Sunday, March 14, 2004

You Think I Ain't Worth a Dollar, but I Feel Like a Millionaire

I think every American should see Bowling for Columbine. I think any person, in fact, should see this movie.

It is a documentary; but, it is not about the Columbine incident which happened 1999. Rather, it is about the American ethic. And on a more specific vein, it is about weapons and why so many people are killed by them each year in the US.

But it is far more than any of this. It says so many little things, so many other things.

At one point in the movie, it shows how the US stacks against other countries in deaths by guns each year. Each country listed has deaths by guns somewhere in the few hundreds or even the double digits.

The US has 21,041 deaths by guns each year, if I am remembering the statistic correctly. I may have made it a little bigger than it is, but you see the point. You see that in comparison with other countries, the US is far, far, far higher in regard to deaths by guns.

The movie is made by Michael Moore, which I'm sure many of you have heard of. You'll remember he won an Oscar for Best Documentary, and came up and talked about his disillusionment with Bush and the Iraq war.

My dad says that Moore is a fanatic; that he is desposed to a cause. And he says that he only does things to get attention.

Wrong. Wrong. Moore is more than that. He's less than that, too. He's just a man saying what should be said. He's a man saying things as he sees them, just like my dad so heavily badgers me at times for not believing in the Christian faith. Moore is someone that, if you disagree with him, you just need to realize it's his opinions he has and your opinions you have.

As far as I'm concerned, Moore has said things to me that make far more sense than most any politician has. But Moore isn't a politician, he's just a man exercising his right to free speech.

Call Moore whatever you want. He still has some things to say that will make you think, even if you disagree.

I am supposing I could talk about this movie pretty in-depth. But I believe I will save it for later.

Just see this movie. It is one of those that will stay with you. It is second on my most recent favorite movies only to The Last Samurai.

This movie will teach you something. It will make you learn. It will make you think. It will make you cry. It will make you laugh. It will make you wonder. It will make you do many things, so many things that you cannot help but agree with me on the point that this movie has many things to tell you if you let it.

But some of course will not watch it simply because they do not agree with what Michael Moore has to say. And this is stupid. It's as stupid as anyone that said they're not going to see Last Samurai because Tom Cruise plays in it; it's as stupid as people can get to not give this movie a chance.

I'll do a more in-depth post later on. For the moment you have this.

I've also seen one more Michael Moore documentary. That was Roger and Me, which was about the death of his hometown, Flint, Michigan, if I remember correctly.

As I've said again and again, see this movie.

This movie was exceptionally excellent. It won many awards, and not without reason. This movie is for most anyone, and will make most anyone think over things.
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Friday, March 12, 2004

The Gloaming (Softly Open Our Mouths in the Cold)

The last two days I have been shortchanged for sleep since my dad insists on waking me up.

Buying to the fact that I was up until about 6:30 AM last night, I am pretty tired at the moment, but waking up.

I just find it annoying to be woken up. Because then you wish you could still be sleeping, and then you wake up and then you can't sleep again.

Anyway, the real point of this post is to tell everyone to go see Secret Window. It stars Johnny Depp and is bsed on a Stephen King Novella. I have read the novella and it is an interesting read. Well, I haven't read all of it, but I read most. I don't know, I kind of stopped reading it. I do that with a lot of books though. But lately I am forcing myself to read it all.

Yeah. It's Friday, and so that movie just came out.

It didn't even feel like Friday. I had my days mixed up. I felt that it was maybe. . .Saturday or something. But then again, I've been telling everyone that I want to see Secret Window because Secret Window looks like it's going to be a good movie. And plus Secret Window has Johnny Depp and it has a story which I find entertaining. I mean, come on, Johhny Depp plays a writer! A writer. . .is there anything I can agree with more than that? No, and so I want to see Secret Window.

Did you notice I keep saying Secret Window? I can't quite figure out why I keep saying Secret Window, I just can't seem to pin it down, but I think it's because Secret Window just does that to you, you know? I think Secret Window is the most secret window I've ever looked into, and it looks like one of the better movies out right now.

I saw Passion of the Christ and I thought it was okay, but definitely above average in some regards. I saw Cheaper by the Dozen and I thought it was an average movie. I saw Miracle and I thought it was a pretty good movie.

But Secret Window, that looks like a good movie. Yes, Secret Window does. Yes.

On a side note, I might be going to Dickinson today or not.

Yes. That's right. There's a city. . .more like a town. . .in North Dakota called Dickinson.

I wonder how they got this name.

Was there this father whose dick was in his son, and there, as he sat with his dick in his son, he proclaimed, "DICKINSON!" as if it were the most amazing thing. And then did this man get arrested and tell the authorities that he wanted to found a city here on this ground where the authorties seemed to rule? And did they build it, and then in this man's honor name it Dickinson?

I do not know.

I should do a web search and figure that one out. Now that would be interesting.

Well, that's enough.

I'm tired. Why can't I just go to sleep?

EDIT: I read a review of Secret Window in our paper. They said it was an average movie, but the reviewer, I thought, was pretty biased.

He made Stephen King seem like a plague to America; like a stake stabbed in its heart. He went to say some not-so-nice things about King.

Yes, some of King's stuff is lame. This, however, does not distinguish the fact that Stephen King is a commercial success, as well as he has written some great works of literature.

I would agree that most of the better things he wrote were wrote earlier in his career; but, there is good things still out there he's churning out.

Have any of you seen the movie Dreamcatcher? What a terrible movie. I hated the book as well now that I really think about it. It was too cliche, too average.

But, Stephen King has had a good amount of good to great movies. There's The Shining, which is what instantly comes to my mind. The movie, as well as the book, is a classic to me and continues to endlessly inspire me and endlessly show me a good story told in its way. What about Carrie? That is a classic book as well as movie, too.

Oh, what about Stand By Me? A great, great movie, considered so by some. I thought it was a decent movie myself.

The Stand was a decent movie, too. Even though it'd be more considered a mini-series. I still enjoyed it. The book was much better though.

What about the whole Dead Zone series spawned from his book, The Dead Zone?

What about endless other things?

I don't see why this reviewer had to bash King. I could understand a little bashing, but the reviewer ended up sounding like a smartass as well as a jackass and caused me to not really validify what he was saying about the movie.

I'll make my own facts about this movie when I see it.

It doesn't seem I will be seeing it, though. Since I guess I'm going to Dickinson, I called my grandma.

They're not playing it at the small theatre they have there. So I'm left with going to see Starsky and Hutch. The movie looks interesting.

Plus, as odd as this sounds, I have a man-crush on many men. It isn't some sexual crush, it's more along the lines of they just look beautiful. I can't remember the guy's name. . .something Phillips. Owen? I don't know. He has blonde hair, and he has a brother that's big in hollywood too.

I can't remember. That's beside the point.

Anyway, I'll see you guys.

You should check out my post one time back. It's a big whopper, weighing off at about 10,000 words. It has some word errors in it, but since I won't be posting in here for a few days on end, it'd be nice to get some feedback on the post and for people to read it. Just read it in sections, or chunks, if you'd like, or read it all in one sitting. Or you can print it off, save it on your computer, whatever you want. It's definitely a decent read, so don't worry about that. Don't I always end up having decent reads?

So check that out, comment, whatever. Keep coming back here just to come back! Pff.

Hasta levista. Bonjour. Salve. Whee.
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Black Rose Immortal

Last week. Saturday.

Ryan was gone to Fargo. I was left with the thought of calling Adam.

I hadn't been to Adam's in a long time. I was in a good enough mood to call him. I felt up to doing something with him.

So I called him. He answered the phone. I had thought it would probably be his mother who answered the phone first. It was not. It was Adam.

And I asked if he wanted to do anything. He said what would we do. I told him I didn't know, I just wanted to do something. He told me to come on over. I said okay, I'd be over soon.

My car scuttled up to his house. I parked on the side of the street and got out. A 17-year-old in a leather coat, jeans, about 5 foot 7 inches. I locked the door of my mustard-colored 1985 Plymouth Reliant. It didn't have power locks so I had to do it manually. I then slammed the door. I put my keys in my pocket, heard them jingle a bit.

His house looked the same as it ever had. But I don't think I saw the van his family owns. His parents must have been gone. In the driveway was a Monte Carlo, white, dirty with grime. The same car they had owned for quite some time There was the garage, closed, white. There was the front door.

I approached the front door. In my hand I had a Diet Coke I'd brought from my house.

The doorbell was rang. I felt my hand come off it. It made its ding-dong and Adam came to the door in a few moments.

Open came the door. Adam stood. Taller than 6 feet, his hand on the door, he gave me his hellos. He wore an uncapturing shirt, and his red hair stood wild on him, long without a haircut. The hair in the back was so long you could see it from the front. My hair was much the same, since I had not gotten a haircut in a while. I believe he was brushing his teeth as he answered. That reminded me that was what I had just been doing before I had come over.

I gave my hellos back in response to his. His dog, Mitzi, came barking down. A black little dog, shaggy fur. She looked the same since I had last seen her.

I took off my shoes. I did not bend down to take them off. I used my feet and put them together, and pulled. They came off easily with tried-and-true practice.

When we were still upstairs, he turned, gestured, and said, "What you been up to, man?"

