sup september, anti flag, september, comfi lahari

What should I do when someone acts mean or appears angry?
It does not seem like it will be permanent
I feel like it is similar to a thought in that respect
In that respect should I not just leave it alone
until it does something different?
Do thoughts do things on their own?
Should I be anticipating something or
just very careful with everything?

*

It seems like I haven’t written any good loneliness poems
It seems like I haven’t changed in a long time

Change, man, change is so underrated

I thought about asking my friend how much money he had
What if myself and this friend move to the country
Would this be homoerotic because the friend I am thinking of is male

I honestly think I can be a better person in the country

*

We have been in the same house
And moving towards the same room maybe
Are we moving towards the same room
I hope we are
I wish I had another beer
The beer I have now is really good
It is the only one
The incenses burning are my last two incenses
There’s a breeze
I’m in a rocker
I am a rocker
Something happened in my head that’s either insignificant
Or inexplicable, whatever
Where are you?
Hey

*

Nothing seems interesting.
I am focusing in on a lot of things from my position here
In the rocking chair.
My back aches a little from sitting like this for a while.
My beer got a little warmer.
There's no going back.
I just focused on the atmosphere
between myself and this tree
hoping for some internal reaction.
i guess no, i guess i perceived
the length of my life only.
I guess that is a reaction.
disatisfaction is just a longer
word for 'bored' when you can't
make yourself learn more.

Smile And Compliment - Peggy H...

;)

"Overseeding Keeps Lawn Thick And Weed-Free"

or

Structural Irony





can't believe it's been a year since this: http://johnguaragno.com/2008/08/25/miles-ross-an-ode/#comments

one of the great summers, seriously

hasn't it been one of the chillest seasons ever, that you can think of in your recent lifetime? there's been a lot of rain, but a lot of really nice days too – the weather seems like whatever.

the whole year has been pretty sweet actually, probably one of the best years of my life.

now i know what you're thinking, 'doesn't everyone feel like shitty.’ it seems like you might think that, i don't really know.

i am glad we can all band together to defend ourselves against the unanimous inhuman force that incessantly makes us feel shitty.

looking at my inbox this morning i witnessed something with the subject line ‘fiction submission’ and the first lines reading ‘we regret to inform you…’ appear.

i feel smart because i can observe things in detail and then express myself impressionably on other people.

i am pretty much set for life.

oh wait there was something else…

i think i thrive off observing my self-expression take affect.

my subject matter is highly refined and i discriminate heavily. i think i will really have a controlled thing to work with in the future.

it seems like anything i get really excited about is not worth being that excited about. or maybe it just always turns into a desire for a type of food or drink.

here’s some stuff that happened:

my mom said she was sick during the year of her first pregnancy. she went out drinking on a lot of the nights. and i said damn. and my aunt said that explains a lot, miles.

i think before or after that i said imagine two people who look just like scott and chris (the two who were not with us) walk out of the woods. my aunt said miles, where do you come up with this stuff.

on the first night my cousin asked me about not eating animals and peter singer. idk what was actually said. i felt sort of drunk and bad at speaking / formulating thoughts. the convo evolved into something about our purpose as humans or something. i seem to remember it more via feelings.

my brother said he'd never be as depressed as my cousins and myself because he's going to do what he enjoys, skateboarding, and i felt like my mom told him we were all depressed behind my back. but now i think i am wrong in thinking that.

i enjoy tetris, and other video games, because they evoke errors in my myself that i don't feel the need to express.

my brother had an idea to get a tattoo of the scene in jurassic park where the young kid is electrocuted by the giant fence and goes flying off of it.

i wrote sentences like 'scott is napping.' 'peter takes a shower.' 'the cats seem divided and anonymous.'

we all weren't sure what was going on and my aunt said we could write poetry. i think i recoiled. i definitely smiled at the computer screen.

i have been between pages (~)80 - (~)115 since around friday of last week.

i am looking at the book and thinking about something other than the book.

i feel like it was written in long sittings and is not revisable. a lot of the language is abstract and if it were to be revised i feel like it would unravel and be difficult to reconstruct.

i feel like i am taking drugs for the purpose of scientific observance.

why am i a person just being tested?
do i not want a house?

i feel myopically attached to something.

i feel like i have no use for the book but i feel like i can read it and react to it passively, with detachment.

