*ring ring*
Nick: Grocery Department. How can I help you?
Nick's Boss: You bastard. You're level 6 already?
Nick: 6 nothing. I'm one bank heist away from 7! Nicky the Chopper is about to usurp the family from you.
Nick's Boss: The hell you will. Also, I need you to order a half pallet of mixed eggs.
Nick: Kay.

It was a nice afternoon (or perhaps a morning) and a fine day to start out on a new musical project. Sadly as soon as the button on my grey trashmountain had been pressed, the screen was lit and the OS hade taken an alarming amount of time to start up again it turned out that the mere existence of a musicmaking afternoon (or morning) was reduced to null. With desperate attempts to reboot and see if it was temporary or trying to defrag the computer in it's current state turned out to be fruitless. In the end I had to call in the heavy artillery in the form of a family's friend who more or less is a computer expert. He gave me tips, I looked at the tips, bought one of them and sent it to him along with my old computer in order for things to be set up for me. It have taken me 3 months, maybe more but now I am...

BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-
AAAAAAAAAACK!!!!!!!


Instead of doing what I used to do before "the incident" ranged from taking care of my little garden, get into nordic walking, wander on and about in the house, get bored, work more than usual, loose contact with most netfriends... Basically I tasted a new and different life. What would've happend if I hadn't gotten into this thing with computers and the internet long ago? Well, there would be very little me around here. I think I might've been more of a gardener though. My hopes to the theories of paralell universes I say.


My new tool of desktoption. Anything would've done great but this is far beyond anything. It works better than I expected.


My own garden. Here I grow Potatoes, radish (two different types, see below), parsnip, carrots, parsley (root) Garlic, red and yellow onion plus scallions. in the little white "greenhousetent" I grow sallad, chards, peas and squash. The hanging cd's in the three corners are ways of fending off deer and other types of critter such as boars. Apparently it is very effective. Some boars went by some planted grass not long ago and dug for food but they left my garden alone. Gratitude!

Dreamlines is a generative drawing machine that creates a unique, ever-flowing painting after words you choose. Related images are gathered from the Net and used as raw material for the construction of your personal dream.



sample:

When I was a child, I thought,
Casually, that solitude
Never needed to be sought.
Something everybody had,
Like nakedness, it lay at hand,
Not specially right or specially wrong,
A plentiful and obvious thing
Not at all hard to understand.

Then, after twenty, it became
At once more difficult to get
And more desired - though all the same
More undesirable; for what
You are alone has, to achieve
The rank of fact, to be expressed
In terms of others, or it's just
A compensating make-believe.

Much better stay in company!
To love you must have someone else,
Giving requires a legatee,
Good neighbours need whole parishfuls
Of folk to do it on - in short,
Our virtues are all social; if,
Deprived of solitude, you chafe,
It's clear you're not the virtuous sort.

Viciously, then, I lock my door.
The gas-fire breathes. The wind outside
Ushers in evening rain. Once more
Uncontradicting solitude
Supports me on its giant palm;
And like a sea-anemone
Or simple snail, there cautiously
Unfolds, emerges, what I am.

(Philip Larkin)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5O2WPHVzqIQ

Sarah: You are such a horrible person. Honestly. You're like the meanest person I know.
Nick: *big evil grin*
Sarah: Even your smile is all death and destruction and evil. It's like your smile is your frown.
Nick: You know, that's exactly what I'm going for.

Bob Dylan doesn't look back, why should I?

I've spent the majority of the day being totally tough and not even a little bit sentimental. I've gone through my closet and now it's nearly empty. the last shelf, the top one, was full of shoe boxes which I knew held nearly every note ever written to me in school. I organized it once into separate shoe boxes.




When you're a sentimental pack-rat thats lived in the same room for 22 years, boxes of notes from 10 years ago are no surprise. but who wants to carry that shit around when they move? I sure don't. diving into my closet I found a lot of hilarious stuff from my awkward adolescent days (which could arguably still be continuing without me knowing it). I haven't gone through all the notes, but I've skimmed some...

What I've learned through other's notes during my jr high/high school years to me is:
-school sucked and was hella boring
-I was upset about boys A LOT (that didn't change after school)
-dumb gossip about people I don't remember
-everyone had gel pens but me
-everyone knew complicated note-folding origami
-everyone wrote a LOT of notes

I'm guessing the rest are a bit repetitive and it'll be safe to recycle the majority. but in case there are some gems in there, I want to get them before my memory forgets them completely.

( like this one for example... )

Youtube - Christopher Titus - Norman Rockwell is Bleeding 9/9 - 0:50-0:55
He feels about his standups the way I feel about my writing

I miss Gilmore Girls
Gossip Girl is also GG...

There's too much approval-seeking and it's making me sick.

