twenty years in the making

I am so annoyed that I cannot sleep. Why can I not sleep. I feel like this always happens on the dawning of my birthday. I am awake and I do not know why. Oh. mygod. Its bad too. I already have a terrible problem with hindsight. I could look through it forever and never come up for air or Real.

Here I am, lost back in time two or three years ago (it was three now that I think about it) in a house on 11th avenue where I am too stoned to move or understand how i know this kid that keeps talking to me, this is the first time, i am stuck in this house and everything after that, all these people these faces, faces faces faces-
and theyve been there somewhere always been here but i forget now im back in really cold snowbanky cigarettey whiskeyland Minnesota where people talk too loud and slow
and there are bros who bleed purple and take dips with flannel

and where was i three years ago when i was dumb and turning seventeen and made myself a mini drama
and oh look

hindsight

i learned alot since then i guess

-

but then i think again to dark cold winterpasts
and think of dudezone and the red glow on wood floors and Purple Rain or 40classic hits (or whatever that record was called, i know csank could correct me really easy)
and how much i TooMuch drank and how the care we had for each other was weird and Off a bit but in a way I cant describe

faces faces faces
why am i awake.

no really. i think its weird that i went to the minnesota state fair and saw people i knew. i think its weird that this kid i met in the glen knows this girl that looks like me in minneapolis. i think its weird that you cant escape olympia in cities that are actually big. i think its weird that how many years have passed? really?

-

i dont know why im awake
i hope twenty year old meg is as lucky as the seventeen year old one. less crew more prosperity i dont know though heres hoping.

Last night in Minneapolis I saw a big green sign for Scooterville. I dont know what it was but a sure sign of something, especially in the midst of snowbanks and slush that remind me of puffy jackets and golden jewelry circa 1992.

Anyway.

Maybe for my birthday I will turn Responsible.

the thing is, toaster doesnt get it,
willy haine yelled at me adn said YOU HAVE A SOUL MATE
TTHATA IS DAWSON AND JOEY SHIT RIGHT THERE

and the moere that i thought about it
the more it became true i guess

but reallyi hage a soul mate

i dont care becasuse facebook do3esnt love me noone does but im at klecker chirstmas and tahhattt is scarrrrrry enough and soulmaters are not real in this wordld. only ROSEvilllle.

flrget me. please.

Also, I think that A) 'Hardcore 7"s' is the best Facebook application I've ever seen, and B) Going to college for Aesthetics must be some sort of cheating

Tis nice to be in the midwest; there is snow on the ground and processed food in the fridge, my little brother cant stop arguing with my parents.

This morning I went to Matthews for breakfast with my dad and my grandma, this is the only restaurant in Circle Pines I think. We talked about Christmas and my dad complained about going to church, he said Maybe we Should Sit On The Other Side of the Sanctuary This Year, Well Throw Them All Off!

But then Grandma reminded him that Hayes family who always sits behind us would then get confused and since this is how its been for the twenty years of my existance, I daren't argue if even for my father's Christmas sanity.

My stepdad told me to wash my hair
and then he told me he was going through the application process of working for DOC as a guard at Stillwater. To which I had a slight panic attack, to which I tried to explain why this was a horrible idea, to which i then thought about the fact that since his fire department retirement, delivering fruit and painting houses hasnt been the greatest for my family for my parents,

and i realize that working for DOC is one of the only state jobs that John could qualify for, and that getting a state job is a surefire way of us getting any kind of financial stability,
and yes i can come home and blather about why the prison industry is evil and why we should not support it but what do i know about supporting a sixperson family

and think abot this so DOC money is going to put me in college so I can go to Gateways and talk all this theory and in my own family it is being proven to me that the economy loves jail and jail makes jobs and me myself cant live this life unless being supported by this job in this jail
gah

i could blather forever but maybe I will wait for January 5th first Check In of the year. im not sure i make any sense anyway.

Financial Indifference.

The government sent me 104 dollars in "unclaimed" funds yesterday. I like surprise money, because it is and always will be blood money.  I cashed 25 of it hoping to buy a bottle of booze, but instead I lost the money. Lastnight was Niki's going a way party and Oni got me a hotdog.

Funky Little White-Out

So downtown has had a christmas face lift in the last two days. The snow has continued to stick, and I would say that we have a good 2 or 3 inches. A strange blizzard olympia. This morning I went to SIZIZIS, new black 24 hour cafe, and read and wrote and felt more productive then I have in a long time. The coffee was acidic and strong, and the mood was more sinister-antique then I had anticipated. Elegant wood working, i wish I had brought a comic book. I saw Am'Lee bobble by, and ran into her later at clubside with david. She had eaten a hamburger. Meatfest 08 is underway. I ate some great fish and chips lastnight that oni swipped from fishtale. We watched some of the CIVIL WAR documentary and got tired. Cold feet, I want to take a shower, but I have to wait for the UPS truck to deliver skinny jeans. I wish there was a 'Skippers' downtown. I had a dream lastnight were my old neighbors put up some rad glow in the dark wallpaper.

diablogical dreaming

this morning i woke up on a pull out couchbed with two friends and they asked me to tell them a bedtime story but i had just woken from a dream and in this dream i was stoned and so i said no i'm too stoned dreaming to tell it and they laughed but in this dream i was on an island probably Jamaica or Antigua i think so on this island i smoked weed at the island version of the big scary black house and kevin and i sat on the chair together smoking and talking and caroline biked there and she got naked on a toilet and loaded a bowl and there was this huge bridge to cross to get to the funky island downtown but the view was so different but so the same too and rosie was walking in front of me wearing a bomber jacket and i spray painted gold letters on the back of her jacket that said Rosie Loves Reno the view was so different and gus was there and he and i walked around the island Antigua? and we looked at jewelry and a computer shop and i had ferry anxiety because the boat was leaving so i went to the YMCA and the doors kept getting smaller once i was in there and it was more and more anxiety feeling and i was given mac n cheese and other foods on styrofoam plates i don't think i made the ferry because i was stoned in antigua.

