Alright. Just blogging to warn that i might not be blogging much for the next week. I'm movin' out, and into my own place w/ some people from school. But it's pointless to write this because NO ONE reads this page (and i'm not just bitching like jen, i seriously got ONE hit today, and it was from ME, wtf?) so no one reads this so it doesn't matter what i write so i can say FUCK YOU to everyone and everything and nothing willl happen to me. where are the hits, damnit, where are the viewers?

do i need a bigger soapbox?


me, bitter, what?

fuck off, ya dumb cunt, i've gotta pack....
~ [ MainMind : 8/31/2000 2:15:14 PM] *@*


You know you've attained a certain level of fame when people just look at the clock and start thinking of you. And here I am, pleased at it becuase i can hang on his coattails and think of myself as part of the above-link-mentioning "guys" from the BLTC. Sad, neg? Almost sad enough to listen to emo, right? (hehehehe) ((not that emo is bad, just the name alone implies a cliche that must be laughed at in order to maintain some level of personal unpatheticness)) [end parenthasized thought] (((this is becoming a problem for me))) ((((I think I may have a problem, like substance abuse, even)))) (((((or maybe i'm just incredibly incredibly incredibly lame at least there's no fluffy bunnies around...)))))
~ [ MainMind : 8/30/2000 1:35:16 AM] *@*

When we last saw our hero, he was leaving work with a coworker, on the way to a certain park to smoked a home-rolled cigarette. This whole situation came about by our hero casually asking said flirtateous coworked what she was doing after work. On the response of "nothing, what are you up to?" he asks if she'd like take a walk in the park and smoke a jay. she responds before he'd finished with a "i was just thinking, wanna come to my place and get totally lit" A good start, and later that night during work adds in "you could even crash on my couch, or at worst calll a cab". Upon the start of the walk, the lighting of the smoke, she talks about gettin baked and watchin a couple movies back at her place. We sit under a tree by the swanboat ticketstand and smoke our due. She's cold, admittedly even our hero felt the chill in the breeze so towards transportation we, er, they went. Upon arrival of the warmth of the Arlington st train station, they descend the stairs and seek a bench while awaiting an E line train. They converse. the female notices a certain scar on our hero's forearm, and wonders aloud about it. An explanation is given, the truth. She is shocked. Many trains roll by, none the E. After a bit of a silence, which felt mostly like a good stoner thought-pause (which i know most of my readers would understand), she asks "when are you working next" he tells her, she responds with a moan of, perhaps disappointment, perhaps irritation, perhaps even relief. The explanation for the sound was 'i wanted to offer to smoke you up some time this week, i'm really tired.' He, of course, understood. No biggie. So he says. He informs her then that he is in that case on the wrong form of transportation. She looks ot the ceiling in contemplation, and returns with a "you can stay on til Symphony and it's just a block to Mass Ave." which is true, and helpful: shorter walk. But was this a helpful thought or simply a way to ease the lie? The question of the night, dear (all four of you) readers is: Has our hero been played like a dog for his bone, or was this an unfortunate sedation brought on by substances consumed, putting a legitimate premature ending on the night? What do you think?

I had started thinking i was at least good enough to clean up other peoples messes, i.e. at least get a chick on a rebound. But tonight is making me think i'm not even good enough for that, because from what i gather she'd a month ago ended some sort of serious relationship. Leaving work, i was almost feeling good about myself. Getting home, well, let's just say that feeling is over. Good thing i've got enough Skinlab to listen to 'til i fall asleep.
~ [ MainMind : 8/30/2000 1:24:28 AM] *@*

So as i was standing in my kitchen looking at the blueberry muffin i was cutting in half (hey, i was hungry) getting ready to spread some Country Crock on it, and started thinking to myself how things had changed from the days when it was my grandmother making the muffins and bringing them nextdoor to my house in tupperware containers, as oppposed to now when they come in barely recycleable plastic containers from the supermarket. Then i also realized that i was spreading Country Crock on it, which doesn't even have to legally contain dairy products in it at all 'cause it's just called a margarine flavored spread or butter flavored or whatever. Those two things made alot of ironic sense to me ten minutes ago.... but then again... i am more than a bit high....
~ [ MainMind : 8/30/2000 12:53:32 AM] *@*


Egad! I have just learned that I am being stalked by one Post-Atomic blogger... awesome! (don't anyone go warning him he's not gonna be very impressed, I wanna see how long he can torture himself by trying to absorb all of my lame brand of living) But he got my reference to the Frank Zappa album "Weasels Ripped My Flesh RZzzzzzzz.... " so he already kicks ass. (Do you think perhaps i should add something other than that obscure reference to my bio page?) ((do i really think i'll get a reply from this computer and/or internet to questions i ask myself by typing them on an obscure webpage?)) (((should i try to find another way to fit the word "obscure" into this blog?))) [end parenthesized thinking]
~ [ MainMind : 8/29/2000 1:47:22 AM] *@*

I want to blog and be online. I want to communicate the thoughts I have, but just a couple minutes of nonconversation with some people make me want to... well, make me not able to blog well, or even live well. People, as a rule, suck. I guess that means I suck, too. But I'd always be the first one to tell you that.
Tonight was great until I got online.
Humanity sucks.
~ [ MainMind : 8/29/2000 1:32:17 AM] *@*