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.