I’ve decided to make a

I’ve decided to make a commitment to longer and more meaningful posts. Less crap, less random jibberish, innane observation, etc… You may or may not have noticed, but unfortunately, so far at least, this has meant fewer posts as well.

At the moment, I’m sitting at work, watching two of my former co-workers pack up and leave the building. They were both above me, the president and creative director (of the company before the merger), and now they’re leaving because that’s what everyone here would do, given a choice. I really have no choice. My choice is this: how much money should I borrow to buy a car so I can get to work every day after it moves? I’m thinking two or three grand at most. I have a list of things I’d like in a car, but unfortunately, I can’t really afford to adhere to it. In fact, it yet remains to be seen whether I’ll be able to afford anything.

You might have thought, erroniously, that my lack of regular updates would mean I’ve been busy trying to move the blog somewhere else. No. I have made no progress. My life is lack of progress, sharply contrasted by my existence in video games, which is only measured by progress. Perhaps this lack of ready objectives in reality is what causes me to believe that I am more likely failing at it.

I like that: failing reality.

Reality Upstarts, a sasquach band of trumpeting rhino-riders. No random here!

There is some kind of

There is some kind of link between creativity and sleep deprivation. This much seems painfully obvious. Synapses jump faster, or more eratically, or something. At the same time, other cognitive functions suffer… I never quite know whether I’m doing a good job, or whether it merely seems like I am. Is this RuPaul weblog really as interesting as I think it is? Or am I just terribly woefully tired?

Naked is fun. Unfortunately, when you’re in a relationship, I think there is this tendency for nakedness to get routine and, well, not boring, but just not as interesting anymore either. I wonder why this is. My room mate and I were speculating about the instinct for after-sex-talk. If all we (as males of the species) were interested in was progenation, then we’d probably never stick around for the after-sex-talk. Slam-bam-thank-you-mam… yet, it had to have been somehow advantageous for the man to get to know the woman, find out everything about her… from her eating habbits to her favorite hangouts just about any other nearly-useless detail we can wring from her.

I think that instinct may be a bit too strong in me. I’ve always found the first few weeks of the relationship to be the most intense.

Don’t get me wrong, I think there’s plenty to be said about stability and commitment. I just want very little to do with them.

observations from my bed: light

observations from my bed:

light is often yellow, especially when filtered through a lampshade which is light brown, and probably also especially when it’s from a lightbulb.

my ceiling is speckled.

chaos needs no prompting.

doors are particularly useless when one doesn’t care if one’s roommates can see one naked. however, doors have the suprise ability to function as things to hang other things from. This is espeically easy to facilitate when one owns a door-hanger-thingy, which hooks over the door, and offers many hooks from which to hang other things.

I wish my wardrobe had a desaturate feature.

keys are an interesting phenomenon of modern culture. what is the importance of keys, and what does it say about a person who never looses their keys verses a person who frequently finds himself without them? I am of the former persuasion, (I don’t remember ever loosing my keys,) and I wonder if as such a person, I am missing out on exciting adventures I would otherwise be enjoying if I lost them more often.

water is heavy.

the space shuttle can’t launch in rain. This is because the special heat-resistent tiles are somehow not water resistant. (or perhaps–here comes the observation part, I thought of this myself–perhaps at the speeds the space shuttle achieves in it’s short flight out of earth’s orbit the raindrops are like tiny bullets. I wonder what the speed of a bullet is compared to the speed of the space shuttle. I also wonder what is the speed of your average falling raindrop.

last observation: there are many types of hinge. hinges are a crutial part of modern society. without hinges we are lost (or unhinged). open and close, all day long, only here and there a tiny hinge protest… fixed quickly with WD40. all hail our mighty friend the hinge.

self obsession in blogs and poetry

blogs are a trap for the self-obsessed.

Not only that, but I think they foster a self-obsession. It’s easy to get into reading blogs, (they’re the “real TV” of the internet). And of course anything you read gets internalized to some degree, and then you start to think like a blogger, which then causes you to want a blog… and become self-obsessed.

Look at me! I’m a blogger! W00T!

um, fortunately, I didn’t need to start reading blogs to have this sad self-obsession. Here’s my favorite poem, (by Frank O’Hara)



When I was a child
I played by myself in a
corner of the schoolyard
all alone.

I hated dolls and I
hated games, animals were
not friendly and birds
flew away.

If anyone was looking
for me I hid behind a
tree and cried out “I am
an orphan.”

And here I am, the
center of all beauty!
writing these poems!


I think this proves my point.