Category: Uncategorized

i just posted a machine.  it’s not my best, but i like it.  i realize it’s very kurt vonnegutty.  i don’t know why, it’s been a year since i read anything by him.  anyway, that is why the character is eating wheaties.  (breakfast of champions…i….nevermind.)

the weekend was spent on a lake, a cold lake.  rode a jetski on which i crushed my genitals when i hit a wave i was not expecting.  you know, after a while you really can’t feel anything.  the house in which we stayed is laura’s father’s.  we haven’t been in 2 years.  we rode down to the rich part of the lake, joking that the “slums” were where we were (where lots with no houses run about $150,000-350,000 depending on view and size.  here i am thinking i’m splurging when i spend twenty dollars on a cd.).  we rode past an aol fat cat’s house and i tried to pee on his dock, but the jetski abuse made this impossible.  the rich lake house owners wave in a rather friendly manner from their porches, yet if you step one foot on their lawn they’ll have you arrested and beaten in an instant.  fascists.

have you heard the new beck album? better than sea change, not close to odelay, and i always picture skinned pigs running and screaming in a pen when i listen to it.  was this beck’s goal? i should hope so.

my computer ages as a human ages, only much faster.  it no longer starts up as quickly as it used to, as it did three years ago when it was new, and when it does, successfully load it is often very slow and confused, not understanding what it is exactly that i want it to do.  i don’t blame it; it’s running windows, and any computer running such an inherently erred piece of programming is bound to see its end prematurely.  for instance, the reason for its latest upset is because i loaded the newest update for windows xp–the update crashed my computer.  i just wish i had more time with it. 

in any case, i am using the computers at the public library for the time being.  i’ve been spending a little time here; i ride a bike, and it’s on the way home, and the lighting feels very welcoming and sterile.  being here, i’ve realized that i don’t actually hate people per say, but rather college students.  few college students come in here; they usually go to the campus library, or, let’s be realistic, a bar or keg party.  when a college student does come in, i like to glare at them.  they don’t belong here.  i may be a college student, but i am not like them.  they need to be ostracized like sex offenders. 

i am embarassed at my lack of posting on my site.  did i tell you i had 7,043 hits last month?  some of those people must think of me as a lazy fool, a sloth-like procrastinator who doesn’t even have enough will to make himself appear unslovenly.  and they’d be right.  i have about three stories ready to type and post, but they are not with me, and i don’t like posting them on public computers.  i also have about 6 more photos for the no. series, but i need to edit them.  i will try. try try try.

i don’t like people, so they often die in my stories.

i’ve posted a new story, skin buzzards.  laura (did you know we’re engaged now?  since january.) said it reminded her of the crippled scholar.  this is ludicrous, as the first is about a specific type of buzzard and the latter is about flies.  i think she only pretends to read my stories and says she loves me for my collection of books.  for shame. [when laura read this last paragraph she took a small pipe and beat me with it.  when i came to she told me i had to make a note explaining that i was only kidding.  so i am.  -ed.]

“I give [the watch] to you not that you may remember time, but that you might forget it now and then for a moment and not spend all your breath trying to conquer it.  Because no battle is ever won he said.  They are not even fought.  The field only reveals to man his own folly and despair, and victory is an illusion of philosophers and fools.”

-The Sound and The Fury, William Faulkner

Game Over.  The ones in bold are the ones nobody got.

