Uh...yeah, drew a picture.  Evidently, don't try to paint over ink with water color unless you want bleeding and frustration.  I would have done more, but I guess I'm just too lazy.  I think I'm gonna buy some paints today.  I hope posting this doesn't completely fuck me up so that I can't do anything.  It's not that bad.  I have no idea what to draw, but that's okay.  Of course I compulsively threw pup in there.  

I'm too disgusting to tell how bad this picture is, possibly.  I'm always having epiphanies, and last night I saw one of my pictures and I was like, "Oh my goodness; that's disgusting.  I'm disgusting."  Yeah, what the hell am I doing?  I don't know.  Does this do any good? 

Thinking about art this morning, for instance, and need vs. want.  Nobody fucking needs art.  Well, "need" is a tricky word, too -- need for what?  Need to be happy...

Anybody need art to be happy?  I doubt it.  That is to say, I have my doubts about it, though we'll never find out the answer, presumably.  Is it a waste?  Is it right, is it wrong? 

I like to know my purpose when I'm doing things.  I don't like to do things for selfish reasons.  I think it was in Doors of Perception by Aldous Huxley where he was talking about how, when on mescaline, so much art seemed worthless.  He liked Van Gogh, because it was just contributing to the scenery.  

Which is all well and good, but did Van Gogh have to deal with the looming prospect of global warming?  The melting icecaps?  Because if you just wanted to contribute something for people to enjoy, wouldn't it be counterproductive to create garbage at the same time?  I'm seriously troubled by these questions.  So people just don't care, right?  "Whatever"???  Is the Earth really dying? 

Once more I've got to plead ignorance.  I guess I like to be told the way things are by people I trust rather than read about the way things are by a media I don't trust.  If we continue being the same way tomorrow, do we cross the dividing line where there is no turning back and all human endeavors are doomed?  Maybe we crossed that line yesterday.  So why should I care either..  Somebody help me out here.

I don't know what bike to get.  Schwinn website sells more expensive models, whilst Wal-Mart (BLAH) sells more inexpensive models.  And they don't seem any worse to me.  One from the company would sell for more than half a paycheck, whilst Wal-Mart would be about a sixth.  What about Target?  I dreamed Target came to town last night.  Corporate entities are strutting into my brain.

Work is all right.  I get along with everyone just fine.  It's nice to return again and again and everybody treats me well.  I work with two black guys, Ricky and Martin, a white girl named Stefanie, and two other white guys, Scott and this other guy whose name I always forget, and a Hispanic lady who I haven't seen much yet.  I think maybe I don't remember that guy's name because he distances himself.  He's really into guns.  This makes him sound nuts and maybe he is.  But I don't think he's that creepy.  He sort of reminds me of that one cartoon dog who mopes around.  He's a little cross-eyed and is, evidently, a sharp-shooter (in his own words.)  I think he's telling the truth, too.  

Of course, I have to get out of this situation.  But why?  Because I could do more, I suppose.  It's sort of pointless to do less than you can, harder work for less money.  Or is it?  Is there so much to learn from these people?  I love these people.  The guy whose name I can't remember has nearly brought me to tears on more than one occasion.  He's like, fifty years old or something and maybe lives with his sister or his mom.  And it's like I can hear his inner voice.  And he's like Bing Crosby or something.  I want to hear him sing.  Or it may be that I'm completely wrong.  But maybe he is like a person who is hurt and is stand-offish.  I know what that's like a little bit, but I don't want to know it too much..  

I get some weird looks sometimes.  Maybe I'm just too carefree.  Because I can see the pointlessness of everything, the selfishness of it.  One can create love anywhere, and nowhere is any better than the next.  If I don't create my art, it's really not a loss; life carries on.  But I suppose I might as well.  Try...

Last night I was carting a really high stack of lawn chairs and I got them caught on a low-hanging Wal-Mart LCD/Plasma TV (whichever.)  That was pretty harrowing.  Some customers enjoyed the show as I tried to wrench it loose.  In retrospect, I probably should have asked for help; it could have come crashing down.  Almost intense Wal-Mart moment #1.