"...They can't understand what did it. A complication of pregnancy. They don't inquire further. They misunderstand medical terms. Their vocabulary is not one of disease. Nor is it one of health. What they do, always, is a compromise between death and living. They do know that no doctor was called. She died at night while the Reverend was sleeping, while the little child Kate was sleeping. They also know that the fetus was not expelled. It was tight within her still when she was taken away. Snug as a core in an apple. They do not like to discuss it really. It is not that they are not curious or bereaved or amazed. It is just that they lack the proper terms. They are embarrassed by their own references. The death isn't quite acceptable. It isn't quite . . . respectable."

-pg 110 (SCRIBNER SIGNATURE EDITION)

i am unaware of myself reacting internally to what i have read above.

something small happened when i read it.

can i export the small maybe lost thing in my 'material'.

how do i monetize myself?

i just want to be vague and vaguely transition from sentences

i keep hearing either rain or a fan or an air conditioner

i am very comfortable when i close my eyes right now

very tired and confident

i am listening to animal collective

chloroplasts / photosynthesis

my brain has eliminated an awareness for a vague presence of rules

that's not it

i feel like i am insulting myself and others

by lacking the proper 'terms'

i have been editing this post for the ~4 days it has been posted

this is what happens to me when i get drunk

i am not sure exactly happens when i get drunk

i am drunk when it is happening

i feel like some of the worst moments in my life

happened when i was drunk

i picture my eyes moving around a lot

i smile a lot

my face feels warm

i make a lot of compliments

i think about food

i want to hear specific songs that i didn't really care about before

i think i felt some the most positive feelings

when i was drunk

i have felt negative feelings when i have been drunk

i feel that less intense negative feelings over a longer,

sober period of time are worse than drunk negative feelings

it is not that i don't know what happens to me when i am

drunk

i feel like i do not become less capable when i am drunk

i hate myself for this blog post already

i feel that when i am drunk i never hate myself

the fan has been rotating with electrical force for an 8 or 9 hour time period

fragments of my dreams arbitrarily materialized in my thoughts

while i struggled to complete a sentence in something else i was writing

i feel like i would be more productive if i focused all my writing efforts

in one area

sometimes i think i should eliminate blogging, twittering, and journaling.

i should either write poems or stories.

i should only tell stories about moments that are crazy or intense.

at 5pm today i hated the writing i was working.

at 12pm now i don't hate it. i feel that i can progress.

i know what i want at this moment in time.

*edited 4 days later*reread for the first time while 'stoned'. 'added' to it while 'stoned'*edited 4 days later*

I was reading State of Grace by Joy Williams and this passage seemed to stand out:

"The moment was mine, I knew, because I grew up all intuition and no curiosity. There's not a curious bone in my body. Like clockwork, I grew up with an innate sense of the proper order of things. I left it to the others to discover their egotistical sexuality. They were programed for impulse but lacked true desire. I recall my own schoolmates professing to enjoy the dopey pleasures of the Tip-O-Whirl in the bleached grassless playground of kindergarten as they wrapped their little thighs around the banana seats. I was not affronted by such behaviour. How could I be? I was up to Jeremiah in my insatiable quest for order. THE HEART IS DECEITFUL ABOVE ALL THINGS AND DESPERATELY WICKED: WHO CAN KNOW IT?"

I felt like I was walking down a marina dock and as I passed a pontoon boat that barely fits in its slip, I reacted in a way that has been arbitrarily interposed to my reactions to my environment as they both change over time. I am picturing a lot of boats before and after the 'pontoon boat'. Can I think of boats in a marina and paragraphs as dichotomies. I think boats look like coffins or bugs sometimes.

I keep thinking 'everything changes over time'.

Everything cancels out. I just pictured a computer floating and then fading into a dark space.

