There is one place where I will not tolerate the interference of social norms- that place is the sacred domain of food. how many times have i been out somewhere with a skinny comedian who eats one egg roll off his all-you-can eat buffet plate and leaves the rest for the trash? ok, only once. but then what about all the times when I have been hungry, moneyless and ravaged by an interior debate about whether to let that untouched sandwich unattended for 40 minutes go uneaten or eat it and risk the contempt and disgust of my fellow cafe goers? only to finally conclude that hunger is real and scorn is societally constructed. I bravely strode towards that sandwich and covertly lifted it from the table, sat down, took one bite and watched as the runaway purchaser returned to pantomime the 'where's my sandwich' routine to the adjoining table and then the barista. well, Im here to say to my fello cafe goers- beware! your sandwiches are no longer safe. I will not allow this consumer-driven society to be disgusted by hunger and fundlessness.
I just watched the cafe guy here pick up this woman's plate. it still had two big pieces of quesadilla on it. he picked up the plate, looked ta it again, walked to the trash, picked up one quesadilla, looked back towards the woman, looked over his shoulder and finally carefully placed the plate on the very top of his bus tray. Good snacking comrade!
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
RESSEISTENTIALISM
Wow. that was a close one. I was really really close to errupting into a senseless display of rage and trying to no avail to contact a google technician... again! I logged in and there was no trace of my brand new blog. that perky little help message came on and said 'my blog has dissapeared.' as an option just like the last time when someone hacked my email account and a perky little link said, 'my mail has dissapeared'. this is the virtual equivalent of completing an online health diagnosis
' i cannot feel my legs' which leads to the next option 'i cannot feel either leg at all' 'i cannot feel my legs except for occasionally i kind of feel one.' There is no point in any kind of imbecillic regressive fantasy about the local help desk that is parked on the corner of main and pleasant where you can ask someone any question at all and this fantastically, helpful and dedicated individual will find the answer within seconds. nope. that person is the internet. and the internet is neither fantastically dedicated or helpful. goshdarned thing has a mind of its own. rather than daydream about an equally frustrating bureacratic exchange of knowledge routed through telephone wires or over desks, i fantasize that all these internet moguls can start facing facts and recognize that there IS a need for a 24 hour online techy who doubles as a virtual sleuth. i want this person to track down that IP address and find a way to administer an electronic reclamation/retribution that leaves that individual bereft of all history and possibly also leaves them with some kid of painful electric shock reaction to the keyboard which is crippling... I am talking about direct and immediate virtual justice. or, at least online support for the emotional highs and los of the cyber age. someone who can cry with me when i lose the first message that my boyfriend ever sent me, or someone who can tell me that ressistentialism ISNT real and there isnt a conspiracy between Dell Manufacturers and Retailers to sell me a broken computer bound to reheat and break and which was recalled but the recall expired. But it's ok because i found my blog. It was under one of my other email addresses. I have three real ones and one fake one. maybe that its part of the ressistentialist conspiracy,,, to turn me against myself in the pursuit of security
' i cannot feel my legs' which leads to the next option 'i cannot feel either leg at all' 'i cannot feel my legs except for occasionally i kind of feel one.' There is no point in any kind of imbecillic regressive fantasy about the local help desk that is parked on the corner of main and pleasant where you can ask someone any question at all and this fantastically, helpful and dedicated individual will find the answer within seconds. nope. that person is the internet. and the internet is neither fantastically dedicated or helpful. goshdarned thing has a mind of its own. rather than daydream about an equally frustrating bureacratic exchange of knowledge routed through telephone wires or over desks, i fantasize that all these internet moguls can start facing facts and recognize that there IS a need for a 24 hour online techy who doubles as a virtual sleuth. i want this person to track down that IP address and find a way to administer an electronic reclamation/retribution that leaves that individual bereft of all history and possibly also leaves them with some kid of painful electric shock reaction to the keyboard which is crippling... I am talking about direct and immediate virtual justice. or, at least online support for the emotional highs and los of the cyber age. someone who can cry with me when i lose the first message that my boyfriend ever sent me, or someone who can tell me that ressistentialism ISNT real and there isnt a conspiracy between Dell Manufacturers and Retailers to sell me a broken computer bound to reheat and break and which was recalled but the recall expired. But it's ok because i found my blog. It was under one of my other email addresses. I have three real ones and one fake one. maybe that its part of the ressistentialist conspiracy,,, to turn me against myself in the pursuit of security
Monday, October 27, 2008
the telephone and other modern miracles
Wow- ok so this is my very first ever blog. things are bound to become confusing for me with the addition of this blog in my life. there's email, there's journals, there's the other kind of journals. but this is good. good good. now i wont have to be afraid that someone will hack my secrets. i guess this could be the elimination of secrets from my life. im not sure i would be very good at keeping secrets if i dont record them. im pretty sure they will disappear altogether. i dont think i like them anyway. because i think they tend to rank memory and then its like the past is imposing itself on your self.
well thats rambly. i think im shy.
His face was a little red, rubbed into thick skin kind of red so that its under the skin, in the skin. He was tall. ish. he didnt know where to stand so he sat. she sat too. they had nothing to say. but of course being two feet away from each other, they had a lot in common. plus, there's always the economy. gotta admit its better than the whether. but not as good as talking about other awkward situations to make today's blush look like yesterday's sunburn. He had met someone and gone to a bar and she had 'sat like a bump on the log'. she wouldnt even try. 'at least say it sure is sunny out or something'. that's pretty bad. i had to admit. but those plans always misfire because i ended up feeling wretched on behalf of this poor woman who couldnt even comment on the state of the local climate. so we talked about the economy. sure takes your mind off the stranger in your living room to talk about the chance of remaining unemployed.
