i'm fine, bitch

i watched the last half of the halloween episode of the office and wanted to cry.

in fact, i'm pretty sure the fact that i'm at the grad lab is the only thing deterring me.

and even that gate is a bit tenuous

so apparently M.F. and his whole developer team went to facebook headquarters, as showed up on my stalkerbook feed. i saw minhee in that picture and nearly dropped my fork in shock.

what the fuck?

and then on the comments, i see that both him and mike have 'liked' the status. HOW FUCKING WEIRD?
i'm not sure if it's weirder that they're connected like that or that nobody, least of all them, knows it.

oh, man.

i still remember sitting in his chair drinking shitty pina coladas, sitting in the hallways with him shooting the shit, talking with him every day on fucking AIM. he was both more and less of a brother than i've ever had, you know.

i really miss him sometimes.

i didn't do it for show. i did it to be done

it's not that obvious to me

So today I'm taking out the trash, and with it, almost every insignificantly significant thing I had of mike's. I haven't thought of or opened the bag in so long I've forgotten what's even in there. Let's see..

•   One (1) pair of heart shaped white rimmed sunglasses that he bought in spain for like two euro, to be returned
•  One (1) piece of creased blank white paper that he folded into an airplane at under the couch while talking about his father, who is a pilot
• One (1) blue post it note with a smiley face on it that he drew, and a produce sticker of an apple. I used to bite smiley faces into his apples, and move the mouth so it would talk. 
• One (1) ticket stub to the Yeasayer concert we went to. Details not worth rehashing. 
• One (1) holga film photograph of his felt gameboy ipod cover next to my felt SNES phone cover. 
• One (1) empty gum packet from when he left the last piece for me before leaving for class one day
• One (1) antennae headband from the Bugs? show. Details omitted despite being worth rehashing. 
• One (1) string of blue beads from the show too. See above.
• One (1) nametag from when we switched during student center training. Stuck on my wall and of infinitely more significance to me at that time, his name, than its physical representation
• One (1) burned cd copy of Pavement given to me for my birthday 

Looking at all these things now, it's easy to see how very little I had. Quel cauchemar. They meant so much to me then, you know?

Anyway, off to the dumpster I go....

ok, you always do something stupid at one of their parties so good god, j, do try to -- ok there's my ride

hot doorknobs

i wonder if other people felt what i feel with jason. when i see him understand that he can do better, that he deserves better. what went through people's minds when i stood on newborn legs, shaky with undodged bullets and unfinished wants. i can't help that brief bloom of --of something, when he opens his phone and then closes it again, "i'll text her later", the brief canine internal conflict before "nah, you and chad are here and i'm gonna hang out with you guys".

the knowing is enough for me, i suppose. back when i was lost in the haze, and mike could do no prosecutable wrong, and everyone, everyone, saw something frail and watery in him that i didn't-- so of course i would rather jason find someone more...more. i'm moderately satisfied if he goes into it at least knowing it's a bad idea. better that than some bright delusion. but how do you even look after someone you know nothing of, and simply feel some unexplained, illogical affection for?

hope does spring eternal, mind. lightning rods exist for a reason.

but--but-- i see that unhappy tilt of his mouth and all i can think

of is when i stuck my head out the window of a smoky room and breathed that sweet, clean air

rambleramble

chad wrapped his freakishly long (read: normal for a tall guy) arms around me yesterday in a brief hug and it was pretty much the best thing. i felt so warm and cuddled. i wish we hung out more, but i don't think we're that type of people.

've been looking into making mulled wine as the temperature drops. things have been crazy hectic these past few days, and there were definitely times i felt crazy inside. felt lately that i just can't speak with the relative ease i used to. who knows why... just have to power through it, i suppose. some days you're ahead and some days you're behind.

went and got ribs/beer with elliot etc the other day. it was mucho nice after so much business to sit back, eat stick to your gut food, drink a cold beer, and listen to blues music. like i don't even know why i haven't gotten behind this combination before. there's a party tomorrow at his place and i'm still debating how strange i wanna get. aw shit, and there's jca on sunday. welp. that's gonna be.... um. crap, i haven't thought this through.

just rambling.

took pictures of my mom. not posted, the genuine ones. the ones she wants to delete, the ones i wanna develop and frame.

i wish i had more to say.

just rambling.

BMP 10/19

BMP 10/19: pushed that button.

maybe will elaborate more later, but it was a button. we didn't know what it did.

i can't be more clear about this sentiment: after 5:30 tomorrow, NOT A SINGLE FUCK WILL BE GIVEN.

taxi cab

phd kid has this terrible habit of looking up at me unintentionally through his eyelashes and i cannot even.

it tangles up my insides somethin' crazy.

toooooooooooo baaaaaaaaaaaad :/

but seriously.

insides: AKLKSDJFASLDFJASHDKFA
feelings: lololololol
brain: shut up shut up shut up

locks and keys

i listen to classical music because sometimes, more often than not, when i do it just feels like--like--

there will be two measures in a chopin impromptu, trite. but it still makes sense to me, like everything is as it should be.

sometimes elgar feels like forgiveness, and beethoven feels like helplessness, and schubert feels like warmth.

but it all feels like home.

