faced and relax. Get a hooker and get bent. Get to sleep. Eat at an all night downtown cafe...shop at Ralph's...and buy some books at the Library store, esp. sic. the "flexible" Moleskine notebooks...though yesterday, I found what could be the least expensive place to purchase the Moleskine (At least in Orange County.), Westminster Art Supply Warehouse...though they don't have all the pens I want/need/like...I can order them, because of a guy there I know, some one I met at work, because he visits frequently, used to work at another place I go to...and, he informed me of the Pen Show...so, this all button hooks or dovetails or something, and I like it quite nicely. That's it for now. I'll stop...my internet connection is crap again...and, to note...I'm seriously thinking of getting and trying out Verizon's Broadband card, but NOT going to go 2 year deal...no. Just month to month....hell, I could buy my own card and sign up, but, you know, that'd be most expensive and would...they probably wouldn't let me...fuck them.

The other day some friends were arguing...

Happy Easter

Yesterday, March 23, 2008, 2:07:22 PM ari
I think the debate will rage on...or not. I think the person paying for the site or group is boss, well reasoned arguements or not aside. Questions asked or answered or not. People offended or not. Opinions delivered or ignored. Some people can reply. Some choose not to...others cannot. I thought I'd jump into the fray just to say, well, we all get pissed off by things...some times they're rational rational reasons to be pissed. Some not.
Yesterday I may have pissed the lady off by responding to her in a less than cheerful manner when I was trying to get some solutions for her and her group. SOME OF THEM COULD WAIT IN THE SUN SOME COULD NOT. (All this is taking place out of doors) I was in front of a ride and handling about 3 thousand things all at once. People coming up to ask about how to get fast pass, others with them wanting to get in, others wanting just to get in, and others just wanting to go to the bathroom. It's tough for me when people don't get what it is I'm saying to them. I try. I don't always respond cheerfully. That irritation showed and she went off on me, blathering about my attitude. Which of course pissed me off. I hate it when people shit on me. Or, I get you know, to a point. It irritates me.
I hope to assuage nuttiness between liz and john. I hope to cheerfully be at peace with every one who comes up and asks me for help. I can't always. I can't because I don't know why. I cannot. I'm there at a place and there's givens in the context and when people come up with assinine things for me to do, to subvert the dominant paradigm (not have us wait in line because we don't want to and clearly, every one is,) well, I hate it....and if they get antagonistic towards me because I am towards them, I think it easy to dislike their behavior and maybe even hate them...more so the behavior and unfortunately, the life I have to live, what I have to put up with. It sucks. Well, get another job then? Not so easy. As a member of the life for years, I know it's just, one thing for another. It'll be something else I'm irritated with, isn't it? Most people would agree. I don't know. Forget it. Let it go. It's way too easy to say, and hard to follow up.
You'll live longer if you let it be. Well, some times I don't know that that is such a great solution. Who'd want to stay around here any longer for so much more grief? I don't agree it's all just pain. Ah, but it's pleasure too...Can't have release without tension...right. Okay. Moving on. Please, let's move on. There should be much much more to this thing than we have here now. Should be much much more. I have to get ready for work now. Wish I'd time to reason this arguement up. Read and proofread and analyse, etc. But I don't.
Try to be of good cheer. I saw something yesterday. Some one's shirt. Be Classy. San Diego. I need many things like that to combat the uglies. I really do. I thought. Hey, Stay Classy. Some kind of mantra. Now maybe I have it...must work that into the thinking. Some times I'm there at that spot out front of the ride and I'm aware of my breathing and my stance and I can adjust. Some times I cannot. I like not to. I like to just zen it all. Not have to think or be in control at all. Just let flow and go, but, in so doing the price is, I can say and do what irri-fucking-tates and then get in trouble. Make the line stop in the queue to have the lady throw the drink cup away in that trash can, instead of the other, I hold the line so that it's not going to pass her by or she get lost. Her point of view is, I've embarrassed her, blah blah blah. Well, for the most part, so tired that day, I was in a good mood and really just happy that I was handling all these people with my earplugs in in a ludicrously LOUD environment with dangerous exposure to UV (black) lights (aren't there more in the out of doors?) and some what dangerous mechanical conditions and was really relaxed and happy and not much even ruffled my feathers....but this one or two things that day, and especially that one with the lady who, comes to a place that is out of doors and in a crowd and she says her husband can't wait in the sun, (Part of the ride's wait area is indoors, and part out.), and the rest of the group can/is going to go into the ride, what should we do...it's just insane I tell you. Know what I mean? Sure, since that's the obvious, just fucking laugh. Some times I do...but, that's rude, right? IF I'M RUDE TO THEM, that's the ultimate sin. If they're rude to me, I have to just sit and take it like a lamb to slaughter. I take offense at this at some point in my day. There's only so much a person can take. Well, there ya go. Hope the picture comes through. Hope it doesn't offend. But, there ya are. Oh well. Move on.
--Ken.

