Trufax


a364 woodThingie
by ~u63r on deviantART
1. If I leave for work early, say, to get a delicious breakfast from the Wendy's at the mall, the bus will be late.
2. If I go into the nearby BKs to get their overpriced crossan'wiches, the bus will come at some point between me making my order and it being delivered, no matter how long I waited.
3. I need my frakkin' license.

Labels:


records, or numbers


I flustered a cute hispanic girl today.

Alright, Hispanic girl comes into the store. One of my coworkers handles her; she wants to buy a cell phone. Alright. While she is being dealt with, I orbit the other customers and try not to check her out too openly. She has a friend, too, but she's ugly.

After she gets done, and the kids hanging around the games case leave, I just walk around the store for a while, under orders not to sit down while customers are in unless I look busy. I don't fully understand how it happened, but she ended up asking me how to get to the bus stop.

She didn't make it through the first sentence before giggling.

Confession: girls have broken out in giggles in my presence before. Fairly frequently in fact. It was not until some girl told me I was cute, last year, that I realized that girls did not have a malfunctioning giggle gland, that I am actually good looking.

It bugged me, because it meant I had no excuse for not having a girlfriend other than my social reticence. It also means I actually notice now when girls seem to have some sort of humourous speech impediment.

Right then, however, all I noticed were her cheekbones.

God, she has nice cheekbones.

And those
eyes.

"The nearest bus stop is on the far side of [store], out by the main road." I don't know if there's a bus to get you downtown. But I can't seem to tell you that, because there's something wrong with my chest.

She gives me a smile that lights up the world, and when I can see again, she's gone.

I collapse into a chair and think hard about the phrase "prettiest girl in the world" for the first time.

Favorite songs evar;
  1. Hotel California-the Eagles
  2. Bohemian Rahpsody-Queen

And currently duking it out for third is Chris Cornell's You Know my Name and Klaxons' Golden Skans. Also on the list, in unspecified positions, Don't Stop Me Now-Queen, The Ultimate Battle of Ultimate Destiny-Lemon Demon, I'll follow you into the dark by Death Cab for Cutie, and Billy Talent's Try Honesty.

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I can see the city lights burn

No time to look up clever lyrics. Not today.

My parents often call me into the room to watch "History being made". She does this a lot, but this time I actually cared. Because zombies.

"Alright, we need to find a black guy."

"Quiet."

I guess we've all seen the news.

We sat there for a few minutes. Then we all started moving. More on that later. Oh, and outbreak map.

There seem to be a few isolated cases of zombies trying to get home, as strange as this seems. They're wading out into the ocean, and a few of the less decomposed ones are swimming. The others just...float. Some sink. Thankfully, no one has died in out house. Or rather, no one who lived here has died. I don't think.

I hope Ali's okay.

The funny thing is, the zombies immediately kill anyone they find at their old place, then start moving out from there and killing anyone they see.

I'm fairly sure this can't be natural. To turn a phrase from scans_daily, viruses don't work that way. They can't. This must be magic or something. I'd tempted to say it's some punishment for idolatry, but that sounds too much like Jerry Falwell.

I wonder how he's doing?

The internet, of course, has imploded.

My internet has been spotty for the past week; it finally gets back to normal, just in time for the Zombie Apoclypse.

There are plenty of vids on YouTube. Every blog, every website, as turned to this, rules be damned. One of the saddest things was Brian Ashcraft posting from frikkin' Japan about what happened to his

Deep breathing exercise No 1: Inhale. Put all of your tension your fear your worry into that breath. Exhale.

LJ is staggering along, but JournalFen is slightly better. The good little soldiers over there are still posting wank about this.

LJ...has just gone nuts.

There is a zombie fandom.

There are people writing frakkin' fanfic for the zombies.

And not regular fanfic. Slash loli necrophilia fanfic. Like, what would Orochimaru do with Sasuke if

You know, I thought 4chan had inured me to this kind of thing.

Maybe because it's real now.

Incidentally;

Oh you wacky /b/ tards.

There are some crazies arguing that we should all welcome the zombie way of life. If you see any of them, dispatch them as quickly and quietly as possible.

Some others were scanning and posting bits from the Zombie Survival Handbook, or whatever it is.

My family has been barricaded inside all day. We're trying to leave tommorow. We're not far from the coast. There'll be boats.

