Subterranean Beefworks

uuuu----

i'm at a complete loss for something to do. having finished my translation (and gotten paid, mwhaha) and having no other real pressing work, i am sitting here with a hell of a lot on my mind. my body cancelled all operations before and put me to bed so i know i won't be tired until it's far to late to get enough sleep for tomorrow. fucking cycle man. i hate it.

so of course i turn to a journal, forgo capitalization, and provide some words for an audience.

it's been long since i've wanted the weekend this much. i just want to know that i don't have to worry for a couple days. this whole 'worry' thing is not doing me any good. the worst worry is the kind that creeps up on you, and manifests itself as a tenacious mental cloud that makes you say stupid shit and forget things. you don't feel especially stressed, but you feel the gravity of things making your day harder. the only real remedy is a weekend to center one's self. this is done by drinking with friends, which is exactly what i plan on doing.

i'm going to make a game out of tomorrow somehow. i'll start by wearing clothes i haven't worn in a long time. what sort of sucks is that i haven't had a migraine in a while, so i'm probably going to get one on sunday. fucking hell.

i really don't know how to make this entry worth your while because there's simply nothing worth saying. oh! yes there is. to produce a dozen eggs, a hen has to eat about four pounds of feed. i learned that from a friend.

steal by body

The worst thing I ever said to a girl was in response to a hobby of hers. She was explaining how back home, she liked to sit on the banks of a stream behind her house and watch mud ooze over the rocks after big rainstorms. Trying to score some points for common ground, I smiled and told her that I tend to bleed a lot in my sleep. It wasn't true, of course, but I figured I could work something out in case we ever slept together. Not that it mattered. We haven't seen much of eachother since then.

something cool

A: i told scott that i think there is something deeply magical about the song ode to joy
A: last night
A: we agreed it was awesome
A: then i just came home and found this on IM
A: B: I must thank you for reminding me of Ode to Joy.
I just listened to all 13 minutes of it at my reciever's volume setting at 67. Far louder than my neighbors would approve of i'm sure.
After the last crescendo, I inhaled like coming up from under water. I think it was my soul returning to my body.
Then I cried like a baby for a while.
I'm better now, but probably
not quite the same.
Maybe that is what being deaf sounds like.
thanks. I love you and i love everything right now.
I think a better thirteen minutes was never spent.

I hate making titles

I've rediscovered the chocolate bar. When I was younger I assumed they were delicious. They were little presents I would get occasionally when something good happened. But then I hit my teens, and chocolate kind of lost its allure. It was delicious, as always, and I would rarely turn it down, but in contrast to now, I wouldn't actively seek it. I seek chocolate now. I long for it. It's a tasty sexual victual wrapped in a perfectly assembled little wrapper designed to be pleasing to my eye.

I have a had an extremely terrible week, frought with stress and looming obligations that I only got around to addressing on Saturday. For most of last week, I was procrastinating recklessly, and this weekend it really managed to take a chunk out of my ass. This is why I've turned back to chocolate. The only thing that kept me going while I translated 16 pages of academic german, as thick and opaque as molasses, was the thought that after the next page I could go down and buy another Caramello.

If I spent as recklessly as I procrastinate, I think I would buy one of those wholesale crates of chocolate bars that fund-raisers use. My room would become a bustling hub of chocolate exchange, as I would freely distribute my stash to anyone who could do with a Nutter Butter or a Reeces cup. Because come on, who would pass up the opportunity of free chocolate? only a yogurt.

a little fear

As with most Fridays, this one was looking like it was going nowhere. *All* of the friends I hang out with were out of town so I was left to fend for myself. Hungry, I walked down to 4th street with no idea what I wanted to eat. Against all logic, I went to Campus Pizza which is this glorified shit pit pizza place right on campus. They have food and yuengling so I thought they were my best bet.

The dimwitted chick behind the counter fucked up my order. I wanted a cheeseburger and fries, probably the simplest thing they have on the menu, and she fucked it up by forgetting the cheese. Of course, I realized this only after I left with the to-go order. Fucking, hamburgers and cheeseburgers are from opposite ends of the universe.