"It's A Sad Sad Situation, and it's getting more and more absurd..."*

SATURDAY, MARCH 22nd, 2008
(Thank You Bernie Taupin and Elton John for "Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word"*.)
THE SAD, SCARY STUPID thing and all about any thing and every thing is that I don’t even have my phone on that much and when I do there’s not so many calls coming in or for that matter, going out. Just a few people is all. That is all.
Don’t need to text much. My email is of junk mostly, in my in-box as well as the junk file. There’s crap of/off some friends from way far away and they’re usually discussing or linking stuff I don’t know, think, or, care about, usually; and can’t do much about any thing any way, any how. So, what does it fucking matter? Not much. Not much at all.
STUPID THING IS, I guess that by my ability or possibility if I get super mobile and connected with all the bells and whistles I think are important, and are of what most ads and manufacturers and suppliers and liars of service say they have for one and all; that, when/if I get that, I’ll be able to BE that. The busy guy with the unit electronica and making it happen. Blogging and Emailing and Texting and Calling and moving the universe, multi-verse, whatever, what have you. STUPID!
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My head is itching something fierce. My head has red spots on it in back and on top near the hairline in front and it will get worse. The spots on my fingers are still around as are the ones on my elbows which is/was what started it all in my latter years as an adult in what some times of stress? What, Me Worry? Why?
As a kid, perhaps an infant, I had this. My folks put socks on my hands. Changed my drinking to Goat's Milk. Did that do it? I don't really drink milk much. I can't eat ice cream. I had a milk like drink today...but, it's not why the sores appear at all, really, is it? Chocolate? Caffiene? I do do that. Caffiene. It gets me going keeps me up past 2 AM like it is now on this dark cold morning of Saturday....Friday Night for some....still....like me...on line down stairs till my laptop/mouseshit began giving me problems....and I got tired of it. I'm still burning with energy and I had that bit at the beginning to say and got on line to look stuff up about authors and then the books and but it was all after the stuff with the Sunglasses I looked up. Fucker. I gave them my home number. I don't believe I did that before, eh? I don't like that idea. Shit. I won't know what to...TUESDAY? The sunglasses not very good ones, they won't be around then any way. They're going to be all sold out. That's when they'll call to tell me that the site which is notorious for not including a indicator and no one can contact any one who can find out, if they're mirror finish on the front of the lens as you're looking at the person wearing them. I can't wear them at work if they are, and I'm looking of course for sunglasses that I can wear at work.
I'd picked up a couple today already when I went in for bleach and got some cleaner and maybe I'll get the bathroom cleaned for once...damn thing hasn't been looked at or serviced save the toilet in months and I mean MONTHS! It's pathetic. I don't have a brain for it. I don't have a muscle. I don't have any thing. I don't know at all what's "WRONG". I really can't say. It's not for me to say any way I don't figure. People who are fucked can't diagnose, can they? The phrase is "SELF-DIAGNOSE", right? Whatever. What-ever!
The glasses are cheap, plastic, bright as hell to look through...I want some DARK fricken lenses. I want not to have to go to an Eye Doctor to get them. I want something like they used when we shot stuff at Loyola, ND 9, for Neutral Density #9 strength, which is a hell of a dark glass. And Polarizer. And I'd like to have GLASS, not plastic. I also want that flat blue glare reduction coating on the inside as I look out. I want this glass thin and the frames thus too. Opaque frames. Not shiny metal. I want rubber nose pads off the frames. It's not so hard to imagine or get or do, you know? Something sensible, round-ish I suppose. But square will do. Dark fucking GREEN if I can get it. DARK!

