I've ordered food again...overate again...and want to lay in bed like a sad banana peel that is yet to find the trash receptacle. It's the time of night when I can hear chants of children from down the street and a stranger leading them on a microphone. I believe it is a Jesus camp of the sorts but I cannot help imagining a young Hitler regime.
You know I don't frequent this blog anymore. After writing such a powerful peace last time I felt no urge to keep up that kind of quality material. This blog was born from the very mature mind of my 18 year old self...so why make it something it's not?
But then, I got this keyboard. You see, a writer is a musician and they need tools to create their art. One would think pfff a keyboard? Really? Are you going to make that as your excuse to why you will not write anymore?
Lemme tell you something about this keyboard. Have you ever stroked a sensitive part of you body and was like –this feels pretty good and then kept on going? Well this keyboard is kind of like that. Organic and mechanical, it takes each depression with a refined feel. You are no longer typing on that mushy potato. Typing up words on this creates the sense that you are putting physical effort to your work rather than transposing what you would write with pen and paper digitally.
And that is my short sales speech on mechanical keyboards. An old technology that has resurfaced due to nerds like me and that shameless market of selling overpriced "gaming" technology to children. I can get special branded o-rings for 20 dollars. O RINGS that cost fractions of a cent to manufacture for this keyboard. Well, I guess there will always be people who think so microscopically instead of stepping out to look at the big picture.
What is the big picture though? Is it that new flat screen you eagerly planned your whole Black Friday acquiring like it was a rare Pokemon that filled your brain with so much dopamine you might as well have been snorting coke off your Game-boy screen? Everything of this nature is opinionated and impossible for me define for everyone. So I'll just define for little ol' me.
The big picture is so fucking big that if you stare at it too long your eyes will shift east and west respectively then circle around the earth before jumping between a couple of worm holes to send them out of sync for as long as the universe is.
I guess you can call that anxiety or a midlife crisis too. While it is useful to step back and look at the entire game of RISK instead of your friend's overwhelming decision to mass troops in China, there needs to be some balance. If you are too anal and try to laser gun the dust particles from your desk every 5 minutes people would look at that as a little obsessive. However, if you let those dust particles build up because it is such a small aspect of your life you'll soon create the next dust bowl or more important for some -- not get laid.
So I guess today's self reflection is about balance. You know, that things you tried to achieve when you thought Buddhism was cool and perfectly represented how you feel man. But Buddhism isn't about taking acid and distancing yourself so far from reality that everything seems to make sense and then you get the grand idea that you will be able to implement it into your daily lifestyle only to realize you cannot be sober to achieve that kind of happiness because of how fucked up the world really is. I never studied Buddhism in depth enough to preach it. But balance is something anyone can learn to achieve.
Now you may be thinking. Are overly balanced people boring? Are they so content/discontent with everything that they become the grey blob that is injected into my veins when I stare at a vending machine at work so I don't give a shit about what falls through the trap door because all the choices are equally as shitty as the one next to it? I don't think anyone is boring, though. When I stand on the crowded subway I doubt everyone's mind is thinking:
"Subway subway subway oh they're cute subway stopped fuck the subway I hate the subway subway what's that smell subway vomit subway subway..."
...or maybe they are. That may just be a special case. I think it's safer to say we don't all think about poop while we are pooping on the toilet. Unless you carry a poop diary which actually would be pretty cool. I mean, a diary you only write in while you poo.
Anyway my brain is pooped. Thanks for listening to my thoughts tonight.
Showing posts with label food. Show all posts
Showing posts with label food. Show all posts
12.09.2015
6.05.2013
Summaries of days gone by without a clue
So this is what i just ate for dinner:
And I know what some people may be thinking, "Oh what a lovely looking salad thing! It's so healthy!"
Well. There is a sad story behind this pasta salad thing.
It is the fact that this is the reminents of food in the kitchen. If i were to open the cabinets right now there would be an abundance of pasta boxes and rice. The rest are ANTS.
We have a lot of ants and flying creatures that like to sneak into every orfice of this home. It did not bother me until a little earlier i was trying to pour sugar into my tea. The sugar was being stubborn and all clumpy. I shook it hard and some came out. I proceeded to shake and smack the box and much to my surprise a series of black dots with flailing arms was taking an afternoon dip in my tea.