My burger was not satisfying. I had a beer to wash down the blandness, and started to consider my options. In truth, I had none. So I decided to pack a camera and a flashlight and go on a night hike. Lehigh is set in the side of a mountain, much of which is covered by woods. There's bike trails and some maintainence buildings now again, but it's pretty much just dark woods. I was looking for the best place though, which is the Bethlehem Star tower. It's a big TV tower with a huge light-up star on it. I've been there before but I have to say, it's a bitch to find a big glowing beacon in the sky at night.

Before you're disappointed, I'll say right now that I didn't find the tower. Instead, I traipsed around in the woods for about two hours, arguing with myself over which direction I should've taken. My light was off most of the time (in an effort to keep my location vague), so I was walking around in the dark, pausing every so often at a distant snap of twigs.

It's a scary thing to do. Ever since I was a kid, there has been this understanding that devil worshippers and opportunistic sex offenders hang out in the woods. Dark woods are just not the place to be. I don't know how true that really is, but it's still a really spooky place. When I run through last night in my mind, elusive paths spotted every few meters with moonlight, it was a really fucked up scene. If only my camera could handle low-light, then I could share the experience. The only picture that came out is below.

Pending workload/productivity, I might make another attempt tonight. I really want to get to that star.

Ascent. This was maybe 10 minutes after getting into the woods.

Proverb.

Two rights make a wrong and I heard somewhere else that two wrongs don't make a right. Three rights make a left, though.

Maybe someday I'll write something here that is deeply personal. A lot of people do that on their journals.

Artist - Track 5

Cancel my subscription to the resurrection/Send my credentials to the house of detention.

sunday happened again

Beautiful though it is, this is a really quiet, dull Sunday. Homework looms tonight, with employed work looming on Monday. It's deserted because everybody is being a hermit in their dark rooms where comfortable bedsheets and closed blinds don't offend hangovers.

On Friday, after a brief bar crawl, my friend and I took full advantage of the downpour and went mudsliding with some people from a nearby dorm. Arguably not the best thing for stitches on a knee, but they held up and a good scrubdown staved off anything microbial. That is, I hope it did. Before a real shower was available we all rinsed off in one of the fountains in front of the architecture building. The thick brown cesspool it became made me think a lot about cholera. I regret only that I ripped a hole in my good pants and the snowflakes on my snowflake boxers are now tinted ecru. But it's all water under the bridge. We discovered a pair of rubber handcuffs in the fountain and I took them home.

Tomorrow I get to pick up my new posters, two more Nell Whatmore paintings (zees unt zees). They should compliment eachother well and will go next to my bed in some visually satisfying configuration.

Once they're up, I'll be slightly less self-conscious about the penetrating dullness of my room, so I'll take some pictures and put them up.

I dread being finished with this entry because it means I'll have nothing else to do. Fuck. Someone better visit.

maybe you could just....shove me into the pool.

Most of the songs on the Fear and Loathing soundtrack suck. Many of them were probably chosen because they embody the musical palate of the mid-sixties, and I guess I'm forced to respect them for that. But most of them really suck. Jefferson Airplane took themselves way too seriously. Tom Jones is a chunk of a man and a misogynist. The Youngbloods, though possessing a wealth of redeeming qualities, should never have made "Get Together." To excerpt from the movie itself, "Get Together" is a musical way of describing "all those pathetically eager acid-freaks who thought they could buy peace and understanding for three bucks a hit." There's also a Bob Dylan song on the album that I used to hate, but now I like it a lot.

My injury from a couple nights ago was actually deep enough to require two stitches, the first I've ever gotten for an injury in my life. I enjoyed the procedure, since it was something new that I didn't know anything about. I went to the health center in the morning expecting to have the cut cleaned out properly and to filch some big bandaids. I left the office with stitches and a tetanus shot. The doctor cleaned it all up, slathered on some iodine, and proceeded to inject novocaine right into the walls of the cut. Not that that was a big deal since most of the surface nerves were destroyed anyway. "A pinch and a burning sensation" is all I felt. When I was good and numb, he threaded up some black string and did the work, impressively skillful too.