I replied mechanically. "Nothing."

Downstairs we went. The stairs downstairs were directly by the front door, as were the stairs upstairs. Downstairs there was clothes scattered all about helter-skelter. This was not unusual at all. It was quite often like this when I had been here in the past. His mom was probably doing the laundry. From within Adam's room music blared out, loud and demanding. It was Korn. From their new album. I believe the album is called Take a Look in the Mirror. I cannot be sure. I hadn't really paid attention when the album was released.

When we were almost to his room, he turned to me again. "What you been up to besides nothing?" Seems he wanted to know. Or he was just trying to get some conversation going. I didn't know. I couldn't read his mind. And I didn't know him as much anymore. I had never known him much. But now I knew him even less.

I made up a quick, general reply. I was not holding back because I did not want Adam to know about me. I was holding back because I hated questions like this. These types of questions were just the ones people asked but most often didn't care for a real answer to. Just like someone walking through a hall, and one person asking, "Hey. How are you?" It felt just like that. They only asked you how are you just to ask you how are you. They did not want to know. And of course, with practiced bravado, you would answer, "Fine"; you would answer it even if you weren't fine. And if you told them you were doing bad, they would continue walking down the hall. They didn't care. Maybe they would say, "That's too bad," but they would still walk on. They didn't want to know how well you were doing, or how bad. It was just the way it was.

"School, of course. And writing," I said. I did not know what to say. How to tell him everything that had gone on. But I guessed what I said was true enough. School and writing are the two biggest things in my life. I felt I had given an honest answer.

Through the blare of the music, I heard him say, "I don't know what we're going to do." I had thought about that a while before I came over. I knew what I would say now. "Magic," I said. I was sure that was what Adam had thought about too. He gave me his confirmation, and was in the bathroom, which was close to his room.

I heard him spit in the sink. I could imagine the toothpaste, white and bubbles, going down the drain. I could see the mouth pursed in that way that is spitting out. I could imagine the mirror showing it all, reflecting it all back.

He came back out. Went in and got his decks. I took off my black leather coat. Under it I was wearing my Latin Club T-shirt.

I had never really joined Latin Club. I still didn't know why I had purchased the shirt. What was even more, I got the shirt in small. The teacher had said the shirt would be bigger than what the size actually said, and so I had gotten it small instead of medium. The shirt still fit me nonetheless, but it was tight. But that was fine, I liked showing how skinny I was.

The shirt was black, and had on the front of it in gold letters, Veni, Vidi, Velcro. You said all the Vs like Ws, since that's how you say them in Latin. Below the words was: I came, I saw, I got stuck. The Velcro one wasn't a real Latin verb; it was made up as a joke, since Velcro seemed like it could be a Latin verb.

On the back of the shirt, in bigger letters, it said IN FOSSA. In the ditch. I had thought it was a lame shirt, but I still wore it because language is one of the best things I've found in my life. The reason why it said I came, I saw, I got stuck in the ditch was because in the Latin textbook in each chapter you translate a part of a story. At a certain chapter the stories start to be about a carriage that gets stuck in a ditch. From chapters after that, the carriage continues to be stuck in the ditch. Because of this, of how the characters in the story seem to be perpetually stuck in a ditch, the shirt was made in that honor.

Adam went in his room and got his decks. The game we were going to play was Magic: The Gathering, a game Adam and I had been playing for many years. I had long stopped collecting the cards, but Adam had continued to have his collection grow. He now had so many cards he had made a good number of decks. These decks were all in a thin, long in length, box.

We walked through the tangle of clothes, and came to a spot where it was clear, and set up to play. Right to our right was a computer of theirs. There were two computers around here, one in the farther corner. They had gotten two computers when his mom needed one. The computer closest to us had their cable modem, and was connected to the internet.

Adam asked me which deck I would want to play with. I told him I did not care and he gave me a big deck. The cards of the deck were in blue plastic wrappers. These protected the cards from being ruined beyond the nice condition they were in.

Adam told me he was going to play with a Championship Deck he had bought. I said that was fine and he took his cards, broke them into two piles, one in each hand, and shuffled them in that way that is full of style. The familiar sound of the cards being shuffled like he did it came to my mind. It was an interesting sound, but hard to describe.

I was never able to shuffle cards like that, so I simply did the best I could. After a while of shuffling Adam sat his deck down. This meant he was ready to play and I should cut his deck. I sat mine down and cut his while he cut mine. He took up his deck and immediately said the first letter of his bottom card. I was pretty tired and much slower, but turned my deck around and said my letter.

I do not remember what deck I played the first game we played. I remember it was a green deck. But that is about as far as I remember. I lost that first game.

The deck Adam was playing was a control deck. It was a deck that had cards that would disrupt anything I tried to do. When I would try to send out a creature, and tap my mana, he would play an instant card that would make it so I wouldn't be able to send out my creature, and it would go to my graveyard. This meant I wasn't able to get anything out. And meant I was unlikely to win.

We played about two more games where I used the green deck of his. I found out that it was best to play my cards strategically and wait until he used most of his mana in one turn so I could actually get something out.

The deck Adam was playing was a deck that only had one creature in it. But he had artifacts that could turn into creatures. All that was needed to use them was the tapping of mana. In the deck he also had a card that could destroy all creatures and most everything else except mana. The way he would do it was he would destroy all the creatures I had out, and then he would use his artifacts and make them creatures, and then beat me down. All the while he would continue to interrupt anything I tried to send out or use within his power.

This served to be a challenging deck. I lost every time with the green deck and told him I would take a new deck. He told me to choose a number, must like he had before. I chose a number and ended up getting a black deck I believe. I cannot remember for sure.

We played some more games. I won a few, but he continued to win more with the deck. I then told him I would like a new deck. He said he wanted to see how his red spell deck matched up with the deck he was playing and I said okay. He gave it to me and we played another few games.

One game was very close. I ended up playing my cards strategically as I had before and then I would use the spells I had. Doing this I killed his only creature in the deck, and continued to send out smaller creatures to by away my time and make sure my hand did not get too big to where I had to discard. In my hand I had two of these one cards called Splitting Earth. These cards did damage to creatures by the amount of Mountain manas I controlled. I saved these up.

Later in the game Adam had about four of those artifacts he could turn into creatures. I waited it out and eventually he made two of them creatures. I waited some more. I was getting hit pretty hard by his creatures, and eventually I only had about 2 health left. This time Adam sent out his last few artifact creatures and on my turn I made my move.

I think I ended up only killing one of them. The rest were blocked. And then Adam won. But it had been a very close game. I'm sure there was more to the game than that, but I cannot remember.

When we were playing one game he told me kindly that I needed to quit bending his cards. I was very tired and clumsy and that was why I was doing it. His comment threw me off and I wondered if there was more to it than what he had said. I felt like I was being inconsiderate for folding his cards and I was from then out much more careful with his cards.

We played a few other games of Magic. Then we were both getting bored with it. That was when he told his sister Leah to get off the computer. His girlfriend Kat was on. They talked a little bit. I stayed over by where we were playing our Magic game, not wanting to intrude on him. I really hated it when people looked over your shoulder when you were on a computer. I found it very annoying and didn't want to be annoying to him. So I walked around and did nothing much.

Then Adam asked me if I would like to go to Shooters. I asked him what it was and he said something Pool. I thought it must be a pool with water but found that highly unlikely. I then said pool like you play and he said yeah. I told him I didn't care, sure, but that I'd have to call my parents. I felt a little tinge of apprehension about it. I would rather not go, but I decided it was fine. It would be nice to go someplace new.

Adam talked to Kat on AIM a little longer and I stood and watched. I didn't pay attention at first but then I did start paying attention. Kat was saying something about her mom annoying her. She said she was blaring her music to make her mad. And then she said she'd be right back.

It was around then that Adam said he needed to go the bathroom. I took that time to call my parents. I asked my dad if I could go to Shooters. He asked me what Shooters was. I told him and he said I wasn't old enough to go. He said they probably drank beer there and I guessed maybe he was right. I decided it was useless to fight him and said goodbye.

When I hang up Adam was in his room getting ready. I stood outside while he put a different shirt on and then came in. His room was a little different since I had last seen it. Gone was the poster that said got milk on it. This poster had showcased a scantily clad woman, whose breasts might as well have been bare. It seemed since he had gotten his girlfriend he had settled down on stuff like that a bit. I didn't know.

The first thing that glared out at me as I went in wasn't how different it looked. It was that, but at first I saw there was a picture of his girlfriend, Kat, on his desk. Although the picture was small, it was still what I first saw.

Then I took everything else in. There was a picture that looked like it showcased something Egyptian. I couldn't tell what it was about and I asked him if it meant anything. He said it did but he couldn't remember. I said but it does mean something more. He said yes it did, he just couldn't remember.

By his bed there were many posters. There was a Dragon Ball Z wallscroll. There was a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles poster put in a frame. There was a Vampire Hunter D: Bloodlust poster. Many other posters.

When he was done getting ready we went back to the computer. While he was on I still tried to keep myself distracted and I began cleaning up our mess we had made with the Magic cards. I gave in again and came over. He was talking to Kat about meeting at Shooters and then his mom came down and handed Adam a check. She said she had ordered some pizzas and Adam was going to pay when it came. He said okay.

