Extra special order.

I just had the Wait, what’s B[]’s last name? moment.
LOL
I’m confused. Is A[] a stripper?
lol Not as good as What's B[]'s last name?, though.

Certain names are verbs, allowing a name (Clive Staples Lewis) to become a sentence. Less remarkable are last names (Brooke Shields) which strain the bounds of transitivity. Rare are the fortunate ones (Mark Felt) whose first and last names are both verbs, allowing multiple possible sentences.

I have none.
Clearly, this is why you need more friends.

Quirk is established in slight exaggeration.

I can express what I need to express, and only those who understand me will understand me.

Hyperbole is the compensation for the loss of experience in communication.

((4! + 4)/4)^sqrt4 = 4! + 4! + 4/4 = (4 + 4 - tan (pi/4))^sqrt4

Number families.

More horizontal than vertical.

“Synthesize, organize, assuage, rutabage.”

Part to part to whole to whole.

Now I'm only trying to figure out whether we can have a metametonymnym.

“Dating, like the tyrant, seeks perfection (within a certain price range). Whereas the heart, like the eye, can only cling to imperfections: her funny stride, and the way her voice breaks, child-like, on the phone. And so the dater, self-baffling, seeks what the heart cannot understand. We must stop dating. But we can't.”

The past is dated.

“The only way to stop dating is to fall in love. But how, under conditions of dating, would this be possible? You are affected by all the dates you've been on, the relationships you've had. The pain you've inflicted binds you to the people who bore the brunt of it.”

Where's that from: 'I like you…kuleles'?
"I just like ukuleles. I didn't get it from anywhere."
I was afraid of that. Well, now you know what keeps me up at night.

Dreams are art without a soundtrack.

"Yeah, I look up youtubes of ukuleles at night."
Now I know what keeps you up at night.

Underwhelming: The Epic Continues.

Turnover prior to halftime.

Or maybe, Disappointing: The Last Battle.

“Have you ever seen a one trick pony…”

Wrestler is a struggle towards a tragically predictable ending. A stoic can take on any hurt and not feel it, except the hurt they themself inflict, and those hurts become self-inflicted as everything changes except self-identity. It should be so easy to halt, but in a contrived world that has glimmered with glory for too many decades, reality and phoniness become so indistinguishable to the observer and to the self, that physical pain leads to emotional torment. Any political or religious overtone is coincidental. The world is fake. The world hurts.

“…Tell me, friend, can you ask for anything more…”

Emotional investment is required to enjoy a spectator sport, but it need not be the spectator’s emotion. Another’s, be it stoic endurance or passionate outburst, will suffice as conduit.

1) It’s a home team.
2) They’re the underdogs.
3) I have family in Philadelphia.
4) I’m rooting against R[].
This is easy.

Sibling or Date: every waiter’s favorite game.

“I did my best to notice…”
I really hate, when I try to do something good for someone who deserves it, that the result is only worse for everyone.
“…My sign is vital…”
I realize I am lucky.
“…My hands are cold…”
I feel nothing.
“…I’m on my knees looking for the answer…”
I don’t even know what to pray for.
“…Are we human…”
We make mistakes.
“…Are we dancer…”
We keep moving.

There should be room temperature snow.

“I want you to know…”

Dear Charter,

Please put a note in my file that says that there’s an Internet outage in my area every time the power goes out, so that when I call in after the power goes out, you don’t treat me like a moronic liar who needs to be walked through a modem reboot 3 times and then scheduled for an unhelpful, unwanted, and unasked for router upgrade, as you have 7 times in 2 months when the problem is- and has always been- on your end.

ps Thanks for not hanging up on me the second time I called.

“…You oughta know…”

“Walking on, walking on…”

Keep moving, back to whatever shattered remains of what slipped from my fingers to crash windingly into my side so that I recoil away, letting it fall, to create a symbolic splintered destruction across the floor through where I still must somehow proceed to exit.

Watch your step: this may hurt.

