kill your tv

4.13.2002


Here is my friend Laurie. I miss my friend.

posted by josh @ 8:00 PM  

posted by josh @ 7:59 PM  

posted by josh @ 7:56 PM  

I had the most intense nightmare I have ever had last night. It was four oclock in the morning when I finally awoke, and even in my lucid state of mind there was this feeling of death in the background. Like a plague hidden in a hovering black cloud. I pulled myself from my bed and paced the entire apartment, horrified that I would have to go back to the bed, alone, where it felt like my life had just flashed before my eyes.

Within seconds of finally going back to bed, at 4:30am, a man ran by my bedroom window screaming.

It scared me, really bad.

posted by josh @ 11:10 AM  

4.11.2002



I wonder why the last person to use this phone decided not to hang it up.

Where are the cops when you need them?

posted by josh @ 9:24 PM  

4.10.2002

I was riding the bus today when I had a couple recurring thoughts, the same thoughts I always have, but this time they stuck, like gum on my shoe.

The bus was packed as usual, so I stood by the rear exit during the entire 15 minute venture. Whats so funny, and what I always have to hold back laughter over, is the fact that everyone is constantly looking at people, and upon being caught, they turn their head and pretend like it never happened; As if they hadn’t been staring at the other person, picking them apart by appearance, labeling them, filing them away into a particular clique. And the person that was being watched, the one who caught the watcher, silently sits, wondering what catagory he/she was filed in to, a free spirit? a loser? a workaholic? an alcoholic? It is a constantly revolving silent mess.

And another thing I have noticed, which I suppose would mean I am a “watcher,” is that everyone seems to have a rather bland look. It doesn’t appear to be brought on by the environment or the people in it, it’s more of a mask, imbedded in to the facial skin, a permanent grimace. But I don’t think these are necessarily signs of unhappiness, but rather discontentment; the wear marks of faded dreams, of realization, of knowing that life has turned in to a routine.

posted by josh @ 12:59 AM  

4.07.2002

She lived next door, a mere rocks throw from the steps of my home, a double wide trailer, scratch that, my double wide castle.

I knocked on her door everyday, and everyday the routine did not falter. Her dastardly oppressing parents had chores for her, and by-god, no one was going to keep her from her chores.

In front of her house was a log, a fallen tree from a million years prior that had been slain by some dinosaur for the sole purpose of resting my butt on. The routine was an hours wait, give or take a few daydreams. I thought about everything and anything, but she never left my mind.

She opened the door and stepped out. You would think that eventually I would get used to this, but I didn't. She had a glow about her, a powerful persona, enough to send my mind spinning, scrambling like cockroaches in open light. Her auburn hair swayed gently in the cool breeze as she walked down the steps to accompany me.

She was my best friend, and of course, being six, I thought that I loved her and that we would get married. She was an angel, I knew that. My heart felt like an exploding tomatoe in her presence.

Anyways. It was never official, but if one went by the laws of a 6 year old, this girl was my girlfriend. What's the premise you ask? Well, I'm glad you asked.

We were in the park one day, the angel and I, just meandering about, as children do. We came upon an old tree stump which had been partly hollowed out, like some sort of organic, prehistoric mixing bowl. In it was a bent spoon, bent so badly that the handle touched the spoon of the spoon. Oh boy, what a great find. She saw it first, so it was rightfully hers.

She tried with all her might to bend that spoon back to working order, her face scrunched up, her lips forced shut, her intense nasal breathing making a rather obnoxious noise. But she couldn't do it. It was my turn to try it. I grabbed the spoon and with all my might, and some I borrowed from god via a quick prayer, I forced it back into a workable spoon.

She said, "Oh josh, I could kiss you!."

Oh god help me, I was in love.

posted by josh @ 11:44 PM  

Life is a complicated thing. Sometimes it feels like some sort of sinister cruel joke that some god is playing, a joke with his friends. It feels like they sit and watch us, trying to control uncontrollable laughter.

But then, things change. Sometimes everything is great, and life is good, and mondays aren't so bad. Sometimes all I need is fresh air and the smell of flowers. Moments like this are fleeting. They drift away to the corners of our mind, in obscurity.

It's these short moments of clarity that keep us here. The moments when our perceptions are recieving things the way they are meant to be recieved. The moments when all hues are erased and everything is viewable on an equal level. We constantly dive into the dark hoping to land on some sort of plateau, of anything that that will block out, or overpower the darkness.

But I wonder, what happens when you give up? When you spit on the ground and curse at the sky. When you let the pressures of the world take hold, your mind turns to some sort of hardened, concave box. And when you do this, your death will soon follow, whether mental, or physical, its inevitable.

So, we push on. The fear of death and the possibility for some sort of overpowering beauty, our motivation.

posted by josh @ 1:43 PM