2009 November
12
the big 1-2 T’s (pre) birthday celebrations out at Mom and Dad’s. everyone conked out early (even Tristan) except me and mom. played othello and boggle and talked until about 5. got up early -10 ish and dad made a yummy pancake breakfast. T and Chad doing wii until Ch’s arm stopped working. shopping for upcoming [...]crazy deadlines, Forerunner-Spirit
omg don’t know how i’m gonna get this project the rest of the way up before I leave. Am going to end up putting in something like 60 hours and that’s a lot of just sitting navigating through a bazillion tabs and apps for just one project. Plus I’ve taken on a smaller one I’m [...]Quote of the Month; November….2009
“Science fiction writers, I am sorry to say, really do not know anything. We can’t talk about science, because our knowledge of it is limited and unofficial, and usually our fiction is dreadful.”
~ Philip K. Dick; science fiction author and philosopher.
the 13th strikes again…
so Here we are yet again, my tramps and dears alike, the day of days. friday the 13th and no Voorhees in sight. taking my place in the human race without being shy about it, and without the definite affinity with melting objects. the brain drains the pan dry, stepping out into the light, and the flickering display that consciousness has made me imperatively aware of first hand. what is luck, eh?… unlucky in life, unlucky in nearly every other aspect of living, but why the urge to move anyway? sometimes the motion kills remains of aches and seething hatreds that bury themselves under the skin, to stay active makes the blood flow into those warm places. a crutch for the unwary perhaps, but always with the sophisticated tone in ambivalence for reality working towards a progressive end, consistent …
past lies dead, long live past.
sitting, thinking, and crafting the ideas that will continue to shape my being beyond this death… such an odd string to attach one’s conscious thought… October passed with a fairly hushed tone… no parties, but feelings for strangers are pretty moot when there is far better companionship at the heart of one’s daily existence… even dreams of the recent future do not placate my psyche calm, and drugs are the least of my needs, no matter how distorted the perception may be to outsiders… festivities aside, though, there are many things learned over the course of this strange recall into slightly misty areas of memory… interactivity seems strained but feasible, and the bits I have come up with are mere shadows of the solid firmament that makes movement difficult, to be aware and understanding of them in small increments… …















