i've never had two people in my life at the same time that i constantly have to keep an eye on so i can be one step ahead of them. damn it's hard up here

i feel like such a crum bum this morning.
i was all set to write down my multitude of dreams in my notebook,
but as soon as i picked it up i seemingly forgot everything.
i always have such mysterious adventures in my dreams that when i wake up i never remember where i am.
i should stop smoking so much. my head feels high right now. i feel like i should pour a cup of water in my ear and slosh my head around to get all the gunk outta there

what a distasteful everything as of late. ive delayed my shower fifteen minutes now,
lurking gloomily over the masked agenda of today.

"WHAT?"- i yelled at the screen
"you hate everyone," he replied
"right now i do, but that doesn't mean forever," said i
"make sure of that. get the hell outta here if that's what it takes, but make sure you don't hate everyone," said he
"i feel like a jerk. i called dash a shitty friend on the phone last night. that wasn't really warranted. my stomach is twisting in knots"
"forget about her, just leave already if you're going to do something stupid like that
"teresa was drunk"
"so? let her drink, she had a hard enough day as it was yesterday. couldn't you tell how sad her voice sounded behind all that?"
"yeah. i still wanted her to comfort me anyway."
"that was pretty selfish of you. you know how nice sleep can be (i should keep a dream journal, lately i've been having such epic totalitarian dreams), it washes away the night and evens out your maladies"
"i DID let her sleep, what the hell do you want from me?"
"to stop complaining, and to go date some stupid girl in a dress that'll keep you happy for a while"
"there is that girl that works around the office, smoking cigarettes and looking at me. she had a pretty nice dress on, but"
"but?"
"i don't even fucking want anyone right now"
"you should stop eating all that fast food; all that junk"
"sonic burger isn't junk"
"it's killing your body"

"that's slowly the goal isn't it?"


SILENCE

NOTHING
NOTHING NOTHING
thats the problem

my fingers are crossing like spiders
spiders
spiders
spiders spider spiders
spider

shower and so on, feeling spectacular

after that jumbled writing i can currently raise my state to "numb". this is probably the best way i can lug my corpse to work today, right after "drunk as all hell".

"in the moment" as a good rule of thumb:

- "on times you're allowed to forget about someone's heart"
do i follow this? of course i do, i'm the biggest goddamn hypocrite (well, maybe NOT anymore) i know. it hurts like hell when someone does it to you, though (duh), but what are you really supposed to do about it?

dom and i both agree that time-locked problems are the worst because there's nothing we can do about them. his isn't even over yet. mine is just beginning but seemingly tortures the hell outta me sometimes

i really just want to go to montreal all of a sudden. (how can i fucking save a person when all it seemingly takes to forget me is two weeks. i should just think about saving myself. it's not like anybody is desperately trying to save ME and MY future. well -

besides michael tauscher.

i don't even know WHY he thought it would've been so important for me to move to quebec with him, but i'm DAMN glad he did. i'm damn fucking glad. because at least i have other things to daydream about when i'm sour)

[{i also wanted to let you know that i was SO upset this morning i crossed out the phrase "my tummy is sour" and replaced it with "my stomach is curling" so maybe now my writing will all turn into phrases like those and all my dreams will turn into garbage pails}]

AND YES, YOU ARE REALLY MY ONLY AUDIENCE THESE DAYS, SO THIS IS ALL FOR YOU!

so i'm about to take a shower and hopefully that'll make me feel better. i'm calling up ellery around noon and forcing him to go to an open mic with me. i need all the company i can get these days. what will i think about when i'm at work today??? (i still would like to save her; in the bathroom i sort of sat there thinking about how i might be that miserly old asian man who she's been married to for seven years now and over time she's started to hate my guts and has wandered off looking for a much younger, energetic man while i'm at work, how i always come home from work smelling like paper and old staplers, how she has to take out all the paperclips in my hair and make dinner with them because really i'm not that great of a breadwinner in the first place)

pressing GUILT on someone is no way of easing the problem, but since it's been less than half an hour since i heard this news, i think it's awfully fair of me not to give a damn

so tell me now- how hard is it, really, to get up all of a sudden and be motivated to go out and save the hell outta someone, when all you can think about is someone fucking her brains out (someone who you now, all of a sudden, think is better than you)

