Double Noice

I miss you.

It's been too long.

I'll write soon.

il ritorno a casa

I'm moving back to Coos Bay this week.  Home to meth, poverty, and at least three Subways.  I can't say I'm looking forward to it (I'd assume it has something to do with feeling like I'm running away from something - what that something is... I'm still not certain).  But I'll be able to make some money and hopefully move back up to Eugene in a few months.

I sit back in my computer chair and it almost feels like my body has been worked over like laffy taffy in a three year old's hand.  All of my limbs feel like steel extensions: heavy, slow, unresponsive... maybe heat conducive too, in this freaking heat that's "setting the nation ablaze", haha.  And every time I wake up in the morning, it feels like I didn't rest well enough, you know?  I don't think I need more sleep.. maybe it's just boredom, seeping into my very bones.

Music is fantastic, and if you're at all interested in what kind of music I like to listen to, you should check out The Weepies.  Seriously, do what you can to find some of their songs and listen to them.  I mean, you prolly couldn't listen to this in front of most of your friends, especially if you're a dude.  All of your hetero-overdrive, Korn-listening, manly man types will give you the cold shoulder until you switch it to something more palatable, like this.

Before Sleep Comes

Three steps and

a sprint towards sleep,

the idea of you.

Two steps and

a sprint towards sleep,

the idea of me.

One more step and

a sprint towards sleep,

the grand idea of loneliness.

Twice every twenty-four, right before and right after,

I numb and make inaudible sounds.

My pillows are hugged out, dried out.

The greatness of me had to downsize.

Here I am.

How To Make Bread

Since I'm a total baller and I download movies off of the internet illegally, I found a good-quality version of Pixar's Wall*E.  I burned it onto a DVD and we've been meaning to watch it for the past couple of days, but only just got around to it tonight.  I really liked it, and it makes me want to see it in an actual movie theatre.

On a side note, this is how I make bread.

Edge of the World

Hey baby, wait and see

We're okay for another night

Lights so bright, long highway

We spent our whole lives dreaming

And now we walk slowly away

From the edge of the world

You my love, you won't leave

Broken hearts, fixed with rebuilt parts

Make us right, found your dove

That damn bird, it sings through the night

Hot Dog Stash Box

I found a picture of the hot dog "condiment holder" that I was talking about a bit ago. Check it.  See how shiny it is?  It glistens in the moonlight, too.  And it talks!  Did I mention that?  It says something like, "Line 'em up!  Relish, mustard, ketchup, onions!  Hot dogs!"

Lazy Summer Days

I found an incredible stash box today at a thrift store in town.  Of course, I was broke and had to say goodbye to my newfound friend.  It was this giant, plastic hot dog (about the size of a loaf of bread) that had a button on the side that said, "Press" on it.  As soon as you push it, the top of the hot dog automatically slides back and reveals a sweet, hidden compartment.  I'm looking at my desk right now and there's a perfect spot for it, right next to my incense holder and bottle of Hempz lotion.

Since it was hot out today (hold up - it's 9:11 PM right now.  Nothing weird about that, you're saying to yourself.  Wrong!  I catch the clock when it reads exactly 9:11 at least three or four times a week... it's creepy!), we decided we'd take our scrawny asses up the river a bit and go for a dip.  We had sandwiches and some sodas and chips, and we decided to pile up a bunch of rocks and make some sort of rock wall in the shallow water.  It looked great, guys.  Like, really great.

I've still got to do my laundry, and in order to do that, I've gotta go get some quarters.  K-Snooch out.

(Butt) Sex Talk

I found a pretty popular book at Goodwill the other day for 25 cents. Everything You Always Wanted To Know About Sex (But Were Afraid To Ask), explained by David Reuben, M.D.  Oh, and it was written back in 1969, so take that into account when I show you these excerpts from the book...

On the topic of male homosexuality:

What is male homosexuality?  Male homosexuality is a condition in which men have a driving emotional and sexual interest in other men.  Because of the anatomical and physiological limitations involved, there are some formidable obstacles to overcome.  Most homosexuals look upon this as a challenge and approach it with ingenuity and boundless energy.  In the process they often transform themselves into part-time women.  They don women's clothes, wear makeup, adopt feminine mannerisms, and occasionally even try to rearrange their bodies along feminine lines.

Look guys, it's true.  I (we) often transform into a part-time woman.  And I have to stuff since my breasts haven't dropped yet.  Haha, this guy is seeming a little silly.  Let's continue, shall we?

Surely there must be more to homosexuality?  There are dozens of variations but they all have this in common: the primary interest is the penis, not the person.  A homosexual may have as many as five sexual experiences in one evening - all with different partners.  He rarely knows their names - he is unlikely to see any of them again.  Besides, few homosexuals use their real names.  They generally go by aliases, choosing first names with a sexual connotation.  Harry, Dick, Peter, are the most favored.

