in a blatant attempt to sound like another...

It was all some sort of grand design. Iv'e already figured that part out. it all fit like a puzzle, one where you must deconstruct the pieces first. but only in the specified order. Fate i suppose. but I hate fate. like keanu puts it, i dont like the feeling that im not in control of my life. but i digress...
sure this is partly my fault. and times do change. people change. rooms change, cups, shirts, bad habits, trends, tastes, humor. but its irreversable now. you've all gone. and even in changing everything, i thought we would still somehow remain connected. hanging on by a memory or something.
and it is partly my fault. like everyone elses. and this is a piss poor method of rekindling, but hell, baby steps.
I miss the convos. the surprisingly meaningful talks. genuine. unbiased and fair but still understanding. And you always knew when to shut up.
I was always thankful for the patience. The tolerance. not just for me, but everyone who thought the opposite of you. you really were down to earth, and it showed. people, myself included were jealous. I hope THAT part of you hasnt changed.
that comic I stumbledupon once right. those who live in the past grieve. those that live for the future worry and grow anxious. those who live in the present are at peace.
so to hell with this past-ness. ive been satisfied with the present for a year now. and even if we never speak again, i'll still consider you a best friend. I hope the present is kind to you, all of you, and i was pleased to have known you, briefly though it was. and if i can wish only one thing for the future, I'd like it to be that some of you will come back to this place. Where we've set aside a small private part of ourselves. Faceless, but more personal than any private collection could be. I'm still hanging on by a memory, you should to.

more coherent than could have been predicted

its one am again. i refuse to drop. refuse to let my lids flap. its just getting that that point of the night where its so silent i can hear my house talk. it doesnt have much to say, its prolly just sleep talking like i do.d none of that monster house business for me. though closing eyes seems to make typing easier and the screen brighter, worth it.
are any of you still out there? its been a month since even i posted last. and another month before that.! It looked like someone thought of trying this out agan but gave in to something else. Its so quiet here. now. the air stale. the voices silenced. raw percussion reverbarates down these moist walls. goosebumps. I can feel my hair. and i know when i open my eyes again it will all be in 2d again. but all i want to see are the famouse ladies like on the big screen. and the natural waterfalls with a good stiff breeze and no bugs. and I want to smell something warm and freshly baked, at a cafe or some other place where the hipsters lay claim. main street tomorrow then it seems. if only mother sould stop cryingm we'd all be happier with being outside. and like my eyes, my conciousness is glazing over. the back of my eyelids are getting flatter. and my hands are stumbling more. goodnight to whomeer may still read.

missing

jpor snipeds and combustion engines rattle off the neverending stories with luck dragons and that werewolf not from london. brattleborough saints, resident evil play for the fun, cause we got it goin on, cause if i were green i would die

its one AM, do you know where you are right now?

did you know that the masons greatest treasure is the idea that we'll someday all agree on everything? Na that not it at al. but it is startling to consider jsut how much our stories are the same. look the the letters we'd never send. Thousands of vignetts that we've all created in our heads. I thought for sure I read my own posts, but alas, initials gave it away.
So if we're all the same, is confidence the only source or power anymore? I read somewhere, via stumble or something, that confidence is the greatest source of personal power available, and its free!
Its one in tehe morening now, and all night I wanted to get drunk and stoned. I never ended up doing anything, which is, in hindsight, the best decision. I find myself pondering as to why I wanted it so badly in the first place. prolly cause it was available. Prolly cause I felt it would put me int he state of mind to write garbuldygook in the middle of the night. Prolly cause I dont have to work tomorrow, and this is the oly time Im free and alone. But whiskey is for occasions. the herbs for friends. and neither is safe or fun alone.
raise hand. change subject.
I helped a delivery man the other day. He was bringing chips to the local cvs, and the wind knocked over his palette, boxes of bags everywhere. As i crossed the street towards him, a couple of guys thought they were being helpful in reminding the man that some of the boxes had slipped under the truck, so he not forget them. without saying a word i slid under the parked truck and retrieved the lost snackfood. His thanks were the most appreciative words I think ive heard in a long time. And I dont think it was because I helped, I thnk it was because I did so without prompting, without hesitation, and without embarrasing him.
I dont know what made me remember that.
It was a "day of peace" today on facebook. an event someone from across the country made up, proposing that we all be nice to eachother today. Pretty sad we need a facebook event to celebrate humility. But I was aware of it all day anyway. I like to think I didnt do anything different, though I did notice I was FAR more willing ot discuss meaningless things with customers. I was just in a good mood. The coffee, the feeling of accomplishment from printing photos, and the simple fact its friday didnt hurt either.
I have nothing else. I really only came on because I havent been on in so long, at least comparatively. So goodnight then.

library 1

it's the way the dust gets all up your blooded nostrils
or at least, that's what i like to complain about (might
really be something else, a whole lot of nothing, a whole
lot of money per hour>this could be your tax payer
dollars at work)

This is where jim carey lost it. When it all stacked up and fell apart for no reason. Not that Im jim carey, far from it, he was nuts. That guy tried to off himself. Not me, and not the real jim.
It was all mental, the whole day I waws tricking myself into remembering nothing was off. nothing was different. just what I asked for. Be careful aboyt that. I say to myself. it may bite you in the ass, or at least itch like crazy till the time punch is up. A time of candy and movies changed channels to penny pinching and micro management. That was differnt. Of course, as lisa always tells me, do something selfish. It will make the rest of the things you HAVE to do that much more manageable. and shes pretty chill, and shes retired, so she must have wisdom, right?
My selfish act was jumping the gun and spending my cash to construct ninjas and submarines! Totally a good decision.
My next selfish act?! lets just say that bloomin onions should be their own food group.
ANd one last thing,
I didnt realize that there was any cake to be found. But i hope its hidden well, I like a good challenge every now and then.

where we live

We live on the river, by the train, beside a cemetery, over a bridge, wrapped in bricks, with threats of floods, little spiders in the windows, granite and slate kitchen, homemade couch cushions, altered curtains, jazz music in the living room.

You can skate on the river. It's solid, we promise, even though when the train goes by I'm afraid it'll shake all that ice up.