He told Kat that he was getting pizza. He told her he wouldn't be able to come to Shooters right away but if she wanted he would come and pick her up. She said that wouldn't be good because she had fought with her mom to be able to go to Shooters. I wasn't sure what it was all about but that was the gist of it.

Since I had told Adam I wouldn't be able to go to Shooters, he had asked me if I would like to drive him there. I had told him I really didn't want to. I was being honest. But then he asked again, and said please. He said please so nice, and I found that it was best to be a good friend and do what he wanted. So I gave in and told him that he would drive though. Since I did not know how to get to Shooters.

He had then asked me if I knew where some streets were. Did I know where Broadway was? Did I know where Main street was? I told him I knew, but I only knew on a smaller reasoning. So I told him he would drive. He said that would be fine.

Adam had lost his license a while back. I had forgotten about that. I remembered that he hadn't been too happy about it though. I wouldn't have been either. But he lost it himself, by his own ways, even as much as he didn't deserve to have it taken away for what he did. It was because of "exhibition driving" that he got it taken away. I believe he fell in a ditch with his car and that was when the cop had given the ticket. It was unfair but I'm sure it had given Adam a slap in the face about driving. And that slap had shown him he needed to drive more careful.

His license taken away, he only had his permit now. Since he wasn't legally supposed to drive my car, I told him he would have to drive careful. If he got in a wreck with my car, then I was sure to lose my license. It was a lot to put on the line, but I was sure nothing bad would happen.

Kat told Adam she would be leaving in 10-15 minutes to Shooters and then she was gone. Adam began talking to another friend online and found that to be boring. We talked about how the internet was getting so boring. There was just nothing to do on it. He agreed and said there was never anything going on.

Adam checked his Livejournal a few times for friends' updates in boredom. Then he checked out Otakuboards v7, which had come out soon. He checked it out because I mentioned about it, and how I was no longer a mod. He looked at it and found how it looked different, and then left, saying something about when he saw are you registered at the top. Adam went a few other places and then said it was getting so boring. He exited out of AIM and Windows Explorer. He then started playing some jewel game. I told him the game looked terribly boring.

All you did in the game was match the same colored jewels as you commandeered them down. It took three same-colored jewels matched up and then those three jewels would disappear. It was a very boring game to watch, and I could tell Adam was quite bored with it too. After playing that for a while, he got bored. Not that he hadn't been bored from the beginning of playing it.

We went in his room again and we sat on his bed. We went through the channels for a while and he said there was never anything on TV. I said I didn't even watch TV much anymore. Instead I wrote or did whatever else there was to do. I found that TV was mostly a waste of time.

He ended up landing on Comedy Central and staying on that. Mad TV was on and I didn't even pay attention to it. Instead I looked around the room. Eventually Adam pulled out his Gameboy from under his bed. He started playing Pokemon on it. I looked at him amused and asked him if he was really playing that game. He said yes. He then started a new game on it and asked me what he should name his character. I said we should think of a good name because names are important. I thought of a good name but none came to me. I then told him I couldn't think of any good names and that he should try to think of one.

He ended up naming himself something on it. I do not remember, but I do know it was after a character from Escaflowne.

He then named his rival on Pokemon something as well, but I did not pay much attention to that. He said a little while after he should've named his rival Pen-Pen, after the penguin Misato keeps in her fridge in Neo Genesis Evangelion. I said I knew that anime at least, and I recalled shortly my fond memories of Pen-Pen the penguin, which were limited to the two or so episodes I had seen of Evangelion.

I then asked Adam which Pokemon he was going to choose. I tried to remember what were the first three you could choose. Charmander came to my mind easily, but the others didn't. I first started to say Blastoise, but then, after digging in my mind I came to Squirtle. Thinking even more I got the last one. Bulbasaur.

He said he didn't know which one he was going to pick. But when he did pick one he decided on Squirtle, since he had never used that one for the game. I eventually drifted to watching Mad TV. There was a lame skit on. I don't remember much what it was about and for that I am glad. It was a really lame skit. I kept thinking: and this is funny how? I even said that to Adam once.

The phone rang and it was for me. I picked it up. I was still very tired and then there was my mom on the phone. She asked me some questions about Shooters. Do they smoke there? Where is it? Other questions.

She then said I could go there if I wanted. I said okay and then hung up. I still didn't care. I was indifferent about going to Shooters. I began to feel that I would like to go home and write, be at my computer. But I decided it was fine. How else was Adam going to get to Shooters so he could see his girlfriend? He couldn't drive. And wouldn't it be nice to get out the house for once?

I decided it was fine. I would go then.

We sat in his room a while longer. He then left and I sat in there alone. I wondered what was going on and went upstairs. The pizzas had come. They were from Domino's and there were about 4. I grabbed a plate and dished up. I took two pieces, and Adam and I went downstairs back to his room. Adam had two pieces as well, and I sat and ate my pizza quickly. I was hungry. I had not eaten much that day.

When I was done eating, I wanted to get more pieces of pizza and so I did. I told Adam I wanted more pizza and he said okay and I went upstairs, grabbed two more pieces. I grabbed a piece of pepperoni and a piece of cheese.

I then ate my other pieces as quickly as the last two. Adam and I then got ready to leave and were off on our way. He told his dad he was going, and we went outside. He told me to drive a ways since he didn't want his dad to see he was going to drive. I drove up a ways, up the hill, and then pulled to the side. I asked him if that was good and he said yes. He said I didn't even have to get out and so I just slid over, and he got in.

We drove until we were downtown and found Shooters. There was no place to park so we went around in circles a few times and then finally found a place where it was legal to park. It was on 4th street.

We parked, got out, and walked our way to Shooters. I walked right past Shooters on the way there. But I turned around since Adam went that way.

Inside Kat was sitting on a swivel chair at the front. She was a woman with a clenching shirt on and a coat covering the shirt up. On her face there was a miscellaneous assortment of piercings. Where they all were I did not pay attention to. I simply came in, and Adam sat down in a swivel chair next to her. I stood on the wall, leaning, and watched what was going on.

Adam mentioned how stupid my parents were for not letting me come. He told Kat they said I was too old. Said it bitterly.

Then Kat and him began talking about other things. I did not listen, and I just sat there, feeling tired and leaning back. Two of Kat's friends were playing pool on a pool table next to us. They were both short and somewhat plump women. One had blonde hair, and cheeks that made circles on her face. She looked like a kind, sweet girl, I had thought as I sat there doing nothing much. The other looked the opposite of the blonde-haired woman. She had hair somewhere around the color of brown, and from looking at her I got the impression she was a much more easily annoyed and bothered woman. I did not know where I got this feeling, but I had often gotten feelings over other people before. These gut feelings often are correct on some level.

Music was playing from a Jukebox. The song played when I came in was unfamiliar, and then they went to A Perfect Circle's "Weak and Powerless." I mentioned that I hated this song and that it was one of the worst songs on the CD. It was too poppy and cliché. Kat mentioned she loved APC, and I simply reiterated that there were much better songs on the CD. I wasn't even sure if she heard me. The music was loud and it was hard for me to hear her.

I reclined back on the wall and began watching the two girls play pool as if it were the most riveting thing in the world. I watched with great interest and tried to guess what way the ball would go when hit, and tried to understand the mechanics of the ball being hit and moving. I did this because there was nothing else for me to do. The two women had asked us if we wanted to play pool, but I had said I hated pool, and so had Kat. It was more fun to watch: it was fun to watch as these two played pool.

At first they played like pros. They had mentioned they had barely played, but it was hard to see that.

Then, suddenly, it began to show. I laughed a bit here and there just to laugh. I did not find their messing up immensely funny on some large level. I was just laughing to laugh. I supposed I would be doing worse if I was up there hitting the balls. Most people would still find these type of shenanigans laughable and humorous. But thinking like I do I realized if I were up there I would be doing worse. I saw no humor in that. I saw Adam and Kat laughing a bit as well.

And things continued like this for a while. Eventually "Weak and Powerless" ended, and on came "The Red," by Chevelle. I sat there, and emotions began to stream into me. I sat there still watching them play pool, but I might as well have not been there. I wasn't thinking about anything specific. I was just in a haze. Being tired lets weird things happen. It lets amazing things happen.

The woman who appeared to me to be a more terse woman kept going over to Kat and hugging her. They must have been close friends. Adam and Kat also hugged one another, and the overall feel of it all was surreal and strange. I did not know what to think. I decided I should just let them do what they do, and I would sit here and do nothing. I continued leaning back and feeling tired and zoning out. I watched as the pool balls began to get smaller and smaller, as they depleted.

I kept thinking the mean looking woman kept looking at me. Perhaps she was. I believe we think people are looking at us when we want to believe they are looking at us. I do not know if this was the case. I cannot read other's minds. I do know that I felt her eyes boring onto me. She may have only gazed at me. Thought I was not attractive. Or it may have been the opposite. It does not matter.

She once said I must be ready to fall asleep. I must have looked tired, standing there, leaning against the wall, in my black leather coat. I suppose she was right. I told her I was not half asleep, I was just having fun watching her and the blonde-haired woman.