I think eternity. I picture an alternate vision of blackness with blurry, pink boarders. I feel 'brainy'.

I feel like I don't need to be here metaphysically.

I feel like after reading this paragraph that I felt something different and then something I have developed from reading and communicate with other people has caused me to type it on my blog. I think it had to do with a voice admitting that it relied on intuition. I feel something in connection to relying on intuition and my ideas associated with language are connected. The situation in which a person relates themselves to the idea of intuition makes me feel like there is a change in the way I am related to the things I type.

I feel like someone inside of me is using some sort of aggressive or unreasonable method to control the outcome or order.

I feel like I am trying to reattach myself to myself, continually, forever. I think I need new things to attach to. I think I need to detach and attach somewhere different. I think I can describe myself as abstract and rhetorical at this point in the blogpost.

I feel like I had to use an acquired skill to resolve the feelings in my last paragraph.

If I am problem solving and my brain articulates 'intuition' what should I do?

Can I cope with my uncertainty? What does it mean when I type 'I hate myself'?

I think I feel okay saying / typing things that have a high probability of revealing my shortcomings - not worried about being incorrect.

I am not sure what's actually going on in this book. I reread a lot of the paragraphs. I like all the paragraphs. I felt like I was truly enjoying the above paragraph when I first read it.

So I transcribed the paragraph into my blogger account and I don't think I understand it. What do you think she means?

Not sure what a "Tip-O-Whirl" is. Youtube shows a "Tilt-O-Whirl" that looks like a ride that runs on a circular, up and down track, with individually rotating carriages which you can spin yourself.

Jeremiah is a prophet from the bible. Jeremiah:

"Jeremiah is also famous as "the broken-hearted prophet" (who wrote or dictated a "broken-hearted book", which has been difficult for scholars to put into chronological order), whose heart-rending life, and true prophecies of dire warning went largely unheeded by the people of Israel. God told Jeremiah, "You will go to them; but for their part, they will not listen to you"."

- http://www.wikipedia.org/

listening to eric clapton. i don't know why.

next time i will be more focused and also happier

i keep thinking about things i should do

then i picture my face or something

i just feel like i can't decide what to do or i don't want to do anything

i just put my head down on my arm and exhaled

earlier i thought about getting in a nearly fatal car accident

and then just not telling anyone about it unless they

asked me like what happened at that specific time

or what happened when i was doing what i was doing just before the accident

i am not sure how i could create suspense in any other way

or in any aspects of my life

if i try to create something suspenseful

it will probably fail

i need to accumulate a lot of undisclosed information (true, untrue, mental or physical format)

i walked through time square and felt angry and impatient or something

about how everyone was in each other's way and it all seemed

unhealthy and inefficient and stupid

i felt better after thinking something like 'nothing is unique or original'

i felt like i could disappear or something

i mean it was easy to feel that nothing mattered

i just want to develop consistent patterns in my activities

i want to be able to deal with ranges of emotions and also physical problems

in a way that can be viewed as entertaining

i think if i have to go cross town in midtown next time i'll take like 41st street

the two block detour will be worth it, i think

i don't want to try and read a bunch of books

and then get bored with those books

and tell myself 'fuck books and writing and art'

and then do something else that during the moments i am

doing those things all of a sudden will make me feel like i should be with a book instead

i wish i used another example besides books

feels like a safe bet though

i don't know why i chose suspense before either

whatever though

is there a category for "excuse" words that would include 'just', 'but', 'though', 'instead', 'besides' 'etc.'?

i am not sure but i might always be making excuses

i could change that maybe. i think 'maybe' is an "excuse" word

i feel really confused but i feel that confusion doesn't matter at this point

i am still "complete" as a person

NOTES

You think about the thing that follows the thing you describe.

You check all tenses. They change a little. This makes it a story.

Straight actions. You feel alcohol from the beer you drank take affect.

You develop are rule about using names and he/she.

You think the flow seems awkward in places.

There is no overall beauty, you say. Not just the sentences being good or bad. What about the whole story. Is it entertaining?

No. You feel like things just happen in a sequence. You have selected different points.