What Goes On Some Times

In rereading my posts...my blog...this deal, I like what I have written. It's difficult for me to read aloud tonight because my throat is a bit raw. It's like, well, Spring and that just means, we have to have sneezing and hot and cold weather, snoring like crazy and sore throats. Oh well.
Saw NIGHTS OF CABIRIA last night and I must say I enjoyed it, despite the fact I considered the thing like my script Rats With Wings in regards to a tough female lead and it made me cry. I could imagine Pier Paolo Passolini writing or living some of the "life" in there and it being incredibly hard to endure. Sad. But so too, the joy of life. Being able despite the hardship, to sigh and smile. Get into the music all around, be able to dance and go on. Nice. I think any one with an appreciation of cinema or of life, should watch it. It really is quite good.
Another film I saw (today) from the video store I visited yesterday, I'd been looking for SOUTHLAND TALES. It was in the store I'd been to several times, and I just didn't get it when I first saw it and have been pissed because I go there and they tell me so far every time I visit, no. It's not here. One gal even went so far as to point out that it's just come out. It's up there on the chaulk board above the cashiers place near the door. Yeah, right. Just come out. Fuck that fuck. But I didn't have any thing to argue with her about. Wasn't in the mood and well, my camera phone wasn't around and I don't have one and if I'd had a camera and shot a photo and had it with me and could show her and see her face and make my point and all....well, what's the point? I can't recall the damn movie I saw this morning that I fell for the girl in and the film experience was one of Okay what's going on what's going on what's going on? More so that of What's this leading to? What's it mean? Why am I watching it? The fella who did The Grudge, the Japanese version. I saw. I liked. I enjoyed this film but really, just...got more out of what was talked about in it than the film experience itself and of the robot mention in it as robots are on the mind of late. The book I'm reading, the Special issue of Scientific American I bought the other day regarding them...Maribou? What is the name of the film? I can't very well open up another window and get it can I?
MAREBITO, by Takashi Shimizu. And the girl who plays F a character who may or may not be the lead character's "daughter" Fuyuma, is awesome. She's Tomomi Miyashita. And on IMDB there is no photo much to my chagrin, but maybe somewhere on there with time there is or at least probably on the net....but never mind that...
I think I'll have to look up the author and his work and the work mentioned in it...the film. Some novel from the 20's is mentioned and how it was prescient and it was fiction but in time became "fact". I like that. Nice. Good stuff.
This guy is a videographer and I won't spoil it but has an obsession and it of course gets him and you must see it for it to be any good. I'd love to read the book by the author and author of the screenplay: Chiaki Konaka.
The 20's novel mentioned in the film (not by name just by the author's name and the fact it was written in the 20's) is A WARNING TO FUTURE MAN, by Richard Sharpe Shaver. In his book, he has "detrimental robots," and they're in the film or the film has these creatures called DERO, which is "what" these creepy things that live in the underground are. Very strange. I wonder...having of late been brought to mind the Last Man On Earth thing/deal with regard to folks at work, (We'd been talking about it lately.) the film with Will Smith and The Omega Man film mentioned and the book that it was based on, or all these films. (There was even one with Vincent Price (The Last Man On Earth, 1964), that came out before the one with Charlton Heston, (1971) which is what I saw.) I wonder if that book, though the stories are a bit different in simple direct plot, I wonder if the 20's novel wasn't inspirational to the fella who wrote I AM LEGEND, by Richard Matheson, 1954. I wonder if he, this other "DICK" wasn't inspired by the Shaver deal.
Looking at wikipedia on Shaver, its quite a posting...you'll have to view it yourself, and check the links...there are a lot of them...I think I want to now call my blog: Mantong, and read the novel, novella, which a fella named Palmer had edited Shaver's manuscript into...making in readable and perhaps less unpublishable...for it was quite racy I guess...much of this guy's crazy stuff that really sold Amazing Stories' stuff in was, apparently...and Harlan Ellison had a thing to say about it all...Hoax and not and what all this crap is all about....whatever...thing to me is, it's interesting and I like the deal. It's like this: There's this thing and it's all talked about and it's nothing in reality or real life but for some off colored musings or things for people of obscure tastes to revel in. So what. Who cares. What's the point. It's just another thing to waste your time/life with, as according to Kurt Vonnegut, never let any one tell you life isn't just for piddling...that, the reason we're here isn't like Chrissy Hynde says: Is to take care of each other...which is nice and I'd like for that to be so as well, esp. sic. with idiots like Shaver and his books making noise, he was probably a paranoid psychotic or schizophrenic or something like that...and it's just, you know, pissing me off. These people. They live and have lived and have made art and are to some degree "important", much more so than me. And, that irks me. Irritating is it I'm not. Nothing is made of me or my stuff at large, you know?

