-Answer to last post: it's the Laughing Man from Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex, which is required viewing for the Doghouse Reilly mail-in GED equivilancy degree. Trison2 wins the no-prize, nobody got the quote though (Catcher in the Rye, "I thought what I'd do was, I'd pretend I was one of those deaf-mutes. That way I wouldn't have to have any goddam stupid useless conversations with anybody. If anybody wanted to tell me something, they'd have to write it on a piece of paper and shove it over to me. They'd get bored as hell doing that after a while, and then I'd be through with having conversations for the rest of my life.")
-Soul and R&B (the real shit, not that fake top 40 nonsense) is the best music ever created, endyfookinstory. I have recently acquired a 6 disc set of old soul and funk music and the soul train has definitely stopped over in whiteboyville. I feel like I am living in a 70's blaxploitation movie and I don't ever want it to end.
-I love the library here. I could live in the non-fiction shelves. I practically do that already. There are so many books I want to read and so little time in the library's hours of operation. (ed. note- yes, I know you can check books out of the library, but currently, I cannot. This is what happens when you incur the wrath of the librarian gods and they issue a bounty for your mortal soul. I am making payments toward my ability to check out books as I speak... er, type.)
-If I don't end up going back to jail next tuesday, I will be going to live elsewhere very soon. If I do end up going back to jail next tuesday, I will be going to live there, and then, after that, doing whatever it takes to live elsewhere. I love this place, but it's out of control. Everyone I know is either on house arrest or probation. The people here are gleefully brainwashed automatons and everyone with any sense leaves here as soon as they can or they end up losing years of their life to rage against the status quo. If I stay here, it will be to die, not to live, and I'm not ready to go gentle into that good night just quite fucking yet. But someday, I will return, if only to destroy what's here and remake it in my own image.
-In accordance with the above; does anyone want to buy a Cadillac? '86 Seville, 180,000 miles, broken AC, but it runs fine and is in reasonably good condition and it is NOT stolen, I promise.
Asking $700. I'll post a pic when I get a chance, otherwise I'm going to post it up around 38th street, should get a bite or two from that.
-The Venture Brothers is such a sickeningly good show that I'm alternately amazed by how such an awesomely funny cartoon could make it to the air, and depressed because it's SO much like the stuff I like to write for my comics that I really don't know how I can compete. I really want to laugh and cry with every joke. But hey, Jackson Publick was a writer for the live-action Tick show before he launched VB, so maybe I can find solace in the cannibalistically incestuous nature of entertainment. "If you can't beat em, join em." I still want to beat em, though.
-I find that even on SG, I am still an island of nebulous, alien identity amidst a sea of homogenous thought, a riptide toiling in futile subversion beneath the steadily forward marching whitecaps; or at least an oddly shaped, swampy, inhospitable peninsula bordered by beachfront paradise. I thought it was because of where I live, but apparently I'm just weird everywhere. I enjoy being a paradox, and moving freely between the black sheep and the dire wolves, but even a life of sincere irony can, by definition, only be truly appreciated by a select few. I'm neither jealous nor contemptuous of all the metal and the ink and the attitude and the ____coreness, it's just not me. Even what you perceive as me, is not me. Others' perception is my favorite toy, and apparently few people can see the strings, much less comprehend the puppeteer. I only wish I could come into contact with more people who got the same jokes. Ces't la vie.
-Soul and R&B (the real shit, not that fake top 40 nonsense) is the best music ever created, endyfookinstory. I have recently acquired a 6 disc set of old soul and funk music and the soul train has definitely stopped over in whiteboyville. I feel like I am living in a 70's blaxploitation movie and I don't ever want it to end.
-I love the library here. I could live in the non-fiction shelves. I practically do that already. There are so many books I want to read and so little time in the library's hours of operation. (ed. note- yes, I know you can check books out of the library, but currently, I cannot. This is what happens when you incur the wrath of the librarian gods and they issue a bounty for your mortal soul. I am making payments toward my ability to check out books as I speak... er, type.)
-If I don't end up going back to jail next tuesday, I will be going to live elsewhere very soon. If I do end up going back to jail next tuesday, I will be going to live there, and then, after that, doing whatever it takes to live elsewhere. I love this place, but it's out of control. Everyone I know is either on house arrest or probation. The people here are gleefully brainwashed automatons and everyone with any sense leaves here as soon as they can or they end up losing years of their life to rage against the status quo. If I stay here, it will be to die, not to live, and I'm not ready to go gentle into that good night just quite fucking yet. But someday, I will return, if only to destroy what's here and remake it in my own image.
-In accordance with the above; does anyone want to buy a Cadillac? '86 Seville, 180,000 miles, broken AC, but it runs fine and is in reasonably good condition and it is NOT stolen, I promise.
Asking $700. I'll post a pic when I get a chance, otherwise I'm going to post it up around 38th street, should get a bite or two from that.
-The Venture Brothers is such a sickeningly good show that I'm alternately amazed by how such an awesomely funny cartoon could make it to the air, and depressed because it's SO much like the stuff I like to write for my comics that I really don't know how I can compete. I really want to laugh and cry with every joke. But hey, Jackson Publick was a writer for the live-action Tick show before he launched VB, so maybe I can find solace in the cannibalistically incestuous nature of entertainment. "If you can't beat em, join em." I still want to beat em, though.
-I find that even on SG, I am still an island of nebulous, alien identity amidst a sea of homogenous thought, a riptide toiling in futile subversion beneath the steadily forward marching whitecaps; or at least an oddly shaped, swampy, inhospitable peninsula bordered by beachfront paradise. I thought it was because of where I live, but apparently I'm just weird everywhere. I enjoy being a paradox, and moving freely between the black sheep and the dire wolves, but even a life of sincere irony can, by definition, only be truly appreciated by a select few. I'm neither jealous nor contemptuous of all the metal and the ink and the attitude and the ____coreness, it's just not me. Even what you perceive as me, is not me. Others' perception is my favorite toy, and apparently few people can see the strings, much less comprehend the puppeteer. I only wish I could come into contact with more people who got the same jokes. Ces't la vie.
and i'll need it in time to turn it in friday 12 noon.
as a side note
hot picture.
the mustache in the later pictures... not so hot.
and why are you going back to jail, why were you there in the first place?