I remember when we first let ourselves have armpit hair;
and ate mac and cheese sitting in circles on the floor in the soup, weird boys on drugs crawling through the window and empty Carlo Rossi jugs collecting dust on empty surfaces.I remember the four of us and how we'd stomp around to Janis and have parties for no reason and convince people to give us their car. How we were going to GET A HOUSE! and MOVE OFF CAMPUS! and BE REAL PEOPLE!
and it was exciting.

Last night downtown Olympia was LetTheFreshmanOffCampus night I think, there were little girls in cute unique outfits sitting at Cafe Vita planning to get a house together. Talking about staying the summer. Talking about making lives together making lives with Olympia being excitedexcited and feeling grown up. It was a weird feeling, that knowing feeling. Looking at them with a smile and remembering my first fall quarter,

How ultimately exciting yet ultimately horrifying everything was and how I really was making a life for myself although I hardly knew it.

I am reading that book that there are millions of copies in the attic of the SafePlace business office, that book thats called Listen Up. And theres a story I read today and this girl talks about growing up, she says,
I was just waiting for my life to begin.

I realized today when I read the SafePlace book that thats all that I do, I just wait for my life to begin. I plan. I plan and plan and plan. And at the end of this plan, is my life, whenever I will actually get to it. When exactly do I think that my life is beginning? When will things actually happen for me when will I feel like I'm living- Is it ever going to feel like its real?

This is how I felt when I packed all my life up seven suitcases two carry-ons three boxes and more in the mail. This is how I felt when I got ready to leave for Olympia, I felt ready for my life to begin. And ever since, I think I've kept on waiting. So why have I not thought about that freshman land and how and what it did to me and who I've become since? Is this the life I've planned on? Isn't what I'm living what I planned to do six months ago?

Everything seems so beautiful in hindsight. This we know. So warm and cozy we can curl up with nostalgia and eat if forever just like Danny's pasta. But why is it so great when its not happening and why is it also so great when it hasn't happened yet?

You've got the world at your fingertips. You're young, you're beautiful, you're intelligent, you're happy. You can do so many things and you can go so many places. But you've got to believe in yourself, and believe in where you can go and what you can be. And to do this you must see where you've already gone and what you already are. And that's where it gets hard.


I remember that first winter here and the way we all exploded into ourselves. Amelie joined a million student groups, fell in love with a million things, smoked a million Newports, and told me a million times "Fuck the Patriarch". Becca got grown up and got writing and got a tattoo. Joelle put up a tent in the field, taped her hands in to claws, ran away to a meditation retreat, dropped out, bought a boat, got banned from Safeway, Lord Knows Really.

I can't remember what happened with me. Maybe I conveniently forgot. But I would like to explode into myself again sometime soon. And this time, I have some idea of what to do with it.

Reminiscing of times gone down the drain.

Sitting home and I wish I wasn't. But I am staying faithful for an appointment to talk. Scheduled conversations could be uncomfortable for multiple parties. I almost said something today in class, and I remain proud of myself for attempting to attempt. We are pondering the absence of matter that a screen is. It is the first time we have attempted to cover some thought figures that can relate to something other then themselves. This can be political; or social in the very least. Maybe I'll forgo a power internship? With SweetTooth in Seattle, and Magoo somewhere else, I am at a loss about what to do. The new record player is spinning with the needle off of the vinyl. The sound it makes as it travels round fits well with the rain dropping. Scattered entries can be productive. Poem, Paragraph, or Traditional Autobiographical Diary Entries, We remain a tolerant blog (and I pray that this entry will not be an exception.) I went to Sarah's work to apologize and A lady who doesn't work there questioned my age; she looked like the sort that I could feel okay about judging on appearance. In short, I didn't want to speak with her any longer then I had to, so I said I was under 21 to avoid questioning and further contact. The further contact would have obviously been a demand to see identification. Even though it would have taken 3 or 4 extra seconds to fib in a recreational manner, saying that I had absentmindedly forgotten it at home, I was through looking at this woman.    She then requested that I remove myself from the bar. It was a sorry walk home, I didn't even really get to say I was sorry. No phone at home alone. Economic tsunami.     

thriving, teasing, timeworn

little sad lonely night:
smoking outside my window
feet on canoe,
smoking lavender producing
less sleep than ever.
suppressed laughter and potsmoke
is creeping under/over the hall.
the women in blues-history
is less inspiring, out of mind
when emptiness of computer screen wins always.

laughter is less suppressed
when it is pulled out couches,
miles south, splurge and slumber
retelling proven to be apathetic.

for fuck's sake! (does) reflection change anything

each experience is worth twenty points

Get your clay (about a half pound is a good start for beginners) and start squishing it. Squish on it here, then over there, then there... I advise to not fold it over itself, as that would create what you're trying to get out, air bubbles. Squish your clay until it's workable. You can check your clay by cutting it in half with a wire. When you cut it and don't see any air bubble it should be good to go.

This is how you start to center your clay.

Smack into a round ball. Smack, not pound.

There is no pounding when you try to get centered.

Throw your clay as close to the middle as you can.

You are trying to get centered.

Start spinning the wheel and center your clay. Center the clay by placing one hand on the side the the other on top of the clay ball. The hand on the side should push towards the middle of the wheel and the hand on top should just keep the clay from pushing up into a cone. You will know it is centered when the clay looks like it is not moving but the wheel is moving. This step is extremely important if your clay is not centered it will be difficult/impossible to make a nice pot.

#

Mr. Olsen said I would fail 3D art but it turned out failure meant a C. And that was fine with me. It would have been pretty embarassing if I actually failed an art class.

