Martha's a robot

I was just surfin' on the boob-tube and came across Lady Insider herself, Martha Stewart. As I was listening to her it occured to me that she's absolutely not human. Look at her! She's a robot. She doesn't talk like a human. She doesn't look like a human. Her facial expressions aren't human. Her lifestyle isn't human... And yet, I'm attracted to her... Daughter! I'm attracted to her daughter.
What else? ...My roommate got an Xbox. So, that ruined me. And, my brother is touring Europe. So, I'm jealous of that.
Martha's a robot!

psychologists make too little

I just spent 7 hrs listening to a crippled old woman tell me about her entire life. I served her food and drink and allowed her to verbally chase all of my customers away because she would not leave them alone... The men fared the worst with her. If you had an adam's apple she wanted to marry you - or at least have you buy her a martini. At about hour 5 (or the second lap around her stories of Israel and the Bahamas) I realized this woman probably had no money. I told the manager my suspicions and he told me I had to continue to serve her. So, for another 2 hrs... I did. And when all of my normal customers had run away, I remained. And somehow I felt compassion on her and prayed for her the entire time. Finally, I had to tell her that it was time for me to go home and after cleaning the bar and putting everything away I convinced her that there would be no more liqour served and she should head out... Well, that didn't go well... Some tears were shed, more sad (yet much faster told) stories and then I asked her to pay the bill.
I had already suspected that she had no money so, when she handed me back the receipt that now had "IOU" written across the top in the best penmanship she could muster... I still held onto compassion for her. And when she began to cry and ask to go home with me... I still had compassion on her. And when she told me she knew that she cost me money by being there, I told her it was okay. So, when instead of leave she just went outside to have a smoke... I pitied her. And it broke my heart when my manager accepted the ring off of her finger as payment. So, I had compassion on her... And that frustrates me.

Meet me where you're at.

I've said "I love you" and in return I've been given the message in every variable outside of the bottle. You've said you love me. Foolish - one of us is foolish. Guess I won't know till I can see past you to get a good look at myself.

Now, I hope there is room for interpretive comprehension. Now, I hope that there is room for interpretive comprehension. Now, I'm hoping that there is room for interpretive comprehension. Now, I hope there is room for "interpretive comprehension." Now, I hope that there is room for "interpretive" comprehension. Now, there is room for interpretive comprehension, I hope. Hopefully there is room for interpretive comprehension now. I hope that there is room for "interpretive comprehension" now. Now, now, now now now now now now now now now nownownownownownownownownownownownownownownownownownow now Now, I hope there is room for interpetive comprehension. (Your sentence stucture has used up all available spac

I'm embracing my natural tendency to put great value on those that are sentimental to me and at the same time I'm fully able to let them all go.
For now, that feels right and there is peace in that....................... Now, I hope there's room for interpretive comprehension.

Today's Totals

-Weather is: Nice
-Natalie Portman: Still Hot
-Rich: Not yet.
-Benito's Tacos: Still The Best "Comida del Espiritu" fo' yo' buck.
-Haircut: Diggin' It.
-Q's: Probably

Daily % Totals: 8.459

*Percentages based off of personal feelings. Results guaranteed to vary.

Wham, Bam, Thank you Spaceman

I went to this seedy club in Long Beach the other night called Que Sera.
The night was actually quite fun. It was a bunch of North Western kids and their SoCal friends hangin' out with a bunch a' openly sexually-psychotic goth people straight from the catacombs of the LBC.

The music was fun and upbeat. The girls were beautiful. The dancing was romanti... No, no, no. Sorry, that was a different club, in a different town, with different people, about 7 years ago.
At this club my resounding thought was, "O-que Sera, time to put the boobies away."

Que Sera is a place where the Devil has a pint or two with his friends. That said, what better place for the "...part full-on pop/part grassroots rock n' roll" band, Careen, to bust out a 12am jam on a Sunday? Well, as one of the proud 7 people that were there to witness it, I say "No other place!"

So, if you're looking for a club with a full bar that brags the rights to the cheapest and strongest drinks in America, if you ever wondered what craziporn looked like in the 60's, if you didn't think fat guys really could get pasty white chicks with tape over their personables to freak dance with them on stage, or if you just wished there was a wholesome place for devil worshipers to hang out, then Que Sera is your bar of choice on Sunday nights.