Yes, my entire personality is built around fantasy.  So, following fantasy, I murdered my whole personality.  That's what you would think, if it were true that my fantasies won't come true.  Only I change my mind.  And I don't, because my fantasy isn't based in reality.  It's hard to explain, because it would sound so goofy.  (And I haven't tried to make exact sense of it.)  I just wish somebody really loved stupid me.  I fear I've totally f-ed myself, because I am smart.  I don't know...  Maybe I'm making complete sense somehow.  It seems like I am.  It feels like I just made complete sense.

So I'm crazy when I'm just being myself.  Not like, "Oh, damn, I'm so crazy," but more like utter stupidity.  I'm smarter than myself.  If I weren't a completely good person, I would be utterly evil.  I'm either utterly good or utterly evil.  I'm pretty sure I'm good.  Because I'm going to be this same way my whole life.  Yet I'm tricky, because I know what to say.  But I'm not, because I don't.  

I guess I should just laugh and say I'm busted.  But I don't want to lose my true love.  I'm either totally gone or going through a phase.  I can't get a break, and all I've gotten are breaks.  Man oh man.  I guess you just let go and hope for the best.  I just want to acknowledge that I'm keeping my head up, but that I may have also totally fucked up.  I guess as time passes, my life will either get sunnier or I'll know more and more how much of a zero I am.  

And the spinning, spinning, spinning!!

I ordered a thesaurus today.  I figure, if you're going to write anyway, why settle for less?  My thesaurus is my new girlfriend.  I'm going to make her a bookcover that looks like a dress, I think.  Maybe.  Or just a regular bookcover, and then I'll paste a cut-out girl on the cover.  

I got a new wallet in the mail the other day.  It blocks RFID readers.  Why I will need this, I do not know, but I thought if I was going to get a wallet anyway, why not block RFID readers?  I have nothing in my wallet that has anything to do with RFID.  RFID.

I want to talk more about bikes.  I want a bike.  So these are the things I ever want to get:

Maybe I'll smoke pipes. 

Bicycle.
Painting stuff.

This is boring.  All of our institutions are fear-based and, perhaps, lowly.  It's a possibility.

Everything seems so transparent.  Coming from me.  Not everything.  Certain things.  Not coming from me.  Fuck you.

I'm completely referencing lunacy.  I have witnessed something completely insane.  I have witnessed utter insanity.  And so many people...I have contempt for.  Because they're so fucking stupid.  

Abe, how do you invest in anything?  I don't know.  Stephanie said you'd know.  There must be some easy way.

Excuse me.  I'm not having a bad day; I'm just completely negative.

Meine schwester, Wendy, her husband, Tom, and two children, Jacob and Johanna, are in town from Las Vegas.  Today we are going to go on a picnic down at Floyd Park.  This is something I am looking forward to.  The weather seems nice, not too warm.  There will be grass, trees, and a river.  And a picnic table.  And a grill.  People will walk by; cars will go by.  People will have conversations about things that aren't very important, or actually are very important. 

I will drink a flavored carbonated water of some sort.  There are different regions where people call flavored carbonated water by different names.  in Iowa we call it flavored carbonated water. 

Work has been going all right.  It's pretty simple, so I can understand why the pay is so inexpensive.  People are constantly quitting, because it's strenuous physical labor and the pay is low.  I'm thinking I'll just stay there for six months to a year, or maybe even longer.  I have no particular plans.  And I don't have many expenses.  All I am going to buy are cheap things from thrift stores, paints, and canvases.  Maybe some soundproofing.  Things like that.  But hopefully I'll be out of this state ASAP.  But everybody's always fleeing this state.  Maybe everyone ought to come here, instead.  It could possibly be fun.  But I guess living by the ocean kind of makes you think you can get away even further, like you're about to go somewhere.  Whereas in Iowa, it's like you have no plans of ever going anywhere whatsoever.  Consequently, there's nobody here. 

Well, there are people here, but few people of any particular interest to me.  Not a lot of artists.  Just farmers and workers.  So everyone come to Iowa and let's turn this scene upside-down.  Yeah, that's what I thought.  :(

One of the workers tried to convert me to Christianity.  He did not succeed.