Bastard. I wonder how long he was stuck there consuming the little sugar we had left? I do have to confess one thing: I lied about the tea. It was actually almond milk i purchased because i thought i was cool. I thought i would be even cooler by getting the unsweetened version. It is not cool. It taste like...boring and bland mixed into a blender and squirted out an almond's tit.
We also have a lot of these things called "House Centipedes" . An insect i have always been horrified from due to the fact i woke up one day with one staring at my face. That was years ago, and since i live in such a welcoming home to insects i decided to be more kind to them by letter them crawl up my arm so I can fling them out the back door. But what I find most interesting is these fuckers eat other insects. I saw a video of them stab their arms into its victim until they were still. I have gained a new respect for them and would rather have one centipede rather than ants/mosquito/wasps all up in my shit everyday. Oh wasps? Yea, i had a new wasp per day stuck in my bedroom. They would get stuck there and start ramming into the walls and windows till they died. What a strange thing to do. Am i right?
Later days
Well. There is a sad story behind this pasta salad thing.
It is the fact that this is the reminents of food in the kitchen. If i were to open the cabinets right now there would be an abundance of pasta boxes and rice. The rest are ANTS.
We have a lot of ants and flying creatures that like to sneak into every orfice of this home. It did not bother me until a little earlier i was trying to pour sugar into my tea. The sugar was being stubborn and all clumpy. I shook it hard and some came out. I proceeded to shake and smack the box and much to my surprise a series of black dots with flailing arms was taking an afternoon dip in my tea.
Bastard. I wonder how long he was stuck there consuming the little sugar we had left? I do have to confess one thing: I lied about the tea. It was actually almond milk i purchased because i thought i was cool. I thought i would be even cooler by getting the unsweetened version. It is not cool. It taste like...boring and bland mixed into a blender and squirted out an almond's tit.
 |
| cute huh? |
Later days
2.27.2012
Liver tastes like a meat flavored dish sponge
My memory has been reshapen over the last 5 days. It has just been so busy!
Currently learning Japanese has continually promoted episodic depression swings
that like to make me feel as important one of those minty fresh urinal cakes.
Last week started with, a concert. A great concert if i may add. Whiskey was the brand of choice, but it turned into rum and then shooters filled with tequila and ginger ale. What was strange about this concert is that it had only one vocalist. And that tends to be normal except for the fact that this vocalist was the same one for about 6 bands. What the hell? how did she practice with all of them...and we agreed she was only needed for the last band in which she performed the best. Instrumental bands are fine no?
So to perpetuate the story, i was again mistaken for a teenage boy -i shouldn't have shaved. But we will see who is laughing in 20 years. when i can pass off for being at least 21 (let's hope)
Day 2:
another concert. friend got wasted. She tried to kiss a Japanese man. was rejected. Didn't even know if he was a band member. One band had really good instrumentals, but the vocalist sung like a creepy orphan girl and i grew uncomfortable, so i went up stairs to have a smoke. But the music followed me on a big projector screen. I was terrified. Friend apparently blacked out when she got home and blamed it on me. I blame it on Japanese men telling her to drink and downing huge amounts of straight whiskey in response.
Day 3:
Park, booze, cigarettes, friends (optional) = cheap night out!
Day 4: Local bar. Friend got yelled at for bringing a coke from outside and not ordering anything, had to stand outside and finish it. Tried to ask for playing cards but stumbled his words and just ended up saying ありがとう (thank you) and other random gestures "...el cardo, trumpo" sounded like spanglish with a dash of japanese ontop. Afterward he got yelled at again for throwing darts too hard. the ultimate 外人 (foreigner)
Day 5:
What the fuck i had a long week, i want to take a break. Another free concert tonight in Shibuya. A band called Flip. Was invited to go out afterward by these older Japanese guys that were die hard fans. Ordered a water because i did not want to drink 5 nights in a row. They ended up ordering wine and pouring a glass for me, then another...and another...then i ate a piece of liver which made a part of me die inside. They kept running out of each wine we were getting so went from red, to white, to a pitcher... Found out across our room was the band that just preformed, drinking and celebrating with friends. We said hello, and the two guys with us were passed cloud 9. "Banzai!" they screamed with their arms thrown up in the air. They kindly paid for the 181,000 yen bill....
Today:
I want to murder everything.
Currently learning Japanese has continually promoted episodic depression swings
that like to make me feel as important one of those minty fresh urinal cakes.
