August 30th, 2001

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I just don't understand how you can smile with all those tears in your eyes, and tell me everything will be wonderful now.

Sometimes I get upset at how many of the good quotes have already been said. Theoretically there is an unlimited supply of pithy sayings but I have a feeling that most of the best ones have been said. So until the language TRULY changes it's going to be very hard for the next generation of writers, politicians, and heroes to say things like "We have nothing to fear but fear itself" or "Live the life you've imagined" or "Where's the beef?".

My SAT scores prompted ETS to inform me that I would probably be most useful in the world as a copywriter for advertising. What kind of thing is that to say to a high school kid? It's sick how little idealism is left in the world.

I want to make a CONTRIBUTION. I do not want to create advertising or spend my whole life being a producer for the Maury Povitch show like Charles' cousin. She has no family, she works 12 hour days, and for WHAT? For what? To make mindless blather just a little bit more entertaining. As a production line worker in the industrial entertainment complex? The fact that someone could do that SCARES me. I have nothing against factory workers or janitors and the like, but that's because the vast majority of them do not focus on the job but rather on their families. That's a legitamate choice. Who cares if you're a piece of machinery for 8 hours a day if you're a good father for 10?

But to make such a thing the FOCUS of your life. Isn't that a scary thought? I mean it's just as bad as focusing on drugs or drink or women (the downfalls of Canadian man eh?).

My downstairs neighbor who'se like a year younger than me is going into drug rehab. My mother still thinks he's a better person than I am and I'm okay with that. It's scary how screwed up kids from good backgrounds can get though. I mean this guy's mother is a semi-famous novelist and his father seems like a really nice guy even if he is pushing 70. But instead of the University of Michigan he is off to drug rehab. I FEEL about that. I don't know what I feel but I do feel.

Sorry? Jealous? Sad? Vindicated? I think it's probably a little bit of each.

Sorry because it's got to be an embarassing and unpleasant time for him.

Jealous because he had the types of friends and connections who could get him hooked on drugs. I was only very occasionaly offered drugs and I was never pressured into taking them. Nobody ever much cared what I did with respect to whether it was cool or not.

Sad because he's part of a generation that is threatening to lose itself in substances. Drown in consumerism and heroin and prefab entertainment (put together a semi-famous actor, some journymen television people and a couple hacks and you have a prime time TV Show. Yipeee. Or even better make real people do stupid stuff and film it.)

I can honestly say that I have an easier time and more fun talking to people three and a half times my age than I do talking to contemporaries. Witty remarks and academic discourse are my favorite styles of conversation and they just ARE NOT IN VOGUE anymore. One of the reasons that I have trouble reaching out is that I see so few people of substance to reach out TO. I just hope my contemporaries settle down after college and start taking life more seriously. Taking life seriously can yield more profound and rich flavors than almost anything, or at least anything I've tried.

Vindicated because I've always said that most other kids DID have their flaws while my mother felt that they were all perfect and I was the only one even slightly screwed up. Well now David's off to rehab for a drug problem and I'm working on raising my already decent GPA at Columbia. Wow that's a petty feeling but feeling petty is nothing new. Everybody's doing it man.

I wish all the best for David even though he's always treated me like shit. I hope he gets better and goes to school and gets the decorated apartment with the pretty [and?] vapid wife that I'm sure his parents always wanted for him. I don't know what he wanted but if he's all hepped up on the goofballs I'm sure whatever it is, it isn't good.

I don't know what I want with my life though.

The options right now are:

FBI-
I think I'd really enjoy it and I'd be pretty good at it but I'd have to get in shape and I would make very little money. Plus there would be boring beauraucratic aspects which I would hate. On the other hand I could parlay my service into a career in politics after I finished which might be an interesting way to end a life.

Not to mention the fact that there are so many shitbags out there to catch that you never have to worry about the fact that you have no romantic life or family.

