close to my heart

start an artist circle
do plenty o' drugs
sequester failures in others
never speak again

the softest of blankets

When the last of our carbon emissions has reached the earth's atmosphere, and all that, won't our end look beautiful from outer space? Nature will cover us, will bring us home, 2012, 2020, 2050. I'm thinking that everything sad is beautiful or hilarious from far away ///////
////////////////////
////////////////////
////////////////////
////////////////////

mad mad hawaii

hawaii is stagnant
more so than ever
more putrid with each visit
the people
the lazy fuckers
all the same walkers, talkers
all the same experience, the life I knew for 8 years
or whatever
I can't stop looking down
I'm wiser than all those wrinkled fuckers
wading in the water wading in the humid air
god help me

those beautiful mountains
They live apart from anything I would ever do
A subtle brain cleansing
make us lie down, make us breath
in the gathering clouds upending the skies
god i'll puke all over this land

I have nothing to say about this place
Hawaii it takes all my words
takes all my voices, all my hands
{I need a facebook again, I need a game to eat up my life, I don't want to see my downfall, I want to die in ignorance if I die on these green pastures, amongst the cow, from where, amongst the hibiscus, amongst plumeria, amongst methed out polynesians grabbing desperately, drowning in their own land, independence, independence, you dumb foolish fuckers, you see the oceans but you cannot see the stars}

can't live without expression
it carves me out, makes me irritable
Give me a computer game please
I don't want to see my death

my old television was haunted, but my new one is HD

This is Kyle. This is Kyle in front of our single-multi-media system. After watching hours of static and blinking cursors, we watched Waking Life, Dune, Coraline, videos of Reggie Watts, and Fear and Loathing simultaneously. We don't do any drugs ever, we've never done any o' that shit we always play it safe, and that bottle in the picture is a fat bottle of apple cider and we are all about 32 years old in this house and rated R movies are iffy because they have suggestive material in it that's why it's rated "restricted" and society knows whats best and society knows whats up and I am really enjoying that song up! by M83.

Also, I really enjoy this website: http://youfellasleepwatchingadvd.com/

Facebook

deleted my facebook after a month of fasting from it. finally free. now I might have to blog forever. or i may want to "free" myself from this as well. Then what else can I free myself from...?

I am in the heaven that comes after internet. there is heaven, yes. well, actually i'm not sure if this is heaven. it could be hell. but either way, it's happier than facebook (earth!!).

how did i do it? how did i kill myself (internetally)? I did it with a quickened heartbeat. with a few farewell posts. with a couple conversation enders. I did it with an unplanned conversation and encouragement from a friend ("hey watch this, I'm gonna kill myself", he gave me a farewell post, how thoughtful). I did it with a farewell status ("Im gonna kill you, facebook, chase I'm proud of you" chase is a friend, whose steps towards death I have followed). I did it with a wry smile to kyle sitting next to me. Feels good. Nirvana for the technological generation. {[(is this 1/34 of the taste of what it would be like to actually off myself)]}

when are you going to kill yourself?

today's date

while I'm alive
I don't feel alive

what's next?
I guess I'll know when I've gotten there

This is why I will hate the 21st century

ellipsis

dear self,
you're not interesting enough tonight
go to bed

drunk on the great gatsby

no, I'm actually just a little tipsy
trying to write a paper about the Great Gatsby
and trying not to think about....stufff
you know?
you know?
it's sort of difficult

my mind still kind of feels like vomming, but notsomuchasanhourago.

ps, Fuck Blogs

overall interesting day, considering

SENSORY OVERLOAD
blockade these thoughts
leave them in the desert

beat to beat
feels like a heart in the speakers
a conduit for feeling

drunk drunk drunk
6 shots, 9 shots echoing
in the alleys
Another beat! someone
pounding my head,
hounding my doors.

veiny fleshy martian
dragging himself upon my steps
I don't need to feel sorry without you
and I won't let you in until I get a call!
We're both waiting for it!

heart, heart, heart,
you sneak in the back room
when I am asleep and drooling
In the dark, I walk
back and forth to your beats
back and forth
back and forth to your beats
back and forth
back and forth to your beats
back and forth to your beats



I don't feel good now. my body feels okay, but not my mind. it feels nauseous, like it's gonna vomit. brain vomit out my eyes. my mind is gonna vomit. brain vom. I'm gonna vom. my brain's gonna vom.

