Friday, July 26, 2002

Nonsensical thoughts, world hunger, and girls

Would you like to know what I am currently thinking? I would too. Sometimes it's good to wring out the old brain and find out what's going on up there. Too many conflicting ideas having battle to see who will reign supreme for the day. Too numerous to count, random thoughts consistently interfere with my daily routine.

Have you ever walked out the door and by habit locked the door on your way out only to remember that your keys are inside your home? Me too, only to remember, "I just robbed this house." I hope the homeowners have their keys on them when they return ... you know, since I just locked their door from would-be intruders. I hope they find some appreciation in the fact.

I was talking to a girl from Finland on instant messenger. The girl is from Finland. From Finland. That just boggles my mind that I talked to a complete stranger that lives on the other side of the world [in Finland]. This internet thing is so cool. Finland. Holy cow man, Finland. The home of Finns. I talked to one. She lives in Helsinki. Go sponsor her for the Blogathon. Good cause.

I plan to write an essay, an essay that will have no topic. I am tired of writing essays that have a topic. It's been done. Don't get me wrong, it's not because I am a poor writer, in fact my professors seem to rave about my writing skills. I usually find a way of approaching a topic by a non-standard route. I like to think I am an original thinker. So original in fact that I plan to take essay writing to a whole new plane of existence, an essay that will have no topic and quite frankly will make no sense at all. Where is the fun in an essay that makes sense [not including satire done well]? This essay will take some time and thinking. I cannot go into this non-topic essay writing haphazardly without some rules by which to govern this new and unexplored venture. If you know of nonsensical essay writing and that it has already been done, don't tell me. I want to have some fun. I already know of nonsensical poetry.

Bears, pears, and bumblebees. All sitting together under a bugbear grove of maple trees. This is the picture of lunacy recounted by a talking corn on the cob wielding a hatchet that I had the chance to encounter today ... yes I believe that nonsensical essay writing will be much fun, much fun indeed.

I'm hungry. I will do my part to take one step closer to ending world hunger ... by eating something. Yes, one less hungry person in this world. Should I shave my head again tonight? I look goofy with no hair. I look goofy when I try to grow it back. I was going for that “just got out of the mental ward and was recruited to play softball and oh what the hell I will wait until the game is over to kill everyone look.” I wanted the look for the game we played against our most hated rivals. I look downright scary when I get my game face on.

Amy, Amy, Amy. What an adorable girl she is. We both have this undying, strong attraction to one another, but I cannot allow myself to be burned like the last time. I like talking to her. We are very good friends. Farren, Farren, Farren. I must be patient if I want this girl; that’s if I have a chance. She is too busy to do anything. She is taking an intensive 10 hour class everyday of the week. She has no time to play softball or go rock climbing or hang out with me [sad face]. She will travel to Montana after her class [wilderness first responder] is finished and says she will be able to do those things when she gets back when school starts up again.

Amy, Amy, Amy ... [sigh] ... ending stream of consciousness ... now. [transmission fades, intermittent static]

Wednesday, July 24, 2002

Rec n’ Roll vs. Gators

Lost the game 10-8. This sucks monkey balls. We were winning [again] up until the very last inning when we fell apart [again]. What really gets me mad is that we have the best team if everyone would show up. We always field a sub par team and against a good team like we played today, it will always catch up to us. What really, really gets me mad is that I had the chance to win the game. Bases loaded, two outs, and I come up to the plate in the bottom half of the last inning. I already hit a homerun and came very close to hitting two others before I stepped up for my final at-bat. I was relishing the chance to be the hero and I was thinking that all I need is a solid hit, so I did not try to hit the ball with all my might. I should have tried because I hit a weak little dribbler for the final out of the game. I should have tried to knock the crap out of the ball since I felt real good today and was hitting real well. I should not have changed my style just because of the circumstances of the game. Oh well, I would not think so if I had just went up and hit the ball squarely. This sucks monkey balls, big, fat, space monkey balls.

