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the plot sickens |
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the plot sickenswhatever happened to pong?Sunday, December 21, 2008
ping!
just hoping to god this triggers a notify on your ahhhh... wee oo wee oo wee oo wee... ...you are my -- yes i get it -- i -- yes yet now even still now and... yeah!  Wednesday, May 02, 2007
ha haaa! the italics are altered.
you do realize the last thing you did on this blog was call me a douchebag. in any case...
good god, SQUEAK er... ping... Friday, October 13, 2006
Ping...
 calling italy! Sunday, September 04, 2005
dude--
get me the song and i'll spend a little more time on the quasiscript++ page to make it jive with the new main page. yes, inline links in blogs are douchelike. you know your photo file is and has been available to the public for some time. i want to use a picture of you at emma's for the jeanine search engine pages. thanks, i will. take care when i saw her face, now i'm a believer Friday, June 10, 2005
by my general disposition i'd say solar storms are making direct hits on my apartment.
timeout imminent... reseting peer connection...
PING waiting for response... Tuesday, March 30, 2004
Give me what you've got so I can sneeze 6-8 times. I still haven't succeeded past 4 consecutive times. Nonetheless, I wish you and your family good health. I've got a slight cold, but I'm kicking its ass more that it is mine. As far as the oral update, I'm scheduled for some tooth-wrenching next week. We need a third blogger on here, preferably one with a Phd. in medicine.
he said, 'there's nothing i can prescribe...' Friday, March 12, 2004
</i>!!!
and it's all about the moderate climates... Saturday, February 14, 2004
By 'FOLLER IT' I assume you mean foller it. Ok, foller it I will. Took me long enough, eh? I've just one thought that has nothing to do with dentistry, though I will mention I have a tooth of less wisdom giving me damnation as well.
Smoking cigarettes and marijuana, and drinking alcohol, and living for rock music, and sporting ragged clothes, and participating underage sex, et al introduced in adolescence, jading-ly enough have been shaping youth in those key five years since the sixties. There was no substantial drug revolution of the nineties. In respect to relative recognition, the sixities rock revolution outweighs that of the nineties. The mid-to-late nineties had incredible shininess to me, but was that dependent on the fact that I was 14-17 years of age? What should one think of grungy apparel pre-fabricated for purchase in the 'aughts? And the processed pop-rock? Is there the same electricity there? Am I at edge of a generation gap? I sound like a crusty old man telling his grandson how cool the Roaring 20's were. Ah well. Hope you check this. Out. Saturday, January 17, 2004
What are the Rezillos god/goddess of?
Saturday, December 13, 2003
Ping?
I know you're out there... Saturday, November 22, 2003
Didi,
Enjoy twentieth century living until you find your way back. Our past ramblings will stick around. There may be an expansive gap in the archives, but the millions who are technically able to read this will figure it out if they get around to it. Fun is what it's been. Out is where I'm going. Take care. george tell me something... i don't know... Sunday, November 16, 2003
I am intensely curious about the comic book. The movie is terrible, the coffeetable book is atrocious, the interactive fiction game is entertaining mostly with the unbroken guidance of the hint manual. The actual novel is amazingly entertaining, as is the book of original radio scripts. Yes, I still make reference to the work of Douglas Adams in conversation, and few ever know what I'm talking about--not even my literature teacher when polling the class for a selection for her upcoming British Lit class. No doubt you thought of me when you uncovered it. A breakup leaves me without my 5-book hardcover compilation, so I accept. Thank you. Don't burn it.
he walked on the water and swam on the land... Saturday, November 15, 2003
The theory of entropy is that everything turns to shit. Structures disintegrate in the weather and random disasters, the body suffers age and disease, relationships fall apart from disuse, sabotage, disinterest, etc. Shoes bust out at their seams.
