1 AM conversations

Every so often, you feel compelled to go somewhere.

You go there.

You meet somebody, that somebody, they really listen. They don't just wait for you to finish so they can retort. You look them directly in the eyes while you speak, and you know; you know that they are really listening. They are really hearing what you are saying.

They are really, truly, and completely hearing what you are saying. Not just absorbing the sounds coming from your vocal chords, and the ambiguous emotions you are describing, but really, truly comprehending what you are trying to say. The confusion that you are trying to convey.

Not the physical sounds, but the actual emotions that you are trying to describe.

The fact that somebody really knows, and truly understands, what you are trying to say really puts things into perspective. It is incredibly easier to comprehend what you are thinking when somebody else can simply absorb what you are saying. How can you understand what you mean when you cannot verbalize it to someone else? Being able to do so is so satisfying.

Somebody, for once (it seems), really, truly understands what you are trying to say, and it is a beautiful thing. Thank them.

Ambiguity, fuck you.

The terrorists have been echo-located!

Today, in my doctor's office, the radio was on a random news station.
I heard the most absurd statement I've heard in quite some time.

"Up next - how dolphins can be used to prevent terrorist attacks!"
Random news station: you've fucking failed me.

This reminds me of the scene in Dr. Strangelove, in the conference room.
"We have to win the mineshaft race!"

I understand the idea of 'any way possible,' but for fuck's sake. Dolphins? You've got to be fucking kidding me.



Terrorists, watch the fuck out for these guys. The U.S. government is gonna getcha.

A simple diagram

Is all it really takes to prove to everyone around you that you are completely, utterly, incompetent.

I'm not mad, I'm not upset, I am just simply amazed at how difficult every day life must be for certain folk that cannot follow even the simplest of instructions. Instructions depicted through pictures (diagrams) should be easy to follow, one would think.

ONE WOULD HAVE THOUGHT WRONG!

There are so few possible combinations of the way you can insert your credit card into our ATM.

You attempted the same one, over, and over, and over, and over again, until you deemed it necessary to come inform me that our ATM was broken. When I told you to turn your card upside down, you still failed.

"The strip needs to be down, and on your right."
"Oh," followed by an attempted correction.
"No, face down, and on the right."
"Oh!" again, followed by, again, an attempted correction.

Congratulations, you have gone through every possible position your card could have been in to properly work the ATM, and you failed.

I hope, for your poor, poor, sake, that you win the lottery. Otherwise, you will fail miserably at everything you do, based on your display of how poor your ATM operating skills are.

I am so sorry, you poor thing.

Blue(?) skies, and some grass.

"You know, it's incredibly strange to look at so much of nothing. I'm looking, but I'm not sure what I'm looking at really, when there's nothing to really look at. I guess I'm looking at the fluid in my eyeballs, I'm not sure, but I can't focus on it. My eyes are incapable. It is too close."
"I've heard that those are damaged parts of your retinal rods, and cornea."
"Oh, I had no idea."
"I'll google it later. What color do you think it is? Perry-winkle?"
"I don't know. I'm seeing all shades of blue, but it all looks so uniform at the same time. I'm not sure if its blue, even. I couldn't even tell you what I'm looking at, really. It's so baffling to look at so much of nothing, and see it all at the same time."

I don't know. I know I'm supposed to stop saying "I don't know," as I have replaced "um," with the aforementioned phrase. This time, though, I really don't know.

Should it really take two cop cars, on top of the AAA truck itself, to tow a parked car out of a parking lot?

I'm not sure.

I realize its Sunday morning in Cupertino, but for fuck's sake, "there's time to lean, and there's time to clean."

At least try to look like you're doing something important, policemans.

Going through all the crap, just in my desk and closet, has created 6 garbage bags full of shit. This is going to be a long process.

Old man, I spoke too soon.

While you may have made the afternoon bearable...
Asshole in a white pick-up truck: fuck you.

Fuck you for going too fast at that stop sign and slamming into me while I was on my motorcycle.
Old lady that was in front of me, fuck you for pulling over and telling the cops that it was all my fault. I'm sorry that you're old and wrinkly and live in boulder creek, but why are you trying to fuck me? I had the right of way. I'm too broke for this to be pinned on me, when it clearly wasn't my fault.

Anyhow.
Traveling down the street, the complacency with which one thinks "I am about to be in an incredible amount of pain," is silly.

All I really remember of being hit by this truck is thinking, "There is a truck flying towards me." No screaming, no slamming on brakes(I didn't have any time to react, really), not much of anything. I thought the aforementioned thought, and all of a sudden, I was elsewhere, on the ground.
"I smell gas," I thought.
Oh, the smell of spilled gasoline. I usually enjoy your presence so, but not when you are coming out of my poor, poor, wounded motorcycle.
People everywhere screaming at me, asking if I was alright. Some dude with a ponytail helping me pick my bike up.

Then I fell over again. I was pretty dazed, and it was incredibly hard to stand at that point. I'm not sure how long I was out for, but it couldn't have been too long. Twenty seconds max, but that was enough time to be sent sailing across the oncoming lane, and skid to a halt in the mud.

Oh, poor, poor, wounded Simpson racing helmet. You were good to me. You saved my head.

Thanks, helmet.
Fuck you, dude in the f250.
My helmet is cooler than you ever will be. At least my helmet helped, instead of made my day that much shittier, like you did.

I am still amazed at the complacency with which thoughts were streaming through my head, moments before impact. It is so calm up there, knowing fully that I am about to get fucked.


Oh, silver and black motorbicycle, you were super duper.

Sometimes, all it takes is one old man to say "Hey man, I like your sideburns," to save an afternoon.
Despite the fact that you remind me of Quasimodo, old man, thank you.

Spewpewpew Part III

I'm not sure if I'm sick and twisted, but I am really enjoying this warm Tecate coupled with going over bank statements.

Does that make me ill? I would think those two awful, terrible things combined would be a combination of devastation to any normal human being.

I guess not.

That is besides the point.

There isn't a point, really.

Next point: Those of you who have seen me over the past few months may have noticed some changes.
I think that recent events leading up to the entire mouth-cancer scare event (which, I still haven't had a cigarette, by the way) triggered some strange desire to destroy.
When I drink, I break glass things. That don't belong to me.
I've never done this before.

It is so weird.

Is it possible that a simple statement could be so overwhelming as to trigger incredibly destructive behavior?

I'm Jewish, by the way.