“…Broken glass…”

I don’t even think they can diagnosis it, but the medicine is making me kind of loopy.

“I've become so numb / I can't feel…”

“You don’t hate yourself. You’re annoyed at yourself.”
Don’t you understand our angst expression by now? The fact that I don’t have that lost iPod any more is the way she knows I still don’t have a time machine.

Dimensionally unique.

I’m pulling a you.
I’m pulling a you pulling a me.

No Shame tonight: 10pm Women’s Building, Olin 2.
Good chance of drama.

“CRAIGSLIST MEDLEY”
or
“I FEEL SO CLINGY”
a one-act play within a one-act play in two acts
based on the play
“CRAIGSLIST MEDLEY”
by
LAURA CASTANON
adapted for the stage by
DANNY BRAVMAN and MELISSA DUCHIN
for
NO SHAME THEATRE
at
WASHINGTON UNIVERSITY
in
SAINT LOUIS
on
JANUARY 23, 2009
starring
FOUR GUYS
FOUR GIRLS
and
ONE LUCKY AUDIENCE MEMBER
with special guest appearance by
SATHYA SRIDHARAN

Lala Excalibur.
Symbol of Camelot,
Sword drawn from stone, and then
Truth’s battle cry,

Wielded each season for
Teleological
Cause: This we shall live through,
They, you, and I.

Futurus Quondamque.
Arthur, enlightened rex,
Student of Merlin, who,
Come what-a-may,

Uberdespondently
Cries an impassioned plea:
“Make me a hawk! Let me
Fly far away.”

Vanitess Nicoless.
Guinevere, Arthur’s queen,
Lover of legend, the
Virtued coquette,

Explores for herself an
Unhypothetical
New proposition: To
Nunnery, get.

Ferrumfer Sinister.
Lancelot, Arthur's knight,
Friend of a friend of a
Mate of a mate,

Lays him a chivalrous
Intercollinear
Line down, to perfectly
Triangulate.

Bitter cold.

Guiltless in madness lurks
An untaught quirk:
Trying rebound outlaws berserk,
Which isn't going to work.

ITEM           QTY     PRICE
----           ---     -----
TOBACCO
 000000100     1      $4.24

DONATION RELAY FOR LIFE/CANCER
 011836127     1      $1.00

    Subtotal           5.24
    Tax                0.26

    Total             $5.50

    Cash               6.00
    CHANGE            -0.50

Items Purchased: 2

Drop a penny on the ground, pick it up yesterday.

“Penny lane is in my ears and in my eyes…”

Some classes are slept through, some are late for, some are startlingly walked out of because forget this, some classes are wingmanned for hungry 4-dimensional reptiles.

Some like to sit in the first 3 rows, some in the back 3 rows, some in aisle seats, with independent preferences well and good. Yet the confluence of individual opinions can affect the tardy, who can’t take a seat in the back, who can’t duck into the front, who can’t slip down a row, who can’t even climb over to reach the empty seats in the middle.

Lurking into law.

As tempting as giving Calypso a mouse with a broken right-button as a toy would be, as even she should realize that a mouse totally looks like a mouse, having her associate cords as the tails she instinctively wants to claw will be regretful.

I have a problem with not dealing with my problems.

“I have a very deep relationship with cashmere.”
Isn't it actually a shallow relationship? Purely physical.

The attraction in reading horoscopes is retrospective rather than predictive, so that insight might be found in analyzing what has just occurred, not in trying to divine what may yet. As such, their inclusion in Cosmopolitan is appropriate.

Possible results of cleaning a room
1) You straighten
2) You throw things out
3) It looks messier

What about, ‘It gets clean’?
No.
<simultaneously> No.

“Late at night I toss and turn and dream of what I need…”

A role-model, being not superlative, minimizes suboptimal action in a given context which heroism would transcend. A hero is without flaw in action, unable to be emulated. Both depend on deed; uncertainty and indecision counter the type of directed prominence to which a young child might hope to aspire.