-Psychologist

It would be an interesting thing to do. It is a field that fascinates me and while I don't think I'd make a good practitioner I might be okay as a researcher. The thing is that I'm so fucked up psychologically that I don't feel that I have the right to make analysis or judgements about other people on a professional basis. My thoughts and ideas are NOT the normal societal ones and am I really ready to say that people should remake themselves in my image? Hell no. Obviously what I just said is irrational to the point of bizzareness but fears don't HAVE to be rational. I am worried that I would fuck up people's minds if I was involved in psychology, simple as that. Plus I've needed YEARS of therapy myself which begs the question "Who Am I to try and help OTHER people?"

Jeff, shut the fuck up you dyslexic midget hick. I'll shove my shoe so far up your ass that you'll have TWO tongues in your mouth if you start in on "All psychologists should undergo therapy" and "You've had such a major trauma, it's okay to take time to put yourself back together." I swear to you that if you so much as twitch in a way that implies either of those things in response to this I'll cut your balls off and shove them so far up your nostrils that all you'll be able to smell for a month will be your own sperm rotting on the vine so to speak.

Sociologist-
There isn't much work in this field except the applied area. I could be a city planner or something but I've always wanted to do more grandiose thingamabobbers. It does have some potential though.

Hard Scientist-
I'd like this except for the math. The math the math the math. Math is not my friend. I have the mental power to do math but my skills are severly underdeveloped ever since daddy dearest drank his little vial of cyanide. It'd be the most work but it might be worth it.

-Writer
I think no matter what I do I will try to write but I don't think I want to spend my whole life JUST as a writer even if I do have that capacity which I don't know for sure. I want to have a career in the real world first. I want to do something before I start letting out the worlds in my head to play on paper or computer screen. That's just me. Entertainment, even good entertainment, is not enough for me. I want more more more.

And what about the aspects of life outside career? Well even if I know it's an unhealthy view I want to hang on to my opinion that most women (most PEOPLE for that matter) are scum and that I'd be better off flying solo. I might be the youngest confirmed bachelor ever! That doesn't mean that I'll be totally closed off to finding some homely smart chick (as Kawah so brilliantly described his vision of my future wife after telling me that he wouldn't settle for anything under a "7") and having some homely smart children but just that I will resist it. For now.

I was going to make some sort of joke comparing women to Canada by saying that they were both cold as hell and a great source of beaver, but haven't I done enough to insult our gender to the north already in this post?

I'm not feeling particular anti-female today, I've just got a bit much testosterone and adrenaline in my bloodstream and I want to punch someone. That also explains my little threats to sweet Jeffery. I'm in the kind of mood where when you go outside you HOPE someone will pull a knife and try to mug you so you can crack their ribs and feel that satisfying little crunch that comes with breaking a finger and throw them into walls and knock out their teeth and such. And so fucking what if you get cut, scars are badges of honor man and watching the little punk try to beg for mercy with a shattered jaw bone and a froth of blood and spittle running down his chin is a fucking KODAC MOMENT.

I have too much restraint to really hurt somebody plus I'd probably get my ass kicked (maybe) but I wouldn't mind a little fight right about now. Maybe just give the guy a shiner and a wrenched penis? (Len Doyle always said that the secret to fighting is fighting DIRTY. He's a moral philosopher at a university in London. One stops wondering where soccor thugs and Rugbyists come from in civilized British society after one of them channelites labels himself a moral expert just before explaining to you that an openhanded blow is more effective to the balls than a fist because you can grab and yank afterwards.)

He he. I said Yank. Sort of a reverse Beavis and Butthead thing. Instead of saying something clean and turning it into something dirty I said something dirty which is sort of a pun. Because Yank is slang for American over there in the Hinterlands of that island they call England, where everybody man woman or child wears a monocle and tea is sacred.

Dr. X can stop squinting and trying to deny the truth. We all know that in England monocles are handed out at birth and if you are caught without one you are thoroughly caned (another wierd ritual from our British brothers.)

I think that all men have a desire to fight within them. We want to break bones and rend flesh and gloat over fallen foes. Dunno if women have the same desires. Anyways I'm in the mood to hit someone, and I won't, but I will use nasty and untrue language to unleash a storm of hostility and release some of this tension. Jerking off doesn't work to release anger like this in my experience. So I guess what I'm saying is feel free to ignore the entire previous entry. It was written under the influence of Manlyness.

