Thank you.

Just when I thought I needed to stop thinking about words and meanings and linguistics and academeia, I started reading Saul Williams today completely by fluke. I also found my old copy of The Notebboks of Malte Laurids Brigge by Rilke with an old photo of my family in it and one of my favorite Rilke quotes,"For one human being to love another; that is perhaps the most

difficult of all our tasks, the ultimate, the last test and proof,
the work for which all other work is but preparation. "

The control this man has over language is absolutely beautiful.

Dear Washington,

On the long drive home I think I might of fallen in love with you.

is it possible to miss space? like the above picture of the Palouse Highway. can space be a tangible thing? I mean, to go from a crowded city to open wheat fields. I think I might have been writing my theory essay too long. goddamn. Space as a real touchable, thing? pfff.

C-c-c--choppy narratives.

its like the opening cinematic scene in a low budget indie movie. It's raining. It's dark. I'm driving alone becoming increasingly nostalgic and creating a past that didn't necessarily exist and consequently deeply yearning for its ideal perfection. But. Problem is, its hollow, since in reconstructing my own memories, they are falsely & intricately put together. They're not true. Things around me pretty much look something like the picture to the left. I'm not a mellow dramatic egotistical asshole so I steer clear from the "holy shit, white person having an psychological & emotional crisis" moment and instead, I turn on the radio. Ok, ok, I know I'm a cliche. And I'm making a blog entry centered around things I think are funny. Meh.
Somehow, I come across Elton John's "Rocket Man" on the radio. On the dial it was in between two popular country radio stations. And, oh, it was perfect.
-----

I heard the most embarrassing story today (to which I will leave totally anonymous) My friend, ANONYMOUS , got a call from her mom telling her to come to a superbowl party. She arrived halfway into the game with everyone way past being halfway drunk. Her mom stumbled out of the bathroom with all of her pants and underwear dangling around her ankles into a crowded room. Dead Silence. Her Mother's Vagina. Naked. In front of everyone. Holy. Fucking. Shit. What do you say in a situation like that? I mean, really. This was also the same ANONYMOUS that had a 40 yr old female roommate that was totally obsessed with Donnie and Marie. Ha. Seriously? Donnie? Marie? ach.
-----

the following conversation took place between my 83 yr old grandfather and my 86 yr old grandmother in their old person patterned living room
(note: Sprague is where men pick up prostitutes)

"Peter, what are you going to do for the hour I am at the hand therapist?"
"I was thinking about going to Home Depot. (pause) and visiting my girls down on Sprague"
"Well, you certainly will be longer than an hour"

My grandmother also said the following in regards to bartering with my father:
"Well, lets just take the dinner bill off of the snowblower cost. A tit for tat deal"

"I don't mind doing tit for tat but I've always thought tat for tit was a bit more fun"

I've learned to NEVER, I mean NEVER discuss politics with my grandfather. He's a New York absolutist with the aggressive verbal pouncing of a young spry mountain lion. With the east coast accent to match.

And this, folks, is why I drive 7 hours to see these people and wake up at 520 am to drive back.

oh but Mr. Gregory!

I watched "Gentleman's Agreement" and I forgot how amazing that movie was for being made in 1947. Film was still a relatively new medium at the time & acting was often times still exaggerated like it was on live stage. But this movie was shot well, edited well and the script content was risque and socially valid for the time period. It was no Hitchcock, but it was still good. Not to mention Gregory Peck... for some reason, swanky and dapper Gregory Peck makes smoking look incredibly smooth & suave (a feat in itself!)

The art of Napping.

My bed is incredible. However, as a method to get my studies done (and holy shit there's been a lot of it) I avoid it when I'm reading or writing. I've opted for the floor, my wooden desk, I've even leaned against my closet/against the window. I have fallen asleep in all three of these places plus these following public places in the last three weeks:
-A couch on the Fairhaven lounge
-A desk in the library
-A wooden chair in the humanities building

Jigga Wha? I didn't know...

George Carlin:
Highly offensive, intellectual social critic/comedian



George Carlin:
Children's Thomas the Train narrator


something doesn't match up here...


also, i think this video is pretty cool. I'm not sure why

Milk!

Recently I compiled a list of things that I miss, it includes the following:

-Milk- There is nothing more satisfying to me early in the morning than stumbling noisily down the stairs and pouring myself a huge glass of milk to start out the day. Dude. I seriously fucking miss milk.


-Sun, sparsely populated trees and clean lakes- I think it's awesome that there is such an intense covering of foliage over here but I miss dry pine needles, dirt, dust and sparsely populated pine tree hiking trails. Clean lakes. Yeah, the kind of lake you can swim in and they're aqua blue, the kind that are lake-weed free and so smooth they look like glass. They reflect the inverted image of its surroundings like a polished mirror. Oh man, thats something I really miss.













Sunsets that look like this:
And most importantly, finding time to do nothing. Absolutely nothing. Or time spent doing things that are done for pleasure, like, hell, I don't know, exploring. Exploring the time of a moment, so you'd sort of live so much in the now you'd forget the relation of the moment to the greater temporal whole. Momentary pleasure in its beautiful fleeting, temporary security. Dude, I miss that concept of time.






This list was inspired by the massive amounts of Swedish pop I've been listening to lately to contrast the heavy nature of uncertainty all the literary criticism I've been reading has tried to theorize. It's basically told me nothing exists in permanence and life's one big paradoxial, juxtaposing, contrasting contradiction. Thanks Stein! Thanks Derrida! You're my one of favz
Post text: It seems everyone Swedish and their mom is part of a band. Which is cool I guess.