I was fine until I leaned up to look at the handiwork. As he was describing the geography of the cut, how he 'tied down a finger of loose skin, right there by that seeping bruised area' I began to feel distinctly squeamish. Now I find anatomy fascinating, but I really can't handle real world gore. I have a hard time watching open-heart surgeries, or seeing people get worked on in emergencies. I get sweaty, pale, and nausiated, it's just shitty. Everything was fine after I lied back and relaxed a bit though.

All in all, an enriching experience.

MORE

some gore. this is a drunk wound ::awesome::

picture

i made this just 'coz.

shake it off

just shake it.

I thought you might like to see.

I slipped off the climbing wall today and scraped my arm on a hold. I thought someone might appreciate this.

Piece #261

Eventful evening last night. At Lehigh there's "the Hill," the veritable hamlet of frats and sororities that serves as the focal point of Lehigh's social scene. It's unfortunate that the only evidence of a 'scene' is tied to greek life, but as was reaffirmed last night, there's fun to be had. I think the trick is to just look at the whole thing like a big inside joke. It's not really that funny anymore, but everybody still brings it up all the time and laughs anyway.

i'll finish this later

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Later...

The original intent of this entry was to talk about how we stole a nice camping chair from a frat, how we traipsed around the hill for far too long, how my friend and I spent 2 hours dealing with some strangers' incapacitated drunk. But at 2:23am the night after, it just doesn't seem that cool anymore.

That leaves little to talk about. I do notice that among all the other years I've been in college so far, this seems to be turning out the best. I essentially began in a single, and I've ended in a single, but I'm a much different person from the purgatorial, oft unshaven anime kid from 4 years ago. Regardless of how much time I've wasted the first 3 years of college, as long as this one turns out right, I'll look back with only a little bittersweetness.

No more wisdom for this entry.

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Drafis was abandoned not long after his birth. He was left at the entrance to a small park in the redundant green rurals of Pennsylvania. Nestled in calmness and slightly confused, he writhed within the soft warmth of his pastel blue fleece blanket, his little limbs jutting out occasionally as though he were ready to hatch.

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sputter SPUTTER

Holy shit, i really suck. I just took a glance at the displayed entries and it's a testament to how I've totally forgotten about this weblog. Usually entries go dry when there's a lot of good stuff going on and you get flotsam like the previous entry.

Well. This isn't a captains log. Maybe that's a relief to some of you.

The biggest thing that's going on is that I'm playing around with new music. I'm alarmingly behind in my school work so I can't do it now, but I'm going to do a review of all these new albums I've aquired. The list is as follows:

Björk - Medulla
David Bowie - Best of Bowie
Fugazi - End Hits
Miles Davis - Kind of Blue
Ozomatli - Ozomatli
Sonic Youth - Nurse
Talking Heads - Stop Making Sense
The Kinks - Lola
Die Ärzte - Unplugged Megapack

In addition to plonking about how I feel about those albums, I read a bunch of books over the summer that I might say something about. List...

Neuromancer - William Gibson
Fast Food Nation - Eric Schlosser
Into Thin Air - Jon Krakauer
Into the Wild - Jon Krakauer
The Bourne Identity - Robert Ludlum
The Bourne Supremacy - Robert Ludlum
Mostly Harmless - Douglas Adams
2010: Oddysee 2 - Arthur C. Clarke
2061: Oddysee 3 - Arthur C. Clarke
Lullaby - Chuck Palahniuk

Some of those books were re-reads before I had my library card but after I realized the dire need for reading material at work. But yeah, I swallowed a lot of pages this summer.

I also got poison ivy last week. In terms of surface area it wasn't bad, but it probably got infected and most definately did more than a reasonable amount of weeping before finally...errm...hardening.

I didn't say a whole lot of anything about my going back to school. That too will come with time, I think. I have a fantastic single, soon to be decorated with the likes of Joan Miro and Wassily Kandinsky (see how unpretentious I am by using their first names too? hell yeah.) And with a little caveman ingenuity, I worked out how to break into the vacant triple next door. So I also have an annex. Hell yeah.

That's the watered-down whole of it. I'd like to post more but I've been ill both with an infected patch of poison ivy, a head cold, and the oppressive Bethlehem humidity. Now that things are settling in, you can expect some more words.

Until then, here's a something of a picture.!?,

For diagnostic purposes:

I HAVE A BIG COCK HAHAHAHAHAHAHA