What happened to this person in their one and only life, you should think.

You did a bad job holding you breath at the aquarium.

You did a bad job solving the problem.

It seems like another repetitive you. You notice yourself repeating, but are not sure.

Does a book lie or lay?

Are you this character?

You think this character has aspects of your world embodied in their world.

This person does not refer to your world.

My world seems to be an orange on a slope.

You don’t know what the sentence before this means.

You say, “what.”

You seem dependent on the section breaks in the story. Breaks larger than paragraph breaks.

You think this is a weakness in the story.

Somehow work on connecting the parts that seem alienated, but dependent on the breaks, into the story.

You think about the theme here. How is everything connecting?

You are distracted while editing this story. Just finish this phase of revision then revise paragraph by paragraph.

You go to forums, download music. You are drinking alcohol.

There seems to be a point you want to reach. In six hours you are leaving for a wedding. You have not slept since yesterday morning.

You read that using second person frustrates a lot of professors.

You know this sort of just happened. Because your notes were boring before.

You want to include note taking in the story.

On the train you asked yourself why the main character reads novels. Or why are you writing about the main character reading novels. Is she experiencing things only people who read novels experience?

You’re just creating your own fictional world.

Stay isolated, alienated. ‘Behind your writing.’

You thought the scene where the characters braid each other’s hair seems boring. Maybe it should be deleted, or a conflict or something weird should be added. Something sexual.

You thought about your grandma reading this story while you were on the train.

The story seemed insignificant to you earlier.

Just another failed attempt. You took a note that indicated writing was more than just something you were interested in, like more than a television show you watched all the way through.

You like the part when the character enters the competitive darts tournament.

You cannot decide what should actually take place during the tournament. Is it at all entertaining? You think maybe the whole tournament scene should be one sentence.

It seems like you can think about this more later.

Maybe you can digest it into the overall theme, after you line edit a lot. Just get through a few revisions and chill.

You should relax. You’ve always known as much as you have known. I mean like you won’t learn more than what you already know.

Seems like people forget things here and there. It gets hyper, then slows down a lot.

Seems like whatever you do you have those important memories.

You got the name from a facebook friend who you saw was getting married.

You thought it was about time you finally wrote a story about a person that would stamp down your life a little. It would be like hitting a tree with a lacrosse stick, finally actually doing something.

You should edit even this, a lot.

You once thought about hopping up and hanging on a balcony to a pink building, somewhere in Florida. It was your grandparent’s condo.

There are other memories. You know where you have been.

You don’t let yourself like life the way you can.

You don’t know how much you like life.

You just want to party.

Partying seems like energy dispersed in random directions.

We seem to connect in all the dark places.

Write haikus together in a word document.

Add a part where the main character collaborates on haikus with either male or female friend.

You want all your friends to be really good at whatever they choose to do.

You feel like you can be really good at what you choose to do.

You begin to wonder if this story is something or nothing again.

It seems like you need to do something to the story.

Later maybe.

Or work on it until maybe 5 am.

Seems sweet. You did it bro.

You realize there is an appropriate time for something to take place. And the significance is the description of the result.

You know a friend’s face talking to you about this.

You’re dealing with a giant mess.

You just ‘cut’ this from the story:

Cindy makes progress in the novel while at her job. She reads three pages. She writes a note about the character. “Lonely”. She writes “When does this character actually do any work.” The novel flashes back into the character’s days as a teacher / writer. Cindy’s boss asks her to go to the cash registers to check out customers. Cindy thinks abstractly about the command her boss has on the employees. She wonders if the male workers receive the same tone from the female boss she does. I keep unwillingly realizing that I one day need to quit this job. I am lazy she thinks. My note taking validates my being lazy. I am taking careful note of it.

Cindy meets Margaret during her job. Jason takes Cindy and Margaret to meet a friend of Jason’s. Jason flirts with a singer at the place they go. Cindy leaves with a guy. Jason kisses singer good night. Cindy feels bad at her job. She feels negative things. Flaws, errors, self-doubt. Inconsistency, ignorance. Naiveté. Misunderstands chaotic, unknown origins of world. Feels self-conscious centered. Unlucky though untouched by tragedy or real sadness. Feels meaninglessness, aimlessness.

