Right now I'm upset by the societal metaphoricization of vanilla.  No fully formulated thoughts.  I just think it's bogus to turn an original, fully flavored taste sensation into a poster child for boring and uninitiated.  Fuck that.  Vanilla is the flavor of the future.

When I see the parking ticket on my floor, I think about death.

The things that keep someone from doing other things are probably not as complex as they present themselves.  Today, I have to do my laundry, but I don't have any detergent.  I suppose I should go get some.  Instead, I will probably do things like start reading a new book or try and finish an old one, do two sets of curls in front of the tv, update my blog from my couch, listen to Otis Redding and feel unentitledly connected to his words. 

Besides all of these distractions, how does one shop for laundry detergent?  It's something I do on a semi-annual basis, which definitely doesn't leave enough of an impression as to what I should be looking for in a detergent.  Super color resistance and bleach stain remover beads and lavender mountain breeze scents.  I just don't want to smell like a smelly kid in this heat. 

To blaze past the (un?)necessary arguments of artistic merit, sports as a dramatic narrative, rednecks who actually believe this is real, or what drives media (is it imitation, itself, or imitation of itself?), the wrestling match I went to last night was fucking awesome.

Free time during the day somehow does not equate with productivity and generally leaves me with a scornful attitude toward my evening plans, as if they somehow are impeding my ability to get shit done.  I've been looking at a parking ticket for about three hours while I've done nothing on the internet for the same amount of time.

old people young people

I'm slowly breaking my reading habit into a more modern era.  This is something that I view as an improvement to what I take in.  Instead of reading books by dead/way old white guys, I've been sucking down shorter articles, essays, stories and novels by people within my age group.  It seems necessary.  While of course a bunch of wisdom or knowledge or bullshit or nonsense can come from the geriatrically challenged, it's nice to wrangle some words from people outside of that demographic.

It helps to see things be put in a modern context.  There's nothing wrong with Facebook or eBay being written into texts (at least according to the current cultural climate.  Obviously that shit is going to be dated as hell within 8 years), and it's refreshing to have these things represented as they are.  I suppose a lot of writing is being done on the internet anyway, so there's no point in purposefully ignoring it's impact on one's daily habits.  Check your blog, tweet some bulljive, update banalities of living.  It's ok.  We do these things.  No need to spraypaint a sloppy shit.  Let it cover the bowl in style.  Document it flowing over the seat.  Take a Polaroid and paste it above the toilet handle.  Bring a mason jar into the bathroom and bottle the smell so you can bust it out at a party like a sick card trick.

Really I just want to read things that are not only thematically and metaphorically relevant to me, but also physically and currently.  I want to dive into your shitty job and shitty car, and the night you got really shitty at a stupid bar and spent $27 on the jukebox, listening to 90's nu metal for a laugh, but no one else thought it was funny.  For now, I just need a break from a cafe in France or a farmtown in the 1920's.  I want big dumps turned to words.

and its driving me mad

The past few days i have successfully dug new trenches and escaped the well worn ruts of my internet use.

I think i will start submitting things i've written to places that publish things other people have written.

But for now, i will head home to sit on my couch with the lights off.

cold dead are the eyes of the tried

i wonder if feeling old is like having a hangover.  weak, nausea, strange bowel movements. the point where you lay in bed and death is a much simpler option.  i don't think i want that.
or maybe its just like you smoked way too much pot the night before, and your day is a kind of haze that you can't shake, so you just smoke some more pot.  if that's what aging encompasses, it's doable.

iliketowatchthingsontv

of sickness and money

i woke up sick today and have been denying it for the duration of the day. clearly it isn't going to do me any good, so now i have to come to terms with the facts and accept it. my name is scott, and i have a common cold. this morning i got frustrated with my cigarette habit. i smoke too many of them and they do do much less than they used to in terms of qualming anxiety in social situations. while they've always been an enjoyable outlet of consumption, the ratio of dollars spent to happiness or relief felt is all but a sure thing if we're talking vegas odds. it's got me thinking, however, about deeper issues of how money and self destruction manifest themselves in folks overall.

oh nothing with a point. just that these things do things to people without them having the slightest notion that they are profoundly and irreparably changing into the skin a reptile leaves behind.

the hail

Dan and I watched two birds die in the hail yesterday. We were stuck outside smoking cigarettes and one of them fell out of the sky and was sailed away in the gutter water. The other limped around for a minute and we went back inside.