“…Holding out for a hero…”

There’s a narrow window between recognizing the status symbol and realizing it’s just a status symbol.

Reasons to not save the best for last
1) The milk will make it soggy.
2) Mom will come along and take it.

Read the Time Traveler’s Wife, which more cohesively explores the same theme of the independence of time and love (albeit at the expense of freewill) as Benjamin Button, by illustrating the duality of the observer and the observed. Penelope, now titular, becomes equally important as Odysseus.

7 years ago I went on a journey.
6 years ago I went on a journey and I found myself.
5 years ago I went on a journey and I found my past.
4 years ago I went on a journey and I found my present
3 years ago I went on a journey and I found my companions.
2 years ago I went on a journey and I found my limits.
1 year ago I went on a journey and I found my future.
This year I will go on a journey and arrive.

And I resolve to tell what I will have found.

Saw The Spirit. Other than the style echoing Sin City, this film treats all of its elements without any seriousness. Unfortunate, as I could use a moral about empathy for a location over people, rather than satirization of the concept.

Does one have less uncountable things or fewer uncountable things?

Fewer, but none of them will understand this.

I never realized how hard it was to get out of this house.
I know. I remembered why I got my learner’s permit.
No, I mean, through the doors.

5 people need to be 5 different places, none of them here.

Can we just take 5 seconds to appreciate how awful that was.

Oil running out.

You’re not supposed to pour hot oil down the drain.
Really? That’s what L[] always said, but she would open the microwave door without stopping it first.
Oh, then what does she know?

Darkness into heat, wood into fire, time into space.

I was this close to impulse buying a space heater.

Saw Benjamin Button. The non-symmetry of the second half, which does not reflct the pacing of the first half, does disrupt the theme, but nevertheless the film does adequately explore the independencies of the time and relationship axes. Interestingly, the unprecedented symbolic use of Katrina, representing the destructive storm underlying time, feels much more raw than the senseless WW1 casualties it parallels.

Read the Raw Shark Texts: parts Myst, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Matrix, Name of the Rose, Jaws. Aside from being fascinating, it personally raises so many questions answers are already know to.

Why a book is unread so long.
Why panic at archive crash.
Why must tell the story.
Why happened at 16.
Why not over her.
Why not swim.
Why a cat.
Why lie.
Why.

The chance of rain and the necessity of doing laundry are directly related.

A most ghetto Chanukkah.

The secret to surviving excursions on numbingly cold days is Teavana.

I hate driving tests. Why isn’t life like baseball? If you get thrown enough bad pitches, you get to go to first anyway.
Um, driving tests are like baseball: if you fail enough, you get to walk.

Try to go again.

Another hiatus, another SI single.

“I am understand with occasional difficulty.”

In the future, some poor student translating will, being confused by the term air conditioning, try to translate it literally, only to be rebuked by their teacher for missing the note on the text explaining that the phrase idiomatically denotes cooling.

“I find it kind of funny / I find it kind of sad…”
I leave bed one transcendent sleepless night…
“…Worn out places, worn out faces…”
Cut off from the world…
“…Going nowhere…”
Having read a book…
“…No expression…”
A book not yet published…
“…No tomorrow…”
A testament I pray must be of a friend of a friend…
“…Happy Birthday…”
A story about my life…
“…Sit and listen…”
My story, never told…
“…No one knew me…”
My life, never lived…
“…Look right through me…”
Mad.
“…I find it hard to tell you / I find it hard to take…”

“Like a virgin / Touched for the very first time…”

One can only reveal to someone that one is not a virgin once.

“11) Sex is a good way to cement a place in a relationship and make it serious.”
Agree. But, I mean, I’d also agree that it’s a bad way to cement a place in a relationship and make it serious.

A pocket full of lie: Counting out money, setting a dainty dish before the king, the queen’s honey, and roguish overanalysis.

“Sing a song of sixpence…”

Matter is a male mattress.

