I wonder how many people most people have had tell them “Please don’t contact me again.” I must have some particular talent

Losing someone

Doesn’t matter how it happens

Your pal,

“If you want to call, a blubbering mass of sadness, you can. Anytime.”

Marriage sucks

________________________________
> From: Llamaril
> Subject: Request 
> Date: Fri, 5 Aug 2011 14:12:29 -0400 
>  
> You wrote, in a recent email, about 'nude black and whites.'  Of me,  
> presumably. 
>  
> I don't want to continue a sexual/flirtatious relationship with you,  
> because I think it would hurt my marriage. 
>  
> Please don't email me again. 
>  
>  

And yet I listen to it every day

Randi Rhodes makes me miss you so consistently... Ugh.

For the record

Randi Rhodes predicts Obama is going to push for revenue increases (if not repealing Bush tax cuts, then closing loopholes + corporate welfare) and public works stimulus.

Hm

I guess I have been thinking about la Pingüinita a lot lately

Duh, duh, duh

Could I get paid to tell people this?

There’s no crying in baseball at work

Ughhh, Monday's! - w4m

Date: 2011-07-25, 7:04AM
Ugghhh to Monday's, right?!

Why do the weekends go by so fast? Another start to a wonderful work week! Hehehe. Yet here I am on Craigslist looking for a Monday morning distraction, I could definitely use some good conversation to help get through the day! Anyone else in the same boat, if so drop me a line.

I'm 36 and Hispanic, if it matters at all...

• Location: working
  
• it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

> A: pers-2511925702@craigslist.org
> Asunto: Ughhh, every day!
> Fecha: lunes, 25 de julio de 2011, 10:29 am
>
> I just called into work today. I was
> all set to be there on time, a little early even... and then
> I was late, and everything went wrong, and I lost my temper,
> and then I had to clean up the result of my temper loss, so
> then I'm even later, and I have this leftover food that I
> don't wanna waste, so I was really excited to make a
> delicious sandwich out of it, but then it's all soggy by the
> time lunchtime rolls around if you make it in the morning,
> and making real food takes TIME! and, really, who has the
> time anymore? which is why this country and many others are
> chronically obese, and I hate that it's cheaper in terms of
> time and materials to just buy some pre-made shit from the
> sandwich place in the stripmall down the block, but then
> there's no sense of creativity or satisfaction, and you're
> buying their pesticide-grown, factory-farmed whatever crap
> you're putting into your body, and becoming one more step
> disconnected from the very substances that keep
>  you alive... just another item to consume.
> 
> I'm so tired of this. I hate feeling like I'm no good at
> anything or the things I am good at have no practical
> application - at least in terms of making me (really someone
> else) any money. I'm so tired of trying so hard to do the
> things that everyone else seems to do effortlessly and
> failing so miserably. I hate that we have to rent out our
> minds for the majority of our waking hours and then at the
> end of those hours we're too exhausted to do anything else.
> I hate that having a job means making a choice between
> taking proper care of yourself and getting enough sleep, or
> having some semblance of a social life. I hate that the
> basic necessities for living have become commodified so I
> have to work just to keep a roof over my head, when living
> spaces stay vacant for months, years on end, but the prices
> are kept artificially inflated to satisfy this vaguely
> defined axiomatic good, "the market."  I hate that
> capitalism makes it so easy to opt in but so
>  difficult to just even try to sidestep it.
> 
> But I know I don't really want to succeed where others do,
> either. My boss is "successful" but she's stressed and
> unhappy and eats lunch every day at her desk when she
> remembers to eat and I remember when I was working shittier
> jobs that paid less but of course were harder (another
> ridiculous, hilarious irony of our system) a boss was
> brought in who was this big, impressive guy, top salesman in
> the district or whatever... but of course his life seemed
> miserable, too. He had heart problems (Western diseases), he
> always worked late and never saw his kids enough.... but he
> was a model citizen and employee, had like boats and a nice
> car or whatever.
> 
> My old girlfriend translated this poem (it was originally
> in Spanish). I don't really like poetry, or even this one
> particularly, but it's what came to mind.
> 
> 
> "Lunes"
> by: Jaime Gil de Biedma
> 
> 
> Pero después de todo, no sabemos
> si las cosas no son mejor así,
> escasas a propósito... Quizá,
> quizá tienen razón los días laborables.
> 
> Tú y yo en este lugar, en esta zona
> de luz apenas, entre la oficina
> y la noche que viene, no sabemos.
> O quizá, simplemente, estamos fatigados.
> 
> 
> 
> 
> I mean... Mondays, right?? Why can't they start on Tuesday!
> lol
> 

(Dream about therria.)
(Wake up thinking about Blondie.)
(Worry about Speed Bump all day...)