instantly, they would say, that that one person should lose all motivation and ambition for the day as it would be warranted. and if he had just quit smoking for a while, now would be a perfect chance to start back up. this whole entry is horrible and messy. go to hell public, go to hell

i woke up in a fairly light mood - the breeze from the fan was the perfect sort of cool and the light coming in was a tranquil kind of yellowish white -


then i lost my motivation for going to work altogether. i laid in bed and just wondered. it makes me upset to think how stupid shes going to think i am all day, like im a goddamn little kid, and how i raised my tone with her to desperately let her know how i was feeling and all of a sudden CLICK

but i asked for it. i wanted to know. i always want to know the stupidest things

From:	"teresa B."
To:	george h
Subject:	for your blog
Date:	Mon, 23 Apr 2007 19:19:14 -0500

i'm settling this once and for all

WHY I WILL NOT DATE AN AZN GURL EXACTLY LIKE ME

so my mom came in my room just now with a bowl of bananas {peeled and
chopped up in that diagonal way which makes them more fun to eat} and
besides asking me what i wanted for dinner [chicken nuggets shaped like
dinosaurs, please] she says "Did you see that pretty girl who moved in
across the street?" now i have two objections to this

1``~`~`  anyone who my parents would suggest is, by default, going to
be bad
for my heart. also, the girl is a twenty-seven year old azn sensation,
straight from Japan. i think she was in a couple action movies. anyway,
she's seven feet tall and i saw her watering the grass in a bodysuit.

2### in love with T already. (yes, maybe this is beside the point. BUT
I
ADORE THE WAY HER PALE PALE SKIN SANDPAPERS MY CALIFORNIABODY LIKE THE
INSIDE OF AN IGLOO))

I just don't need all these sushi reminders. i've done my best to
americanize myself:

-i didn't get one of those long on the sides short on top beijing
haircuts
-no jean jacket
-no character tattoo
-sideburns
-instead of neon hitops, my adidas sneakers have a hispanic flavour
(very
american - appropriate other cultures to create a patchwork style all
my
own)
-i buy guess jeans and tops from American eagle
-i am only moderately good at chopstix

if anyone's smelling like wontons in the morning, it's gonna be me,
babe. i
like my women to smell of fruit and freshly baked bread. and i don't
need
anyone asking me to enter the doubles ddr tournament with them. my
trophy
room is fucking stuffed.

(the action figure just waved at me. i think she's going to let me try
on
her championship belt. L8TER!)

attachment:

"how come neither of you are wearing cute pants?" - jess

-on dom and i wearing our lazy sunday attire, him in his blue pants (and stupid velvetty sweater) and me in my mars volta sweatshirt and lazy jeans. we can't be beautiful all the time baby, whaddya want from us?

(she also commented on my sideburns, which i refer to as my best kept secret, so that was nice. i can't wait until the three of us move out, this house is slowly killing my spirit, and i have no idea what to do. how do you just abandon your friends like that?)

"A LOOK INTO THE LIFE AND WRITING OF GEORGE 'SEVEN' HA"
yeah so i'm listening to the decemberists (sons and daughters - i love the line about filling our mouths with cinnamon) and looking over funny parts in the entry i just posted, wanting to let you, the viewer, know exactly how i go about writing something like that.

first, i usually make myself a cup of tea and put on some calm music. i was originally listening to the stars, which i recommend for any aspiring writer, as they both inspire and relax you.

secondly, i hang up a picture of my great grandfather, wangson, as he was the first person to ever inspire me to pick up a pen and document the story that is my life. "you're a character in the most beautiful story you'll ever hear, tin-tin-kun. grow up and be strong, like your grandfather, WANGSON!" and with that, he dropped the five-in-one axe he wielded, and died. i kissed his forehead and promised that i would carry out his wishes. and that's the story of why i started writing.

then i usually change whatever attire im wearing. sometimes i'll write naked or in just a towel, but most of the time i'm upside-down in board shorts, wearing floral swim caps and floral suntan lotion. i put on my swim goggles and attack the sea of literature (haiii-ya! - i don't know which of my ancestors designated this sound for the "chop" but i think i would've gotten along with him) .

at this time i'll start thinking about something that interests me, whether it be a dream or an idea or a friend or an event that we have no control over or an event that is exactly like that but completely beautiful (shins) or an event that is exactly like that but we have complete control over (love love looove) or maybe i'll joke around like this and say how "macadamia nut" was completely on purpose and how i'm such a bad speller i had to LOOK UP "macadamia" (not nut, unfortunately) in order to see how it was spelled. and even NOW with my extensive background research, there's STILL a red squiggly line under it. but the internet said that's how it was spelled, so let's go with it