Game, stolen from blindeinstein:

Step 1: Get your playlist together, put it on random, and play
Step 2: Pick your favorite lines from the first 20 (er…21) songs that play
Step 3: Post and let everyone you know guess what song the lines come from
Step 4: Cross out the songs when someone guesses correctly
Step 5: No cheating (typing the lyrics into a search engine to find the song)

i just posted the fecal house.  as the title may suggest, it’s rather disgusting, though, thankfully, not as disgusting as it was in my head.  laura says it’s also one of my most disturbing.  what do you think?  as an interesting side note, if you’ve read some of my other short stories (juan, this is not you), you’ll notice that i rarely use capital letters.  this is not an accident.  but the fecal house uses proper capitalization.  i did this because it felt right.  however, and here’s the interesting part, i didn’t capitalize the title when i linked to it from the main page.  this is an attempt to keep from giving my other stories a complex. …okay it’s only interesting to me.

i have found three more “no.”s (see the no. series) but haven’t yet gotten pictures of them.  i will.  i’m truly sorry i don’t have them yet.  but, in lieu of this, perhaps i could make it up to you with some hardcore nudity.

i found the story that was missing and posted it.  it’s called mother. 

along with the story i have posted a new picture on the front page (noconversation.com). i drew it on october 4, 2004.  you have no idea how much work i have put into it in trying to get it on my computer.  no idea.

i can hear the railroad crossing from my apartment.  it has been dinging for two hours and fifteen minutes with its arms raised.  even if i’m in the part of the house where i can’t hear it, i can still feel the bells clanging in my head.

as a closing note, if you were unable to complete the questionnaire that has been on the front page for the last month, do not worry! i too am a procrastinator, and will help other procrastinators in any way!  the questionnaire can be found here

this is true.

i was walking along the square the other night (where i live, this is where the majority of the bars are, and also where most college students go to get drunk and stagger about the street).  in front of me were two guys about my age.  one had his shirt off, revealing about five tattoos.  he chugged from a can of beer, one of those comically large fosters cans, and had “fuck you” tattooed on the back of his fingers and had two studs going through his cheeks, several earrings, and a few eyebrow rings.  when he finished the can he threw it into the street and cried, “fuck yeah!” to his friend.  at first i laughed, but then i sincerely mourned for several minutes.  i miss the days when tattoos and piercings were actually shocking.

i am reading moby dick for an american novel class. i was the only one to reach the middle of the book by today.  usually i’m the last one to finish something in a class, so this came as somewhat of a shock, seeing as how i wasn’t really trying to read voraciously and with unending vigor.  i’d just read once in a while, like i always do.  i also seemed to be the only one who didn’t incessantly moan about the cetology chapters, in which melville goes into detail about families and types of whales, what types of tools are used onboard a whaling ship, etc. that really had nothing to do directly with the narrative. they weren’t as bad as reading a biology textbook, and were sometimes even funny in a melville sort of way.  their complaining made me wish they’d all just be harpooned themselves and shoved under the water for a good ten minutes.

i was going to post a new story today, but i can’t seem to find it.  so instead i decided to give you these previously stated tales, one occuring in a college town and the other occuring in a college classroom.  i hope they will do, for now.

i just posted foot skin.  i wrote it about a month and a half ago in the middle of a two day storm.  constant raining.  maybe more than two days.  it is only mildly grotesque, despite what images the title might suggest.  of late i have been getting less interested in writing about things grotesque.  this is not to be confused with morbidity, which i still constantly think about and write about.  maybe this will pass too.  though i hope not.  i hope that grotesque aspects of my writing would pass, or at least take a drastic turn, for two reasons: one, it was getting a little old to write about, even if it was what came most naturally.  and two, i got sick of people reading stories and reducing them to “blood and guts” stories and nothing more.  nothing i post on my site has a message that can be gleaned by merely reading it on the surface.  calling it blood and guts is a cheap description that can easily be pulled by just skimming it.  come on people.  they aren’t that fricking long.

i just posted lunar landscape.  i wrote it about a week ago in front of the fredericksburg post office at about 1:30 in the morning.  i had just been at a gas station where i saw a guy in handcuffs shooting the breeze with two cops, who only seemed worried about getting their coffee cooler.  i wrote it at the tail end of getting over having my wisdom teeth taken out (all four).  24 hours previously, my last codeine had worn off after having taken it every six hours for five days.  withdrawal.  heavy withdrawal.  and little sleep.

so this is what 7:08 am looks like.