“Swan dive swing vote”

That was the title of the piece I tried to write last night. As I typed, words eased onto the page with subtle threads of sound laced throughout and signification as dense as a sonnet. But then it stopped. I didn’t want it to, so I pushed it, shoving more words in, forcing creation into intent until the very subject matter of the work played out once again, as if in an absurdist drama rife with irony. A heated exchange of signals in my brain and a balance of chemicals being tipped to a disadvantage, for me, but potentially advantageous to any who might read it and think so this is what madness sounds like.

PANTS!

These are the pants I'm wearing right now:




They are more awesome than you can ever hope to be.

Perplexed

Two times in the past two days on two separate occasions, a beautiful girl has smiled really big and waved at me as I was riding by on my bicycle. Both times I kinda sensed that they were expecting me to stop and talk to them. But I didn't stop either time. Because I was convinced they thought I was someone they knew.

unimpressive thoughts

1) People like photos with people in them. I've been watching the number of hits on some recent photos I posted to flickr, and I've found this to be true.

2) I am the only person on my hall who actually lives here. The lady in apartment 3312 had a postcard stuck in her door for over two months. Yesterday morning, the FexEx man left a package in front of the door of apartment 3309. And it was still there when I got home at midnight tonight. I haven't heard my next door neighbor in weeks, and I've never even seen the person who lives in the aparment across from mine. On my hall, I am the only person, actually, who lives here.