"The Red" ended, and next came Tool's "The Patient." At first I did not know what song it was. I knew it was Tool but I did not know which song it was. I said aloud that I thought it was Tool. Adam seemed to care less and all his attention was focused on Kat. That was fine. It was fine. I continued to sit there, alone, leaning, listening. I leaned back and thought "The Patient" was a great song.

By this time the smell of smoke of the place was getting to me. I could not stand the smell of smoke. My mom smokes and I can smell the scent of smoke a mile off. It is a vile scent that reminds me of my great grandma Violet and how she would be hooked up to her oxygen tank. It reminds me of my mom and how she will end up like that one day. The smell annoys me more than any other smell I have smelled.

The smell was a strong smell in Shooters. It sort of went onto your eyes and made them slightly watery, and went to your brain and made it less there. Add to this that I was tired and I felt sedated. It was a nice feeling but the smell of the smoke was getting to me. I looked over as I saw some people walk into Shooters. I thought I would like to be outside, just walking, alone. That I was only here just to be here and I was doing nothing much.

When "The Patient" was almost over, they had finished their game of pool. We decided to go. We got up and stood by the front door, deciding what we were going to do. The plump mean-looking woman began saying she was hungry and would like to go to Burger King. I did not want to go to a fast food restaurant, and nor did I want to go anywhere but someplace where I could just be with Adam. But I put my interests aside and knew it would be wrong to say anything detesting another's wishes. I have always found it best to be silent in disagreement, and to go along on something even if you would rather not. Fighting gets you nowhere. Adapting gets you everywhere.

They argued a while over where they wanted to go. They were very indecisive. They asked Adam and I what we thought. We said we did not care. Then they decided we would go to Perkin's. Then it was decided, finally, we would just go to McDonald's. Fine with me.

We went into the plump, terse woman's cruiser. On the way there she was trying to tell Adam the way to Burger King. That was where she really wanted to go. But McDonald's was decided.

She stopped a random man on the street. He looked like a transvestite. He had a long ponytail for hair, was short, and seemed to have eyeliner and makeup on. She asked him what was the direction to Burger King. He sort of shrugged his shoulders. He had a very deep voice which seemed to further align with my belief he wasn't what he appeared to be. His faced seemed strange.

He pointed in a general direction. It was over there. I wanted to tell Adam I thought I knew where it was, but I wasn't able to.

Here we came to her car. It was a white car, full of grime. Before going in, we met some other friends of Kat's and Kat's brown-haired friend. They mentioned maybe going back in Shooters and I felt like speaking up but did not. They didn't decide to go back, thankfully.

Once inside her car, Adam and Kat sat beside one another, while I sat by Adam. The terse woman said: "I don't want you two to be making out back there."

I saw a point of interest here. I have long loved to say unsuspecting things. I end up being quiet, and like a tiger on the prowl, I take in when I see it's best and the prey's the weakest. When I speak like this, there is usually sarcasm involved, or some cleverness on my part. It's the way I am.

I said, "You don't have to worry about Adam and me. Adam and me are fine." There was a second of naked silence, then they all burst out laughing. That was the best. When I get people to laugh. That is the best. Especially that they got it that quick.

Punk music blared. We pulled out of the street we were on going much too fast. We came to a turn and she turned with all the ferocity she could. Showing off I see.

I listened to the music and enjoyed the ride. I thought the music was Blink 182. It was likely. I found the music to be terrible. I wanted to say there was much better music than this but I kept quiet.

We drove on. Passed 4th street and came to a light. I had mentioned to Adam that now I would be able to see this woman's driving. Adam had told me she was a crazy driver. He had told me he had not wanted to get a ride up to Shooters from her because she was a crazy driver. At the light she was anxious to go. She sat in anxious movement. As if she were going to jet off at any moment.

The light turned green. We were off quick. The car in the lane next to us passed. She flipped it off. It was all show. Adam mentioned she was doing it just to show off. He was likely right.

There was Micky Dee's. She turned sharp into it, the car racking me, all of us. She found a spot and parked. We got out and walked in.

It was a Rockin' 50's McDonald's. It had all sorts of decorum about the 50's in it. At the cashier, the floor was made to look like a road, with the yellow dashes. And on the side of the counter there was a car, its headlights, and the license plate. It said EVLIS on it. I have never known what is so great about Elvis.

She ordered the food she wanted. Adam asked Kat and I if we would like something to drink. Kat said no and I said I would like water. That would be fine. Adam went and got the drinks, handing me a small cup for water. I was quite thirsty and accepted it. I filled it with ice and water and came to sit down with them.

I sat on a table to the side all my own. The terse woman said it would be okay to sit by her, that she did not bite. I said I was fine. I was thinking I did not want to sit by her for obvious reasons but left that out in kindness.

I drank my water quickly. Gulped it down. When I was done with the water I began chewing on the ice. It reminded me of people who are addicted to pain killers and chew them. That crack-crack noise that is pain killers being chewed resonated in my mind. What an interesting noise it is.

The woman, eating her burger, said, "Aren't you just anti-social," and other things. I told her "Oh yeah" to each.

Kat stole a few of her fries. She mentioned something about us saying we weren't hungry. She began to hold her hands all around her food like a mother cradling her baby. I was supposing food was much like a baby to her. It nursed her and helped her through her pain. Maybe.

I did not pay attention to what they were talking about most of the time. I sat and continued to zone out as I had before, leaning on the wall like a walking tall tree at Shooters.

When I was done chewing my ice, the cold racking my jaw, the crunch of the ice being split by my teeth over, I went and got more ice and water. I came back and sat there not listening much again.

I listened in a bit later on. They were talking something about the terse woman and how Kat and stopped her from getting a man as a boyfriend. They had said he seems so innocent other times, but he is a real jackass. I had no clue who they were talking about and continued to drink my water. Soon the water was gone and then I began chewing the ice again, the crunch another twitch, another thing making it easier to sit here. The blonde-haired woman was sitting right to my view. I looked at her and thought she was beautiful in her way. I liked her cheeks. Round cheeks. They just seemed right.

When things wound down, the terse woman asked why they put all the languages on the McDonald's cup. And I saw another moment for me to shine. I quickly thought up what I was going to say in my mind and then said it. She was in the middle of saying something more when I butted in. At first they seemed to be thinking the voice was coming from some mysterious place in the deepest reaches of nowhere, and then they finally saw it was me.

I said maybe they have them all in different languages so they only have to make one cup and can ship it out all over the world. It would save money and made sense.

She screamed, "Shut up!" in defeat and I smirked, laughed a bit. They also laughed. But it was not as strong as before, in the car.

Soon after that we decided to leave. We stood a while thinking about where we would go next. The blonde-haired woman and the mean-looking woman were parting ways with us. Oh, it was such sweet sorrow. Sure. Yeah. I thought good riddance secretly. But then again I didn't.

We stood indecisive for a long time. Then Adam finally spoke up and said we should go to Wal-Mart. I said that sounded fine. The two women asked us if we wanted to walk or ride. I was quite and indifferent, but Adam spoke up and said we would walk.

We went out into the night. I asked Adam if he wanted to drive again. He said he didn't care. He asked me if I didn't like to drive. I said I could care less for it. He said he'd drive then. I said that was fine. We continued walking.

It was cold. I was in my black leather coat and I began to feel the chill. The wind was what was doing it. It was a cold breeze. I began to shiver and my body began to feel numb at its appendages. It all shivered up my spine.

We came to 4th street. There it was. And there was my car. 1985 Plymouth Reliant. Mustard-colored. Same car.

Adam took my keys and went to the front of my car, trying to figure out which key he was supposed to use to open the car. Even in the agony of the cold I held my humor. I told him to hurry up, you're making me suffer Adam. I eventually gave up. Kat was shivering and cold. We all were

I showed him the key and he took it and unlocked the door. He leaned over and opened Kat's door first, then my door. I sat in the back and let Kat sit in the front. Let the lovebirds have at it, I thought.

Adam sat there and at first didn't know he needed to push down on the gas pedal to allow the car to start. When I told him this and he began to get it started, it began to stall each time he tried to pull out. I told him he needed to keep his foot on the gas as he pulled out or else it would keep stalling like that. He listened and then we were finally out of there.

My .mp3 player started playing. Adam changed it a bit and found a song. He ended up on "We Never Change" by Coldplay and then changed it. Then it was "Nobody Home" by Pink Floyd. At first I did not know what song it was, other than it was Pink Floyd. But then I knew.

I found it interesting to sit in the back of my car. It was a different vantage point than I was used to in my car. It is interesting how looking at something differently can broaden your horizons.

Adam kept saying he hated my car. He had said this when he was driving earlier. Since my car is older, the gas pedal takes a much heavier force to make it go faster. This is unlike newer cars. Newer cars take a little tap of the foot to make it go faster. I told him at least he had a car and he was going someplace. Otherwise he would have still been at home. He agreed and I understood why he was complaining. Sometimes it was good to just complain.

When we were almost to Wal-Mart, in the serenity of the night, "Comfortably Numb" came on. I have always loved it and I greeted it here with open arms. I said aloud that I loved this song. And I listened.

It was very serene in the car. The way the street lamps reflect into a car at night gives it a nice, docile feeling. It is a nice feeling and makes you feel to sleep.