I need to bury my heart

I feel you in the other room
you hold me tight in the wormhole

Chat Groups, wild things

hey nether region of my life.

I remember when we were somewhat close. but honestly, I always kept my distance. don't feel hurt.

I am starting a writer's group at my humble abode in seattle. That for some reason made me think of also making a chat group, where random people meet bi-weekly, or something like that, in order to "chat", and improve their "chatting" skills.

eg. "I don't like the way you used that typo/I like the way you used that typo. It made your point hard to understand/it got your point across well. You chat poorly/you chat well."

sadly, internet personas that do not link to a tangible person are often horrid and pretentious. I feel that I would not enjoy a chat with someone who I did not know because they would always have this mysterious quality about them. I feel like this is the same mystery and unpredictable quality that makes the monsters in Where the Wild Things Are so scary. the reader never knows what the monsters intentions are for max, and while they appear to care for him at some points, the next moment they are saying that they'll "eat him up".

The Internet Is Where the Wild Things Are.

Ennui! Ennui! Ennui!

starving in the sea of bliss.

(Bliss is to be past restlessness, past boredom. To be dulled, and then freed of emotion)

starving in a sea of quick metabolism, starving in lack of cup noodles.

free to be in this moment

shackled by thoughts of the future

shackled by dreams

starving

starving from boredom

curious when boredom will outweigh metabolism

rid of the I

shackled by the eyes

wordplay with shelved toys

shackling my I's

starving in the cup of noodles

Phalanges out to google

Phalanges out to eyes

to bodies

to minds

starving for a beat

wrestle a head to this chest

a thumpin's nota coming!

Relatability

hello random person on the web:

can you relate to this?

wahbahwaaahbaha wbabh wah babahahahaha!! WAHHHAHAH BAAAAAAAAa

(the tone is not laughter, though it can be rightly mistaken as such)

if so, make me famous with whatever powers you command.

goodbye with some love,

Me

Snail Mail, what friendly snails!

I want honest correspondence with you.

you think i want to have sex with you.

I think I probably don't want to correspond with you.

you probably won't call me very much anymore.

did humans fuck everything up?

tonight you should

if you are in a small town, neighborhood

notice the night.

How can the night be so quiet?

I wonder if this is how God intended the world to be

the heart, goes up in smoke

the heart is cloudy, and I am hot and dry

the tip of rain’s tongue

longing lolling

into withered chords

from plants packed up in sticks

synthesized
like nylon
we are

manufactured

Carina. 300 Light Years

This is a small section of the Carina Nebula (NGC 3372). A dust pillar. The birthing of a star.

captain's log: year twenty o nine

this is the second year anniversary of the day our ship went astray. Moral among the crew is nothing. Moral is a vague reminiscence of a dream.

Though, on the upside, the tension that was brewing among everyone from prolonged flight has ceased. They have given up on ever reaching our destination...which was somewhere none can remember.

It does not matter now--the path before us is among these uncharted stars. Who knew that what was unknown was so spectacularly empty.

Recently decided to shut down all engines and hopeless navigational equipment. We will float on, to where we will float to, and destiny will be our map.

I am still tired, unlike the crew, who have given up on any such feelings. I want to say to my crew members, "farewell. I will never see you again". and I want to mean, but our ship will not ground, and solo escape missions are out of the question. We have always been on an escape mission, this entire journey, one long escape

There is a man on board, who I have never seen before, but I somehow know that he has always been here. He says to me, "you are sad because you have no cheesecake", as if he is trying to convince me of something. I see him when I frequent the observation deck, where I used to marvel at the passing stars and planets. That was when this ship had a set course. Now I don't know what to do with that wondrous sight. I don't know what to feel.

If you come across this message, I feel it is because you are lost as well, and I wish you the best of luck. We will float on.