E Emily:  i think even though u super liked him

some of it comes from the fact that you weren't done

but i can't be that crazy bitch anymore. i don't wanna see you, i don't want you to miss me or think about me, or be sorry. not that you do. i'm just saying that's not what i want from you anymore.

a lot of girls are crazy, i won't be one of them

sorry it's taking me so long. it may take a bit longer. 

she tells me there's a light at the end of the tunnel though, and for the first time i think i really believe her. 

BMP 10/16

BMP 10/16: wiped up and threw away the spider i had smushed with a large book and left there for a day (and intended to leave there until it magically disappeared).


NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE

the great cb

“there are worse things
than being alone
but it often takes
decades to realize this
and most often when you do
it's too late
and there's nothing worse
than too late.”
― Charles Bukowski

OKKKKKKK, OK, GETTING BACK TO BMP TOMORROW

what i realized today

i have memories of people where there was no awkwardness, or general bad feeling-ness associated with it. the eye of the shit storm, if you will. oases in shit deserts? too much. but really; nothing bad followed, and nothing bad came before. nothing bad balanced out the good; they were just these diamond gems that must have been gifts.

memories of sang that were purely good: 

1. watching the world series in the study lounge
2. that one time he knocked on my door before camping out for football tix and i made him late because i refused to let him leave 
3. that time we went grocery shopping 
4. calling him every night on thanksgiving break from an orlando hotel balcony, having someone to call that was strangely home, the feel of that warm night breeze 

memories of tim that were purely good:

1. that time i was sick and couldn't stop coughing every few seconds and he just stayed in bed and stroked my hair
2. that time before we had to DTR when we sat outside and he laced his hands with mine for a brief moment
3. that time we went to carvers and piedmont park and played page france in the car with the windows down
4. that text you went while i was working at kumon that said 'how are the little punks treating you?' i still have it saved in my phone. 
5. the first time anyone ever brushed back a tendril of my hair behind my ear 
6.  god that boy was so sweet to me

memories of mike that were purely good:

1.  

   

manquer

talking to fozz at 7:30a and knowing it's almost midnight for him in NZ and that he has to go to sleep
makes me sad.
that whole, knowing that while i was sleeping, he was x thousand miles away, getting off work and going home and being awake.
distance hurts a tiny bit, sometimes, you know?
when you realize how great it is.
even when they're right next to you.
distance in all forms.
remember that.
(especially you assholes that try to break up with your girlfriends the 'kind' way)
i miss you, ben.

muuurrrrrrrr

hello0o0o0o...

so.....just you and me....alone in the grad lab....again....

[looks over]

[looks back]

....

:*

oh for crying out loud. really? really?

glances

hey, don't gimme that shit.

I'm the one that can look, ok. I'm the one with the crush. You're just the guy who won't make a move, you can turn around and get back to work. I don't wanna see you all -- well-- ok, yeah, I don't really mind.

:3

absurdity

phd kid hums under his breath sometimes. and gestures with his hands a lot when he speaks.
i am a tiny bit smitten. just a tiny bit.
ಠ_ಠ

but then i always did have a soft spot for people that have something to say. 

i need someone to tell me to stop being an idiot.
stop being such a shitty person, stop drifting back to mike when i've had more than one beer, or at least stop talking about it (it's getting old), stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop

i should be doing things that actually matter. not fostering my self absorbed ... ness.
let's try to do that instead.

I WOULD LIKE TO REITERATE THAT BOYS ARE DUMB AND I HATE THEM

alksjdfa;sdfalkdjfas;dlfkasj

FUCK THIS SHIT BOYS ARE DUMB

[LEAVES LAB]

phd kid is more trouble than he's worth.

(and he doesn't even DO ANYTHING, although, is that the problem?)

[throws up hands]

GRARGH

the transience of life to a general people is seemingly such that nobody cares until it is gone, and even after that, the interest wanes after a few days.

although we affect a choice number of people, it seems clearer than ever that our lives, as numbered and tiny as they are, are best filled from everlasting to everlasting with God in between.

that's good enough for me. that's more than enough.

seriously, though, i give it a week before all the steve jobs quotes go away

thingz

you don't think i know what you're doing, or that i notice.

but i do,
and it helps more than you know.
thank you.

ALSO NEED TO GET BACK TO THE BMP NAW MEAN

to the kid with the bob marley hair

sometimes i wonder if the future is going to be like this:

5 years later, if we're still in contact, i'll say, you know i used to have this strange sort of crush on you, and most every day i'd peek over the edge of my computer when you were at the lab, wondering if you'd ever come over and talk to me.

come talk to me :< come talk to me come talk to me i'm right here. and i wanna do things like hold your hand and kiss you hello on the cheek.

i don't know when it happened, but somewhere along the way, i realized mike was not good enough.

and so, having re-re disposed of the monster

phd kid hates poetry.
this could be a problem.
but he says, "we could keep arguing about this for the next two or three years. you won't win."

ha, mechanical.
well, so it's mechanical!