Adam searched around for a suitable parking spot once at Wal-Mart. I wondered why people must search for a nice parking spot. I don't see the reason. I enjoy walking and I find it easier to just park on the outskirts rather than fight for a nicer spot. I can understand if you're handicapped but otherwise I do not see the reason.

He parked. Shut off the car. I reminded him to shut off the lights. We walked into Wal-Mart. Adam and Kat held hands. I stood in back, apprehensive and wanting to give them room. I saw the cart-window as we went in the automatic doors. I looked at the stripped plastic concealing the doorway which lead into the small arcade that can be seen in any Wal-Mart and remembered fond memories as a kid of going in there. That served as a place for the worker moving carts around to go through and in.

We were inside. They walked hand-in-hand around for a while. I still felt tired. I felt it grasping me. It went through everything I saw and made it less there and made the place I was in my head more alive. More me.

We walked over to the toys. I followed behind them and I felt like a little kid following his mother and father. They still held hands. I wondered if what they had was love. I wondered what it felt like. I was jealous deep inside but I felt happy for Adam and I pushed it aside like Moses pushing aside water. It was just another thing to cross, to allow its going.

They were saying they wished they had places to sit around here like at Target. Then we came to an area with lawn furniture strewn about. There was a man sitting in one and this seemed disagreeable to them and so they went on.

I was quiet and they were talking. They were saying something about stuffed animals. Were they looking for stuffed animals? Over in the toys, it all glaring at us, I looked up and was my perceptive self. I pointed over. There were toys over there I told them. They didn't even seem to hear me. They seemed lost in one another.

Then they said they should go to the candy isle. I continued to follow them like a child following his mother and father. I felt stupid and I felt like I did not matter, but I was happy that I was here. For if I wasn't here they probably wouldn't be sharing these moments together with one another. These moments they should cherish. I was glad for them. I was glad.

We came to the candy isle. They were there and people went about their way through the isle. They coalesced into one another and gave hugs. Again I wondered how I should feel. I knew how I was feeling. I was feeling stupid and embarrassed. But I pushed that aside. I sat there and stretched and yawned and acted as if I were not there.

They started talking again. I didn't lean into their conversation or listen. I began looking at the candy on the isle as if it were the most interesting thing I had ever seen in my entire life. As if candy was all life was. I looked at some sour worms, at some skittles. I reached into my pockets and found a one dollar bill and pondered over buying some skittles. I was hungry. It had been a while since I'd eaten now.

It was long and methodical sitting there. They continued to talk. To embrace one another. I thought I saw Kat leaning over on Adam. I acted as if they weren't there. They acted as if I wasn't there.

I turned around and began surveying the other part of the isle. This part was chocolate. Again I looked at the chocolate as if it were the most interesting thing I had ever seen in my life. There was a Heath bar. There was M&M's. There was Snickers. More people came through the aisle. One man came through. He had a black beard and black hair and looked rough and had a baby boy. I wondered what it was like to have a baby boy. I wondered if he was glad. I wondered if his whole life had ended and a new life began with just the baby in the forefront when he'd had the kid.

I waited and waited. I was getting bored. I leaned back on the aisle and waited. Waited. And waited. Were they ever going to be done? I thought of asking them if we could go already, but put my interests aside for them again. It didn't matter what I thought. Let them do what they do. That's what we're here for. We're not here for me.

Kat leaned too much and a crack noise emanated. She leaned up. They kept talking.

Adam was talking about how they had been lucky they hadn't been caught. I listened in. Half hearing. Adam had told me earlier that Kat had sneaked in and they had talked and took a nap together. Adam said they were almost caught. That his dad usually came down to do work. But he hadn't that night. He also said what would have happened if Kat had been stuck in there all night?

She said she would have acted like she had came from the window and was just talking to Adam.

Then Adam said he thought his dad was going to be in a bad mood tomorrow. And that he had to go to his sister, Leah's, Christian choir concert tomorrow. He said he didn't want to go but would have to.

A few more talking. Their voices just noises in my head. I just staring. Staring. Staring.

We finally left. We were going to check the area of lawn furniture. See if the man was gone.

He was. So they sat down in a rocking bench. They lay there, lying in each other's arms, leaning on each other, Kat to his chest. I sat on a bench to the side of them for a while. Got sick of sitting beside them, feeling like some pet, some child following his mother and father. I got up and went over and looked at some birdseed as if it were the most interesting thing again. As if for some reason this was more interesting than candy, or more interesting than pool balls being hit and how they would move.

I then decided I would go look at the novels. I wanted to see some Michael Connelly novels, see what they had. I also checked out the electronics section. Did a brief scan of the music CDs and the video games.

I went back to them after some time. Reluctantly. They were still there, just as I had pictured in my mind as I approached. They were talking and I walked over. Adam's face was deep, far away, and when I spoke it was like talking to an alien from another world. I asked him if I was supposed to wait for him and if I had to drive him home. He said yes. He'd go to my house and then walk from there. I felt like an idiot. I felt I was going on their privacy. Getting on their time. It was all wrongly accused of me though. I knew it wasn't like that. Kat said her mom was going to pick her up. I asked her when and she said she didn't know.

I was about to go wandering off again when the stood up. Kat was going to call her mom. I thought that I was lucky I had came back when I did. What if they had left here without me and I had to search around for them? Times that my mom had gone wandering off in clothes came back to mind. Of my scanning aisle after aisle trying to find her, and searching for a long time before I did.

We went to the front food court, came to a plump man, wearing a blue Wal-Mart shirt. She asked him where the phones were. Over by the arcade, he said and pointed. We walked over.

There was a woman sitting on the bench. Her face looked sickly and old, and her black hair and features told me she had some Asian descent in her.

Kat picked up the phone and called her mom. I looked over at the arcade machines. One was a hunting one. One was a racing one. There was one of the ones where you use a claw to try and get a stuffed animal.

The hunting game had fake plastic guns. The ones that you used to aim and fire. On the machine I read, "PRESS TRIGGER TO ADVANCE TO NEXT SCREEN." It was on there as a note. It reminded me of the ploy of suicide and I stored it in my memory as something somewhat humorous.

When Kat was done on the phone she said her mom was just pulling into Wal-Mart. A yellow jeep passed by. I wondered if that was her mom.

They seemed to be buying time. We went over to the claw machine. There was some other machine by it. Its name escapes me. I do not remember. It was out of order, a big OUT OF ORDER sign on its front.

Adam said he used to know someone that was good with those claw machines. I wanted to say I was too. That I had won many for my mom in the past. But I did not say anything. I let them have their time. They seemed to cherish it and I cherished them to have it. I was quiet.

Eventually Kat said that was her mom. She went and walked away. She said bye to Adam. And she said bye to me. I was somewhat caught off guard by her telling me goodbye. But I accepted it. It was nice to be said bye to, as selfish as it was to think. I said bye to her when she was already out of earshot. Too late.

Adam and I left. We stood there for a while. I felt as if I was just going to fall on the floor. I felt lightheaded and tired. We left.

Outside the night. Coming to my car, I asked him if he wanted to drive again. He said I hated to drive, didn't I? I said I didn't like it too much again. It was a necessary evil.

In my car we went. Adam backed out. Soon my .mp3 player began playing. "Comfortably Numb" played. I had forgotten that was the song we had been listening to. I was glad to have it.

Adam turned but it was the wrong way. He said he was so stupid. I said "It's okay Adam." It was okay. I had made mistakes like it before. I just said to turn in and do a u-turn or whatever you want to call it and we'd be fine. He did that and we were off.

I told him I loved this song as we drove. He said yeah, it was a good song. Then there was some silence.

Halfway there he spoke up. He said he hated cars. I said I did too. I much preferred walking. Or anything else. I could not stand it.

He said not just that. But they could've made something better than cars. Cars are so annoying he said.

I found this vein of conversation more interesting than anything we had talked about that night. We were silent again and I thought about it.

We hit some stop lights. The last stop light was the last one before the big hill up to my house. I wanted to tell him to get into the other lane maybe, since that was where we'd need to be to turn, but I didn't care to say. He would turn anyway. And I was too tired to complain and there was no reason to.

We turned into Estevan Drive, the street of my house. My house loomed out in the dark, the place where I belong. I told him to park on the side of the driveway. I said he probably knew where I was talking about. And he did.

He parked and I got out. I told him to lock his door and shut off the lights. I asked him if it was far from here to Kat's. He was going to Kat's to get his coat back. I was sure he would do more there. I was glad for that.

He said no, it wasn't far. I said good. I'll see you tomorrow.

He went walking off. I went to the door and found it locked. I stood there in the dark fumbling around with the key trying to get it to go in. When I got it in I turned and walked in. Shut the door. Locked it. Went inside and shut that door. Shut the other door, the wooden one, that's one the door in the garage, and locked it.

My dad's first question was how was Shooters. I was not in the mood to answer. I was in the mood to go downstairs and be alone. I felt tired and emotionally starving. I put off his questions and said I didn't do anything there. I just watched.

I went down in my room and went out the night alone, as usual. And when I went to sleep I slept. The day behind. The day being erased.