Oh wow, he just hit the nail on the head.  I mean, I'm *certainly* not interested having a relationship with an actual human being.  Nope, I'm looking for a dim, brainless, hulk of a man that has a horse penis that never deflates.  And when I find that man, I'll be sure to use my fake gay name: Gaylord Seaman.

What about all the homosexuals who live together happily for years?  What about them?  They are mighty rare birds among the homosexual flock.  Moreover, the "happy" part remains to be seen.  The bitterest argument between husband and wife is a passionate love sonnet by comparison with a dialogue between a butch and his queen.  Live together?  Yes.  Happily?  Hardly.

Them be some mighty big fightin' words.  It doesn't even go on to explain that segment.  Instead, it simply dooms me to a wretched, bitter, loveless relationship (I care only about the penis, however, so it won't be *too* bad...).  And what about those gender role stereotypes?  Which am I, a butch or a queen?  I'd like to see myself more like Dr. David Reuben sees me: a dangerous, sexually-charged, superficial being with a love for sexually transmitted diseases and women's clothing.

Late Night Musing

Inside another sleepless night

I find myself poised behind a cigarette

A smoke filled conscienceness

Seems to be the only reality here

The clock reads late, but

Time seems to hold no bearing over me

As these tired words drag on I see

That as of late I'm slipping into uncertainty

Wound up in couch cushions and stale smoke

Like a fly caught in a web, trapped

The clock reads early now and sleep tempts these eyes

Listening to the sounds of late-night traffic

I feel a new day ahead

A Dazzling Display Of Colors!!

You know, I watched a firework documentary the other day at Ryan's house.  Something like 80% of America's fireworks come imported from China.  That got me thinking - how dank would a Chinese buffet be if they offered little sparklers in their beverages and and an ornamental dragon that sits at every table (when you push a button behind his ear, he giggles and produces flame!).  Consider that buffet to be wearing a Dankness Jacket of Magical Wonderment +12.

So a short note for you - Jared and I got each got ourselves (via our neighbor) a Sweet Tart, each of which has three hits of acid.  We're gonna give that a go, but I'll keep another blog window open so I can type on here if I feel so inclined.  Seriously, I'm going to enjoy this mix I just made, too.  Real quick, my top three psychedelic music groups:

1 - The Flaming Lips (Vein of Stars, My Cosmic Autumn Rebellion)

2 - Pink Floyd (Time, Any Colour You Like)

3 - Lemon Jelly (Space Walk, A Tune For Jack)

I've really needed some bathroom relief for the past few minutes, so I'm gonna dodge out and enjoy myself some toilet action.  I'll be hitting you up soon, so look forward to that!

I'm serious when I say "literally", by the way

Jared and I have found a new friend. It's a good thing, too - my roomies are camping for the second consecutive weekend and have left us to our own devices here at the apartment. The last time they left? The house smelled like reefer and spilt Pabst, and I think we might have eaten all the cereal...

Phidippus audax, aka the Bold Jumper Spider, is a beastly spider species that literally scares the shit out of me. I'm outside smoking a cigarette with J-Snoochie and Ryan when we find Larry sitting atop the handlebars of Mikey's bike. Larry is, of course, the name we gave it, and he's currently hanging out in a glass jar that we've outfitted with leaves, a stick or two, and a nice handful of grass*.

From the way I see, the little guy is prolly in paradise right now, with his makeshift luxury suite that's big enough for the whole family, enjoying himself IMMENSELY as the floppy fro and bushy beard of Jared pops in and out of view every few seconds. And since it's a jumping spider, we put a lid on the jar - BUT DON'T WORRY, animal lovers - we've made a couple of holes in the lid so Larry can get himself some oxygen action.

Anyway, Larry is beginning to make himself at home, and Jared and I are enjoying his company. I couldn't help but take a moment and think about the future, when Larry's gotten bigger and I've the wisdom of many years behind my old, frumpy body. Jared will have aged as well (but at three-times the rate of a normal person, due to a freak laboratory accident thirteen years from now), and we'll only hope that Larry remembers how kindly we treated him, and how often we gave him fresh foilage to play in, and how many times Jared softly sang to him as he fell asleep in his glass cage of emotion.

Oh, and remember how I said I met a guy named Leaf the other day? This morning, a guy with a cat in a harness walks up and asks if we have some change. I didn't (I did, but I didn't - you feel me?) but he gave us a smile and a handshake anyway. His name was Cloud, and his cat Cloudy.

Eugene is definitely a hippie town. I'm changing my name to either Willow or Moon Beam by the end of the week.

* Fuck grass.  Allergies are a bitch.