At dinner tonight, I could smell the sambal my brother had put in his food. He sits next to me. I knew it needed salt. I could smell!

this is an entry for threadless for their 'lomography loves threadless' contest. it's a transformer made out of their best cameras. already people don't like the "light streaks" I attempted to make the robot look less boring, so I hope I'll get a chance still and they're not voting too low. :(

I want lomo cameras!!
if you vote nice, I'll take pictures of you with cool cameras if I win.
yeah yeah yeah!

Adunaphel1183 (1:25:01 PM): according to my snapple, the average smell weighs 760 nanograms
Smj105 (1:25:34 PM): yes, but my smell is hardly average

Perspective is wonderful...and dangerous. Just as alcohol lowers inhibitions, realizing the grass may indeed be greener on the other side is an inspiration to overcome inertia.

To continue in a somewhat less metaphysical, more practical manner...my reveries and introspective meditations where occasionally interrupted by observations of natural phenomena. Some phenomena are explainable, others remain mysteries for geniuses of later generations to unravel. While it is culturally explicable to me why the courtesy of drivers increases as you travel from North to South along the east coast of the United States, I find it quite an enigma as to why "mini-vans", regardless of their state of origin, are not factory equipped with directional signals nor cruise control. This is a statistically proven fact: mini-vans (or their ne'er-do-well pilots) can neither maintain a consistent highway speed for more than 20-25 seconds or make a lane change using a blinker.

I was house-sitting for the last two weeks in a house much nicer than my cramped, busted up hovel (ie. my parents' house) as my sister was working 24/7 looking after a young girl. It was nice; I playacted at being responsible and together. I cooked and then, by gosh, did the dishes straight afterwards. I actually folded my clothes, surprised that the habit formed so quickly after years of tossing clothes behind me as I undressed. I went to bed at a reasonable hour and was on-time to work three days in a row! My co-workers were shocked at the absolute fabulousity of my (temporary) punctuality. I didn't even care about the lack of internet, content to listen to Japanese boybands and read. I watched tv! and knew the beat-up current affairs stories people were talking about in the lunch room at work. That last thing was a mistake, now that I think about it.

While I was flush with my new-found grasp on the details of my life, I realised, and this may come as a shock to anyone that has read this journal, that I really hate my job. I've always known that but goddamn if I'm not a complacent fucker too lazy to find a job that doesn't make me hate myself. Plus my co-workers are nice!

But last week, there I was: together, mature, getting out of bed before noon even when I didn't have to. So I got another job, quite easily. I'll be working in a call centre for a charity, annoying people for money. Not awesome but it's a change and I won't come home stinking of deli products and manky dishwater. Except for when I will because I'll still do some hours at my old job. Damnit. Damn my love of money and all the wonderful things it buys.
*

Dear John Hughes,

I know it's been awhile that you've made any films, so I'm assuming you have some time to possibly answer some questions. Okay, here we go.

Why are you such a genius? Were you born a genius or did you go through your teen years with angst, heartbreak, best friends who didn't fit with the "in crowd" and hung around and read books and made art and dressed way cool? Your life was probably awesome, and I can only imagine it is way awesomer even now with all the piles of money you have.

The movies you have made are timeless. They can relate to any generation. And I'm totally into those red fingerless fringe gloves that Watts wears in Something Kind of Wonderful. Did you name that movie after you and your gift of yourself to the world? Thanks, Sir John Hughes, for being so giving. Have you been knighted yet?

I grew up watching Home Alone. Till this day, I love just being home alone. Probably inspired by the movie, your genius, of course. And everyone knows that Ferris Bueller's Day Off inspired a nation, nay, the world, to skip school. Stick it to the man, man!

You single-handedly created the Brat Pack, which is the greatest combination of actors of this and anyone's generation. How do you recreate the first feeling of love all over again? Do you have a bank account I can just straight wire you money to? because you're a genius. and you should be paid.

What is your bed like? Does it consist of wads of $100 bills? and 900 thread count sheets? of money? I hope you live forever and write more teen movies from the 80s. Which I'm sure will be possible, after you create a Time Machine with your own genius mind.

I will be waiting in the future for more past movies to watch... written, produced and directed by you. The Genius. I look forward to more enlightenment of really good looking people and the odd ducks that rise to the top (even though they are also really good looking). It's amazing the purest of love they find in high school. that just doesn't happen these days.

Thank you for changing my life. Because of you, (sir?) John Hughes, I have always believed in finding that 'one person' and TRU LUV 4 EVAR!!

Love,
Alex Thomas

ps i will overlook beethoven's 5th and home alone 3 & 4.

Man.

School of Rock is such a good fuckin' movie.

I can breath through my nose! I can breath through my nose almost completely! It feels like the tubes through my head from my ears to my nose and further are actually free! It's amazing how liberating the little, normal things feel if you've been denied them for a time.

On the other hand I've changed bra's at least three times today, they all hurt. I thought I'd finally found a solution.  I haven't.