So yeah, I am hungry.
The ligths in my room are never bright enough for me.
But the lights in hall keep me awake at night.
Never finding that balance between light and dark
we roll on into infinity,
running and walking from time to time
to catch our breath

I don't know anything about poetry
or how to make the scheme
but the thing that i know and to know is knowing
is that it's not as tasty as cream

WTF? I don't know either, but Tim raised a good point. We run too much. I think that we should walk. I always walk, never running for anything, unless I really need to. It gives me more time to really see things. I can take it in, smell the smell, and then go when I want to. Running is not fun. You can really keep pace in life if you walk...slow and steady win the race, not fast and furious. Man, I feel so much better about everything. I have a backbone now, and I'm not afraid to yell at folks when they are wrong. Not in the loud way, but in the "HA! I know you're lying" way. I like it that way. People panic when they are found out. They lash out.

Anywho, Al Franken's new book, "Lies and the lying liars who tell them: a fair and balanced look at the right" is both informative and hilarious. He is biased. He rants, raves, takes pot shots, but man is he funny. It makes me happy. Really happy. There are way too many people that are way too serious about their politics, and stuck up to boot, but this is a nice release.

Ok, gotta write an email, more tomoree

Haha! comments!

Man, I know a lot about history and WW2. It was a passion back in the day, and I realized when telling Tim about the Arizona (Pearl Harbor), that I can talk at length about the period surrounding the war. I also realized that I sound like my grandfather when I do.

I should go visit him. Maybe play a round of gold with him. He'd like that.
That's one of those little things in life that make it better. Make people want to keep going. That's a good thing to aspire to. A smile here, a joke there. Nothing malicious. Couldn't live with myself. People tend to be dire in times like these, and it's nice to try and make them feel better. From and old man to a small child, kindness should never be spared. That's something to live by, even if it is a little disjointed and optimistic.

Oh yeah. I think that the rule in dorm assassins barring alliances is bullshit. You heard it here first, follks. If I am DQed, so be it. I like playing off of other people. It's all a plan, see. Make them do the work and I reap the benefits, yeah. That's the ticket. Be a sneaky bastard, and win the game.

(really though, I know I am going to lose)

Is mercy really for the weak? What about blowing up your child to strike a moral blow at your enemies? Vietnam was hell...I want to read more about it! Loved Tim O'brien's "The Things We Carried", and I want to know more about the mental anguish of the people involved in this surreal event. The same thing with WW1. How does one deal with unspeakable horror and disaster? Some people in WW1 found a severed hand in their trenches, a gruesome find, but really not that uncommon in those dark days. SO what did the wily Brits do with it? They stuck it in the wall. Why? Because they needed luck. In the ultimate absurdist move, they would shake the hand before going over the top, before facing death in barbed wire and machine guns. These men saw the joke, saw how funny everything really is, and what could they do about it? No matter which way they ran they were going to be shot, so why not shake the hand and face it with your chin held high. Who knows, maybe they would take some Jerries with them, maybe that was enough for them, the senseless slaughter. Over a million people killed in a single battle. 3 million killed in Rwanda over land. What land is this? Our ancestral home, but not even close. People just need a reason, need a cause to kill, and once they do, they're hooked.

"Oh you must be very busy"

Killing people is a full time job for some, and a hobby for others. Which is scarier?
I think the hobbyist, because at least the man doing the job is getting paid for it, and not doing it for the shear enjoyment of the act.

Which brings me back to dorm assassins. How sick is this game that we have to hunt down and kill people that we know well. We have to shoot them face to face, and then take their gun as our trophy. Ha ha! I have slain the beast! Let me take its horn! But wait, we meet new people! That's a good reason, if there is any, I believe. Could be worse. Could really be killing people we've just met, and that, folks, would be a bad thing.

Sleep well, and wake up early, and hope that someone isn't going to bury you in the woods.

Wait, that's really dire. How about this:

Peaches and puppydogs frolicking in snow! Yay! Happy days, with Fonzie, the coolest man with a name that would kill even the horniest persons libido, but he got the girls, the boys, and even Mork at one point, though you didn't hear it from me. I'm not saying Fonzie was gay, all I'm saying is that he jumped a shark. Take that to mean what you will, though I take it to mean that he jumped a shark in a poorly filmed sequence. So be it!

Peace.

It's too early in the morning to really be considering anything profound prolific or whichever one applies.

My stomach is empty, which is bothering me, which it usually does not, especially this early. What does it mean? that I am hugry? I really don't care about NASCAR! NBC, just put Conan back on. It's the sketch with the robot shitting on a toilet, which is much funnier than it should be. Conan has a knack for things like that. Really shouldn't be funny, but it's just so odd, so absurd you just have to laugh. Why?

Because when he finally goes, there is a metal clang as his feces hits the porcelin.