Nothing to sneeze at.

“Oh yeah / I’ll tell you something / I think you’ll understand…”

Dialogue: Hand, to mouth

I didn't want my reaction to your being honest to be negative, be it critical or fearful or guilt. I wanted some level of: okay, we can do this.

Share: Hand, in hand

That's what I value in physicality. The expression of being wanted, acceptance of wanting, that just doesn't work without awareness or sensitivity.

Comfort: Hand, shake

“…I want to hold your hand…”

Did the apple feel any guilt for the original sin?

Is there goodness in humanity sufficient to not make destructive mistakes? Is there goodness in humanity sufficient to recover from mistakes having been made?

I have made destructive and self-destructive choices to people close to me, despite it not being my intent. And even if wanted and deserved, I can’t in venting my misanthropic rage selfishly prioritze my own emotional want. If I am satisfied by my own behavior, then the rest of the world's is immaterial.

That's what I feel guilt about. He, to not hurt a friend, refrained from you. That same night, I didn't, despite knowing that a friend didn't want me to, the friend being you.

- $
- programs
+ curtain
+ box I'd/monoxide
- singing
+ taking S[]’s suggestion
- changing Canadian parliament to Canada
+ funny
- confusing
+ leap onto the table
- not listening
+ prop DVD/ invisible DVD player
++ Auschwitz
+ B[] not laughing on the backline during M[]’s monologue.
+ shirtless
- rejecting a suggestion
- explaning a joke
- shortform
+ recovering neatly
+ funny
- singing
+ good lines
+ extra game since extra time
- A[]
+ spaghetti arms
+ pizza

(?) is the ultimate in self-doubt, to be unsure whether one is unsure.

Different couch, different shirt, different night, same game.
This will only end badly.

Oh god she’s beautiful. Oh god she’s beautiful. Oh god what is she doing with her leg,

Siberian exile
Spreading the party line
Being a loyalist
Looking the other way
Violent nepotism

Libations of camaraderie, comrades liberated.

It’s red and evil and makes a humorous topical political statement.

Let’s give communism a try, even if it involves giving the shirt off my back.

“Shout, shout, let it all out…”

The summer after my sophomore year I was subletting an apartment on Wash. Ave., and one day I had a fight with my then-best friend and was playing music loudly. The person upstairs came down at the noise, and I felt bad for disturbing her, so I told her that I was just having a bad day, and I'd be quieter. She came back later that evening and left me some extra brownies she had.

Yell as loud as you need.

“‘He was shifty. And, I mean, he was pretending to be shifty- but then he also seemed shifty underneath that.’”

Unsuspending disbelief like a bad horror film

Why is someone listening to me give date advice? Why am I giving good date advice? I sound like I know what I'm talking about: ‘Find something you want to do and do it with her.’

Crashing like the snow.

“Are you having an existential crisis because you gave someone good advice?”
Thanks, that’s a really good way of putting it.

Crazy like a loon.

That quote, even in the context of my life right now, did not seem to make sense.

Shouldn’t should.

“We will meet accidentally / We'll start to talk…”

Run into someone you haven’t seen for years
Get stood up
Sit down
Watch
Office
Drop by work
Go to a store
Go shopping
Buy a DVD
Return a DVD
Buy a book
Do something nice for someone
Get the mess out of your hair
Take a trip
Tell me about your day

Twice over
Cake

“…With a short skirt / And a long jacket…”

“You think you lost your love…”

[jeI] : [jiæ] :: excitement : agreement

“…Yeah, yeah, yeah…”

Subconscious haunt should've
Risen above
Shame proclaiming in name of love
Not her I'm thinking of.

Given infinite time, anything is possible to create; for creation is the act of assembling components, and components are finite. Memory is thus an act of creation; for to remember is to recall existing components. Things forgotten are not permenantly lost, but merely await the rediscovery of their order, confirmed by recognition. But even were time not unlimited, the mind is not perfect. Recognition fades.