All I did in i high school was go to art class. Well not art class so much as art room. I liked making things. I liked working things into other things. I liked bobbling around and thinking about stories and songs and how colors interacted with them. How peoples heads responded to notes and tunes and words and noises. I was on top of the world. I listened to sunshiney motown music in my minivan every morning. I drank cheap wine on bonfires and beaches every weekend. I read books that I wanted to read for me and not for school. I was surrounded by love and glee in people and in pictures.

I hated 3d art because it scared me. First of all, I hated the soddering iron. Growing up with a firefighter made flame of any kind a scary, scary thing. I didn't want to sodder things. Not a ring, not a scultpure, not a single assignment that brought to mind the scary murmuring of mom-and-stepdad conversations the morning after a brutal fire in which stepdad would not tell details. So those assignments, I avoided.

Moreso than anything, the problem with 3d art was that damn pottery wheel. I hated that pottery wheel. I could not spin. I could not sculpt. My clay was never a distinguishable form before I angrily crumpled it up and threw it into the bins making sluree. I didn't have the patience or the agility. My clay never got centered. If your clay is not centered, you cannot turn it into anything else. So I never made anything because I never got centered, and this and my fear of fire is why I really-but-not-really failed 3d art.

#

Wet your hands, and raise the clay into a cone, then squish it down into a thick hockey puck. You can do this a couple of times. It is called wheel wedging and it helps condition the clay. Make sure it is still centered when you are done.

Of course, you cant actually do this if you are not centered. If you're clay is not centered, you're clay is not going to do anything else.

Wet Your hands and stick your thumb slowly into the middle (spinning of course) until it leaves about 1/2 of an inch for the bottom. Also until it make a round hole in the clay.

Wait, what did I just say?! You cant do this if you didn't get centered. Did you ever get centered? IF YOURE CLAY IS NOT CENTERED YOUR CLAY IS NOT GOING TO DO ANYTHING ELSE.

Stick your four fingers into the hole, and slowly pull out until the hole is about as big as you want the bottom to be. Place your fingers on the edge of your newly widened hole. Place one hand on the outside and the other on the inside of the clay wall make sure they are directly in line with each other so if you removed the clay from between them your finger tips would touch. Pull up the walls by starting at the base of the pot and pulling towards the top with even pressure on you finger tip. Continue this until you reach your desired height or until the walls are about a centimeter thick.

THIS IS POINTLESS DONT YOU GET IT. YOUR CLAY WAS NOT CENTERED. YOU CANNOT MAKE A POT.

Wet your hands, if you want to shape it, just "cup" the part of it that you want to be smaller then the other. This just take practice to learn.If you want the top to be a bit wider than the neck, slowly pull it out a bit. Not too much, or it'll fall off.

What do you mean by "if you want", you can't want anything, theres nothing to have! You're not making a thing! How are you going to shape something that you never got started correctly in the first place?! You have no foundation. Without a foundation, what do you build on?! You can't make a pot when you never centered your clay, your clay is not alright, your clay cannot do anything else until you first center it!!#! WHEN IS THIS GOING TO GET THROUGH TO YOU!?

When you're finished, get a wire or fishing line, and use it to cut the bottom off the wheel.

When you're finished? What a joke. When did you get started?

Scooter's christmas wish-list:

1) Snow-Scooter. 

november seventeenth

need more vitamins. need more protein. want to run and kick a ball around. Before exercise comes a revealing of truths or something. having trouble reigniting my creative surge. Where did it go? Need a creative-kick-in-the-ass. ---->maybe look to others image of creativity and beauty as in stolen art books.

so, like, will my words make rhymes that are not protected by a locked chest? will my brain hurt when i fail to connect to the three other parts that once pointed out mean ten times i remember them? will memory start being in my step once again or is it as fragmented as the clothing, books and boxes in a basement haunted in and by minnesota?

what gets created again and again in circles all over everything -- isn't it always inextricably linked to the circles i ran from? and in that process of running away -- did it happen too quickly? have i slash-and-burned tru luv and is chance in abundance? Or is chance just the out of our hands word we use to mean to say choice? and isn't free will referring to the sweet queer boy hidden in all of us (me)? is there a way i can make this verse more real and accessible to my friends around me? Stella is right, "The thing about Poetry, tovah, the thing about Poetry is that it doesn't have to make sense." when hava told me that night in the unmentionable alley (RIP REEF) that i walk around with open love in my heart, well i believed her then but now am trying to see that, see that in myself without looking to others to see it reflecting back at me. self-reflect and then, like, comes self-love, right? perhaps more to that flow than meets my eyes and perhaps, again, it will take three more of these books/blogs/parts to get it straight.

reminders -- listen harder when i am listening. say what i mean. leave notes in tree trunks. think of everyone in life as humans and never as concepts. give up gluten. concepts are not real; humans are realer than anything. take a hotsaltybath. look at the nature more and run in it and don't (try to) conceptualize the nature. sew life-positive messages on to all types of clothing and backpacks.

Dancing Cabbage # 1 is done. I better see it recreated on someone's flesh in the near future. 

Grease Fire.

I trudged blocks of rain to plant myself at a home-work haven just to find it burnt down. The windows were blackened, outside I smoke cigarettes with a group of youths that had a few bags containing way to many pastries. There is a leak in my roof, this is odd because I live on the first floor. So it must be someone (alex's) shower or sink. I have to read a hefty amount of hegel. Hey bloggers, get a grip and post? 

Monday Morning Montana Mope.

Meg saw us put the final polishes on the trip as we pulled into the gravel drive of the Bettman House to summon a possible sleep. We, (the admiral, carns, and myself), Had decided to sprocket out of Missoula when the going got ruff. We left last night at 11:45 and got here this morning at 9: a.m. (without the help of caffeine or other such stimulants). It was a rainy affair, and I remain proud and sad at such an accomplishment, even though I offered virtually no aid in driving. 