------

oh sweet nothing. II

tired holding
rolling eyes
my brain sequence
slips to
word association
every story I tell
has to do with drugs
It's as old as 1938
when LSD was born
and I was not

oh sweet nothing.

should i drop out of college?

late hours

procrastination is a kids tale...

a Letter

June 10, 2009
Dear Kelly,

I’m sad for every person I meet.
And I hate the rest who I cannot find sadness for.

I can write more honestly out of craziness
because that is when everything streams forth.
that’s when I am not hindered by my conscious—
because it scurries away like a defeated bully in the school yard.

All the days that I am a scared little boy
struggling under the conscious of a universe,
I speak only lies.

There are people who I have marked
because I want to have conversations with them, in a quest to learn more about life.
Or at least, I think that is the reason—for life.
many people are afraid to know other people,
or they just don’t want to know anyone, not even themselves.
these people only want to know the facts,
or anything tangible,
And that is the most foolish thing I have ever witnessed.
and this makes me weep.

I am sad for every person
because people are going blind, people who have life in them
they are being shitted on.
and our best friends, who are not human, but who have always been with us, their time has come, while the rest of us are forced to linger.
things end
because they were once beautiful.

I sent my words to a girl, once—or twice
and she soaked up the beauty from everyone around her.
and with that beauty, she soaked up my words,
and I never heard from them again.

Cheers,

Me

control

there is only one star in the sky
what does that mean
it means that there is too much light pollution

I will miss everything everywhere

i am drugged up
and removed from "happiness"
but it is only feet away
so i need not reach for it

not inspired

I am not inspired. I am robotic.
emotion means nothing, really.
But I am angry about that.
I show anger.
I will not be complacent.
motherfucker.
tune to the tube.
my dreams are smoke.

Speaking of Space

I am waiting for the day when there are Space Pirates.
Fuck Yeah!
I will be a space pirate.
I will fuck you up,
and I will do it with character, and style.
I will be a noble Space Pirate
against mother fucking NASA.
Fuck you NASA.
But not right now.
I love you right now, NASA.
You're the shit.
But in the future, I will make you eat shit
when I am a Space Pirate

amalgam of more-negative-than-not things

I think about high school. I think about how I got "lost" in the "real world" when I graduated. what is the "real world"? everything is real. life was simpler back then, but was it better? I don't even remember. I don't want it again. but I wouldn't mind that ignorant happiness.

again I question, repetitively, never ending, am I polluting the web right now? whatever the answer is, I think it is inconsequential, because I will still talk about the same things. Whether I am doing this selfishly or selflessly. Well, It's definitely not selfless, I don't do it for others. The question is, do I then do it for myself? I think, maybe, for my own entertainment. and out of boredom. do I get anything else out of it? Maybe it helps me to sort out my own thoughts, in my self reflection

When people leave comments, I get confused, because I think, "people read what I say here? How do they even find this blog?"

This blog sails through
the interSPACE
of the humming computers.
massive sails
and no god damn anchor.

Paper Wall

Paper Wall liked one of my poems I submitted them.  I will be in some issue.

It was a short poem.  I love short poems.  and I also hate them.

This is the beginning

hello blog, you mother fucker

I wrote 8 half poems tonight.  

I'm not sure how something like this comes about.

In my nonexistent state

I should pass right through this door

but I search for my keys instead

it is more of a ritual

a conjuration of the open mind

to pass straight through

the door

I almost forgot about this blog.  it is already off of my bookmarks in my safari browser.  and then I switched over to Firefox, in order to (subconsciously) further distance myself from the blog, because my Firefox browser has no recollection of this blog.  anyway, fate brought me back to Safari, because their download thing makes me happier.  and now i am here.  that was an exciting retelling.  i'm all tired now.

ACID ZEN

acid recently, to make my mind scream.
zen recently, because my mind will not shut up.