5. kiss!

its still early and im already listening to the softest music imaginable. the night time can creep up on us any time there is blackness in the air. i have never once seen someone cry when there aren't any shadows around. it is physically impossible i have concluded - listen to this (especially):

do we all want the same thing? inevitably who doesn't want an outspoken man or a softspoken (luft-waffeln!) woman, i choose the later with all her weightless tendencies and shell by the seashore voice, the way she dug her toes in the sand and ran up and down the coast collecting sand-dollars, how she says she likes it when i fall asleep to harsh vibrations in the air and end up dreaming about ice cream, the way i joke with her friends and tell them im ABSOLUTELY IN LOVE (i am, but in a less hysterical [probably MORE hysterical, in actuality. i really think we're the only people in the world that romp around in the mornings and talk into each other's body parts]way) - copying their tendencies and drunkenly expressing the same thing with a different name, T having to run out of the bathroom and cover my mouth before people start getting the wrong idea. . .

the right idea would've been:
this asian kid with the long hair wanted to chopstick this white devil up,
pushing her against my dragon (what do you call those things that sorta look like they fold into four or five places, those tall shade-like things in the movies that people dress behind? i don't know if this is an accurate description or what, how they walk around all black and shadowy behind these iron curtains, and whether or not my audience has a word or no words to satiate my desire to crush the english language) curtain and yelling (hibachi! hibachi!),
"take me, take me into your SECULAR world!!"

back on point:
we all want this perfect human being, the one that satisfies both our physical wants and desires and our emotional and psychological needs. to deny its (sexuality) importance in a healthy relationship is completely asinine - for example, i asked t the other night if i could dress up like a sheep and have her fuck me with a hockey puck[or a fedora, but she didn't {and STILL doesn't probably, even after i told her what it was in normal conversation} know what that was], and she declined. i ended up falling asleep shouting, "GOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLL", to which she angrily retorted, "WELL ONCE YOU FUCK LIKE WAYNE GRETZKY THEN I'LL DO WHATEVER THE HELL YOU WANT!"

this gave me two complexes:
1. that i didn't fuck like wayne gretzky, who apparently is one of t's plethora of ex-lovers (we call them the b-team, as her last name is braun and everyone who ends up sleeping with her has needed counseling directly afterwards [why can't some men resist certain seashell girls? i can't blame them, i usually roll around with a giddy smile on my face {turning myself into a blanket burrito in the process} spitting at the ceiling and having it fall right back on me, enjoying the glow of god's rain {i love how ridiculous i can be; i also love the squiggly parenthesis. t and i both agreed they are the best}])

2. that i had a girl who wouldn't be able to act out my sexual fantasies, no matter how sensual and breathtaking they might have been.

it's all an act,
if orson were here (see: f for fake)he'd tell you that everything i've said for the first three paragraphs were true, but everything after that, due to the cunning and wit of the author in front of you, has been false. teresa and i aren't even dating. she's going out with a walrus and i've started to date a macadamia nut. though the complexes and transgressions are similar, (not in that sexual or crude of a fashion, use your imagination here {doesn't it bum you out how few people really have an imagination these days? sometimes i lust for my action figures and silly putty back at home. it's hard not to play with toys when you've been used to playing with them all your life - and why do i do this? to clear my head of any negative thought, and to be a six year old again in the process}) we have a beautiful way of working things out. and once the situation lets us have some sort of semblance of a NORMAL relationship (hopefully when i'm closer, in montreal, if not, hopefully during my prime writing and acting days so she doesn't have to worry about a thing financially or spiritually) everything really feels like it's going to work out all right.

what was i saying? oh yes, back to my original point.