I am fortunate for the memories that I have archived, scrawled, typed, in basement storage. Part of me feels that I can never die until the archive is complete. The other part of me feels that completion is only necessary so long as I am alive.

Shoplifting is an extreme activity. Either it is done to the expensive because the cost is too significant, or to the cheap because the cost is insignificant.

Rickrolling jumps the shark on the Macy's Day parade.

Fun will be taken away capriciously. Personal preferences require justification. Sharing is bad. I learned from an early age the penalty of judgmentalism; at a late age that empathy is an acquired skill. The ability to understand how another feels is a closely guarded secret, from which comes the necessity of deceit. For lies are born from both the repeated rationalizations and from the omissions that become learned as necessary.

Memories are composed of thoughts and of sensations. Actual events are replaced by the lessons of what will be done differently next time. I remember how I felt, what I thought. That is what happened.

Can give recompense in food, money, and/or truth.

Quantum of Solace, more a continuation than a sequel, requires comparison to a predecessor. Rather than worry about the dichotomy, it chooses to overwhelming follow the patterns set by Casino Royale. The world it takes place in features morality is reflected by the lack of perfect rejoinders and smooth characters, and poise. The evolution of identity was worth ducking out of work early to see.

“When the other person not only makes you feel insecure but actually seems to want to destroy you, it's obviously the end. The Quantum of Solace stands at zero. You've got to get away to save yourself."

First rule about being a guy: don’t neglect the needs of the girl you’re in bed with.

Always have an exit strategy: flee the state, call in a favor, give a fake name, coopt the innocent. Lay and lie: put things in place.

You seriously believed me? Wow. You believed the we’re-friends-again part too, didn’t you.

Friends will be there when you’re not; invite you to their party; leave their own party to pick you up when stranded; loan you 2 boxers for a brief visit; shake your hand and pull you out; thank you with a kiss, a pineapple, and here’s my phone number; and don’t say hurtful things to each other.

“Say what you need to say…”

It’s miserable to realize that if the past 2 hours had been spent doing laundry instead of at the career center, at least some of my life would have gotten in order. It’s depressing to then spend the next 2 hours failing at the laundry.

Disrobe, lie bare, and let the naked truth be exposed in the bitter cold of the impending winter.

The ditch by the side of the road called. It wants to know where I was last night.

Midnight bacon works most times, but some nights require 10:30 calamari.

Did you already have an American Beauty one started?
No, I’m doing one about squid.
Did you already have a squid one started?

I like whimsy and creativity.
I like nostalgia. So I can be, ‘Hey, it's rabite but pink! Aw, I remember rabite.’.
Yeah, I'm like, ‘Seriously? Killer purple fluffy mushroom? Yeah, you barely eked by with that one the first time around, Squaresoft.’.
It would be neat if real life were like that. Like there's a blonde you somewhere out there, and later on, a pink-haired one.

The Pure Land is the last beautiful place you go to; a lingering beauty in a sea of ugly, where one cannot go back to.

Pyramid, already a clever game, is elegant because the Winner’s Circle round is not merely an exciting bonus round, but a built-up tapering of the prior round. In the earlier round, clues must be given for things in a category to be guessed. In the later round, things must be given for a category to be guessed.

There are 2 types of gameshows: Those I know from GSN, and those I admit to watching.

Sound on, sound off.

I hate November

Everyone is judgmental and lies about it really well.

If someone tells you that honesty is the best policy, they're lying.

Good riddance to hypocrisy.

“Why did you just buy a pint of milk?”
I’m going to a pumpkin party. <pulls out box of pumpkin spice pudding>
“<gapes> Oh.”
You really should know better than to ask me that kind of question.

The proof is in.

Why did we ever even bother with jello.

“Wait, are you asking me to be an antiwingman?”

Even insanity needs a getaway driver.

