all of this around us
i wonder how much time i've spent. this generation is defined by the internet as the last one the telephone and the one before that the letter. and i hate it because i have this terribly romantic view of the world where even the telephone is too high tech because it feels like cheating the communication between people. at the same time, i'm grateful because i'm much more comfortable talking to people through something as impersonal as instant messenger. i've carried on relationships this way. i hate it, though, from behind those rosy glasses, mostly because when my kid asks me about my relationship to his mother, i don't want to start talking about im's and chats and shit. it doesn't feel right. maybe if i find someone who i'm actually crazy about, i'll refuse to talk to them online. might preserve a little bit of real life. that and this perpetuating loneliness. i wonder how much time i've spent checking and staring at that little box, watching people come and go, checking to see if anyone's left me messages. far and away, it's an empty, desperate feeling. i'll go crazy knowing someone's there and that they aren't paying me any attention. it's unfair, i suppose, that i expect them to communicate with me without any provocation. maybe they should just know that i need it to feel important. i can define relationships this way. analyze how we've changed.
there's all these little things i wanted to write about but never found the effort or the time to. a couple weeks ago, i had finished studying for finals in one of the sixth floor pods hanging over the library canyon and was gathering up to leave. when i'd gotten there, i saw this stapler behind me chair but didn't bother it seeing as i had just bought one just like it cause i was out of goddamn blue staples (even though i really wasn't, i'd find out later). i was in an odd mood, though, leaving, so i picked it up. i thought about just stealing the whole damn thing but it didn't seem right so i just opened it up. hah - it was packed full of green staples. i pried open the rubber flap on the back and found twice as many. i had to have them. all of them. so i took all the big lines of them, only there was one with about three left. i went to a lot of trouble to get that one stuck upright back in the little rack they sit in. i pilfered, basically. it felt wonderful. green staples. i hope whoever left it there on accident picks it up and then, a day later, realizes all the staples are gone. i hope he's immensely confused and angered. maybe he shakes a fist at heaven. maybe.
a couple days back, i was driving my mother back from somewhere down this 35mph shortcut road heading back to the highway. i was following someone but still going a little fast. this white car came around the corner ahead and drove towards us. there was a cop sitting at a subdivision on our side of the corner. i looked over at the white car as it passed us. a seventeen year old girl was driving, her mother in the passenger seat. her eyes glued to the rear-view as she'd seen the cop while exiting the corner. my mother saw her too. it was a familiar feeling, seeing a cop too late and watching the rear-view mirror in horror to see if he will give chase or not. it's never happened to me. up ahead, the cop flips on his lights and pulls out in front of the car ahead of us. as he passed us, he flipped on his siren too. i was terrified. not because i was speeding, which i was, a little, but for that girl. horrified. what shit.
all alone tonight. i was going ape shit all afternoon here alone in this house. lay out in the hammock and read, starting 'catcher in the rye.' threw a tennis ball against the house, once getting 36 catches in a row until hitting the gutter on accident. played guitar for a while, sang. watched a little television. threw the tennis ball some more, slowed down and got 51 once. got some work done around here. finally went up and read more in the bathtub after locking the house up. still, i'm going crazy. i kept hearing things, especially after turning the water off. creaks, little noises, the door moving. the window was open in the bathroom, which i'm sure contributed to all that but it was unsettling just the same.
i'll start daydreaming in times like that. i can see people figuring ways in, always armed. i'm sitting down here now with all the lights off. i don't know why i do that. in the tub i can see them and i imagine either myself getting shot in the tub or hearing them coming and maybe pulling on some clothes i have in there and jumping out the window. hopefully not injuring anything and running out in the backyard in the dark to lay down in the shadows and try and watch what's going on. i guess it would have been smarter to run to the neighbors and call the cops. i'll remember that next time. getting shot in the bathtub is scary. i can't imagine life ending, the end of consciousness. my heart has beat once a second for twenty straight years and change. that's quite a record. sometimes i get out and stalk them downstairs with a bat or something. not sure where i get the bat from. the problem with fighting with a bat when not in a sizable room is swinging it without hitting walls or trim of some sort. how shitty would it be to come up behind a guy and swing for his goddamn head and hit the doorway instead. he turns around and shoots you. sometimes i crack him a good one right on the skull. sometimes he sees me first and i die. it's scary to die.