Montana itself was the medicine I needed. Though there was lacking enforcement and expectance of all things crew. You can smoke indoors at many cafes, and there are real buffalo heads on many a wall. Grease in spoon is fun but not all the time. I cut out of being vegan for the past while, and I regret it. At this point it has almost become like smoking cigarettes, a constant contrast and battle, but something that is always good to talk/complain about. 

We drank the montana crowd under the table.      

Pre-Halloween Advice.

In thinking about being alone and depressed there is a retreat available. A cozy nest that protects from all forms of campus frustration and hatred. When I am at school there are many people I don’t want to hear speak, there are many people I don’t want to see. In short, I want no sense of community with much of the people I come into contact with. This is because I am depressed, and thus alone. It is possible that if I changed my outlook on life this would not be th case. I might even begining reshearch to improve my chances. But I don’t and haven’t. Thankfully there is another way…

Find your inner-crew.

This can be done in a variety of different ways. (beer shot gunning, beer bonging, sibling rivalry practice, fights, ect.) The big thing is to not lose focus of the fact that friends are community to. And it’s time to crew up.

Cloudy Again.

Woke up and I am glad to see a bit of overcast skies finding their way into the funky little downtown. I am drinking camomile tea and it smells like cat pee for some reason. I guess it tastes kind of funny as well. I will be at vita today from 12 to 2:30. I hope to see some familiar faces.   

Mission: PRANK CALL KINNY UNDERWAY.

Call today.

no scoot no

i am not happy about that picture, it looks like a lumpy potato face. i'll blog again when I see some changes around these parts. in the meantime i am going to the hotsprings to wash and soak or whatever. ps scoot you never came to get your hair cuts. i don't know what this means.

arizona 4 kix?

Turkey and Me.

The Butchering truth:

This was my right-of-passage moment. Do i regret it? maybe. Was it all it was cracked up to be? more than anything I have done before.

Going going Gone

One must be careful with sprocket and full throttle,
motion so productive and force-filled may thrust you too far into time and space and action

Ricky don't feel.

Today I got the pancakes at New Moon Cafe for the first time. They had Blackberries in them. It is weird that I was trying to be a vegan again, and then I went to the reef with Meg and had a puke-out and veganism slipped through the cracks.  I feel like I need to have another go at it, it was part of my life for so long I can't just let go of it because I have been a little depressed for a few days. The puke-out was fun though, only I have a sickness now that I am fighting. I was on my way to go buy some oranges when sarahstacy came running up behind me and wanted to go to breakfast. So the orange money is gone. But that's okay, I got tea that can be the cure. I really enjoy those little books at new moon were you are supposed to write your secrets. Yesterday in class a fellow who graduated from evergreen showed pictures he had taken in Iraq and elsewhere around the globe. He had zip off pants. That was probably the best part of his church-like presentation. 

"I mean, I'm not out to please anybody." 

I am wanting to go back to the medical study: 1)I am almost broke. 2) I would be doing the same-thing there that I am doing now (laying around) 3) I would be able to hangout with people I will never see again but will think about for years to come. 4) I need a fucking retreat. 5) No opinions necessary. 6) Bad attitudes encouraged. 7) Don't have to talk when the timing's wrong . 8) Can blog about it.  

time to switch slacking into sprocketing:

So we have been rather heartless in our recent dedication to the blog. I am sad to see that it has come to this and I hope that there will be some sort of effort twoards it's revival. I skipped philosophy class today, bad knews for this early in the quarter. But I did need to soak in the bath and bed with a brain full of highschool nostaliga.

Killian has glasses and he likes games. He is nine. He has trouble dealing with frustration and conflict, though he has gotten better about the meltdowns. I taught him how to breathe deep. He has two sisters. They all used to get sent to the office with lice, together. Their dad Argued No its Dandruff. He wouldnt come get them from school.

Yesterday Killian walked up to me with open arms. Fourth grade boys don't do this much. He wrapped himself around me and held on for dear life.
Lately I have noticed that I am the perfect height for little heads to rest on the curve of my hip. I hug Killian back real tight, his face warm on my side. It gives me that feeling I get like when I am jealous when I see pregnant women.

Killian sighs, he says, "My mom used to hug me"

and I say She Doesn't Anymore?

"No", he says, like this is normal, like if I asked if he liked baseball or if he wanted dessert or if it was raining out.
When Moms dont even Hug you I dont even know that to think.

Well Then I Guess We'll Have to Hug Like This Every Single Day! i reply

and he smiles goofily and pushed his glasses up his nose

and he runs off to playWizards Chess

and I stand next to the coloring table turning over how this makes me feel.

just got a phone call from my father saying that my cell phone is being cancelled at the end of the month. But if I didn't have a cell phone he could not have called me to tell me that. So the news isn't all that bad. I will just station myself at cafe vita. constantly. 

I hope the sun has some nurturing qualities.

i may have made this viewable to scary bros with guns-
so until i figure it out for sure, were blogging undercoverinsecret

whoseblog

i really want to take the time to read all of this stuff that has been posted of late, it looks really really good, it seems as though writing for real has transcended itself into blogging for real and i am very proud of you all.

i am going to take time and read these things this weekend and i am going to post a longish blog about what happened this week because it's important to get it out and not be sad and angry and to blog and let it out into the blogosphere, although i think i can't let it all out because i have a trial in october.

i loveyou all.

Story of young boy and dog.