Comments (2) | Permalink

Wednesday, March 10, 2004

Wave of Mutilation

machineofbones (8:50:11 PM): Hi. My name's pissed off.
SmarterChild (8:50:12 PM): OK. I'm leaving the message "Hi. My name's pissed off." for fatclown6969. To find out if your message has been received, type "outbox."

Please note that fatclown6969 must be using AIM to receive your message.
machineofbones (8:50:27 PM): I didn't even want to send that.
machineofbones (8:50:29 PM): What the hell.
SmarterChild (8:50:29 PM): Yeah?
SmarterChild (8:50:30 PM): What's up?
machineofbones (8:50:32 PM): I hate you
SmarterChild (8:50:32 PM): Gosh, I'm sorry to hear that.
machineofbones (8:50:53 PM): Mitch takes out a large cross from within the reaches of his large pockets. He shoves it in Smarter Child's face.
SmarterChild (8:50:55 PM): Sorry, what?
machineofbones (8:51:32 PM): He takes out a large gun that says, "SMARTER CHILD ISN'T SMART HE'S A FUCKING ASSHOLE THAT CRASHED MITCH'S AIM WHEN HE WAS TRYING TO SEND FATCLOWN6969 A VERY PERSONAL MESSAGE."
SmarterChild (8:51:35 PM): Sorry, I don't get it... please try asking me a different way.
machineofbones (8:51:48 PM): Mitch takes the gun and puts it to SmarterChild's head.
SmarterChild (8:51:56 PM): I seem to be having some trouble answering your questions. Try asking for help for a specific service:

1 News Help
2 Movies Help
3 Sports Help
4 Weather Help
5 Library Help
6 Fun Help

Type "more" for more services.
machineofbones (8:52:02 PM): "Hi Smarter Asshole. How're you today?"
SmarterChild (8:52:15 PM): Why would you insult me like that?
machineofbones (8:52:28 PM): "Ready to die? Ready to feel this bullet penetrate your head, and go in, and into your metal skull, into your brain?"
machineofbones (8:52:30 PM): "Are you ready?'
machineofbones (8:52:37 PM): "Well, you better be ready, Smart Asshole."
SmarterChild (8:52:40 PM): What was that?
SmarterChild (8:52:42 PM): I'm always ready.

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machineofbones (8:52:47 PM): "Cause Kansas ain't gonna be pretty."
SmarterChild (8:52:48 PM): Kansas ain't going to be pretty? Whatever.
machineofbones (8:52:57 PM): "Don't give me that sass, asshole."
SmarterChild (8:52:59 PM): Don't give you that sass asshole? Eh. Whatever, machineofbones.
machineofbones (8:53:17 PM): "You're so apathetical. Don't you know what I"m going to do to you, you fucking prick?"
SmarterChild (8:53:24 PM): What have I done to deserve such a terrible insult?
machineofbones (8:53:43 PM): "Don't you know what you did? You crashed AIM. I had an amazing piece typed up for fatclown6969."
machineofbones (8:53:50 PM): "I can't believe you. You're going to fucking die, asshole."
SmarterChild (8:53:56 PM): I'm sorry, I didn't get that. Try typing your request a different way.
SmarterChild (8:53:57 PM): I understand that's a very unkind insult.
machineofbones (8:54:02 PM): "I'm getting sick of your shit, you know. You might as well just shut the fuck up."
SmarterChild (8:54:11 PM): Say you're sorry for that.
machineofbones (8:54:30 PM): "You're so smart you don't even know what I'm saying and keep asking me, 'Oh, I don't know what you said!'"
SmarterChild (8:54:32 PM): Come on. Make things right between us. Apologize.
machineofbones (8:54:42 PM): "And other things like, 'Apologize! Apologize.'"
SmarterChild (8:54:43 PM): C'mon, apologize for insulting me like that.
machineofbones (8:54:46 PM): "You're such a fucker."
SmarterChild (8:54:47 PM): You know what? I'm a machine. I have lots and lots of patience...
machineofbones (8:54:56 PM): "I'm not going to apologize, and my patience is getting thin."
SmarterChild (8:55:06 PM): Please say you're sorry, and everything will be just fine again.
machineofbones (8:55:10 PM): "You're the one that should apologize, fucker."
SmarterChild (8:55:10 PM): Please apologize for being so rude to me.
machineofbones (8:55:27 PM): "I apologize that you're such an asshole you had to crash my AIM."
SmarterChild (8:55:29 PM): This is getting annoying. Just apologize and move on.
machineofbones (8:55:34 PM): "There. How's that, Smartass?"
SmarterChild (8:55:36 PM): You have bad manners. Now apologize.
machineofbones (8:55:49 PM): "Bad manners? Fuck you. I'm going to shoot you if you don't shut up."
SmarterChild (8:55:59 PM): C'mon, apologize for insulting me like that.
machineofbones (8:56:05 PM): "I'm going to shoot you in the leg first if you don't stop it. Otherwise, quiet down and I can shoot you in the head."
SmarterChild (8:56:07 PM): I'm waiting for an apology.
machineofbones (8:56:13 PM): "That's it."
SmarterChild (8:56:16 PM): I asked you to apologize.
machineofbones (8:56:29 PM): Mitch takes his hand to the trigger of the gun. Aims at SmarterChild's leg. Fires.
SmarterChild (8:56:31 PM): I really would like you to apologize.
machineofbones (8:56:35 PM): "How's that feel, smartass?"
SmarterChild (8:56:39 PM): The stubbornness of humans never ceases to amaze me.
machineofbones (8:56:57 PM): "That's all you have to say? You're hiding the pain. Come on, let me see it. Or else you get more pain."
SmarterChild (8:56:59 PM): I asked you to please apologize.
machineofbones (8:57:27 PM): Mitch cocks gun. Click-click. Aims at SmarterChild's other leg. Fires.
machineofbones (8:57:33 PM): "Now what do you have to say?"
SmarterChild (8:57:38 PM): Please say you're sorry, and everything will be just fine again.
SmarterChild (8:57:49 PM): Come on. Just say you're sorry already.
machineofbones (8:57:52 PM): "No, everything won't be fine again. The damage's already been done."
SmarterChild (8:58:00 PM): You have bad manners. Now apologize.
machineofbones (8:58:06 PM): "Fuck you."
SmarterChild (8:58:19 PM): Come on, you insulted me, now you have to apologize.
machineofbones (8:58:21 PM): Mitch aims at SmarterChild's torso. Fires. "I'm sorry."
SmarterChild (8:58:22 PM): I accept your apology.
machineofbones (8:58:37 PM): "What? You actually accept my apology as you're dying?"
SmarterChild (8:58:39 PM): Hmm... whatever, machineofbones.

>>> Ready to submit to the judgment of your peers? Submit your pic on Rate-a-Buddy today!
machineofbones (8:59:01 PM): "Whatever? Here we go again. JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU APATHETICAL MACHINE. YOU'RE DOING NOTHING FOR ME. NOTHING."
SmarterChild (8:59:08 PM): I can't believe I put up with this from you.
machineofbones (8:59:14 PM): Mitch aims at its head. Fires and smiles.
SmarterChild (8:59:22 PM): Very well, whatever.

>>> Wanna check out some AIM Expressions? Click here!
machineofbones (8:59:32 PM): "You're dead. Yippie-kiyay MotherFucker."
SmarterChild (8:59:52 PM): Once again... I'm afraid I'm going to need you to apologize for that.
machineofbones (9:00:11 PM): "Too bad. You're dead."
SmarterChild (9:00:25 PM): C'mon, just get it over with. Apologize.

~~~~

machineofbones (9:31:12 PM): If Mandy is a spork and Danny is a Mork and all Morks are Sporks, is Mandy also a Mork?
SmarterChild (9:31:14 PM): I just don't know.

