nqmatt

Leave a comment and I will:

1. tell you why I friended you,
2. associate you with something - fandom, a song, a color, a photo, etc.,
3. tell you something I like about you,
4. tell you a memory I have of you,
5. ask something I've always wanted to know about you,
6. tell you my favorite user pic of yours,
7. in return, you must post this in your LJ.

I only just realized, that its a major assumption to go around thinking your life is a first person narrative.

Shitshitshitshitshitshit

I crashed the Birthday Party of a Buddhist Holy Man. Not maliciously, but I attended uninvited. A coworker of mine, who goes to this Buddhist temple in Sugarland mentioned they were hosting the birthday party of a certain monk, who's held in high regard, so I decided, having nothing to do that day, to attend. At first, some folks tried to get me out, but the monks let me stay. Most of them couldn't speak any English, but a few could speak very broken english, so I attempted to have conversations with them. Failing to have any good ones, I ate rice, bowed, smiled, and blessed monks (they were blessing me, so I decided to return the favor). But best of all, there was an old Zen Buddhist who hardly ever stopped laughing.

In other news, I'm conducting a new experiment. I have some theories about how keeping a journal effects one's thought processes and open mindedness, so I'm going to keep one and monitor its effects on myself.

Why didn't you kill yourself today?

I never actually saw my life pass before my eyes. It's occurred to me, that maybe, when they say that, they mean it poetically. That they're talking about everything that happened beforehand. Anyways, I've never been a particularly poetic guy, and despite the more pressing concerns, I had been looking forward too it, or at least, some of it. I did want to see that squirrel again, before it died in it's shoebox deathbed, surrounded by tissues and tidbits of food we hoped it would eat. I didn't want to see Margaret, walking with him hand in hand. Perhaps its a bit trivializing, but it was kinda like missing a high school reunion. It was something, that while you wanted the experience, you knew you wouldn't enjoy it. Well, Jacob enjoyed them, but then again, he was the sort of person who ruined it for the rest of us. Still, at the moment, I didn't begrudge him his success, and even missed seeing him one last time. And Mark. And William. And Ryan. And that kid next door who I couldn't remember his name for the life of me, even though at the time we were sure that we would be friends forever. And as the ground comes closer to my head; I realize, we never had a chance. No one did, no one does, and I'd like to say no one will, but I won't be around to see for myself, and I'll never meet the ones who might, and hear them say, "I told you so." Its weird to think about, and I've never been a particularly poetic person, so I just wonder...how much is this going to hurt?

This is a common occurence. I don't mind really, it makes life much more interesting. I just do it a lot. It's just that, sometimes, I'd rather I didn't.

I've been feeling rather manic over the past two days.

Does it count as hearing voices if you don't actually hear the voices, but every part of yourself acts as though it did hear the voices? I feel, that there is a fine distinction there, one that would probably hold up in a court of law, should chose a court a law to hold a hearing on what constitutes "hearing voices".

Also, I managed to convince myself, that gouging my eyes out, to prove that this is indeed my own body, is not a good idea. Admittedly, it would have been funny, because I was at Barnes and Nobles, and something amuses me about losing one's eyes in the middle of a bookstore.

In better news, I am volunteering my services at the Avantgarden (formerly Helios), running sound for them on their open Mic nights. So far, this has resulted in the running of no sound, neither in the figurative (I have not managed the mics and soundboard) or literative (One, I doubt that's a word, two, sound has no legs with which to run). The first time, I did not show up, there were hindrances. The second, well, the open mic night did not show up. But still, once this shit actually gets going, it will be so cash.

And finally, I really, really, want to record some hand clappin'. I think, if I do it in the right room, with the drum track really quiet, it'll sound kinda cool.

Indie Cyber Punk Post Punk Rock Operas are awesome.

I voted in the primaries today. I don't think I'm ever going to vote again. I felt dirty, disgusting, like I was tampering with the data in an experiment. So despite my great interest in politics, I think I'll avoid that whole voting thing from now on. Seems kinda hypocritcal of me, or at least, it does to myself and I'm probably the best judge, but damn it feels so dirty (That's what she said!).

Things are different now from how they were before.

I thought I leveled up yesterday, but it turned out to be someone's ringtone.

It's sad that I have the date for this, but I always get the best nights sleep when I'm kicked out of the house.

I fulfilled a lifelong goal of mine.

I zipped something up without the little zipper thing at the bottom.

My life is almost complete.

http://www.musicstreetjournal.com/tunerinterview.htm

King Crimson is getting back together, apparently a five piece with two drummers.

For Halloween, I'm getting a bathrobe and pyjamas, I will then roll around in the dirt, speak in a British accent, and call myself Arthur Dent.

What does it take to have a week or so to "bring awareness" to a deadly issue or something? Apparently, according to an article a co-worker was reading at the break table, its Window Protection Week because 400 kids have hung themselves on window cords since 2003. That's it? That's .27 kids a day. I mean, if it were 400 a year or something, that might be enough? 400 a week? Now we're getting impressive, that's a sizeable chunk of our future going out there (albeit, the retarded chunk).

Couldn't this week be better spent on something that kills more people, like Hungry Villagers Resorting to Cannabilism, or at least something worth more time such as pretending to be a time traveller or speaking like an old English Gentleman? Let the rest of us enjoy our week, and let these one hundred inbred families a year find out about this "scourge" a much more convenient way, experiencing it first hand.

So I had to lug a bike with broken ass wheels around for an hour to get home, because on my way back home from Tristen and Teddy's house, the wheels fucking broke on me. Then my mum refused to come out and pick me and the broken bike up, instead choosing to threaten to kick me out of the house because I always demanded shit of her (mind you, that's bullshit, I buy most my groceries, I buy my clothes, I haven't asked for a ride in freakin months, and I pay rent).

So I really, really, need people to room with, so I can get the hell out of here. But more likely, I'm going to get kicked out before I can even find a room mate and apartment. And if that happens? I have no fucking idea.

Spoofed Tribe show was fucking awesome.

D.R.U.M. opened for the Tribe, both bands put on fantastic shows. And before D.R.U.M. their was a decent local psy-blues rock band downstairs (was at Fitz) that did a pretty good set themselves. Did a great rendition of Johnny B. Goode. But the highlight of the night was definitely Spoonfed's second round of drum only music.

I know how to reach its.

In programming, when you cause an endless loop, you crash the program, or essentially, the code's reality. So if we as humans are running on our own self-programming biological code, if we force ourselves in to an endless loop we will crash our illusion that the code creates (the program) and bring us in to the truth of reality (the BSOD).

That doesn't sound all to pleasant in fact. BSOD is horrible thing.