Last week started with, a concert. A great concert if i may add. Whiskey was the brand of choice, but it turned into rum and then shooters filled with tequila and ginger ale. What was strange about this concert is that it had only one vocalist. And that tends to be normal except for the fact that this vocalist was the same one for about 6 bands. What the hell? how did she practice with all of them...and we agreed she was only needed for the last band in which she performed the best. Instrumental bands are fine no?
So to perpetuate the story, i was again mistaken for a teenage boy -i shouldn't have shaved. But we will see who is laughing in 20 years. when i can pass off for being at least 21 (let's hope)
Day 2:
another concert. friend got wasted. She tried to kiss a Japanese man. was rejected. Didn't even know if he was a band member. One band had really good instrumentals, but the vocalist sung like a creepy orphan girl and i grew uncomfortable, so i went up stairs to have a smoke. But the music followed me on a big projector screen. I was terrified. Friend apparently blacked out when she got home and blamed it on me. I blame it on Japanese men telling her to drink and downing huge amounts of straight whiskey in response.
Day 3:
Park, booze, cigarettes, friends (optional) = cheap night out!
Day 4: Local bar. Friend got yelled at for bringing a coke from outside and not ordering anything, had to stand outside and finish it. Tried to ask for playing cards but stumbled his words and just ended up saying ありがとう (thank you) and other random gestures "...el cardo, trumpo" sounded like spanglish with a dash of japanese ontop. Afterward he got yelled at again for throwing darts too hard. the ultimate 外人 (foreigner)
Day 5:
What the fuck i had a long week, i want to take a break. Another free concert tonight in Shibuya. A band called Flip. Was invited to go out afterward by these older Japanese guys that were die hard fans. Ordered a water because i did not want to drink 5 nights in a row. They ended up ordering wine and pouring a glass for me, then another...and another...then i ate a piece of liver which made a part of me die inside. They kept running out of each wine we were getting so went from red, to white, to a pitcher... Found out across our room was the band that just preformed, drinking and celebrating with friends. We said hello, and the two guys with us were passed cloud 9. "Banzai!" they screamed with their arms thrown up in the air. They kindly paid for the 181,000 yen bill....
Today:
I want to murder everything.
2.19.2011
food for thought?
PALPITATIONS~
hooray!
bump bump goes that overbearing heart beat.
god are you gunna die?
FUCK FUCK
we gotta do everything we can before your heart decides to turn
into rancid onions.
(by the way, i can't eat onions. They make me gag)
Fresh flowers, you need flowers, in every orifice of your body.
You gotta turn yourself into that bouquet of beautiful MAN flowers,
or women flowers. But i like to think they are flowers already. MAN FLOWERS ALL THE WAY.
Inhale every thing that you were afraid to because it would shorten your life.
asbestos is at the top of the list, go to that old abandoned factory you live next door to and rip lines from the deteriorating walls. I want that nose of yours to BE the vacuum of the cleaning lady that doesn't speak English very well aka. the nicest person in the world.
Once you feel like you are dying, it will make dying easier, and you will have no hope. Because you know there is no chance because you have 50000 different things that cause cancer in your body by now.
die having fun, make your body hate you and turn to NOODLES before your very eyes.
You will be such a noodley mess when you hit your grave. They will strain your blood in an extra large colander and spread your sauce to all the little Italys in the world.
mmm, im hungry. are you?
hooray!
bump bump goes that overbearing heart beat.
god are you gunna die?
FUCK FUCK
we gotta do everything we can before your heart decides to turn
into rancid onions.
(by the way, i can't eat onions. They make me gag)
Fresh flowers, you need flowers, in every orifice of your body.
You gotta turn yourself into that bouquet of beautiful MAN flowers,
or women flowers. But i like to think they are flowers already. MAN FLOWERS ALL THE WAY.
Inhale every thing that you were afraid to because it would shorten your life.
asbestos is at the top of the list, go to that old abandoned factory you live next door to and rip lines from the deteriorating walls. I want that nose of yours to BE the vacuum of the cleaning lady that doesn't speak English very well aka. the nicest person in the world.
Once you feel like you are dying, it will make dying easier, and you will have no hope. Because you know there is no chance because you have 50000 different things that cause cancer in your body by now.
die having fun, make your body hate you and turn to NOODLES before your very eyes.
You will be such a noodley mess when you hit your grave. They will strain your blood in an extra large colander and spread your sauce to all the little Italys in the world.
mmm, im hungry. are you?
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