And the only rehab for testosterone is one that I DO not want to experience.
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Don't let it end this way

Wow. Methinks I had a bit of anger to get out this morning. It's kinda surprising how liberating it can be to spew invective even when you have absolutely no pretenses of correctness. I hope I didn't offend but I can't say as I would REALLY care if I did. Sometimes it's fun to tread outside the lines of politeness and morality, in a sort of conservative non-confrontational way. Kind of like rereading old comic books even as you pretend to be a true literature enthusiast (honestly now, I know nothing about that. I'm innocent. You can't pin nothing on me COPPER)

I do feel bad about my spreading lies about the British empire. What with their only 22 percent manufacturing economy and all the suffering in world war II and such they have enough to deal with already. I do know some actual stuff about the Englanders though. Their flag is called a Union Jack. Did you know that? How crazy. And their prime minister (It's kinda like a primal chieftan except no headdress) is Tony Blair of the Labor Party. I think. (I think he got re-elected, but I remember his name by thinking of a really good broadway version of The Exorcist. I bet you can figure out the rest of the method.) Over there they don't only have normal parties like Democrats and Republicans, they have all kinds of crazy other names. You know, like back when the U.S. was infested with Whigs.

It's surprising how nationalistic Americans are allowed to be considering the heavy taboo on racism. Closely related cultures like Canadianism are the most acceptable victims of our verbal abuse but pretty much any country full of white people is fair game. I'd think more about that except that then I might feel guilty for my denouncement of "Oh him, he's probably a CANADIAN! Check under his pillow for some moose droppings there to remind him of home!" After all I would feel guilty if I said "Don't trust him, I think he might be Chinese."

Of course anti-American sentiment is also quite popular and we are seen as uncultured fat lazy slobs throughout most of Europe. I'd formulate an argument against that except that I am trying to pick cheesecake crumbs out of my keyboard while paying attention to the hilarious antics of the Nanny at the same time.

The thing I liked least about David Sedaris' memoires is that he was so willing to make fun of others who were basically innocent of harming him. I am not quite so willing but I am not innocent of such crimes and I kind of wish that I was. He was a real jerk but you laughed anyway and that was another example of how most great comedy is based in cruelty.

Gabe was mad at me because of that time I turned him away from my door. I was kinda pissed at him too at that point but I stopped holding my grudge while he kept his going. That kinda makes me happy. If someone holds a grudge against you that means they care at least a little.

I want to be a good person and I think that I am on some sort of theoretical level. In practise it's not so neat. I mean I've never done anything that I feel truly guilty about but I have made mistakes like everyone else and done my share of damage. It's so hard to go through such a crowded life without knocking anybody off the subway platform. Damned near impossible, especially if you want to make a pretense at meaning. I feel kind of like after my little outburst I owe some honesty so I will say that that's one of the things that scares me, especially with regard to women.

I mean if you think about how easy it is to hurt someone or be hurt by someone who is an aquaintance imagine what somebody who you are supposed to make an emotional center of your life can do, and what you can do to them. Well most of you don't have to imagine.

As a side note I just broke off the left button on my mouse by clicking on it. I wore out my mouse. I really DO need a new computer heh.

Anyway people are socially clumsy animals and we step on eachother's feet all the time, so the idea of walking through life in a metaphorical embrace and not ending up with skinned knees and sprained ankles seems as much a fantasy as The Perfect Girl. People HURT eachother. We do.

Some days I almost want to be a hermit.

It might interest you that I got my first "So when are you going to meet a nice girl?" comment ever today from Dolores who is sort of like a surrogate grandmother to me although she just considers me a friend and is not afraid to use nasty language around me. There's something about a 70 year old woman saying "Fuck" which is at once disturbing and pretty cool.

I feel pretty good right now and I'm almost sorry for my earlier outburst. Almost.

But not quite. And I won't apologise for what I wrote.

Fuck that.

Teehee.
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