His manor of behavior was simple enough. He gave equal opportunity to every though wave which plagued his mind. His vision was more capable at mimicking then usual. His world was one with the absolute reality which offered it governance. His name was Jacob, and he was a chocolate lab.
Jacob was born to a mother of average breed and his father, averagely enough, was “boarder line show dog” According to the owner’s of Jacobs’s mother. The pup flourished on a farm in Eastern Washington.
As expected a family of five pulled up into the very same dusty drive that belonged to Jacob’s family. The family in which Jacob did not yet belong to had pulled up in a Plymouth Voyager. The Voyager was a very terrible shade of grey and it game a certain member of the family a headache.
Headache and all the five of them looked at the pups and not the $400.00 dollars promptly handed over in exchange. One pup, Jacob, was selected. The family could not remember if they had ever heard a whimper, or what a whimper could even sound like. The family was certain that Jacob was whimpering at them because he wanted to go to his new home.
At new home Jacob found himself tied to a post with a rope around his neck. He had a spacious dog house all to himself. Years later most member of the family undoubtly viewed an advertisement with somber background music and cute pictures of young animals shown. Jacob had a sad look in his eyes, but no one was fooling anyone into believing that animals had emotion.
The family member in which grey gave headaches would run in fields of timothy hay with young Jacob. Jacob enjoyed these excursions immensely and would fill his mouth full of mice which he rooted for like a scout under irrigation piping. The timothy hay was sold to rich Japanese horse owners, for bull fighting and horse racing.
One day in is brought to the surface above generalities. Headache boy had a bb gun. There was a large tree in the back yard of the house of the family of five. Outside the boy ventured with the bb gun in either of his arms. Jacob Knew it was his lucky day. Young boy shot a bird out of a tree and young Jacob opened his licked lips as an dead thing spiraled from a branch. Neither of them had heard such beautiful crunching such as they heard on that day. Happy and proud, the boy would never hunt again. The same could not be said of the pup.
“Bad” said the father of five seeing thirteen dead chickens abstractly arranged around the dead grass if the back yard. Jacob had preformed a work of pure brilliance after tasting his first bird. He was now birdie. Jacob did like going into the garage when the family left in the van, and sometimes he would even ride in the van and he stank when he had gone into the river. In the garage the father beat Jacob for his brilliant act. The father beat his children on occasion. And this was good, because it breed respect in them. Jacob also knew it was good, and he knew that he posed no emotion so the beating was not a terrible thing. It was decided that it was a very good thing. Other members of the family in turn would give Jacob this good thing.
Jacob did many other things before he stopped doing things and started sleeping on a back porch of a new house which the family moved to later. The father of the family still feed and talked to Jacob everyday. Jacob’s Family’s house was very modern and sustainable and he thanked the divine energy that connects us all for it’s wonderful ability to bless his life. Only Jacob was old and was probably going to die soon, he had arthritis and tumors. Sometimes the one that grey gave a headache to would come home and visit. And He felt emotion towards Jacob. Jacob, of course felt nothing. His wagging tail was a natural reaction, like a man’s penis filling with blood. No emotion. His eyes did look very sad, though. And he wiped his but around while sitting and it look very comical to everyone in the family. Jacob was a “good boy”.

Fin.

A salute to meds and t.v. (again)

I am very impressed by the communicational skills exhibited by the characters on the O.C. For the past little while I have been, by and large, rather against california in general (discluding niki ). Through eliminating long drawn out dialogs, the O.C. gets to the core of many relationship dialectics that without a doubt haunt all of our lives. They replace useless circular discussion that cover the same points over, over, and over again. Ryan, Seth, Summer, Sandy, Marissa and others display a unique combination of humor, compassion, and a secret ability that was probably deveolped in califorinia. The ability to walk out. The gift to let drama happen, and then to move directly on to the next dramatic expeirence instead of just letting it linger, preventing future relationships from ever expeirencing the wonders of crying together, yelling at each other, and most importatntly, getting to know each other with great eye contact. I am trying to appropriate many of the valuable traits I have learned today, from watching 2 straight disks of the first season. i feel pretty good about having dreams and plans now. I have been a depressed skeptic for far to long.

P.S.
I think this is a hard time for all of us, bloggers-
be it police or needles or Florida.

What is important is that we stick in solidarity and remember it is only a week or so more before we reunite over sweet thoughts and overpriced dinerfood,

we will crew the fuck up and all will be well

My parents, in watching the RNC coverage on the local news, called me forth to the living room to show me the police in riot gear upon horse. "Of Course The Police Will Hit You Back Stupid!" they call to blackblockerA. I say, "Very Fair Grounds when youve got a gun and a horse"
my parents say "Do what the police tell you and you wont get hurt!"
"Why?" i ask and they glare at me like I'm stupid
and they watch a police officer spray a bunch of people and I say "Yes this was justified GrownUps!" and they say "He has a responsibility!" and i ask what this is and they say "to protect a fellow officer" and i say thats interesting and they get angrier looking

and eventually my mom says GO AWAY! and shakes her head and looks at stepdad and says Told You So
this is my exit to leave, they are only proud of me as far as the idea of me goes,
when i try to explain anything in reality its very upsetting

and i realize this was always the reaction to any developing thought i had growing up that didnt come from Fox 9
(and my conversation attempting to explain the fallacy with this network i dont even want to think about now)
so i remember watching this mexican man on trial for murder
and i remember saying i felt sorry for him because he was convicted practically before identified as suspect
and i remember my stepdad getting so angry
so so angry
yelling at me to go away "YOURE CRAZY. YOU REALLY ARE CRAZY THIS TIME. HOW COULD YOU FEEL BAD FOR HIM GO AWAY MEAGHAN GO AWAY."

It is very daunting.
parents
you dont even want to listen?



i feel so sad

updated laborday.

back in clinic. there is a very sore spot in my arm. The nurse that drew my blood most recently insited on moving the needle around while it was in my vain. Unfortunatly it was the first of many more blood draws over the next six days, and it was one that has the potential to ruin them all.
A mysterious friend came over for a few moments lastnight and played clarinet on my pourch. i was carried away. Early this morning I awoke with the need to cook hashbrowns and write a letter. I lost my magic touch on the skillet, the browns were black. baby's got a hard-on is re-uniting for a bike n' bike show on september 11th.
I hope that we all remember our favorite laborer this laborday, and try our best to work on the projects that will benifit our future of folly. I am up to episode 35 on ducktales, and there is no sign of slowing down my consumption. Logan saw a dead body a few blocks away from my appartment, and he said it was strange to see a body there. A guy tried kicking in my door a few nights ago. luckily it was locked. he had a red tank-top on, in his forties. If you see a red tanked man, blog 'bout it.
well, I'm checking out for now blog, but I am sure I will be back plenty over the next few days.

weather report: 2 weeks of crunk following september 7th, covered in a slow moving cold front.

panacakes.