WILL WORK FOR ROBOTS

FRIDAY, MARCH 21st, 2008
Bumpersnicker: WILL WORK FOR ROBOTS.
Okay, Okay, Okay. Listen here. You folks out there who read on line. Put down your other cell phone (device) you use for better sound quality, and use this one you use to work the net, because its reader/user\screen resolution or memory or ease of use with regard to buttons, location of them, or no buttons, is better on this device that rocks! Put your ass down. Take a seat, and read this.
Vacate your body of liquid and solid waste material. Don’t answer your other two phones even if they ring. Let it go to voice mail. That’s what it’s there for. This is muy importante, gut-dammit!
We all say, sure: Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, robots. Robots! Let’s let them. Good. Do it. But do we really have them? Are they really here? NO.
Not like we’d like. Just like the haphazard phones and phone devices/service here in the United States of America. It’s bullshit. (Every other country in the world has far better cellular service than in the United States. And less expensive too!!!) Where we should be having sex with the fembots of our choice over thirty years ago now, it’s not happening. We’re still catching aids or herpes or whatever. It’s bullshit I tell you, bullshit!!
Yes. Si! That’s right. Device. Sex. Robot. Glamor. Fucking. Right. Yeah! Heated body. Simulated heartbeat. Knowledge, attitude and learning ability…hell, TEACHING capability…teach you a thing or two, and never fucking tire…maybe get new batteries? Recharge at the end of the day, week, month? Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Fuck! I mean, it’s too late for you and me. Too late. We’ll never see it. Maybe some day, some day, but never for us. We only read about it in stupid science fiction stories and in articles in magazines that no one ever reads any more. No. It’s not right, not fair and we just don’t care about you or the future. It’s an ever present nightmare of nothingness. That’s what today is all about. The omnipresent nightmare of nothingness. Never having what you want or need, no matter how hard you try. No. No. NO! Fuck those stupid songs of the 6o's and their drug-addled "wisdom". Fuck that fuck. Fuck that, I say. Fuck that. Bring it on. Bring it on now. Bring it on now and keep it here and make it better, in short-order, every day. To be able to update all the time and keep it on line and make it fucking happen. NOW!!
I’ll work for robots. I’ll work for automated automatons. I do that now already, basically. They don’t know what they’re doing. They’re just following orders. Any one gets out of line they get quashed. Fuck! All these reprograms just to fucking cut you out if you can’t perform. What good is that? Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nightmare of nothingness!!
I’ll work for robots. I’ll work my ass off so that I can have a cell phone with every thing and service too. Hooked up the way I want. All the time. And I’ll work my ass off all the time to get a couple of honey’s in my closet recharging, and walking out when I want. "Kiss me," one says. "I'm pretending it’s you" quips another, as she plays with herself in a video message she always loves to send me when I'm on the road. She'd walk in the door when I’m alone. Yeah, sure. Why not? Why not? Fuck yeah! Fuck Yeah!!
I’ll Work For Robots, that’s for sure.