I was watching an extended advertisement for a home gym. There were many moodily lit shots of leathery abdomens. The voiceover was admiring the human body in its unique ability to regenerate and strengthen with use. Well-crafted musical instruments work much the same way, but perhaps this comparison was too sissy for a fitness infomercial. The mind, though rarely eaten, is sometimes referred to as a muscle. I let this turn to shit at least once, and I was lost in the shoe store for a long time. Maybe they'll give you another free month. Whichever the case, keep in touch. Hasta manzana, didi. his intentions were six-sixty-six... Wednesday, November 12, 2003
Old Fart Winter is blowing hard from the north in Milwaukee tonight. From inside a building, it often sounds like a woman screaming. On the outside, like a crowd of billions cheering at the rock concert on Doomsday. Continents of leaves collect in the gutters and in front of buildings, following some higher mathematical pattern. They are dispersed by the howling gales into smaller colonies that then grow just as dense. The gibbous moon moves against the breaking cloud cover while cyclones raise dead leaves tens of feet from the sidewalk into the air. If only I could find my way to the core of one of the air columns and be tossed carelessly into the night like one of them.
ca plane pour moi... Tuesday, November 11, 2003
I added the Dictionary.com toolbar to my version of Microsoft Internet Explorer tonight. The word of the day is solicitous, as in: "His blogging was very solicitous, not reckless." Not: "
There, now I'll use it in every conversation for a month. Feel freely to articulate on your hate. You're not tying up my ear with it. i can read your eyes and i like what see...
Your windedness is lengthy. I enjoy a good story, though. It got me to thinking. Having read an applicable (one of Bob's favorite words) passage in The Stranger by Albert Camus, I'll try to relate it. While awaiting his execution in prison, the character has the pointless thought that everyone involved in his trial "changes their underwear."
In hating people, I can't often get by facts such as these. Facts such as, that the person has cried, that the person has vomitted violently, that the person eats food, that the person blows their nose, that the person worries about nuclear war... etc. When concentrated on for long enough, these parts of the human condition have a tendency to sadden, and my dislike is outweighed--for the moment. At the same time, ironically to me, these ideas also lend themselves to humor. Sometimes though, the sadness of consuming food is moved to fantasies of a choking on it. That's all I got... keep novel'ng it up here, Didi, why not? i live cement, i hate this street... Thursday, November 06, 2003
This week won't end. Ordinarily, I'd be either alone or aiming it up with a 6 pack of Point lager at this time. Instead, I am studying for a beast of a Calc exam I have to make up at an ungodly hour tomorrow, while everything else I have to do for other classes revolves sickeningly around in my head. I thought I'd come on here and bitch, because hey, what is the Internet for?
My windpipes feel like they're about to spontaneously combust from a southward-bound head cold. Thought I'd add that for good measure. life was short, life was sweet, i was thinking as I hit the street... Thursday, October 30, 2003
scary monsters... super freaks... keep me running... running scared... Monday, October 27, 2003
Just to bring more culture to this page, I've decided to quote some recently read Shakespeare.
"I will incontinently drown myself." "Zounds!" - from Othello as the train left the station... there were two lights on behind... Friday, October 24, 2003
No matter how I try, I can't get the Ghoulies' 'Chupacabras' stuck in my head. They're a great live act, but my relationship with their studio recordings has been one of a few obessions with certain songs. The first was 'A New England,' a Billy Bragg cover, and now the ever-satsifying cascade of vocals in 'Chupacabras.' Having only seen their shows just before the onset of Winter, they'll always be an Autumnal association. Somewhere in a salvage yard there is an orange and black Groovie Ghoulies sticker on the bumper of a dilapidated Dodge Aries. I can't imagine that pail of pistons anywhere else by now.
i am just a monkey man... i'm glad you are a monkey woman too... Tuesday, October 21, 2003
Oh goddamn, this song is skipping. Cheap ass Technics stereo equipment.
i wait-wait-wait-waited for you winterlong... Monday, October 20, 2003
Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you.
(Pong.) you look like a monkey, and you smell like one too... Saturday, October 18, 2003
If I had a scanner the creamiest of the cropped would be posted on fictionfiction for your viewing pleasure, but I guess you'll just have to await my next return.
Last post, eh? Well, I've edited the title and description accordingly. As for your coming D.O.B., I had considered buying you some gray acres on the moon, but I know at least I get sick of looking at the things I own. So, take these notes as replacements, birthday g**. Wait, it's got to upload. Hum hum... Okay, go for it. Out. we want the airwaves... Archives09/01/2003 - 10/01/2003 10/01/2003 - 11/01/2003 11/01/2003 - 12/01/2003 12/01/2003 - 01/01/2004 01/01/2004 - 02/01/2004 02/01/2004 - 03/01/2004 03/01/2004 - 04/01/2004 06/01/2005 - 07/01/2005 09/01/2005 - 10/01/2005 10/01/2006 - 11/01/2006 05/01/2007 - 06/01/2007 12/01/2008 - 01/01/2009 Current |