These lines are from your notebook:

Cindy do not confine Cindy. Woman. A larger thing than something. A sky or something. Women are amazing or something. You hate boys because you are one. You think you’re a bad inefficient one. What should. What your relationship to Cindy. Feel rejected by someone like her not because you’re not a complete, you are who you are type person, an authentic soul. Feel rejected by her purely for mistakes, carelessness, aimlessness etc. You feel rejected for being who you are not by someone not like Cindy. You want to fit Cindy into a story as a character who is trying to find a way to be an artist. Being an artist has something to do with hurt or something. You cannot change things. Things are the way they are. Can still work with Cindy. You realize you have not discovered anything or made any decisive actions as an artist or something. Even though you may have. You don’t feel validated in a larger sense of real life by them. Something about approach makes you feel insubstantial. You are totally incapable or even thinking sometimes. Totally honestly. Or something.

If you had a biographer she might write that you resiliently tried to work during this period but you were even distracted when you sat down to work because it was a popular and very accessible time for the internet. Maybe a period of crippling poverty or a war or something will happen to your life situation and you will go on to work and concentrate in a way that is notable and different from your peers.

Cindy is just comforted by art and not just watching or reading but writing and drawing maybe. Seems like that is a cool person to be. Confronted by sadness or happiness. You’re not sure what your preference is in friends. You think it is just kindness. The more you read and write though you discover that kindness sort of comes with taste. History is involved. You weren’t a heroin user early on so the drugged out crowd has moved on without you. They are in bands now. Ha!

You wrote this after that other thing:

The one piece you can understand @ once with pieces missing, unknowns. And about what you have decided to write about. because you like things and them seem to provide brain with energy. Thoughts. Not truth, understanding, acceptance, newness, just an instance of something happening out of other things being done or put into action. An experiment. On the scale of scientists just trying to figure things out without a lot of government funding or making things that will unnecessarily damage the environment or for the purposes of earning them money.

You don’t like this story.

You deleted the story accidentally. There was an error that involved the computer freezing and maybe cut and paste. And these notes. The original file of the notes survived though.

You are glad it happened like this, now anyway.

So you deleted the older versions of the story.

Actually you had an idea for a story that seemed easier to write.

The story you work on now seems to be funnier, the plot is there, you don’t have to stress over plot.

The story is also sad a lot in parts. Or pathetic for the one character.

A blog post that is a review of the novel Stoner by John Williams.

A friend said to me on gchat that he wanted to read a book called Stoner. He said it had an unintentionally funny cover. The person sent me a picture of the book. I thought it was sort of funny too. I think the person on the cover looks like a sad scholar. I think of "stoners," of loose clothing, bloodshot eyes, and underlying personality issues. I saw a movie called "Sunshine Cleaning" and a woman in that movie says she doesn't do drugs or alcohol because she thinks that they will create cracks in her psychology and bad things will enter those cracks and they will never come out.

When I started reading the book I quickly realized that the narrative was unintentionally funny too. Then the book was not so funny. But I always felt that the book could be unintentionally funny at any moment. For example the main character enters a relationship with a woman who becomes his wife. It seems that these characters hate each other after like the first few weeks that they are with each other.

I lost this book. It was the library's. I have only lost two other things in my life in a fashion as mysterious at this. Once I threw a Rambo figurine into my closet filled with toys and went to bed. I went back to the closet for days and days and never found it. In college I left a swiss army watch on the bathroom sink. I went back for it and it was gone. I asked each person individually for the watch. It was obviously stolen.

The book was readable, from what I remember. It described rooms a lot. The appearance of people. It described the thoughts of the main character a lot. The relationships change a lot over time and I feel the changes are well developed. I feel like there is some abstract language but the language for the most part is very concrete. I have done no research on this book. I've read the wikipedia page and there isn't much there. There is one praising blurb.

I have had to buy the book from amazon dot com at a lower price than what the library has asked for the book.