Lie with me I said and lying's what she always did and always will.

life is funny. strange in the way that it leaves you bereft for weeks, devoid of energy, tired, unmotivated, uninspired.

then, at a turn, at the drop of a hat (odd expression), life is full of things to keep you occupied, in the way you want to be occupied, and you are back on the upper swing of this rollercoaster yet again.

school is going well. work is not. however, the lack of work has been timed almost perfectly to an overabundance of studying and homework in such a way that i still stay gainfully employed in something productive.

the pile of laundry is all but gone. (it never is, o beloved stalwart non-existant readers, completely gone. but it is no longer the dragon to my (rather goofy and klutzy) st. george!)

i still want to get a t-shirt made that says "shitty bass player" so when people in the audience say, "this band is really cool, but what the hell is up with the bassi--oh, well. there ya have it."

one of my neighbors used to play the drums. his friend used to play the guitar. last night, we jammed in my garage. it was, o beloved non-existant readers, lacking desperately in that spark, that magical thing that i have with s the guitarist, and s the drummer. and that is as it should be, in my opinion. cause it is rare as fist-sized diamonds to encounter two lads that one can get along with so well, and simultaneously make one's ridiculous, misguided poundings sound like the stuff of dreams. these other two fellas; an enjoyable diversion. the sort of thing i need to keep me sharp and dialed in, advancing in my miniscule abilities rather than stagnating like mosquito-infested swamps.

i predict a new rash of friends requests on facebook. i could be wrong, but my betting money is on a few more adds. one of my old classmates found me today, and in her group of friends are a number of my graduating class.

and, o beloved non-existant readers, i predict an improvement in the quality and regularity of my posts.

darth sardonic

my wife is telling friends of ours a story from her trip to vegas. she is engaging and funny, and we are laughing and she is doing accents and she is so cute.

i know i haven't mentioned it here in awhile, but gads i love her. love her, in love with her, lust her, am infatuated with her, whorship the ground the she walks on. just wanted to remind us all.

Oh, I will be with you, running from the rain

life is nothing without the random, seemingly disjointed things that happen that keep it a tad surreal.

at my suicidegirls account, rather than write another blog, i simply post something short with a link to this blog, and finish by typing, "not even star-crossed, just unlucky."

most of the current beloved non-existant readers weren't there in the very beginning, the earliest days of this tiny shit-stain on the world-wide web, when i decided to use that line from the codiene song, "cigarette machine" as the title of this blog.

a few days ago, at suicidegirls, i get a comment on my blog from someone i have never talked to before, and who, as far as i can tell, would have no reason to be reading my blog in the first place, i.e. we have no friends in common, and i can figure out no other reason why she might've ended up on my profile, saying: hey, that's a codiene lyric.

well, i had to send her a friendship invite, right?

those are the kinds of things that make life fun for me.

the night before last, i had a "long" dream (the kind that feel and play sort of like movies) in which i met up somewhere with my very first crush.

we will call her tm. we met at church. she had long red hair and pale skin, big blue eyes, and she seemed (for the first time i could remember) as interested in me as i was in her. we were eleven.

we couldn't really date, being that young, but for a few years we talked every sunday at church, and our families would often get together for bbq's and the like.

as we got older, she figured out i wasn't very cool, and started crushing on guys who were. but we were still friends and still talked on occasion, though not as frequently as before.

then they moved. to another state.

when i have dreams about her (which isn't very often, but more often than should be considering i haven't talked to her in forever), she is always unhappy with her religious choices, disgruntled, single, hot (of course), and, it seems, every time, looking to fuck me. or be fucked by me. however you want to paint it.

now, i highly doubt that this is the state that she is in. i'm sure she is happily married, with a few wonderful children that she adores.

now, could she just stay the fuck outta my dreams?

darth sardonic

Traveling at five hundred feet per second...

Five thousand feet from the ground


the other day, no. 1 asked, "mommy, were you a baby when i was in space?"


so many people believe in an afterlife. i also believe in a forelife. or lives.


i am in desperate need of a shave. but i have to say, i love having a job where it doesn't really matter whether the razor has hit my face anytime within, say, the last several days. even showering is a bit optional.


i saw fred the other day. he was swimming lazily towards the center of the pond he considers home. no doubt to see about some frog or water fowl dinner.


my tan is ridiculous, i have several layers. my butt has never seen daylight, moonlight, isrealite, or fanny by the gaslight (and i am seriously considering a trip or two to the nude beach to fix that), my chest, back and upper arms are a medium shade of caramel. my legs, arms, and face are, well, my neighbor b says to my other neighbor, j (who is mexican), "he's gettin darker than you." not only do i have this silly farmer's tan, but i have a "sock" tan included, since they kinda frown on mowing or working the idiot spoon in flip flops. it is supposed to be sunny and warm the next couple weeks, and i intend to rectify this disparity.


i had so much more clever shit i wanted to say here, but it seems to have all slipped my so-called mind.

darth sardonic

I don't want to feel this way forever

A dead letter marked return to sender...

i am oddly dead, and yet so alive at the same time; empty, yet overfull; tired, but wide-awake. each of these things starting off as a lie that then gets made truth by the mere act of my brain forming the cognitive thought; a sentence of words strung on string like small glass beads: singly, ugly; but together, a beautiful thing to stir emotions better left bottled inside for rainy days. i am a god and a devil in the very same breath; evil, yet loving; coldly passionate. i search for meaning hidden amongst the very blades of grass, the glint of sun in a child's eye. there is so much meaning in this meaningless nothingness that i could not even find it within myself at the lowest of low to deny the existance of greater powers than myself and die kicking and screaming, but rather, reach to those powers to lift me from my moment. i see through the corporeal to the very spirits of beings, sedated by technology and lack of love to such a point as to care only for themselves, and find little peace in the joy of others. bitterness abounds. i seek out the others like myself who, although angry at times, and inclined to rail against things around them, still catch the beauty in the tiny dusty flower that batters its head through the crack in the pavement to feel the warmth of the sun across its dewy petals. i raise my face to the sun as it tears apart the clouds that shroud it and smile wide as it tickles my face, touches me momentarily like a lover being pulled away by harsh arms. i will not go quietly into the night, but likewise, i will not fight my fate. immortality is a pain greater than death. happiness lay in leaving something behind that others may cherish and hold dear; something that will numb the pain of my imperfections and leave only a pleasant aftertaste of the moments of laughter and sun and joy and hyperreal senses: glints of sun on the clearblue waves of a mountain lake. looming ever around me the reminders of how great we think we are and in the same breath how fragile we must secretly deep within ourselves admit to being. in these moments i am happy simply with the laugh of a child, the touch of the sun, a letter from the front in the form of ugly beads strung to create a gorgeous kaleidoscope with colored bits of love, a line from a song, sung with real feeling, that brings up the god from within me to kill the devil that bears my name and in that brief moment in the shadow and sun simultaneously i am one with myself and with all around me that breathes life and i open like a door to the universe and swallow it whole and carry myself around in a basket made from the warmth of your skin across mine.

in the train running parallel to this track, my kids have scattered games all over the floor, the sun is shining beautifully, my kids are running around naked, i am mostly happy, no. 2 makes massive steps forward in the potty-training department, no. 1 has shown great progress in the listening and complying with direction department, and it is a mere 40 days until the time that chunks of me that have been displaced find their way back to my side.

darth sardonic