The possibilities are endless
I came into this world thinking
that this was it, popping out
of toasters, baking from the
ovens. Someone will return.
But, no, I could be anywhere,
I was wrong. And now the
Serotonin! Much too much.
And the real stuff is mocked,
so it will leave me
all at once.
And the possibilities are endless,
and everything has gone to shit.
I have nothing to say about this
Serotonin all weepy, everything
everything is leaving me at once.
Now,
Now,
Now.
Now!
my soul coming up through my chest!

doubting thomas

doubting thomas

Doom, maybe.

god, no, what am i doing with myself. am i dooming myself to destruction. what are my reasons. am i throwing away morals. what are my morals. what is "right" and "wrong". Has society figured out what is "right and "wrong". Have my parents figured it out. Is God out there. is he telling me what is "right" and "wrong". will i never be the same. is my mind a shivering weak lost puppy, and am I fucking with him. am i beating him to the ground. my own mind.

when I ask questions without question marks i feel even less of a human. and feel like an empty shell entering data. I feel even more lost. I reread the questions without question marks and I sink much deeper.

I wear hats to make me feel more human. I match clothes to make me feel more human. I wear unnecessary vests and rings to make me feel more human. Because that is what we humans are known for. That is what makes humans, essentially, human: we like to dress up.

This all sounds depressing, but I am not depressed. and I am not self-indulged or ungrateful. But I feel like I will be all of these things soon. Because the end is coming.

*edit*

I am a new person already.  that was ages ago.

nothing/creativity

am i just a spawn creature?  was I just created by other people/circumstances?

I don't think that I'm as flowery as that picture above.

My future is now.  

there are so many people who are writing nowadays.  so many people want to be "creative".  so many people are studying to be "creative".  and among the diverse creativity spilling forth, there is a lot of shit mixed in.  I don't know where I fit in.  I don't know if I am just another pollutant in the world of "creativity" and expression.

guns going off through the tv while trying to get some sleep.  

blog warrior

i am turning into a lonesome blog warrior.  Of Don Quixote's status.

poem to lost internet browserer, but not about you

Ever feel yourself slipping away?
Just staring at people, and slipping away...
This becomes therapeutic,
their actions, a conduit.
Through my gaze...
let others live, I say,
let it happen.
let the water run down your chin
down your shirt,
and now rest your eyes.

I have been in my head long enough
so as to make everything mine.
A laughing, comical world that is mine.
Do I feel estranged from my own world?
This is when I know...
I know something bleary eyed.

I don't see this as an escape,
but rather no escape.
Weary mirages dancing far off,
Like waiting for the drugs to sleep,
this is getting old...

If I go from meal to meal,
as I am now,
with nothing so far from sitting as
lying down,
God knows I'll be here,
far away,
in some other place...

ANDROIDS!! MOTHER FUCKERS!!!!!!!!!!

murmur murmur

computer boils under the sun

about itself

drone droning

baking logic baking 

computation baking

pixelation baking

me

***

click click click click click click click click click click click click click click click click click click click click click click click click click click click click click click click click click click click click click click click click click clic lkc lic ck click  clickl c click cl clic cl ckoi clic k click lclickclc clic kclc icl clic klci clckclick cllick clic kcli ckl

World Correspondence: April Ledbetter

hello April Ledbetter,

I have no idea who you are, but if you ever google your name, you may stumble upon this blog.  I randomly saw your name on Facebook.  I think I'm gonna start writing "correspondence" bits to strangers like you.  You were a test run, April.  Adios.

Thad

furniture

maybe if I changed the furniture, and put some effort into it, I would feel better about this particular internet experience.

poem

you get an award for that

for doing that, you get an award

we decided to award you this award for your great work

get your information correct,

or we will not award you

we cannot hear you

you do not get an award 

for being hard to hear

Yes, yes that gold patch

fixes up your work nicely

Yes, this is something that we can all agree upon

We can all aspire to this standard

but please speak up

remember, we call pull the strings from that handiwork

we have license to take your license

Yes,

yes we do

took notes in class today 4/22

notes in your robot

please tell me your story because it is so interesting.  Oh good, I didn't even have to ask

Body

Jesus in your wires

Singularity

Win Awards!