I have been getting up before noon everyday since I have been released. It is a nice turn of events. Besides this morning. I woke up and things were fine. Sarah said she wanted to make panacakes, and I said that I would like it very much if she made panacakes. So she made the panacakes in the kitchen. Only she started to get burnt, and then burned herself a second time. And the panacakes were not working out so well. It suddenly became my fault, she did not want panacakes at all it turns out. But she insisted that she needed to finish cooking the panacakes. This made me frustrated. We became more frustrated together, and she threatened to throw the panacakes in the garbage. I told her she better not and said that I needed to finish cooking the panacakes. She needed to be left alone. I thought that the whole argument was silly about 5 minuets later. So I ate two panacakes, cleaned up and headed out the door. I bussed up to evergreen to find the sauna closed. I was really looking forward to sweating out my tenseness. I think that the sauna opens in half hour though. The panacake fight is still going. I hung up the phone a few minuets ago. It is nice to know I am alive. There was a goodshow at the redhouse lastnight that was unlike shows at the redhouse. I hope that team blog stays safe raising their fists.

Dear Blog,

I am in my Shoreview attic-my sisters room before she grew up and went to Roseville. I'm listening to Dolly Parton and thinking about eighth grade when this room was prime location for punkrock hangoutings pre-loiter at McCullough park post-QuikStop sodajunkfood run . Ohgod.

I'm really scared of this place mostly because I feel like nobody gets it. My parents sound proud of me on the phone but in person they told me to take a shower. Coat of many colors.
I am already dreading going to Grandmas house and seeing my cousins and talking to my aunt about why my college degree really will be worthwhile and I'm also wondering what there is to do here other than get scary drunk and have tantrums.

But I guess my Dad hangs out with the Hells Angels
AND.
my Mom has digital cable.
ohmygodohmogododfdgd

The Grandfather clock is chiming way too much. I didn't used to hear that. AGHKD I grew up and moved away and got un-used to things.

This is house is spotless and full of things.

ohmygod i am going to freak out. do i feel like this everywhere i go?ohmygod. i already assured my Grandma I was alright once today, and I didnt even get into town until 9pm.
ahhhsdgfdkkkkkkkk
I need to go to Texas.

I am at the finish line.

I know that some memebers of the blog are worrying that I sold my soul to capitalism. I am here to re-assure those members that their concerns might in fact be true. It is weird to be plugged into the cable T.V. circut. I have learned a lot about my self, my crew, my art, and living my life. I see what I am missing by x-ing myself out of mainstream culture. This counter-coulter obsession was bound to burst sooner or later, and I would rather get it over with then live a lie for the remainder of my short days on this earth. The Earth may be dying, but that don't mean that I don't want money and good things. Let's crew the fuck up in a Black Caddy and show some rag. It's our new cover up. People are on to us, and we need to let them know what they are dealing with.

Chareles River Reshearch

Here we have a blogpost about the in's and out's of surrendering a healthy body to the evil workings of scientific fraud and fault.
1) I can't walk but I can cry about it.
2) I saw 'thank you for smoking' and dis-belive that it could be a documentary.
3) I saw 'I think I love my wife' with Chris Rock, and I don't think he loves his wife.
4) I layed back and dreamed about watching celberty death match.
5) I leaned back and though about how people communicate through watching the same videos. I engaged in this activity.
6) This place ain't that trashy.
7) There are four guys per room. This is an all male study. no wonder I don't talk with hardly anyone. cause no one really talk.
8) These electronic plates are hooked up to me.
9) They wake you up at 5 a.m. to eat lethal amounts of baccon. do I ever have the shits.
10) Blogging is off limits, this post is a sneak attack.

back on it

so I am back on this Blog, sorry for my sabbatical of late. I found myself last night wanting to write in a real book, but my little black book is full, so I read what I had and what I found were detailed plans for Meggo and Csank's wedding in '08. Here is what follows, word for word.


Meg & Csank get married! Fall wedding September 27 2008

Ring bearer: Anders
Firstlady: Tovah
Best man: Corwin
sartorial (adj. of or relating to fashion)

caterer: Urban Onion (crossed out) Aramark

rosie math : wedding planner
rabbi math

cake: ice cream/pie
Bartender: Buck.

--Designer of Wedding Invitation: RITCHIE

Theme (Color) -- Gold

Tovah ---- Corwin
Bridesmaids Groomsmans
Megan Anders
Rosie Grier
Caity Scott
Amelie Trent

an actual priest

Crepe Cart

K Records Warehouse

Bachelorette:

Joey Casio
Colin Self
Hail Seizures
9/11s

Sarah Hay Special Dancegroup

Leonard, David Elizabeth
Honeymoon: Hawaii

Sigmuend Tsististo, Eskay, Pat Seeger, Mulally, Forgive Afiskayubot,

Register Rusty Rooster

Ali Brown, Alex, Danny, Nate, Tony, Justin, Johnny, Jaime, Jake


this makes me feel weird on the inside, can it still happen?

Dear Blog, I can't concentrate I am trying to write epic feministqueertheorytrashculture narratives, but all that is happening is I'm playing with Facebook Visual Bookshelf and thinking about 90s young adult fiction. Okayokayokay Meg you realize you gots forty pages of RealLifeWriting to do by like Sunday. OyVey Why Did I HAVE TO HAVEFUN ALL WEEKEND?!?!

okayokayokayokayI am about to appropriate Nicky and make poems out of pic comments. It is time to Write 4 Realz.

a morning of cranberry juice. Not supposed to eat, cereal doesn't really count. finally slept a full and healthy amount. no pillows, those are in plastic bags in the basement. Did you know, coffee makes me sneeze a terrifying number of times in a row? This dose not happen every I drink it. what's up with the decline of motivation and dedication to the blog? 