sometimes i get a gun and go hunting for them. i got scared in the tub so i got out and tried to find some of the guns in my dad's room but never saw any. we inherited some pistols, some shotguns, some rifles... they're somewhere. i wanted one of the handguns. i've got ammunition for one of them cause it's a .22. i could just go in my room and get the rifle and load it up with .22's but i wanted a handgun. for a situation like this, i mean. but i couldn't find them. walked downstairs with nothing but my book and a sunkist. didn't find nobody.
so now i'm sittin here in the big chair, as i'll spend most of my summer. bedroom slippers, moose pants, white t-shirt and leather cap. it's a good night for a leather cap. i want to be something different. i have some kind of need to own things that i can talk about, that aren't status quo. i got a bicycle to use at school. it's 45 years old. i've got three ringtones i've boiled down to pick and a ringback. an old soul tune, a fun classy jazz piece, and two relatively hidden pop gems. i'm looking at cars on the internet, and motorcycles. i love my volvo and i don't want to get rid of it but i saw an article in a carcraft from some months ago i haven't read about buying used cop cars. cause, you know, most are like crown vics and caprices and shit, not terribly interesting, but they're also, you know, cop cars. fortified, heavy duty components, often V8's, extremely well-maintained. hot rods. and some are camaros, remember. not only that, but most of the vicky's and caprices can go for under $4000 with ~100k miles. i saw a couple camaros on ebay, about 1997's. one was all black and had about 125k miles. it was pretty damn sharp looking. i mean 200amp alternator, reinforced frame, LT1 chevrolet V8. we're talking ~310hp and 0-60 in 5.5 seconds. and it's a cop car. something like that. oh, and a triumph speed triple, still.
sorry for that last paragraph. i know you don't care.
i need to get back in touch with a couple of people. high school friends who've probably forgotten about me. maybe i'll have lunch with some of them when i start summer school.
i wonder if anyone i know knows that when i'm not away (and i'm talking about that stupid shit messenger stuff again)... if anyone knows that when i'm not away that it's intentional. that i'm leaving myself open, out there, that it's an invitation for a conversation. that when i do it, it's probably a hint that i want you to talk to me. 'you' is only a couple people and really only one has ever figured it out. i thought it should be known anyway, though.
some cute japanese girl just fell in the water on the first challenge of some dumb japanese challenge course show. japanese is underlined in this little text box because i didn't capitalize the j. i left clicked it and a list popped up offering suggestions of what i might have meant to say. one of the options is "japanned." what the hell? maybe that can be my new saying.
bitch got japanned.
ok, i'm rambling. i stopped talking about real things a while back. i'll get back to it later. maybe i'll have some time to write at starbucks after classes the next couple weeks. we'll see.
i love you, whoever you are.
there's all these little things i wanted to write about but never found the effort or the time to. a couple weeks ago, i had finished studying for finals in one of the sixth floor pods hanging over the library canyon and was gathering up to leave. when i'd gotten there, i saw this stapler behind me chair but didn't bother it seeing as i had just bought one just like it cause i was out of goddamn blue staples (even though i really wasn't, i'd find out later). i was in an odd mood, though, leaving, so i picked it up. i thought about just stealing the whole damn thing but it didn't seem right so i just opened it up. hah - it was packed full of green staples. i pried open the rubber flap on the back and found twice as many. i had to have them. all of them. so i took all the big lines of them, only there was one with about three left. i went to a lot of trouble to get that one stuck upright back in the little rack they sit in. i pilfered, basically. it felt wonderful. green staples. i hope whoever left it there on accident picks it up and then, a day later, realizes all the staples are gone. i hope he's immensely confused and angered. maybe he shakes a fist at heaven. maybe.
a couple days back, i was driving my mother back from somewhere down this 35mph shortcut road heading back to the highway. i was following someone but still going a little fast. this white car came around the corner ahead and drove towards us. there was a cop sitting at a subdivision on our side of the corner. i looked over at the white car as it passed us. a seventeen year old girl was driving, her mother in the passenger seat. her eyes glued to the rear-view as she'd seen the cop while exiting the corner. my mother saw her too. it was a familiar feeling, seeing a cop too late and watching the rear-view mirror in horror to see if he will give chase or not. it's never happened to me. up ahead, the cop flips on his lights and pulls out in front of the car ahead of us. as he passed us, he flipped on his siren too. i was terrified. not because i was speeding, which i was, a little, but for that girl. horrified. what shit.