Watching 8-bit Mega Man vids on YouTube last night made me dream about Classic Macs with tiny screens.

(Oh, also, I think the screen was in colour (probably about a 2-3" screen!) and I remember one booted into DOS.

I want to juxtapose these two pieces

http://www.slate.com/id/2287146/
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/sam-harris/morality-without-free-wil_b_868804.html

Oh, the other part was where we were at a dinner table/restaurant which I think was actually my aunt/Nonni’s house but in fact I think looked more like the bedrooms, but maybe none of them, and I think it must’ve been one, sort of, 'cause there was a closet with drawers, but we were at the table + my brother thought I was being disrespectful (to Dad?) so he went to the closet and I angrily bite/kissed his lower lip/teeth to prevent him from getting out a gun (shotgun) and pointing it at me to lay down the law.

Jesus Christ. It was knocked off the charts by the fucking Black Eyed fucking Peas. I have hit some sort of new, abysmal low.

Jesus

First of all, Wikipedia considers it “trip hop” (a term I fucking despise, and would never call it that, due to its slick production), and apparently it’s her biggest song which I somehow missed until now, even bigger than her “Stan” song.

If it was this song that planted that li’l seed to have that dream, that is rather disturbing.

P.P.S.

OK, going back and listening to the track, in my defence, in hindsight, I think what got me open was the intro, which my first thought was, “This would be awesome to sample!” but now going back and listening to it through decent speakers and not those round, in-hung-ceiling-panel ones, it’s obvious it was meant to sound awesomely sampled in a post-hip-hop world.

or at least another talking-to-therria-to-convince-her-how-much-I-loved-her dream. In it I played her that song I just heard yesterday while getting my dad’s Father’s Day gift, which I just googled and found out is Dido’s “White Flag.” Jesus. I suspected it might be her, when I was thinking of it just now—Jesus. Fucking Dido. I heard that playing over the Muzak and I sort of started paying attention to the lyrics, and then I had to stop what I was doing and listen, and was like, “Oh, shit.” You know, like, omg, these lyrics are so true… omg, I am emo, man; you know you’re gone when supermarket songs are starting to seem deep (again). Like the “Life in Hell” thing about how pop songs seem eerily relevant. Anyway, that song is now going on Addenda.

OK, so also, since I’m writing ’em down, my dreams were also about these three developmentally disabled brothers who looked like the Kool-Aid man descending in size according to age, riding in the back of some car on a windy road, being taken to their destination by a chauffeur, driving around in some parking lot with a British dad and him fucking around and then his car being at the end of this car park and on the edge and there was this steep hill and I can’t remember if he rolled down and hit the car waiting in line in front of him, and also going around this London bazaar street with lots of Hindustani writing that I think was in the Persian alphabet but there was probably also some Nagari that I just didn’t see.

If I can remember any more I’ll add more.

Another making-up-with-therria dream

Rand told her followers to smoke cigarettes because "it symbolizes man's conquest of fire", and that all this stuff about it causing cancer was "communist propaganda to promote socialized medicine"  (i.e. Medicare, which keeps old people from dying if they can't cough up $350 for medicine that costs $3.50 to make.)

She is right about one thing: objective truth always has the last word.  And the truth is that Rand didn't smoke cigarettes for some lofty philosophical reason; she smoked cigarettes because she was addicted to nicotine—a life-destroying weakness.  And she wasn't assassinated by the communists; she died from smoking the noble capitalist cigarettes that the noble Captains of Industry assured her were safe.

That too, pretty well sums up Ayn Rand and her grasp on objective reality.

Faye, Faye, Faye, I still have to much to say to you, but sometimes, like this one, you are RIGHT. ON.