Time, my little warrior/ Garfunkeling.

Time.
I will find you and I will make you mailable. I will make you so flexible Gumby is put to shame, Mr. Stretch is no match, and even silly putty will be no combatant. Time, I will find you and I will have my way with you.





Intermission:


There was a woman on the boat today who strongly resembled Art Garfunkel. Yes. A Woman. Art Garfunkel. To which, in my sleep deprived-covered-in-fish-grease-pissed-off-at-proletariat-laboring-manliness said
"GARFUNKELING!"
The woman stared back at me. My co-worker dropped limes all over the floor holding his laugh in so much.
I went downstairs & washed some pans.


Reference,
Garfunkeling

My New Personal Antichrist

Packing.

Hypothetical: If there were to be a subjective ideal of my Antichrist it would be packing. Yeah, you heard me right, it would definitely be packing.

I hate packing. Passionately. I hate unpacking. I even hate the boxes with advertisements of booze that I put my things into. Staring at a cheap scotch logo makes me realize I'd rather be sitting drinking the scotch, not putting my pens, paper and pencils into the box with the cheap scotch logo on it. Packing is insanity, it is the Antichrist.

I dream about a day where I am incredibly wealthy (by incredibly I really mean the day where I can afford the cost of cable) and that day, when I am incredibly wealthy, sitting on my second-hand recliner drinking a cold soda, watching the most recent episode of Robot Chicken (previously recorded) and I'm getting ready to move, I will pay for people to put my stuff into boxes. The boxes of with logos of cheap liquor. I will not have to organize all of the stuff myself. I do not enjoy staring at the cheap liquor logo longingly wishing I could sip on it and all of my stuff would magically appear organized into boxes.


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Part II:
Songs that get me through 14 hr workdays

I spend a lot of time thinking about other things while I am doing mindless obligatory work-related activities. When I'm covering raw chicken in tangerine dressing and seasoning the pieces with onion powder and johnny's seasoning salt or when I am staring out the window looking at the beautiful islands--pictured here----------------->

I am thinking about a lot of random stuff. Mostly about songs that I can idenitify with, because I am a hip egotist. The songs are as follows:
-Le Tigre-TGIF (being the only female sometimes makes me realize I lovelovelovelove my vagina. I do not want to talk about plowing an attractive person or feel bad for not knowing electrical/boat maintenance. Coming home and listening to this song makes me so happy.)

Ice Cube-It was A Good Day (which I find strange. There is NOTHING in this song I can personally identify with, however, somehow, it stretches beyond a part of the Black-American experience. Or maybe, I'm just an unaware ass. Either way, I enjoy this song and won't feel bad for it.)
And mostly, this song:

The Flaming Lips - New Music - More Music Videos

Letter J.

J)Bold Statment:This is one of my favorite, if not my favorite album covers, for too many reasons to name.

And then there's the list.

A) In times of deep stress people make lists.
B) only to give the facade that things are actually organized.
C) They are not. Or maybe they are.

1. http://www.imho.com/grae/chaos/chaos.html

D)I own more boxes of books than I do clothes. I'm selfish with them. I have at least two full bookshelves of beautiful books and I went through them and can't give them away.

1. realization: My house someday is going to have so many books, it will resemble a small library. The person I share it with will have to be ok with this.
   

E) I have all this stuff that I don't need. I've been reading Cornel West and his critiques on the free-market capitalistic consumerism/materialism has made me really think about what we need. I don't know why, as Americans, we continually equate progress and happiness with the collection of stuff. Excessive stuff. Materialism. However, at the same time, in a capitalistic system, consumerism is entirely necessary for the well-being of society.


F) That said, this summer I've found I love where I live.


G)Fragmented Story:
I was at work. On the boat. It's after dinner when things are settling down and I ususally stare out the window and look at all the beautiful islands. Tonight, however, I sit on the stairs to call my friend to see if he wants to partake in listening to whales on vinyl. I'm in the middle of the phone ringing. I look up and see blood everywhere, dripping from a ten year olds pinky finger. I see his flesh completely removed and I see his bone. His pinky bone. Abruptly, I hang up the phone. I frantically run up to the wheel house to try and figure out what the fuck I am suppossed to do. It's digusting. I realize there is a reason we have skin, vainly stated, our insides are not appealing; they are red, complex and incredibly vunerable. i want to vomit. My co-worker and I grab the first aid kit and we proceed to wrap the open wound. I bleach the counter, the bathroom, the metal spring loaded door he slammed it in & the chair he sat in. I think I might be freaked out by blood.

H) The month of August is going to be one crazy month.

I) The GRE's. The devil.