you destroyed that piece with your voice

we reflected in class today about a "meet the author" deal we went to the other day.  Fiction author Alice Marshall.  I turned in my reflection about how she was boring, and if this is what a degree in creative writing will earn me, then "fuck that".  ACtually, this is what my friend Kyle wrote down on his paper.  I agreed with him.  the professor and some of the students went on throughout the class period talking about her and the various profound things that she said.  Don't know why I have to "not like" so many supposed great authors.  I must be a "bad ass".

this blog may die soon

I don't feel the life force in it. It may just slowly fade out of existence. I'll just use it less and less until it gets removed from my bookmarks. I will forget the password, I will forget the account I used to sign up with, and I will forget it all.

until someday when I feel self indulgent and feel like the only person who interests me is myself. I will remember that I used to have a blog or something, and I will try to look for it on the web somewhere, try to search it with "quotes" in google or something.

or maybe I will one day, on impulse just outright delete it. But until that day, me talking about it feels like a 'cry for help'. please someone, hospitalize this blog, lock it up in the psyche ward because it is talking about suicide.

can't grab on the the 'life' of this thing. it should be green and edible, but I can't find that. All there is is fluorescence, and that is clinical.

interns

hello interns,

i'm pretty certain that only travis checks this blog.  but if you still want to be an intern for me, please continue to do so.  otherwise we can just be friends.  or, do you want to be enemies or something?  your choice.  you can write stuff to me.  wouldn't that be enjoyable? correspondence 

I'm more talking to myself I think.  I never really got used to the idea of writing so that other people can read.  And I still don't really think that is the case now, even though anyone in the world can access these words through the internet.  

there is false connection

what is connection?

and why do I often write about it?

is that what I am looking for?

interns: was I a failure?

We had plans together.  we did.  but life is unpredictable.  I need to do some 'soul searching' before I know what else to do.

a normal entry from wave books.

i'm here at wave books  by myself.  Brandon has left because he is sick, and monica is elsewhere on a trip.  I feel simultaneously awesome and stupid writing a blog from here.  But I'm playing Elliot Smith in the office right now.  

was talking to Brandon Shimoda about his two books that came out in the fall.  he said that we talked about it before, but i don't remember.  sorry brandon.

Been having a lot of bad experiences with memory loss lately.  either that, or everyone likes to play jokes on me.  It's weird that when I truly start losing my memory, I won't realize it until entire chunks are already missing. 

right now, high school seems very vague to me.  where are those memories.  are all the memories i have now, were they not even real.  did i make them up.  

poet judith Roche recently read a poem to my poetry class about memory loss when you are old by billy collins.  I agreed with one of my classmates that when we are old, I will be like the grandpa from Little Miss Sunshine and not really care about things pertaining to my health

Spring Time

in this april day that thinks it is december,

lots of people around me are sad

and the stories are tunneling from the ground

John Frusciante

Thomas Disch

Sylvia Plath

The Brave Little Toaster

and all the other people apparently reading about them

the april cold leaves people naked

and confused

before the storm

not believing this is true

as the clouds rumble in

thick as the deep seas they carry

I will choose my slippers over shoes

in defiance of this absurdity

there is no community without communers

that is the sad thing

travis is on top of his shit.

i asked my interns to write something about strangers.  Travis, my fellow tao lin intern's intern, as well as my intern, wrote this:

i make the man a latte and he asks me, what are you doing living here. i
thought you lived with birds, or with small and nearly blind mammals. i
thought you lived near a river, near a jungle, i thought you lived
upstate at least. i told him that at night raccoons came into our house
and scattered dry pasta on the kitchen floor. they chewed so loudly, we
all woke up. i told him that at night they pawed at my bedroom window,
asking to be let in. out there on the roof, they got into confrontations
with our housecats. i told him, back then when we shared our home with
spiders who gave birth in stainless steel pots we never injured
ourselves. everything was coated in silk. i tell him, we were thirsty
often. we shared our water with the deer and our tree sap with the
insects. i tell him, none of us spoke the same language. i tell him, we
were all strangers.

I think I'm supposed to be learning something here

With Nothing Really

I add much more love to this

when remembering you

Is something only a story

between close people

are we even people as

among stranger people?

we really love to share

and we love for others to share, don't we?

