15 pages. 15 FULL pages of nonstop interesting shit. And through it all I fell in love with Kierkegaard. Who knew it was possible . . .

So that's that. Sort of. Well at least for this semester. Still gotta finish writing a book, but hey that's neither here nor there.

So it's amazing out and I don't want to clean my apartment, so's I wont. This is what the nightime is for . . . that and thinking of crazy odd characters for a Fisher-Price line of toys (hypocritical? perhaps. But working at home, or in a coffee shop, by yourself, thinking of why Bobble Moober likes to be thrown in the air is undeniably a good time. Especially with the pay. Oh yeah. I love Fisher-Price when I'm not working there.)

So I'm going to be wandering around elmwood now. Then I will get on my bike (motor) and ride all over Western New York and Canada, listening to U2's "Where the Streets Have No Name," wishing there were no helmet laws.

But yet, what do we have here? Leonard Cohen on WFUV in New York (via internet) singing, "Who by Fire." Oh I wish my door led to 14th street. Union Square is calling my name right now. I know it.

Or I may just sit outside and convice my dog to stay still and read a goddamn good book for once. He's missing out on so much.

It's always Clifford, Clifford, why can't I be red, why can't I be big . . .

One goddamn page left and I'm fucking spent. This is the last paper and then I'm free (for about two weeks when I have to take physics for some stupid fucking state requirement bullshit).

Actually not even one page, I just need about 3/4's. The prof said 15-20 and I have 14 and 1/4. How's that for shitness. Fuck me. I made my point tenfold, but I have to . . . ah fuck it. I'm gonna go eat an artichoke.

That just pisses me off though. If I finish the paper, I can do things again. I can do laundry. I can do dishes. I can masturbate. I don't even have time for that now. What the fuck is going on here . . .

Shit stains on the silk sheets of life is what it is.

Anyone want to send me 3/4's of a page about Flannery O'Connor's Misfit character's reasons for shooting the grandmother in "A Good Man Is Hard to Find?"

Talk about the need for faith and grace . . .

ah go figure . . . y'all play my favorite game and I'm not there.

Tell me there will be a rematch. My bods not exactly well, it's all marked up and shit, so I suppose I need to attempt to really know how to play. Of course there is the strategy of losing on purpose which I know a lot of you peeps play with.

Oh look at that innuendo . . . in't that special.

I knew it was going to happen. So when it did I wasn't at all surprised.

The full moon came and went with nothing out of the ordinary happening to me. This is absurd because I'm a firm believer that people change when the moon is full - very werewolf. BUt alas nothing happened, and I know why. Because I wanted it to.

This leads me to my night and the head shaking that I'm doing now. I knew I would see someone tonight at my favorite think tank. It was going well and I was encouraged because no one cared what I was doing and I obviously was so engrossed in inner-turmoil and self-loathing that I seemed to be a touch unapproachable. I like that. But no, the one person I didn't feel like seeing, walks in half way through my drink. Shit, I think. Just deal with it. I'm thinking some of my epeeps would be hangin around, ready to dicuss life over 2 ounces of whiskey, but hey, tonight was just not the night. Good thing too, I wasn't too sociable.

The odd thing here is that I knew I would see someone that I didn't feel like talking to. I just knew it would happen. It's not a stretch, I mean this town is on the small side. But it happened. If I could only utilize this power, or learn to harness it, I would avoid and probably miss a lot of situations. Good for everyone.

But I left. I just felt like it, besides I did not go in prepared. I wanted to take a night off anyway. So for the first time in a long time, I did not take a pen. It worked out well, but here I am, writing again. For who though? For you? Maybe. For me, yes. I hope so. I was talking with a friend of mine tonight and I told him that I see similarities in me and the artists I like and the people I read. He mention that I've put myself on a pedistal. I replied, why not? If you don't no one else will, besides, I want to change the world, I'm not just hanging out here, and you should to.

What?

Change the world.

I miss my girlfriend, sorry what were you saying?

And I am bored with many things, but I want to be bored about something I can't help, not someone who wants to talk about absolutely nothing relevant. Hey it happens. So in essence, I'm therefore doomed to constant dissection of the structure of my being in hopes that I will trip over a small clue as what the hell will happen. But as they say, "The one gift which I'd adore, unwrap a package of the next 10 years unfolding. But you told me if I had my way, I'd be bored." Yes, maybe I would be, but then, there is such respite in boredom sometimes.

I've resigned to feel the way I feel about many other things - do what comes naturally. Trouble is, even the most absurd situation is so incredibly natural to me. Place your bets my friends.

um . . . what?

Paul, I think I'm with you. What does that quote mean. Of course it is bright and early and I did have the moxie to drag my ass out of bed at this bewitching hour so I might still be sleeping, but, well, uh yeah . . . who's Keith?

And why would you ever leave a porn site to come here, no pun intended. "To write about the lake," Thoreau said, "You must go to the lake."

You don't go to a country road.

That makes sense to me at least.

What a strange quote.

In the midst of my turmoil and stress of completing projects, papers, and novels, I get a call from a friend of mine who happens to be bored.