all alone tonight. i was going ape shit all afternoon here alone in this house. lay out in the hammock and read, starting 'catcher in the rye.' threw a tennis ball against the house, once getting 36 catches in a row until hitting the gutter on accident. played guitar for a while, sang. watched a little television. threw the tennis ball some more, slowed down and got 51 once. got some work done around here. finally went up and read more in the bathtub after locking the house up. still, i'm going crazy. i kept hearing things, especially after turning the water off. creaks, little noises, the door moving. the window was open in the bathroom, which i'm sure contributed to all that but it was unsettling just the same.
i'll start daydreaming in times like that. i can see people figuring ways in, always armed. i'm sitting down here now with all the lights off. i don't know why i do that. in the tub i can see them and i imagine either myself getting shot in the tub or hearing them coming and maybe pulling on some clothes i have in there and jumping out the window. hopefully not injuring anything and running out in the backyard in the dark to lay down in the shadows and try and watch what's going on. i guess it would have been smarter to run to the neighbors and call the cops. i'll remember that next time. getting shot in the bathtub is scary. i can't imagine life ending, the end of consciousness. my heart has beat once a second for twenty straight years and change. that's quite a record. sometimes i get out and stalk them downstairs with a bat or something. not sure where i get the bat from. the problem with fighting with a bat when not in a sizable room is swinging it without hitting walls or trim of some sort. how shitty would it be to come up behind a guy and swing for his goddamn head and hit the doorway instead. he turns around and shoots you. sometimes i crack him a good one right on the skull. sometimes he sees me first and i die. it's scary to die.
sometimes i get a gun and go hunting for them. i got scared in the tub so i got out and tried to find some of the guns in my dad's room but never saw any. we inherited some pistols, some shotguns, some rifles... they're somewhere. i wanted one of the handguns. i've got ammunition for one of them cause it's a .22. i could just go in my room and get the rifle and load it up with .22's but i wanted a handgun. for a situation like this, i mean. but i couldn't find them. walked downstairs with nothing but my book and a sunkist. didn't find nobody.
so now i'm sittin here in the big chair, as i'll spend most of my summer. bedroom slippers, moose pants, white t-shirt and leather cap. it's a good night for a leather cap. i want to be something different. i have some kind of need to own things that i can talk about, that aren't status quo. i got a bicycle to use at school. it's 45 years old. i've got three ringtones i've boiled down to pick and a ringback. an old soul tune, a fun classy jazz piece, and two relatively hidden pop gems. i'm looking at cars on the internet, and motorcycles. i love my volvo and i don't want to get rid of it but i saw an article in a carcraft from some months ago i haven't read about buying used cop cars. cause, you know, most are like crown vics and caprices and shit, not terribly interesting, but they're also, you know, cop cars. fortified, heavy duty components, often V8's, extremely well-maintained. hot rods. and some are camaros, remember. not only that, but most of the vicky's and caprices can go for under $4000 with ~100k miles. i saw a couple camaros on ebay, about 1997's. one was all black and had about 125k miles. it was pretty damn sharp looking. i mean 200amp alternator, reinforced frame, LT1 chevrolet V8. we're talking ~310hp and 0-60 in 5.5 seconds. and it's a cop car. something like that. oh, and a triumph speed triple, still.
sorry for that last paragraph. i know you don't care.
i need to get back in touch with a couple of people. high school friends who've probably forgotten about me. maybe i'll have lunch with some of them when i start summer school.
i wonder if anyone i know knows that when i'm not away (and i'm talking about that stupid shit messenger stuff again)... if anyone knows that when i'm not away that it's intentional. that i'm leaving myself open, out there, that it's an invitation for a conversation. that when i do it, it's probably a hint that i want you to talk to me. 'you' is only a couple people and really only one has ever figured it out. i thought it should be known anyway, though.
some cute japanese girl just fell in the water on the first challenge of some dumb japanese challenge course show. japanese is underlined in this little text box because i didn't capitalize the j. i left clicked it and a list popped up offering suggestions of what i might have meant to say. one of the options is "japanned." what the hell? maybe that can be my new saying.
bitch got japanned.
ok, i'm rambling. i stopped talking about real things a while back. i'll get back to it later. maybe i'll have some time to write at starbucks after classes the next couple weeks. we'll see.
i love you, whoever you are.
posted by sunshine at 11:29 PM
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