Tuesday, July 23, 2002

The source of all evil

If I were a man of evil, I would not settle for being just some average evil figure committing petty evil deeds, nor your run-of-the mill evil dictator living off of the wealth of his downtrodden subjects. No sir, I would want to be the source of all evil. I would want people to have to come to me for their evil. You want to commit genocide? You must come to me and fill out form AH1070-2. Once all the formalities and the requisite background check is performed, I will dispense with the evil. You want to torture a stray dog? I got the evil you are looking for. It’s right here sitting on my shelf in the blue jar. For an extra 25 cents I’ll super-size that for you and you can go out and torture an elephant. You want to light a child on fire? [insert Samuel L. Jackson voiceover] Damn, you one evil motherfucker! I got what you are looking for right here in the back room.

I will make the devil look like an altar boy. Come one come all, I have evil, I am evil, evil am I! Evil! Evil! Agrhhhhh!

But … that’s if I were evil. Did I scare you? The scary thing is that all these evils have already been committed. I did not have to make them up. Sometimes I do wonder where people, fellow human beings, get their hands on evil. Where does it come from? Is it an inborn trait or is it manufactured? And if it is manufactured … where can I get my hands on some? So I can smoke that evil shit.

Monday, July 22, 2002

Welcome Netscape users

Good news is that I fixed the problem that prevented Netscape (version 6+) users from viewing my page properly. Unfortunately, the background color kaleidoscope has been rendered inoperable. Oh well, the kaleidoscope gets annoying after a while. If you see any other problems, please comment.

I have downloaded two other current browsers and it seems I am Mozilla (version 1.0) and Opera (version 6.04) friendly as well.

So what if it’s raining?

As I stepped outside on my way to my softball game I knew that the game was probably cancelled. I arrived 30 minutes early so I could practice pitching a pretend baseball game. During the next 30 minutes I could see cars arriving at the opposite side of the field. Some would stay a while and others would turn away after I am assuming being told that the game was cancelled. I kept pitching as the sky continued to drizzle. The ball kept slipping out of my hand as I hurled it. This did not deter me from stopping and going home. I picked up a bat and would hit the ball across the field where I would walk to where I had hit it and then hit it again, back across the field. I kept hitting it back and forth like this for about 15 minutes

After a while all the cars were all gone except for one truck. As I was hitting the ball, the truck tried to gain my attention by turning towards me and flashing its lights. I ignored them and continued to hit the ball. The truck driver gave up and headed away. The sky opened up and soaked me to the bone. I had a crazy look in my eyes as I played all by myself with my lightning rod of a baseball bat in my hands, standing in the wide open field. I was born to play ball. A little rain is not going to stop me.

Origin of the monkey aliens

A while ago I said that I would explain where I got the idea about the troublesome monkey aliens that enjoy tormenting me with their meddling antics. The idea came from my overactive dreaming imagination. I had a dream where I was attempting to sleep in the bed of a truck on my brother’s driveway, hidden away in the dark shadows of the side of the house. It was the middle of the night when I heard a couple of women approach the front door and frantically tried knocking on the door. My brother would not answer as the women repeatedly tried the door.

Just when they were about to leave, my good nature got the best of me and I ran up to them and asked if there was anything I could do to help them. Big mistake. They cackled maniacally with evil intent in their eyes as they put me thru torture after torture. I don’t remember the very middle of the dream but I do know that that the three women kept trying to kill me. I was barely able to escape them on numerous occasions and in self-defense ran them over with my car, but they were impervious to death and relentless as they continued to hunt me down. Eventually they got me.

I woke up overlooking the earth and became aware of a race of giant men playing with marbles. Inside each marble was a person that the giants took pleasure in tormenting. As I got a better look I realized that they were not ordinary men, but monkey men, jumping up and down in fevered excitement. And to the pain they caused, they laughed and laughed ... every last one of them.

It was my understanding that the race of giant monkeys sought amusement by tormenting mankind. I stumbled my way into their sights; all I had to do was keep quiet in the bed of the truck and their agents of anguish that they had sent would have gone away to find someone else for their sordid entertainment.

Damn you monkeys. Damn you. Leave me the hell alone.