What, I said. How could you possibly be bored?

Well my girlfriend is gone this week and . . .

Good God. But wait, I remember how it was. You get sad, you can't wait for them to return, and you're even a bit depressed. But then you realize that it's your choice, your dilemma that is. See what then happened to me, about this time, was I would flip out at the fact that I had lost myself and the relationship would shit the bed. BUt again, I brought that upon myself.

So okay, we talked and then he mentioned that this town is only good for families . . . or if you have a girlfriend.

(sigh) I swear, the more I talk to people the more I realize that I am made up of different stuff. I just don't get how people can settle. Think about it, what he said was that this town is only cool if you have a girlfriend (since the family thing is out of the running right now). Well then, all I have to do is get one then right, then everything will be cool. NO. NO. NO. OKay, I'm not anti-girlfriend, but Jesus if this person is the difference between this town being cool or uncool, I will remain as such because with the exception of the lack of mountains, Buffalo is the same as any other town! It's no New York, or Boston, because it's Buffalo for shit sake! You want those places, go ahead! Apparently, you don't NEED a girlfriend in those towns to keep them cool so there's a plus. I love them too, but I'm just sick and fucking tired of people complaining about somewhere. Leave then! Hell I'm thinking about it. I have one more year of school left and then who knows? BUt damn if I'm gonna mope for the next year. That's just a waste.

So I suppose I envy people who are not single simply because Buffalo has got to be amazing from their point of view.

God, that makes me want to run right out and get a bunch of girlfriends because then, maybe Buffalo would be a great as New York?

This could be a good experiment.

Well thank you Paul. That program kicked some stuff off of my Cybrognator drivatron (I think that's what it's called), so that's great. It's all okay and I can now work . . . for now.

SO, I have a lot to do including the whole cleaning apartment thing. Really people, how important is it for our mentality? And really, who wants to do this for me? It only pertains to folding clothes, which I loathe doing.

I'm really close to getting another tattoo because I have to go in anyway for a touch up. It'll be small, but am I doing the eating because I'm bored thing?

So I have everything to do today and I don't want to start. So I will watch a movie. Anyone feel like getting a drink tonight? No that's bad, but seriously . . . I've had a rough couple of days.

My arms feel like they are going to bust out of my skin because of the ride yesterday. I need drugs, or again, a drink.

Yeah okay, gotta go. Thanks again Paul.

Oh and by the way, speaking of clothes Lilho, I was naked the entire time I wrote this HA-HA! And y'all didn't even know . . . Oh shit the door

I have worms apparently.

thanks paul I'll try that, but everytime I try it, the computer boots me off. I'm fucked.

Paul! there's a virus I think, on my stupid laptop. What do I do?

Oh, okay, more info . . . um, there's a window that pops up closing the LSA Shell (export version). What the hell is that? I click, don't send report and then a minute or two later, the thing shuts down by itself! Would you or anyone know anything about this bullshit!

HELP!

Somehow I got up the gumption to ride to New York on my motorcycle this weekend even though I knew there was an enormous chance that it might rain. Why not? Hell, Cowboys do it. I have raingear, and besides, that shower after getting cold and wet and almost losing your life feels like God himself is washing you. Or maybe even Mary Magdelin. Na, God would do a better job.

So after a very refreshing meal, not thirst quenching so much as - that was just a good time, I went back home, saw the rain cloud looming over Buffalo and ran around like a teenager hiding weed. I dropped the Billy off at the ex's (the friend thing is working, although I know the hammer will fall any day now)and rode away in the rain.

I won't get into details about the weekend other than I made my nephew the coolest kid in school by riding to (because we were late) his first communion/conformation on the bike and parking right in front of the church. He jumped off and it felt good to say, now where, rockstar . . .

I saw my sister start to smoke again because her son's father is a dick, and she was freaked out when I asked her for the cigarette, inhaled, blew the smoke out my nostrils and walked away. I said, yeah Kath, there are some things you might not know about me, as I, you. With that exception, let's keep it that way. You have to understand, being the youngest of three sisters, I was watched growning up. And rightly so, and I love them for it. But now . . .

So anyway, it was fast, and I left this morning praying that the rain would hold off. It did, and I started to make incredible time. I was jamming to "I've Been Waiting for a Girl Like You," to make me believe I was in the middle of an 80's movie (which worked) when I saw the cloud.

I was about an hour and a half away - Dansville - when I thought, no rain gear needed, it's just sprinkling, I'm almost home.

What a horrible, horrible, stupid decision. I'm still cold and have every sweat I could find on right now. And my bike started getting pissed at the end because it too started to shiver (too much water in the carbs or bad gas, I don't know). But of course I made a promise to God that I would give it a look see tomorrow, if it would just get me home.

And here I am. That is of course after a scare with a potential virus. Fucking computer. Well, at least we'll get sick together.

Oh and by the way, Fisher-Price isn't bad. It's not them . . . it's me. It's just that the time was wrong.

I too, should clean my apartment. Um I'll get the beer, and y'all can help. We'll make it a game. Whaddya say?