all of this talk stems down to one of my best friends, who i may or may not actually be in love with (i haven't really decided. despite all my talk about her, i've never truly decided how i actually feel about her. once it was known that it wouldn't ever work out, i sort of stopped trying to feel anything. it's impossible, but we all have our impossibilities and lingering feelings of love that are known to be trapped but are really wrecking havoc all over the place. don't fret though friends, i am composed and happier now {and funnier too!!!}, with little chance of an emotional outburst), saying how she wishes "there were different men in her life who would understand the painful little subtleties in the lyrics (shins), different men who stood out of the morning crispness like artwork" (And why not? part of being youthful is being promiscuous! how else are we supposed to satisfy and enjoy our earthly companions?). I tried to paraphrase it, but her direct quote is much more poignant and eloquent (as usual for her, despite her seemingly not having any creative direction other than the way she can make people laugh with her completely genuine and playful little heart of hers - t pointed out how she liked the way she approached our favorite lounge band, the mixed nuts, and i agreed), and seems to show how most human beings tend to feel after the saddest music in the world has been playing. . .

note:
everything isn't so serious, so please don't twist my words into something i didn't intend for them to mean. i love and like to be loved, and i think it would be awfully unfair of me not to want the best things for my friends, for them to have their deepest and most important desires, that they all die happy and content and satisfied, all with common memories that will hopefully ease the pain of whatever comes our way in the near near future ~ ~ ~

since i have already forgotten (i have the memory of a ninety year old man!) what this entry was originally supposed to be about, i'll pause here for now and say,

i want all of you to find your futures and stick with them. the past and present can be so crummy so find the flavor of ice cream you want to be eating for the rest of your life! i know it's simpler than it sounds, and i dumbed it down a bit to look cute and dreamy and charming in that way, but i really mean it so take it to heart.

i don't think i know anyone who cries over the pain his friends endure than me. so quit being so sad you guys
love,
-george

sometimes people can do fucked things
it's all for loneliness and heartliness and "what the fuck do i do it's nighttime and i'm dying"
or for naught
who knows

(on laying your head on someones shoulder and rubbing their tummy while someone is living thousands of miles away and totally in love with you)

"you wanna pal around? let's go pal around"


i slept comfortably in my parent's bed back at home. i tossed and turned (how does one have such fanciful extravagant blankets on display [they're selling the house, so it's now more of model home than a real home] yet when sleepytime comes around all there is is this dinky little red minnie mouse blanket designed for nine year olds - i'm just bitter how cold it is), and dreamed of strange faraway things.

for example,
the one dream i vividly remember is one where i hung out with an assassin and on one trip we killed some guy that worked at a bank just so we could haul his carcass over to teresa's and use him as the pollen of a flower, as we painted the entire thing next to her bed. something about her waking up and being surprised like crazy that there was this globby (gallons of paint i assumed [assuming things in SLEEP of all places]) painty mess of a flower with a BODY in the middle for some reason. that'll get that mennonite whore (i didn't think that, i JUST thought of it, and it became mennonite whore after white bitch, but i thought white bitch, although funny, wasn't the right kind of diction i wanted to be using for this example. it didn't fit the TONE! once you're a writer you'll understand these things [i'm just kidding, i don't think you'll EVER understand these things bucko])i thought to myself, as i dripped hot horse ham (another word for red and blue paint[another word for THIS is PURPLE but that's so archaic compared to hot horse ham that well, i refused to use it]) all over her velvetty wood floor.

NOTE:

I know wood cannot really appear velvetty. Hell, the other day Dom was wearing a normal zip-up sweater and I demanded that he tell me why he was wearing velvet. Of course, right from the get-go I knew that his sweater wasn't really velvet. It's just that when you're on the same intellectual plane as someone else, you really have to argue your point until the end, if only just for the sheer competition of it all, so even if you're wrong, you can win, which makes it that much sweeter. However this time it was like turning water into wine so I gave up half way. I can still claim that he wears velvet and looks like a complete homosexual though. The second part doesn't work. I already think over a thousand people have considered me a woman on first glance, let alone the tidal waves of people that are jumping on my back for being a HOMOSEXUAL!!

I woke up immediately feeling good about myself; twelve hours of sleep in a bed that's comfortable (in spirit and in memory mostly) to you can work wonders. I realized I haven't slept in a familiar bed for quite some time now (teresa's glob-ecatessen of a bed wouldn't pass for anything in a deliatrics center) and that maybe it was that that seemed to hamper my sleep each night. I also didn't feel lonely for once, which was nice. Even sometimes when you sleep next to someone you can feel lonely, if you know what I mean. The night time can get anyone.