“…That's the reason you're here, mighty wingman / You're taking one for the team…”

Lack of control is the stamp of nightmare, be it creator unable to control creation or individual at the mercy of an inevitable higher power.

Veterans.

1) Overcharging students
2) Putting subliminal messages in endcap signs
3) That obnoxious buyback woman who sighs, and whines about everything, and demands to speak to someone about how outrageous it is that we aren't giving her more money, and just has a thoroughly unpleasant attitude- every single semester
4) The poltergeist in the Architecture section that always messes up the books there no matter how often you straighten
5) Destroying books and magazines in front of customers
6) ActiveDirectory
7) Finding invoices
8) Plotting to annex GM, enslave their workers, pillage their merchandise
9) Nibbling on candy, then putting it back so no one notices
10) Slack-off-Sundays
11) Getting M[] in trouble

Passa recaptiva.
“Crazy” (in love), which is
Girlstruck repeating the
Same hope, becomes

Synonymetric’ly
“Insanity”, which is
Somehow expecting some
Diff’rent outcomes.

Get off, unwrought romance
That won’t advance
Past passed reflection, nor’ll entrance
By chance of second chance.

So Rent is 3 Musketeers?
But the question is, what’s the Snickers?
Fight Club?
No, Fight Club’s the Milky Way. Snickers is Candy.

Candy is not even mostly a drug. It’s a relationship, albeit just as addictive.

Heaven is being together and happy.
Earth is being together and miserable.
Hell is being apart because you’ve realized that you can’t be happy together.

I can’t take vitamins seriously.

Closer to home: going in circles but seeing straight.

“We've been waiting all our lives / For things we've always had…”

I woke up this morning someplace new. The sun was shining. I reached for my glasses. The right side was broken; it had broken sometime last night.

“…But have no eyes to see…”

A beautiful woman appeared before me, telling me how I got here and what had happened; and apologizing for how she couldn’t stay and how she had things she needed to go do now.

“…Something new is going to happen / The most natural thing / But nothing we'd expect…”

There was a note above me:
“Obama is President.
(Feel free to sleep here)”

“…All these buildings and mountains…”

[Feed the starving pollworkers! Anyone willing to bring food to Glenridge Elementary can earn serious awesome points.]

No one even has a pro-McCain argument any more. The best they can do is anti-Obama.

The tragedy of this campaign is how greatest strengths are greatest weaknesses.
The salvation of this election is how greatest weaknesses are greatest strengths.

“Yes we can…”

Rachel Getting Married is a paean to Stoicism.

I called non-emergency police about kid, gave Calypso fresh water/food/litter, sent an e-mail that A[] will think I'm crazy for, and am getting breakfast with you in the morning. I think that's a good a place as any to call it a night.

It’s been a long night.
It’s going to be a long November.

Of Thee I Sing: 148 lamb chops, a bridge joke, and the best darned corn muffins you ever ate. Really, that’s all I need.

I’m a Stoic/I’m not a Stoic
Didn’t find what I needed/Got what I wanted
Carried away should be/Never get carried away should be

Pirates vs. Caesar, the Republic in the balance. Go over a bridge, through a wall, from fire to ice, turn neither left nor right, out the passenger door in the left turn lane, say hello, say goodbye, explain tomorrow, live for the chaos wherever/wear-ever/we’re ever chance might take.

“And the highwayman came riding, riding, riding…”

The annoying thing about translating Greek poetry is that it has too many nouns whose nuance is struggled to be found until the professor reveals that, actually, it’s a name, so that you hate that person for having a stupid name, but with them already being so dead that you're translating their funerary epigraph, what can you do.

The dreams of happiness? The dreams of sweet?
The dreams of some creature named Felix.

You have a Voice. I like that.
Easiest assignment ever- took zero time. Woke up, printed xanga entry, handed in.
It's weird just how much of English class is teachers trying to drum voice out of you. Then you get to the real world and discover that the trick is to find yourself.

1st: italics
2nd: bold
3rd: quoted

My voice doesn’t say whom.