I heard it said from some writer that blogging or journaling when you feel creatively inhibited does not help you.  It only tricks you into thinking that you are getting something done.  If you want to write, then you sit down and do it, or think about doing it, or think about how you can't do it.  But don't divert the time towards journaling.  I don't know how I feel about this.

My mind, someone else's mind

Sometimes my mind just turns off.  usually it is off when I need it to be on.  Like when someone is giving me some kind of directions.  Sometimes I seem very stupid.  

This guy I know, he makes "notes" on facebook.  They're all about his take on life and love and teenage guru things (does that make sense).  He reflects on his own actions and feelings a lot, and I think that this is good.  I think that this is one way we can become better people-- through self-reflection.  The only problem is that he is an idiot.  and his conclusions are stupid and naive.  and he uses pictures of butterflies and radical manly hearts to go along with his "revelations".  yeah, I said radical.  I did.

What I wonder is, 

is being a wandering, wondering, blathering idiot better than being a ignorant pompous one?

At least he's trying.  few people try anymore.

I don't believe in this post anymore.  It is a shithole.  a hole of shit.  why?  why do I cuss at this post?  Why do I call it names?

because....because I think talking about other people in this manner is useless.  It's just a for breath's sake.  no one gets anything out of it, except, maybe I'll feel a little better because I have expressed my unwanted opinions on this matter.  but I don't feel better.  I just feel like a small girl.

Though I do not believe in this post, I do believe in the word "why", and the question that it poses.  you should meet with this word sometime--you will be disturbed.

I question

I question why i keep "blogging" now.  I question why.  I don't like this.  or I thought I didn't.  I think society has just made blogging so idiotic that I am forced to hate it, because that's the type of person I am.  

Basically I am just talking to myself.  I am up at 2 in the AM, talking to myself.  why?  why?  

I am a person losing dreams by becoming them.  

for the sake of...??????

on a day that i was a crazy, i wrote this 

my mind

my mind

my mind

my mind

my mind

my mind

my mind

hey, man

It's not always about me

except that

what else is there to process

in a room of rooms

a building of floors of rooms

and being lost in the world

lost in a small city

lost in a couple stories

a small room

my small lost mind

a small, lost universe

I think that I was talking about being lost.  

chuckle mind

about five days ago, I spent a whole day by myself.  It was nice for a little bit, but towards the end of the day, I started to go crazy because I had no outlet to express anything.  I mean, no outlet that could reciprocate any emotion that I shared.  anyway, at the end of the day I wrote like 10 poems.  what the hell is that.  is it worth it.  do i need to be alone.  why can't i balance my life.  Why do I stop using capitalization when i start questioning myself.

here's one of them:

HAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAAHHAH

my mind is a laughing monster

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAH

and my body stays still and quiet

I want to perfect my language

to you and everyone

because I am outwardly a child of bubbles

hiding behind  coffees and teas

and inside, inside everyone and you

yes, I dwell there too

Words

I've recently been thinking about specific words that are important to me.  I want them tattooed on my body.  I will have the year that it was important to me tattooed next to the word.  it will look like this:

2009: dwell

I will do this for the rest of my life.  that would be interesting.  here are some important words to me: wonder, soul, dwell, wander.  

Also, I keep thinking of the word "wanderlust".  I like the feel of that in my mouth.  wanderlust.

a room a room a flute a room

i am eating donuts

they come and go

with ease

oh the ease

I eat donuts

they come and go

with so much ease

one

by one

they disappear

a special thought for each

i am not trying to impress you, you fuck

and i cuss because i am inwardly pissed off

and i love my emotions

and it is my dog

do you know

oh do you

know

The world is yours if you let it be

Dust in the Wind, repeat 1

i was listening to dust in the wind over and over, double-clicking on it once the song ended.

then i finally just put itunes on "repeat 1"

I am essentially myself.

does sadness come from outside or inside?

someone has tried to compartmentalize my bursting, exploding force

they succeed

Hello Wednesday, i have waited for you

i want to be your friend.

i want to stay strangers.

i want to be your friend, 

and i want to stay strangers

vague, everything is vague.

what's the point in spreading vagueness?