Odelay, mi friends.

background

I was just checking out my blog to read up on what I write about at nearly 3 in the morning... (Apparently not much)... when I noticed my blog background. What's with all of these spring colored circles? Are they a subliminal Spree's Candy advertisment? Or maybe those paper candies that I never see anymore - you know, the kind where a bunch of those dots are stuck to a long strip of paper and you HAVE to lick them off because if you cheat and bite 'em off you also get a little piece of paper in your mouth? Could be that it's a public announcement on the need for sexually active women, young & old alike, to start taking birth control. Am I on Broadway? In outerspace? On hallucinogenics? What are those three distinct dots at the top for? Panic buttons in case of a blog malfunction - shut the whole place down? Maybe the whole thing is just Blog Ent.'s illustrative way of ensuring that my own blog is safe and secure, all wrapped up in bubblewrap. That's gotta be it. And on Friday the 13th, feeling safe is a really great thing. Mmmmmmmm Saftey... and Sprees.

guess

Guess what tomorrow holds. That's all you can do because you really don't know. Tragedy, comedy, success, failure, love, hate, regret, fortune, subtlety. Don't think too hard about this post. This is just a couple of moments in a day.

When you don't think about death anymore,

That's when you are. Today, unfortunately?, I delt with the reality of death. Someone I know died. It was so horrible to know that those close to this person were hurting so deeply, that I would have to say there is no pain worse delt. All day today I have been hit with waves of sadness. Anyone reading this knows this feeling. So, I won't continue to express the details of that here. However, here's something I am considering...
I've spent the last day feeling down, and in that time I've been repenting to God. Why? I didn't die. I didn't cause this person to die. I could not have prevented their death. Yet, all day I have been repenting. I don't know why, but I'm thinking it through. I wonder if it might be because experiencing the knowledge of someone else's death and the pain it causes those close to them is about the closest the Living can come to Hell?
Separation. Final. No more. That is Hell. All I would want to do if I were to die and go to Hell is repent - receive another chance. The living have that chance.

A Loved Person is similar to a Bank. Suicide is unfair to those that have invested their life into yours. You don't just take your own, but you take whatever was invested into you as well. I've experienced the lows of a desperate soul aching for a Saviour. I tasted the temptation of freedom from the moment and into the eternal. But, I don't know that I can ever go there again after seeing how cheated my friends feel after losing their investment into the soul of the self-inflicted fallen.

Man, I'm tired.

Have you ever decided to be spontaneously poetic or artistic? I consider doing this quite often. I'll decide to delve into my emotions and put them on paper, or tape, or, at times, just put them into verbal dialogue. Take this Blog for instance. There are a couple of blog entries here where I just wrote what "came out." I wrote it, proof-read it, posted it, reread it (a couple of times), and then went away thinking I was poetic, artistic, humorous, or worse. (Take the ending of the last sentence for another example... a list followed by "or worse." Irony. I put it there for humor, maybe. Or maybe it's deep, raw emotion..?)
Now, some of you could argue that because I "tipped my hand" in the previous parenthetical that I have turned potential poetry/irony into science and philosophy. Maybe... maybe it's a combination and now it has become theraputic.
Have you ever decided to be spontaneously poetic or artistic with words or pictures and when you're done, if you were to be perfectly honest, you didn't know what the hell you just did? You just addressed emotions and feelings that you don't understand and futiley labeled them as motives for art? Maybe it is art, or maybe it's vomit of the mind or the sluffing of the soul.

check the date

...because I just got done watching Star Wars Episode III! That's right, I got into a special screening in Westwood. The movie is awesome! I heard people debating whether or not it was better than Return of the Jedi... That's it. Happy Cinco De Mayo.

I see the pattern

If three's a crowd, then four is ridiculous, and five must be Elimidate.

Maybe I'm just procrastinating,

but someday I'm going to have to choose between two persons.

The One that restrains himself to a silent scream at the misfortunes of his circumstances.

Or

The One I'm perceived to be.

I doubt that either is wrong, just interestingly unique.

Just got back...

...from reality. Took the weekend off to run away from it and found it while I was gone.