The real Deal.

Patrick Wayne Swayze, You haunt me. I realized the potential of what it could mean to be an “active” Human being last night. Viewing Dirty Dancing  awakened a thirst with-in me. I see know that my life is incomplete. I guess I alway knew it was, but now I know why.

When you are born in Texas, Like Swayze, you amount to something. I believe Meggo’s journey to the American Mecca is a splendid idea, and an idea that needs some serious considering. I believe that if we ventured there it would offer us the possibility of being born again. Of being born in the right place as well as the right time. Texas is our real mother. I need to feel, I need to dance, I need a career, I need production, I need to love, I need Texas. 

Let’s watch the “Outsiders” next. I need all of Swayze.   

Back From Protest, Hardly Impressed.

 I know saying something like: "activists are boring" would be an untrue statement. But at the moment, that is how I feel. I just returned from a nightmare of a protest at the port of Tacoma, and I feel that I have had a life long belly full of many buzz words. (anarchy, consensus, group decisions, etc.) Activists are not boring, but individuals who pried themselves in defining what activism is in large groups without producing ANY activity of a creative or helpful nature are. They didn't even like punk. In the car ride (yes, them being to unprepared and unmotivated to take the city transit) they turned the radio off when I put in Capitalist Casualties. (thanks sweet-tooth).   

When we all arrived in Tacoma we sat in a large circle in a hippy-dippy cafe and argued about wither people would rather go and yell at cops in fort lewis or down at the port. All the while countless people wandered by the cafe who probably couldn't even afford a cup of joe. I felt very helpless the whole time. Yesterday on the bus in Tacoma, when I was going to the medical study, there was this father and daughter on the bus that made me cry. His daughter had sever disabilities and seemed to be in a great deal of pain. He was a very young african american father and he looked really sad. The whole time he just rocked his daughter back and forth in his arms, she was at least 5 or 6 but unable to stand or use her limbs that well. I guess I just don't like SDS or the majority of protests, and that is the sort and unimportant point that this blog is trying to get a crossed.  

Oh, it's friday. I am listening to "Friday I'm in Love by the Cure". 

Dreamboats are everywhere, let's get this blog crew a year long pass and sail out.    

Back from drug test, mostly impressed.

So I returned from Tacoma a few hours ago. The commute to the 'Charles River Medical Center' was long and a bit depressing. I got there early so I decided to go for a walk. I had been fasting and drinking massive amounts of water for 12 hours before the test, so by the time I arrived in Tacoma I had to piss and shit so bad that every steep forward brought excruciating pain. It was a growing experience. I got a free check-up out of the deal (minus the 'turn your head and cough' portion, which I was fine with). I now have to sit back and wait for a another call. 

I dug up all the radishes in my garden and planted new rows of green leaf lettuce. I am excited to be able to drink beer and smoke tonight because I don't have any more screening for a while. I miss the band.     

darby has the fleas and i'm depressed

Barely twenty, Rarely funny

Maybe it is because I am still a teenager and I still have "Teenage Angst". Maybe my biochemistry is fighting against what I know in my head to be true and I cannot help but to be full of rage until the 31st of December when I will become a real grownup and find true happiness and fulfillment.

And Maybe there is just something deep in my psyche I am unaware of, something that is causing all my angst, maybe I need counseling, maybe I need to be hypnotized and I will go back in time to that place in third grade that damaged me forever that I henceforth blocked off from my mind and never thought about until that day in psychotherapy when it becomes quite clear and I cope and move on and live happily ever after.

Maybe I am not getting enough fruits and vegetables-exercise? Good nights sleep??!?
Maybe summer is driving me crazy with my lack of being productive or active or any happy medium

Uh, there has got to be something. Something that makes it so all that brings me happiness is planning and musicals. And maybe someday we will find that out but I guess until then, you may find me in the dug-out. Rocking out with Hairspray and an EvergreenStateCollege class catalog (and accompanying notes).

are you there Blog? it's me, toaster

this morning I had a dreamthat the end of the world was here, it was mutants vs people and the mutants were winning. in this dream I was sleeping and I woke up and just outside my window Darby was fighting a Mutant Raccoon. the Mutant Raccoon was winning, he bit Darby's ear off and Darby mutated into a Mutant Kat. then they cuddled and I was calm.

when I woke up for real the Senator was sitting outside my window meowing/hissing at Darby who was sitting on the windowsill, looking pissed as hell. the Senator was locked out of Pittman's apartment and he was pissed as hell, too. I let the Senator in through Pittman's window and walked back home across the 'Breezeway,' as King Rex referred to it once. What does all of this mean...?

Big ups to my homes Scoot! who's gonna take care of the Hell Kat while I find a recipe for gumbo down south.

sorry I broke your heart. i'm only 17.

Calling can be a confusing thing, the order of who was supposed to call who, when and where. I hope that everything can be looked over because I wouldn't want to lose the wonderful things that we have in store for the future of the blog, the future of the band, and the future of our marital/social/finical lives together. This whole project has been a god-send for me and losing it is the last thing I want. I am sorry for not posting for a while. Today brings in a massive leafleting of applications and resumes. I plan to work for two days at a Lake Fair Booth and then squander the earnings on promotional items for the blog. 

lyrics:

I'm like a blue collar working single father in the 1980's

I'll provide, but you'll never know what for

let's stick together and show

that sticking won't bring us close

Here, let me build you a house with a free fuck

Later on, when trade schools feel worthless 

We will still have a working formula for passion

  

typo

The title is "My Heart Burns" but the other one would be a good name too.

my heat burns-my first single

I'm not trying to be critical and im mostly talking about and myself. But sometimes we all forget really important plans or forget who was supposed to call who. If we are unable to have band practice, we can utilize this network that's filled with 4 talented people to share what we got. This would be a good way to collaborate on songs or just be inspiring to one another. Since Scoot and I got signed to Plan-It-X records, I have started taking my music very seriously. My songs will manifest in the spirit of punk as fuck. This is the beginning...