Falling to their final resting place, the robo-turds impact, solidly upon the virginal surface of the toilet. The crowd, silent, but with an audable inhale awaits this moment, and when the clang is heard, a cheer goes up. He is unbounded, he is free! His metallic bowls no longer are holding their bounty, and all the world can enjoty this robot's special gift. I know I do. Conan, the headman, leads us in our cheer. We are happy for the robot. We wanted the robo-turds.

attractive term, eh? Robo-turd.

Robo anything just makes it cooler. Better yet, mecha. Mecha Godzilla versus Robo-Turds. Mecha Godzilla wins, duh. He's got that force shield, and his fingers are rockets. Damn hollywood and their corrupting of godzilla! Damn them all to hell!

Well, i guess Hollywood kinda is hell, or purgatory at least, with those pop-culture angels floating high above it, the ones that toiled to make them into what they are look upon them with awe. They are awed not by the achievement, but at their loss. They can never be those angels, they can never leave the dirt and the grime and the backroom blowjobs, the casting couches, and the lines of coke. They don't want to leave. As long as people have dreams, they will come to the men, to try and live the dreams that people are living, but not sharing. People want to live in these dreams, but they cannot, because they are not real. These people are not real, nothing is real, except what we think is really real. For real. There is way too much money that goes into these unreal ventures, into this art. So much is wrong with the world, but we love fuelling our fantasy so we don't have to think about the real world. It's all escapism. What do I want right now? To talk to someone, who is far away right now, but that's why i'm writing right now, at this moment. I am feeling wordy, and rusty at not having written anything in too long. I want to write another play, be published again. For real this time. On my own and not in a compilation. I can do it. It's not that hard. A few days can yeild a play, a good 30 pages or so, if i really work at it. Then edit it. Get it put on, so i can say that these unknowns originated the role...but that really isn't important.

ok, i have my dreams. I want a writing credit for "Last Thursday", but i have a feeling i might not get it...i have a feeling that people forgot that I wrote it. Did I? I think I did. I read the words and I know that they are mine, but they feel so unfamiliar, so far from my thinking now. I go to a differant place to write. I use other voices. I talk to much now, and I don't listen enough. I'm running out of voices. SOon it will just be me, and my voice, going over all the characters. I will listen more now.

Man, this is really all about me isn't it?

Presumption of interest, that's what it's all about. This here. If you've read this far, something may be wrong with you. You care too much about a nobody that puts characters into words in a semi-pleasing way. Wasted potential is the name of this player's game, and I hope you enjoy it. It's fun to watch.

It's now 8 minutes to 4 in the morning, and I'm going to brush my teeth and sleep.

Good night too all those out there in TV Land

OK...it's dorm assassins time, and i have a problem. Tim is my bro, my alliance member, but i have to kill him now. Rom is banning all aliances, which makes me wonder, should i really betray him? Should i kill the little guy, and then go after the kid that is freaking out? I could go far in this game, as long as I avoid the dreaded Bibas, but he has agreed not to hunt me, but he will kill me if he sees me. It's a really tough situation, politically. The bastard in me says to shoot tim the next time I see him, but i wonder how that would affect the whole friendship thing. I do have a nasty tendency to be a traitorous bastard when it's dorm assassins season, but that's just me.

He's dead.

On another note, "Last Thursday" is actually going to be made. The question from my standpoint is whether I will get the writing credit. It's a little thing, but I wrote 90% of that script, with Chris F. editing. It may be a POS, it may rock, but i want my name to be attached to the script. Me me me me me me me. So there.

I like chinese food.

HAHAHA! It's back, in a way. I can only start these weblogs really early in the morning, otherwise I am thinking too sensibly. I really am missing people, but at the same time I am giddy over random things, totally manic. But not a maniac, or a lunatic, Igor and the Lunatics, and it is today that I go to a wedding anniversary for my good friends the Beard-Kitowskis. Outback steakhouse is the place, and Wally is the face, but his name is not really Wally, but his birthday was yesterday, so happy birthday!

Anyway, I miss my group, and the triad that makes college cool has been disrupted as Sarah heads to the Isle of Ire. The dread Irishe (eye-reesh) have claimed my good buddy ol' pal, but it's cool. It will be really wierd if myself and Josh go away in the spring, as it would be a whole year without the crazies. The good kind of crazies, not the regular crazy crazies that crazy up the day, in short, the real crazies and not the fun zany ones.

Tim is cool, and a regular visitor to my room, and Chris and I might actually make "Last Thursday". Josh is sad, but doing well, and we have him on a 12 step program that prevents him from buying any new games until he finishes a bunch of old ones. It will take him time. I pity him when he reaches Silent Hill 2 + 3 around Halloween...

MUHAHAHA!

Missing the shannon...up way too soon, but looking forward to mobility and the storm...WHICH HAS BEGUN!

WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE! AHHHHHH!