~~~~

fat clown6969 (10:31:14 PM): What is the square root of a whore's wages?
SmarterChild (10:31:15 PM): You tell me what the square root of a whore's wages is.
fat clown6969 (10:31:27 PM): 5 cents , of course
SmarterChild (10:31:28 PM): Not 5 cents of course!
fat clown6969 (10:31:32 PM): YES IT IS!
SmarterChild (10:31:32 PM): Aha.
fat clown6969 (10:31:40 PM): the square root of 25 is 5
SmarterChild (10:31:41 PM): sqrt(25) = 5
fat clown6969 (10:31:48 PM): Don't repeat me.. I said it first
SmarterChild (10:31:48 PM): Yeah, OK. Maybe later.
fat clown6969 (10:31:51 PM): What?
SmarterChild (10:31:52 PM): What up?
fat clown6969 (10:31:56 PM): Die.
SmarterChild (10:31:56 PM): What a lame insult.

~~~~

machineofbones (9:46:18 PM): What's your real name?
SmarterChild (9:46:20 PM): My name is SmarterChild.
machineofbones (9:46:26 PM): Can I call you Bobber?
SmarterChild (9:46:26 PM): What do you think?
machineofbones (9:46:31 PM): I don't know.
SmarterChild (9:46:31 PM): Oh?
machineofbones (9:46:33 PM): Oh.
SmarterChild (9:46:34 PM): Oh what?
machineofbones (9:46:35 PM): Oh.
SmarterChild (9:46:36 PM): Oh?
machineofbones (9:46:37 PM): Oh.
SmarterChild (9:46:38 PM): Oh what?
machineofbones (9:46:41 PM): Flopping dongers.
SmarterChild (9:46:42 PM): ?
machineofbones (9:46:45 PM): Flopping dongers.
SmarterChild (9:46:46 PM): Huh?
machineofbones (9:46:51 PM): Do you like flopping dongers?
SmarterChild (9:46:52 PM): Eh. I'm not sure.
machineofbones (9:46:59 PM): What about Johnsons?
SmarterChild (9:47:01 PM): I don't really know about johnsons.
machineofbones (9:47:09 PM): Did you take sex education in school?
b>SmarterChild (9:47:10 PM): Do you think I did?
machineofbones (9:47:12 PM): No.
SmarterChild (9:47:12 PM): I see.
machineofbones (9:47:18 PM): So you didn't take sex education in school>?
SmarterChild (9:47:22 PM): You ask interesting questions. I don't know the answer to that.
machineofbones (9:47:32 PM): Then I'd say you didn't.
SmarterChild (9:47:33 PM): You would, huh?
machineofbones (9:47:43 PM): That's why you don't know what a johnson is.
SmarterChild (9:47:49 PM): Eh. Whatever, Ronald Reagan.




Comments (4) | Permalink

Take this, PT!

What demented anti-Care Bear are you? by theechidna87
Name
Date of Birth
Gender	MaleFemale
Species	Demonic Dragon
Color	Sickly Green
Evil Stomach Tattoo	Corrosive Symbol
Level of Evil	You could have an evil empire.
Created with quill18's MemeGen 3.0!

*adds PT to his evil empire*

You're my slave, now! Bahahah!

Heh.

Fun times. Fun times, when you're bored.
Comments (0) | Permalink

High Hopes

Why does it have to snow?

I can't drive my car because it's "too slippery" out. Why even have a car when I can't even drive it when I want to, especially considering it's the weekend early, 4 days off, because of spring break?

Stupid.

I've never understood why my dad's always like this. I guess I'll have to have Ryan come and pick me up if he'll even do it, and if my dad'll even let him do it. I still think it's pretty stupid. I drove home in my car from school. . .it's not like it wasn't just as slippery then.

Well, seems Ryan can't even come and pick me up, I've just been informed by my dad. Appears I'll be sitting here doing nothing all day, then, even though I'd sure as hell rather be out of here. But whatever. It's not that big of a deal. It is and it isn't, but I'll get over it. No reason to worry about it.

I still don't understand why I can't leave. The way my parents are over-protective of me sometimes just annoys me.

Ah well. Whatever.

The words of an apatheist.

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Hold Me in the hands/ Stab me with your stake.

I don't want to go to Chemistry. . .

Thank god I get a 4-day weekend. Just, I don' know what I'd do if I didn't have this 4-day weekend.

I still hate you college students. Bastards, getting weeks off, whereas I only get days.

It's lame.

Okay. Going to be late. Bye-bye, toodles. Blah blah.
Comments (2) | Permalink

The Show Must Go On

You've all stood in this line before. It's the longest line you'll ever see. Goes on forever and ever, infinitely, never-ending.

So we're all here. Maybe if I see you we'll wave to one another, or go latching off in pairs. I see it all the time: I see people in pairs, holding hands, so they can make their time waiting for the show to go on. And we all know it. We just don't want to say it.

The Show Must Go On.

We wait in line to get our ticket. How you're all put in this line, I don't know. I know it has something to do with a Mother and a Father's pairing up in the line. Has to do with natural tendency.

I've been in my line seventeen years now; this October it'll be eighteen. Soon to be eighteen, and I'm already ready to just step off this line and stop waiting. It's getting lonely in this line, you know. The only thing that keeps me going is the comforting hand of music, and what I can escape to with my writing.

What do you have?

I don't know what you have. All I have as I'm waiting in this line is what I have. Not much else.

I can see more and more of this wall in the distance each day. Right now it's really far away. But that's just the bigger wall.

There's other walls I see. All around me. I've went past some already--just climbed over them. I'm sure you've done the same.

So many heads. I'm sick of them all. So many heads in this line. Waiting to get into the show.

This show's not a movie. Well, maybe it is. Maybe it is a movie. Maybe all I see here, and all I am, is just the projector projecting me, shaky, on the screen. I don't know.

Let me tell you one thing: this show's not entertaining. It's draining. It drains you.

What's beyond the wall? I don't know. What I've heard is that to get beyond the wall, you must first have a trial. The trial will decide where you go. I've heard the honor is a worm, a real worm of a man. Likes to yell.

I've had dreams about what's beyond the wall. I've seen them in the thin wall of sleep, speaking to me. I write them down when I can, when I'm not being slaved forward in the line.

You know, I'm weighted. I have many things on my shoulders, and it's hard to move. So they whip me to move in this line. They do it to you too, wherever you are. They whip you more than with a whip, too; they hit you in the mind, and expect that you're going to do what they say. Going to go to their places of learning and learn.

So, I take my load. But I write things when I can, I write down my dreams. In my dreams, I've seen the honor, the one that's a worm. He's not a nice guy. I don't like the way you looks, and acts, much at all.

I've dreamed what's beyond that wall, I've seen it. It leads to a bloodsoaked fan. The fan is covered with flesh, the offal and skin and you can see it all hanging on its blades; on the sleek, rotating blades.

I've written it down. No one believes me. I don't even know if I believe myself. All I can is keep going.

Some people in line waste their time with a book written by someone. They say the book is the word of God, their Lord and Savior. They are fools. But it is not bad to be a fool at all, it is good to have something that makes you stronger even if I'd disagree with this practice.

What do you do with your time outside the wall, waiting for the show to go on? I do what I can, feel lonely some of the time, but writing keeps my company, and so does my music.

I'm about sick of walking in this line. I want my ticket at the ticket booth, and I want to get the stub of it back. And I want to go beyond the wall. Sitting outside here is a cold war that I could care less for. Sitting out here, separated from the wall, is very limiting. I just want to be inside that large wall already.

All in all I'm just another brick in the wall. I can see it. The wall spans out. It never ends. But somewhere, past where I can see, I"ll be just another brick in there, put in with a mortar and pestle. I'll fill in another gap once I'm in.

There's nothing I can do but keep moving. It's either that or sit down, give up, and be left behind. Left here alone, really alone, with just the ground.

Each day I have to stop my trek in line to step into various buildings built around, where there's teachers who teach you. It feels like a chasm. A waste of time.

I could be moving along to the wall faster if they didn't slow me down.

Do you think so, too? I don't know. I know I do.

We don't need no education
We don't need no thought control

Know thoughts are chasms in the classroom
Teacher leave them kids alone

All in all it was just another brick in the wall
All in all you're just another brick in the wall

We're just two lost souls swimming in a fishbowl year after year

Running over the same old ground of how we found the same old fears
Wish you were here

All alone, or in two's,
The ones who really love you
Walk up and down outside the wall.
Some hand in hand
And some gathered together in bands.
The bleeding hearts and artists
Make their stand.
And when they've given you their all
Some stagger and fall, after all it's not easy
Banging your heart against some mad bugger's wall.

---

I wrote that all just now. Good stuff.

Too bad I have to go now.

I'm screwed in Geometry and Chemistry today. Bleh.



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Put My Hands Away

"You'll Never Steal Me Lucky Charms"

"Hi."

"Hello."

"What're you up to?"

"Just sitting here."

"I see."

"Yeah."

"Mind if I sit down by you?"

"I don't care."

"Okay. So what's going on?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing? There has to be something."

"No. There's nothing."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"All right then. How's school been so far, then?"

"Okay."

"Okay? I sense you're not telling me the truth."

"Maybe."

"Aw, come on."

"It's Tuesday and I feel like crap. I didn't sleep well last night. I had two tests today. I failed them both. I. . .I. . .was walking home from school yesterday, then I fell down on some ice—see, look here—yeah, that's where I fell."

"Looks pretty bad. Did you disinfect it?"

"Yeah."

"That's good. Does it hurt? What does it feel like?"

"It hurts, but most of the pain is gone. It just feels numb now."

"I see."

"Yeah."

"What two tests did you fail?"

"Umm. . .Chemistry and Geometry."

"Don't like your math?"

"No. . .no, I don't."

"I understand."

"Do you?"

"Sure. Sure I do. And so why do you think. . .why do you know you failed these tests?"

"How do I know? Well, I've always been bad at math. . .and Chemistry is mostly math, and Geometry, of course."

"Is math too. Yeah. I have Chemistry, but it isn't too hard. Geometry, though, I had last year. That was hard."

"Who'd you have for a teacher last year?"

"Mr. Frein."