I had my orientation at Wally World today.  ("Wally World" does nothing to make it seem more like an amusement park, I just discovered.  On the contrary, the comparison makes it seem almost cheap.)  It wasn't so bad.  Or, if it was bad, I'm not worrying about it.  Worry only makes things worse.  But you could do something incredibly stupid and not be worried about it and then be murdered.  It's difficult for me to tell how incredibly stupid my behavior is.  Woe is me.  My life is truly a pitiful thing.  Truly, literally.

But then I think, hey, nobody's torturing themselves but me.  So they must not be worried.  And if they're torturing themselves, then they're tortured.  I could almost seem free, if seeming too free weren't too obscene.  Possibly I am just a loser standing there.

But yeah, it shouldn't be so bad.  Drive for thirty-minutes, listen to some tunes.  Let the time pass by my muddy mind while I cut open boxes.  Somehow I feel like I'm being caught up in a net while fishing, however, but I'm going to keep on fishing no matter how long the line gets.  Until it's so long I'm not even fishing anymore, and I can't remember what the line is, but it's fun to twang.

I'm a total moron, and yet I'm not.  Like, I could read more.  But I'm a moron.

So I'm, of course, going to read more.  Thank you to xarsenickx once again, for another delightful present on my bright day.  I'm going to read that poetry, I swear it!  I'm going to read everything!!!  Also, that pillowcase is awesome.  It will stay with me all of my days.  Thank you. :)

I got to go swimming yesterday.  I love to swim, but perhaps because I do it so rarely.  Well, I love to "swim"; i.e. I can't swim.  That is to say that Jess came and and we went swimming with her son, Dmitri.  He thought it was funny when I would swim underwater.  Jess and I are talking about pitching in for a season's pass.  What this will mean for me is more swimming than I have had the opportunity to enjoy since childhood.

I prefer indoor pools.  It's just too bad that they don't have sunshine. 

After the pool we went to the carnival.  Which was some rides and booths set up along downtown Remsen, which is even smaller than Le Mars.  Remind me never to go on the Apple Spin again, will you?  It appears to be so slow moving from the outside.  Things seem to move faster when you're looking out a two X two foot square in the sweltering heat. 

Well, I interviewed at Wal-Mart, and I think (?) I got the job.  It seemed like I got the job; I think he may have hired me.  Then I went and took the drug test, and I think (?) I passed.  I hardly ever *puff*puff*.  I don't even like to, so therefore, I'm sure I passed.  

So my agenda is...do this and see how I like it.  I should get some good exercise lifting stuff off of trucks.  And also sell solar paneling.  And then take a solar paneling installation class.  Then I become a solar panel installationist, etc.  I buy a mansion and a lambro.

Hmm...  Today has been a lame day.  Got into an internet fight.  That was lame.  I don't have a lot to do at the moment.  I'm waiting to get my references for jobs.  ... ........

Hmmm...  I...wrote a poem (or two).  No, it was definitely two.  Went for a walk down by the river.  Painted the kitchen a bit. 

The world isn't such a cold, heartless place.  Really it's not.  It's just oblivious.  Or it's just totally bizarre in ways that no man could possibly fathom.  Secret ways within each and every individual head.

Tamorrow morning I'm driving my dad down to the hospital.  I don't know what for. 

Yeah.

This morning I got another fine package in the mail from a very special lady.  That is, xarsenickx .  Inside were many awesome things, including drawings and Botan Rice Candy, which I will happily carry around in my shirt's breast pocket.  Also I stuck the "MY IMMUNE SYSTEM HAS JUST BEEN BOOSTED" sticker on my guitar.  Surely this will improve my playing dramatically, or magically distract people into not noticing how badly I'm playing.



( THE CUT!!! )

Guess who got his fucking license?  I did.  And by that I don't mean my license to fuck, though maybe there should be such a thing.  And yes, I thought of that lame joke on the way to the computer.  And yes, I am sorry.  

My picture turned out better than on my permit, on which I looked totally cracked out.  I don't do drugs, generally, so I don't know why I looked like such a madman.  This time she said I looked sad.  Oh well, that's what happens naturally when I don't smile.  But my face is steadily growing shorter, I imagine.

Marty and I had a nice evening last night, playing dirtbag in the park, having a laugh or two.  We perused Wal-Mart's discount isle.  $3.00 condoms and Barbie wands.  