On waking up and being pleasantly content with the way things are for now (ON GIRLS ACTUALLY EVERYTHING ELSE IS A LIE AND HAS BEEN LEFT IN SHAMBLES FOR WHAT I'm ABOUT TO SAY!!!!) : : : : : : :(colon parade, semicolon masquerade?? - originally there were three, but i decided that three does not usually constitute a parade)

i looked over at my phone (apparently people don't have clocks in model homes, it's like a goddamn casino in here) and saw that teresa had called me last night (by the way pussycat [and note i didn't start that with SORRY you'll be geting a lot fewer of THOSE buddy!], i really was dead asleep but man do you make me FURIOUS with all that cute talk and out-witting me and all THAT jazz). i checked the voice mail (she's always kind enough to leave me one, even if it's just about how much salad she's eaten during the day. since she's a vegan though it's usually like twelve or forty pounds), and quickly my terrific morning got even better in way of THIS:

what she said, basically:

"so today i've been having the WORST day at solitaire EVER. I dealt myself out THREE times and all three times i lost, and i noticed that there were cards to the side of me that i hadn't put in the pile, so i shuffled those in and i STILL lost and noticed there were even more cards that i hadn't put in there, *CLICK*"

it's also comforting to know how goddamn well we complement each other. our hearts match up (and that's really scratching the surface, everything in the future and past and present is reserved for the story of our lives) and our foreheads line up pretty well and unlike too many people, i 'm never going to become disinterested in her (it's been a seven year obsession for chrissakes, everything i've written seems to be just part of a gigantic love note that's just coming into fruition)

- -- - it's nice to make someone laugh endlessly, always. i'll continue that part later because i want to get to the shins (excited!!)

i finally saw the shins a couple of nights ago with dasha. granted, the first time i went to see the shins should've been reserved for teresa, but she IS going to see roger waters perform dark side of the moon with birdfuck, so i justified it to myself in that way. the crowd was quiet, but peaceful and definitely kind. dasha and i bobbed more than others, her eyes closed, usually dreaming about some far away place, me completely in awe of how good the lead singer (dash said he looked like kevin spacey due to forehead size, which i laughed at) sounded and how ferocious the guitar player was (it felt like i was the only one in the whole place that realized how many drinks he was having and how funny it was that he kept bobbing his guitar up and down with such VIGOR for no reason). when caring is creepy came on i quickly dialed up teresa and held my phone up to his voice so i could sing and be sang to and have starfish, whatever she was doing, listen in and be joyful. and she could hear me sing, she said later, and said that i filled her heart with joy. (we owe each other a spiritual concert like this in the future, at the very very least)


("UNRELATED" -oh my god, my dad just plopped some noodles down next to me [which was very nice by the way, i don't want you to think otherwise] and said, "bon appetit your HEINESS." i laughed and he didn't know why and sort of walked away in a dejected sorta way, and i looked at him and said thanks dad and he said oh okay and walked downstairs])


on a side note:
there were these two tallish looking guys standing next to us in the crowd (oh, by the way, the reason i got into the floor in the first place was cause there was this ponytailed asian kid (about twenty three or so) who let me in because dasha had floor tix and i had balcony tix. it was extremely nice of him, and it really seemed like he was only doing me a favor and not anyone else, which felt special) who resembled (and in my mind, very closely) omar rodriguez and jason bateman. then this security guy who dasha called iggy pop came and flexed around, and dasha said it would be so funny if i asked for omar's autograph as if he WERE in the mars volta, but i didn't. i mean i wanted to, but i said i'd do it after the show because we were having such fun and i didn't wanna embarrass the guy while he was with his girl and all, so yeah.

i also noticed jason taking pictures of his very shy asian girlfriend (i really ought to write a post on why i don't think i'm going to ever end up with an asian girl that has the same type of personality as me) and she was hiding her face and stuff, and you know when people are always taking pictures of people who HATE being photographed? i really hate that kind of thing (though i am probably one of the WORST offenders) because i tend to notice that i really (and teresa) really really am not photogenic and all and definitely appear to be much better looking in person than in photographs. i don't know how to ACT in still photos, they are too much work for such extreme STIFFNESS!!!!

(goddamn these noodles are good. "virginia ham and jumbo shrimp" - dad)

i have work in a few minutes. i feel great though, and for once i'm not going to be smoking a bowl so let's see how that goes.

love,
-george

oh! i went to canada for twelve days with starfish. long time readers will probably consider this the highlight of my entire life. what do i think?
who knows -

who knows what to say in this thing any more? i'm literally done