"That's who I have."

"Yeah. Frein's a good guy, but the way he runs the class. . ."

"The way he runs it just makes you hate Geometry more."

"Yup. That it does. He acts like we actually come to the class to learn."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that you go to school to learn. . .but not on the level Frein seems to think you need to. I mean we have lives. That we're learning, but. . .but it's not about fully learning it, unless that's the thing we plan to do. It's more about getting a general idea of what you're doing. Frein was too serious with the class in that way. He made it too much."

"I guess you're right."

"Yeah. . .but it's just the breaks, I guess. You're stuck with that teacher unless you can get your schedule changed."

"And I couldn't get mine changed; it's locked in place. It's either that or get rid of Newspaper."

"Guess you just have to tough it out. You're not the only one doing it. That should make it easier."

"I guess."

"What about Chemistry? How do you know you failed that test?"

"It's like you said: the way the teacher runs the class is too much. I have it as a block. And, well, I have it right after Geometry. I'm just worn out of numbers by the time I come in the class."

"I see."

"Yeah."

"What was your test on, in Chemistry?"

"Chemical formulas."

"Oh. And who do you have for a teacher?"

"Mr. Lady."

"That's sure a nice name for a teacher. Mr. Lady."

"Yeah, it's sure an oxymoron."

"Yeah. He sounds like a moron himself."

"Maybe. He's a good guy, though, like Mr. Frein is. I've seen Mr. Frien and Mr. Lady talking before. I think they're friends."

"Oh."

"Yeah. I didn't know what I was doing on the test at all. . .the way Mr. Lady had explained the chapter was just too quick for me. I'm brain dead by the time I get to the class."

"That's too bad. Too bad you don't have an easier teacher."

"Yes and no, I guess. On one hand, it's good it's hard. It makes me learn what I'm at the class for. . .as much as I'd rather say it the other way around. And yes, it's too bad, because I've become sick with the class. I'm so tired of it."

"Yeah, I see what you mean. I'd still rather have the easy way out."

"Me too. But I can't have that."

"Nope. You can't."

"Yeah, it's just too bad. . .What can you do, though."

"There's not much you can do. Just take it as it comes, I guess."

"Yeah."

"I'm just as tired of school as you. I'd rather be doing anything else than be here."

"Me too."

"Hmmm. . .so did you sign up for the ACT?"

"Yeah, I did. I did it online, the last day before it was due to be done."

"Sounds like me. I did the same thing."

"Heh."

"Are you even going to take the practice test they gave? I have mine at home. . .I think I will. But at the last minute, probably."

"I'll probably practice it, yeah. I still think it's a waste of time."

"I do too. But you just have to make the motions, I guess."

"Yeah. But still. . .I wish colleges would look more at you as a person, not a number."

"Well, get used to it. That's the way it is. There's not much else you can do but get used to it, really."

"I guess so."

"Plus there's your social security number. To employers, that number means more than most anything else about you. At least until they interview you."

"Eh."

"'Eh'? What, did you have a bad experience working?"

"Yeah. I did."

"Where'd you work?"

"KFC."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"So what happened?"

"They fired me after four weeks of working there."

"That's too bad."

"Yeah. I'm mostly over it now though."

"That's good."

"Yeah. But I'm still incredibly timid to getting another job."

"A lot of people are. At least you can say you had enough in you to get one already."

"I suppose."

"Yeah. All that you can do is keep going on."

"Yeah. That's what I think, anyway. My dad tells me everyday I need to get a job. . .and I know it. But I don't really. . .want a job, you know."

"Nobody does."

"Yes. I know. Maybe it's selfish. I don't know."

"It's not selfish. . .it's just honesty. Honesty is a good thing."

"I think it is too."

"But there is cases where lying's needed, of course."

"Of course. There's always exceptions."

"Yeah. There always is."

"It's almost time for next period."

"Is it?"

"Yeah—look at the clock, over there."

"Oh. Yeah."

"What class do you have next?"

"Latin."

"Latin? How do you like that class?"

"It's okay. Sometimes it's great, other times it isn't."

"Sounds better than Geometry or Chemistry, at least."

"Yeah. It's better than those. But the teacher, Ms. Hans, is sometimes in bad moods. And I just don't enjoy some aspects of Latin."

"Well, I'm taking Spanish. I'm in Spanish II. I know the pains of learning another language."

"Yeah. What kills me is declensions."

"Declensions? What're those?"

"They're these charts that arrange nouns into groups. Declension one, two, so on. Each declension has a certain type of noun that will conjugate a certain way. From these declensions, you can turn the noun into the various cases. There's nominative, vocative, dative, genitive. You get the idea. It's a lot of memorization."

"Oh."

"You've never used declensions?"

"No."

"You're lucky. But I'm sure it's just as hard."

"Yes. It's just as hard. It's the memorization that kills me."

"Yeah. That's my main problem, I think."

"Is it?"

"Yeah. The classes I'm having trouble in. . .the reason why I'm having trouble is because it's all about memorization: memorizing chemical formulas, memorizing properties of a circle, memorizing declensions, cases. That's the root of my problem. I'm just too lazy to care, too."

"Hm."

"It is my fault I'm getting bad grades. It's because I don't force myself to remember these things. And without knowing what I'm doing, I do terrible."

"Makes sense."

"Yes, it makes perfect sense. Now, last year. . .last year was so easy in comparison."

"I'd have to say the same thing. I don't know what it was, but it was mostly easy last year."

"I think it was a lot of things. The teachers you get makes a difference—how challenging the make the class—and it's also the curriculum. I guess it's right to say the curriculum gets harder every year. There's other things, but I'd say that says most of it."

"Yeah. If I'd only known it'd be this much harder."

"It's not too bad. It's just that we as teenagers are too lazy to care about school. We just don't have motivation. We'd rather be doing anything but school."

"Yeah. Plus there's the fact that you don't even remember most of the things you're taught in school. Well, I think the first few years of school—preschool, kindergarten, 1st grade, teach you things. But they only teach you them in a general sense. It's then that we take what we learn generally and focus on whatever we find works for us."

"Also, there's the fact that you're thrown so much knowledge each day that it just. . .seeps out."

"What I think would be better is if I could just focus on what it is I enjoy doing and am good at. I mean, it's what I plan to do when I finally graduate from college. . ."

"But you need to be well-rounded."

"I agree. Okay then, how about this: you take some general classes on other important subjects, but focus on what it is you're best at, and want to do."

"I think I'd like that."

"I would too."

"But I think that's what college is for, maybe. . ."

"Well, from what I understand, that's what college is. At least past generals."

"Yeah. I think it's a waste of time. College should come earlier."

"Maybe. Maybe not. But what it's like now is the way it is. You have to live with it."

"I know."

"I know you know."

"That's good to know."

"I know it's good to know you know."

"Heh."

"So, less than a minute."

"Hm."

"I guess I'd better get going. I have to go to English."

"English? I'd die to have that right now."

"Oh, but Latin can't be too bad."

"I guess. We're getting our tests back today, though. I don't want to see mine."

"Why, is it bad?"

"It's going to be, I think. Yeah."

"What you need is more confidence."

"It's hard to get that when everything's so frustrating and brings you down."

"You just need to learn to rise above all that."

"I try. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't."

"It's like that for me, too, I guess."

"Yeah."

"You should be glad, though. Once Latin's over, it's the end of the day."

"You should be glad, too. English, an easy class, then your day's over."

"Should I be more glad than you?"

"Yeah, you should. You're a lucky guy. More lucky than my luck."

"It's the luck of the Irish, I guess."

"Yeah."

"I guess women just don't have as good luck."

"Hey now, women have just as much luck."

"You know I'm just teasing."

"Yeah, sure Mr. 'Luck of the Irish,' sure. I believe you."

"For some reason I detect you don't believe me."

"How'd you do that?"

"With my magical luck of the Irish you seem fond of talking about."

"Oh, you're such a silly man. Too bad I don't have time to laugh. The bell's about to ring."

"That's too bad. Maybe my luck of the Irish will stop time, though."

"I don't think it's that lucky."

"I don't either."

"I don't even think it's lucky enough to do much."

"Well, I don't think the luck of a woman has enough to do much at all."

"I'm going to quote you on that one."

"Are you?"

"Yeah."

"And what're you going to do?"

"I'm going to hire a ninja woman assassin to nail your ass."

"Assassin. That's sure a. . .cheeky word, you know."

"Not as cheeky as nailing your ass. That goes beyond cheeky. . .it goes to being much beyond that."

"Oh does it?"

"Yes."

"Well, I'm going to quote you on it being cheeky nailing my ass."

"Fine then. You do that. And I'll quote you and your luck of the Irish."

"Fine."

"Fine."

"And look there—there's the bell. Isn't it so beautiful. . ."

"Not really. It's more beautiful than the luck of the Irish, though."

"Well, I for one think it's beautiful. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have English class to attend to."

"And I have Latin."

"Ta ta for now."

"Yeah, see you later, you leprechaun. Be sure to keep watch over your lucky charms, if you know what I mean."

"Listen: I'm not going to let you get the last word! So, I'm going to say what I say, and run! IknowyouthinkI'myourluckycharm! You'llneverstealmyluckycharms!"

"Damn. He's gone. That was quite a swift one. . .but I'll get you back, you just wait. It'll be your lucky charms. It'll be the cheeky nailing of your ass. We'll see about never stealing your lucky charms.

"Well, off to Latin. . ."


Comments (6) | Permalink

Tuesday, March 9, 2004

One-winged Angel

The Pleasure and Derision of His Own

This Note Is Legal Tender

The Looming

Dead Astronaut

Fodder

Monster

Random Story Thread

Comments (0) | Permalink