Went and saw Up with Marty and Jess last night.  More 3D.  I have seen more 3D in the past couple of months than I've seen in my whole life.  I remember watching an episode of 3rd Rock in 3D in the 90's.  As I recall, it was less than spectacular.  

Up was great for a pixar film, in my estimation.  I didn't feel like I was watching an advertisement for the military once.  Not once.  If you care to ever feel like you've died a little bit inside, check out the movie Up.  The intro is the most depressing thing you will ever see.  It ruins your life in more ways than one:

1. Will you ever fall in love like that?
2. If you do, that person is going to die.

It should be that the world is arranged perfectly in pairs.  Maybe it is and we're all just too impatient. 

I'm usually quite good at suspending my disbelief.  I've never complained about a movie being too over the top.  Not even Indiana Jones 4 when the jeep landed in that tree and was gently let down to the ground?!  Or something....

...but Up...  At one point it had an old man standing on the wing of a zeppelin, effortlessly holding on to a house in mid-air by rope.  The expression on his face was as if to say, "I could go for a cup of coffee right now."  I had to suspend my disbelief by assuming that the old man possesses super strength and is totally unaware of it, as are all of his friends and companions, despite his super feats.

And I couldn't log in to Livejournal earlier.  It said a cookie was missing.  So I logged out and back in, and the first time I did this there was just a picture of a kid holding onto his tongue with a pliers.  What?

Out of four stars, I don't give Up any because I'm not a movie critic.  Movies aren't that great.  Certainly not the center of all being they have become in the public's dysfunctional imagination.

Yesterday I went and got my hair cut at Family Hair Cut (or something like that.)  It looks better than it did before.  It's a little short, though, I think, perhaps, to compensate for my shortest length of self-cut hair.  Which must've been pretty short.  I guess really I'm lucky my hair isn't a centimeter in length all around.  The lady got her comb stuck in something on my scalp, which she proceeded to rip off and then said, "I think I pulled off a scab or something."  How do these things happen?  And if it's such a commonplace occurrence that you can mention it so glibly, why mention it at all?  I should have been like, "Oh no, I was saving that!"  Why did I have a scab (or something) on my head?  But I only mention this because it was, probably, the most exciting part of my day.

My mom and I went flower shopping, but for some reason she is convinced that she can't buy flowers.  I mean, she can afford them and wants to buy some, and she hasn't given a justification, but she can't buy any.  And she's like, "I don't know why.  It can't be that hard to buy flowers."  And I was like, "No, it can't possibly be that hard."  Because that would be strange if it were actually impossible for her to buy flowers.  Actually impossible.  She offered to give me twenty or thirty dollars to pick out flowers for her, which I agreed to, but I think this should be headline news of some sort.  Isn't it some scientific anomaly if it's impossible for someone to buy flowers?  But I digress.  It could make headlines in LeMars, since yesterday on the front page was a list of kids' favorite books from Le Mars Community High School.  Maybe I should apply down there and submit an article about how it's impossible for my mom to buy flowers -- for some reason that she can't possibly reveal.

Today, I don't know.  I might go for a lonesome walk down by the river.  It's as long a day as any.

I am again on barbiturates for this cramping at the base of my skull.  It must be the TMJ and not, for instance, spinal meningitis.  At this point, I don't even want to have spinal meningitis.  Unless the nurse would secretly kiss me and then I'd spittle up and watch Matlock and eat jello.  Why people complain about jello, I don't know.  Give me the jello, I'll eat it. 

That's like, my ideal life.  Somehow I manage to be physically in great shape, but all I do is sit in a hospital bed all day, which goes up and down.  Get wheeled around sunny canyons in my hospital bed.  Somebody runs up from behind with a plate of jello.  

I'm soon going to learn how to drive a stick shift, as I will need to be able to drive the truck to work.  I've got the inside scoop on a temporary Wal-Mart remodeling job.  I think I'll save up for a car or a motorbike.  It will be pretty cool when I've got my own place, and if nobody comes to visit me, I'll just paint pictures all the time and smoke cigarettes.  I am planning on not ever owning a television.  Except that tiny one I bought recently at the Goodwill.  It will just sit there on my dresser.