My INTERNS

hello people.

while i try to get the Tao Lin's intern's intern's intern page up, i will be accepting any "applications" to become my intern at my email higat@seattleu.edu.

with your "applications", send in a list of the things you like about the puppy in this picture.

do not be cute about it.  be honest.  look at what he is doing, and who he is.  search your heart!

I'm not going to try to do too much advertisement about this position yet, because I feel very unbalanced without the actually site up.  

I suck at html.  

will I be able to survive the coming years without this skill?  

i die.

hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!!!!

I am

in heaven!

instead!

i stupor of sorts

to boost me with the clouds

release my inhibitions

work

pays off in more

askajak

akljaljka

aa;lco;lakj

internally

Hello,

I am looking for interns to help me get through and understand my life.

You will be paid in...uh...

There are only 2 positions available. 1 male, 1 female

REQUIREMENTS are that you keep communication lines with me open at all times.

I will splatter my life all over you.

I will try to drown you in it, to test you.

I will call you up when I do not want to deal with that stuck up girl going up the elevator

I will call you when i want to look busy

I will call you when i am smoking a cigarette outside at 2 in the morn and my thoughts are overflowing

Think this is the position for you?

yeah right, you fail

I'd like to be at home

Hey world,

In about 6 hours I am going to be standing in front of a small number of you and I am going to do something.  With my voice.  Combining that with some melody.  Alone.  You will be staring at me from far away, not knowing that my chest and knees are phones on vibrate, getting thousands of calls.  And maybe I will make you feel shitty, because I’ll fuck with what I am doing, and you’ll pity me.  I’ll fuck up my voice and my melody not because I want to, but because I can, because it is possible.  You will feel bad and uncomfortable, and I will feel bad and uncomfortable, and we will have our memories for days to come.

See you in hell.

me

Finally

I am fucking rolling tonight.

because, tomorrow I might not be.

and tomorrow, tomorrow I might now be.

and tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow I might not be.

I don't know how that makes me feel...

neutral

Reflecting on my Beginnings

i don't really know if i am being myself here on this blog.  I mean, who is this person? Thad?  thad?  THAd?

I look over my first postings, and feel satisfied and comforted.  I am communing with myself tonight, spending hours messing through my thoughts and typing it out.  

actually i don't like the thought of that.  It's disgUSTing.  Repulsive!!!  that's just me being by myself.  i would love to be with people right now.  I LOVE (some) PEOPLE.  well, it's pretty late.  why do people go to sleep so early?

I am much different in person.  But this is the filtered ESP of me.

Because I have good friends, and just regular friends

in facebook, i wish that there was an option where you could become double friends with someone.  This would only happen with someone who is already your friend.  

for instance, i see "+1 thad is now friends with Gabie Portillo" in my feed.

and then, after we have sent each other messages and numerous wall posts, and maybe recorded each other a couple of videos, I see this "+2 thad is now good friends with Gabie Portillo".

We upgrade.

The Email notification will say: 

Gabie wants to upgrade your friendship to good friends on Facebook.  We need to confirm that you feel comfortable with this transition in order for you to be good friends on Facebook.  

Thanks,

The Facebook Team

First thoughts, 2

I was looking at some of the other intern's intern's blogs, and most of them now mention being Tao Lin's intern's intern.  I feel like referring to someone as "Tao Lin's intern" implies that the person has no soul, because of the generic title that refers to him/her (and also, the lack of a real name).  If this is the case, then how should one feel being "Tao Lin's intern's intern"?  Even now, as I type this, I feel like a mindless beast.  I feel scared.

don't get me wrong.  

I am a wandering soul.

I want some intern's too.

first thoughts 1

i feel that by having a blog I am saying that i have something important to say.  which is true, i do feel like i have something important to say.   but no one cares if i myself say that "i have something important to say!"

Now if someone else said, "hey, this guy thad, he has something important to say, you should listen to him".  well, then I would hold more gravity.  more legitimacy.  will i reach that point?  and do i want that responsibility?

I remember in 10th grade, one of my friends told another friend that he liked the advice i gave him about girls.  that made me feel good.  and prideful.