People who like shy people may just be too confused to recognize that they actually like assholes. instead of asking if the glass is half full or half empty- one ought to ask, "Are shy people mean?" Because really, after the second time of meeting Clarence, or Jordan or whatever, and him still refusing to make eye contact with me, or to introduce me to any of the acronyms that he kept tossing out to Willie, or to even try a little not to talk exclusively in idiosyncratic references to individuals, techniques and classes- i really started to feel that the size of my breasts is no excuse for his utterly dismal display of interpehing tharsonal grace. He's one of those guys who thinks that actor Seth whatever from Pineapple Express is cool. His heroes are the antihero- the guys who really do nothing whatever. From what i can tell Jordan/Clarence does do something. I know he bought a pumpkin at 10 pm and used it to shoot something that wasn't really scary and i guess was supposed to be funny. Anyway, I guess I dont really know what the pumpkin was supposed to do since he only referenced it in shorthand to Willie via professor whatever for that whatever assignment. also, mocking the director's sugestions is just stupid frankly, especially when you're character is trying to get laid and the director is simply sugesting that you might want to try looking at the person you're trying to lay. nope. i simply dont care if he's shy. he's just plain rude.
before telephones and email, i wonder if people walked about with clear facial declarations of misery and loneliness. there must have just been an unspoken understanding that most people missed someone terribly. and i dont know really whether telephones make th elonging worse or better. because i keep forgetting that the conversation is bracketed: wake up. lunch [telephone converstaion]. errand. human interaction. the whole long distance phenomena splits time. i have telephone length interactions punctuated by varying periods of silence and those are their own telephone chronologies. so i guess its silly to think that calling up someone to say that you miss them is going to make you miss them any less. because at the end of the converstaion, you'll be as removed from their chronology as ever, and they'll just become a silent punctuation mark in your own. nevertheless speaking to people today made me feel like i was in Synecdoche. Over and again, he would get scared and he would seek his wife or his mistress or his girlfriend and, in tears say, 'i'm lonely. and i think im dying.' and they would always sigh and go on wth what they were doing. and in then end he said something about how there's nothing to say since everyone is lonely and dying. it's not so much that im lonely and dying as that i miss people and when i tell them so, they just continue to make their lunch or eat their dinner. and its because their timeframe for missing me is not the same as mine for missing them. probably some time they'll call to say that they miss me and i'll have to go eat breakfast.
well thats rambly. i think im shy.
His face was a little red, rubbed into thick skin kind of red so that its under the skin, in the skin. He was tall. ish. he didnt know where to stand so he sat. she sat too. they had nothing to say. but of course being two feet away from each other, they had a lot in common. plus, there's always the economy. gotta admit its better than the whether. but not as good as talking about other awkward situations to make today's blush look like yesterday's sunburn. He had met someone and gone to a bar and she had 'sat like a bump on the log'. she wouldnt even try. 'at least say it sure is sunny out or something'. that's pretty bad. i had to admit. but those plans always misfire because i ended up feeling wretched on behalf of this poor woman who couldnt even comment on the state of the local climate. so we talked about the economy. sure takes your mind off the stranger in your living room to talk about the chance of remaining unemployed.
People who like shy people may just be too confused to recognize that they actually like assholes. instead of asking if the glass is half full or half empty- one ought to ask, "Are shy people mean?" Because really, after the second time of meeting Clarence, or Jordan or whatever, and him still refusing to make eye contact with me, or to introduce me to any of the acronyms that he kept tossing out to Willie, or to even try a little not to talk exclusively in idiosyncratic references to individuals, techniques and classes- i really started to feel that the size of my breasts is no excuse for his utterly dismal display of interpehing tharsonal grace. He's one of those guys who thinks that actor Seth whatever from Pineapple Express is cool. His heroes are the antihero- the guys who really do nothing whatever. From what i can tell Jordan/Clarence does do something. I know he bought a pumpkin at 10 pm and used it to shoot something that wasn't really scary and i guess was supposed to be funny. Anyway, I guess I dont really know what the pumpkin was supposed to do since he only referenced it in shorthand to Willie via professor whatever for that whatever assignment. also, mocking the director's sugestions is just stupid frankly, especially when you're character is trying to get laid and the director is simply sugesting that you might want to try looking at the person you're trying to lay. nope. i simply dont care if he's shy. he's just plain rude.
before telephones and email, i wonder if people walked about with clear facial declarations of misery and loneliness. there must have just been an unspoken understanding that most people missed someone terribly. and i dont know really whether telephones make th elonging worse or better. because i keep forgetting that the conversation is bracketed: wake up. lunch [telephone converstaion]. errand. human interaction. the whole long distance phenomena splits time. i have telephone length interactions punctuated by varying periods of silence and those are their own telephone chronologies. so i guess its silly to think that calling up someone to say that you miss them is going to make you miss them any less. because at the end of the converstaion, you'll be as removed from their chronology as ever, and they'll just become a silent punctuation mark in your own. nevertheless speaking to people today made me feel like i was in Synecdoche. Over and again, he would get scared and he would seek his wife or his mistress or his girlfriend and, in tears say, 'i'm lonely. and i think im dying.' and they would always sigh and go on wth what they were doing. and in then end he said something about how there's nothing to say since everyone is lonely and dying. it's not so much that im lonely and dying as that i miss people and when i tell them so, they just continue to make their lunch or eat their dinner. and its because their timeframe for missing me is not the same as mine for missing them. probably some time they'll call to say that they miss me and i'll have to go eat breakfast.
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