My passion is a fever burning inside me.
It is a ball of fire that illuminates my heart.
My heart is muscle throbbing for freedom. Why can't we meet freedom.

You all can add on to it. like I said, it would be cool if we all collaborated.

ST

have you ever been to a restaurant where people dance?

i think im gonna love you for a long long time

after consecutive nights of mindless reminiscing, it has come to my attention that, contrary to popular belief, living in the past is in fact a beautiful wonderful thing. it is clearly something to dwell in, y'all. hindsight is here and very oh eight.

when i look back at the horrid past, it is not so bad but in fact, cute, funny, ironic, and nice. the messes and fights were smallish, more importantly, fun to talk about now. the evil people i so despised were simply, characters, ones with a charming vendetta at that! bugging out then, comical now!

i will now replay the preceding event of every living moment in my head and smile at everything in the past so tame and quirky, forever in the now and into the future

Blog Dreams Are Made of These

I had the best idea for a blog last night, but I fell asleep too quickly. It had to do with Little Guy and the revolution.

I have a good question though -- do you guys think online means of communication (i.e. Facebook) is a healthy and responsible way of letting out anger? Or is it just as passive aggressive as everything else in real life? I just can't figure it out!

And magoo, I wouldn't worry about your nose ring. I inhaled a straight pin in Girl Scouts (Brownies); I never found it but I think I'm okay. I Mean It hasn't poked out of my stomach or anything freaky like that.

Oh and scooter, when you get too cooped (co-ooped? co-opted?) up living with someone in close quarters, I think the best way to deal with it is to adopt a kitten to let out your aggression on. I actually know one that would be perfect for your Situation.

Last and not least: Sweet Tooth -- where's the Blog babe?

thoughts on jacknthebox and postbacon anger

I'm gonna wash that Csank right outta my hair, I'm gonna wash that Csank right outta my hair
I'm gonna wash that Csank right outta my hair and seeeend him on his waaaaay

Star Life

Sleeping in Blog City

Since I have permanently tattooed a representation of a member of this blog onto my body, I suppose it's time for my first blog.

A Haiku for A Sunny Day in Olympia

Little guy is hot
so much sun and so much fun
I miss the damn rain

I also want to come up with clever catch phrases and slogans. For real life use, related to our blog. For example, holding up a sign that says Will Blog For $$$. Or bumper stickers: Honk if You Love Blogging. Or, My Other Car is a Blog. My Blog is an Honor Role Student at Olympia High School. Just something to think about. This is a work in progress, feel free to come up with more blog slogans. or, Blogans.

love, toaster

Met; The Senator
Debt; A Lot.
Bet; Ill be in credit card debt 4ever
Get; a job (imPORTANT)
Let; it go ITLL BE OKAY(?!)






Id rather be blogging.

ACTIVE AND PRODUCTIVE

I just wanted to express my great admiration of the fellow bloggers for being such great examples in the community. Not only did the whole blog crew show up to the planing meeting about the water front condos, all crew members were awake, staying until 9 p.m. or later. Toaster delivered an amazing speech which I am sure altered many minds in the audience. It was scary to here what many citizens think and want for our "funky little town" of Olympia. Long live the Tattoo and Bar aesthetic! 

I am headed out to Seattle on bus. If there is anything news you have for the city, let me know. 

-SCOOTER

KEYSTONE LIGHT PAST MIDNIGHT

The 1990's are in my veins, I have a whole 20 years to trample. A heart of water is ok once in a while, lets get that straight. Magoo @ I have had a couple big beers that we arn't letting go to waste. A learning experience "in and of itself". If New York can't shake it's booty at a show, who can? fuck it. I listen to The Trashies every morning at 9 a.m. in my underwear, who cares about lethargic evening shows that self promote a-bunch-of-bull-shit. DARBY DON'T TAKE A DOOKIE!

-SCOOTER.  

was it really the flu?

Thanks for all the support and fan mail. I am really getting through this sickness. I would like to thank all of my friends for nursing me back to health, especially Scooter for feeding me applesouse. Scoot, we have stuck with each other through the difficult times( you know what i'm talking about), but in the long run it only made us stronger. Thank you for always being there for me.
I'm really happy I bought weed today. I've decided that i'm to nauseous to listen to Shelby Turner's computer music, and then ask myself,why did I come here anyways? So i'm going to go home and get lit and listen to Grateful Dead.

Sweet Tooth

P.S. I'm so relieved that Sara C is gone. Are people cool with not letting her into our blog. I take this stuff seriously, I think this should be a space for shit talk and secret telling. But yeah, the house has been glowing and the roommates have been more chipper now that little turd is gone.

Reflections on the First Goal of Summer (Week One)

If only being a street kid was really about sheet cake in abandoned skate parks and distinguished old men that care about whales

Captivity Kills.

Sometimes a 'littleguy'

i have been up in the rex negotiating what movie to watch with 'littleguy.' littleguy (Darby) has enjoyed my excitement and emotions surrounding the film 'Hook', so much so that he has been actively licking his stomach. Toaster thought that littleguys wet spot was from my licking. Today at the reef I ordered a milkshake (peanutbutter-chocolate) that was mixed well and served with proficiency. I am alarmed about littleguy's smoke intake when I I have a cigarette on the roof, but he seems to be getting along fine. Free-Willy is playing on the boobtube and I think I will go ahead and devote my full attention and emotional input. Domestic Parters approved. 

This has been an exciting first blog! I look forward to learning more about the wide world of electronic innovations, and how they can be used for liberating purposes!!

-SCOOTTER