God, let there be boats.

We're trying to get some sleep. Nothing to speak of since the dog got in. Besides the gunfire, and moaning, and some dick who tried to jack our cars screaming, of course. We live a literal stone's throw away from a major road, and...nothing. Silence.

We had just finished watching the news when there was some scratching at the back door. We opened it, and the dog walked in.

Can they smell fear?

The dog growled in a funny way, then jumped for my throat. I was holding a stick-to fight them off-and managed to throw it off without getting bit. It went for the stick, it was almost through it-the smell-when I tossed it onto the stove. It hit the backstop, and was just getting up when my sister nailed it with a cast iron skillet. Mum turned on the gas, and for a few seconds there was nothing but the sound of frying dog and our screams.

So yeah.

We're taking the laptop; if we don't make it, at least something will survive. Zombies don't seem to be too interested in checking their MySpace; they're going for people, not infrastructure.

I always thought it'd be natural causes, don't you? I'd go quietly in my bed, after spending my last few decades lucid and walking and able to wipe myself.

All that stuff I wish I did.

Of course, I might more easily be dead if I was in college. Think about it; a densly packed mass of rich, edumacated brains.

Mum keeps folding and unfolding underwear. Somehow, I don't think clean FTLs will be of much importance.

It's getting pretty stuffy in here.

If we make it, we're leaving tomorrow. If we were heading in that direction, if the bookstore in question weren't in the centre of town, I'd suggest that we stop so I could pick up the rest of the Horatio Hornblower series. I'm not going out without finishing it, not if I can help it.

Which I can't.

Pray for m
//like a thousand miles of fire

Labels:


The Zen of Jonn




This is phallic.


This is yonic.


This is the past few years of my life.



The phallus and the womb are the symbols of male and female, respectively. They are also, in a sense, agression and reception. The philosophy of yin and yang, which also involves these archetypes, states that there is a little bit of yin in yang, and vice versa. That's why no one is completely girly or mannish.

I don't believe in binaries.

Not many of them, anyway.

In the center between the two is a neutral state. This is the aforementioned being passive, not to be confused with being receptive. Receptiveness requires actually inviting something in. Agression does something. Both require initiative.

Passivity just...lies there.

It is easier to decay than to sustain. This is the law of entropy. We know this. A system tends toward the least expenditure of energy. We know this. We have, basically, a passive universe. A null value. The space between the zero and the one.

I've spent the past few years of my life doing what other people, mostly my parents, wanted me to do. I chose graphic design as a major because it would give me an excuse to fool around in Photoshop all day. I went to COB because they said I had to. I took the art program because it was the only thing available. I switched to computers because the art program had me skirting the edge of suicide. I quit that after two semesters when an advisor informed me that I should probably go off to school.

Last November seems so very long ago.

My parents said that if I wanted to go off, I needed to apply. Alright, I made a show of searching online, all the while pursuing my usual e-habits.(more on those later) I filled out an application for two schools, then let it sit for months. I only went for my written Driver's License test when my sister did. More than two years after most of my peers. Online, I curtailed my habits, stuck mostly to snark comms, and barely touched my own artwork or mrRB. It took me weeks to finish the "why should we let you into our school" essay. I still haven't entered the "Previous Schools" section. I was just screwing my courage to the sticking place when I noticed the Internet was down.

">Dear God;

what

-Jonn


I think part of my problem is that I have no goal to work toward. I'm going to college because I have to to get a job because I need to make a living. I'm not sure where this spine seems to have come from, but I'm going to take up Animation as a minor, at least, because random people keep telling me my art style is condusive to it. (And by "random people", I mean "people who come into the store where I work and look at my sketchbook and lying half-hidden on a shelf".) That, and I'm fairly good at imitating writing styles, albeit unconciously; why not try my hand at art? Animators need to draw on-model, and I'm too honest to be an art forger. (Perhaps I should get a perpetually irate British hobo to hit me with a stick.) If my application is too late for the October term, I'll apply for the Janurary and see about taking commisions. Paypal, dA, anything. I need the money. I'm also going to practice my painter-y digital art.

If there's anything I've learned from my two decades upon this mortal coil, it's that if you can't win, change your conditions of victory. I've had nothing to live for for all these years, but I hope to see at my birthday in 2011 free, reasonably Black,and twenty-five. I'm not sure how I'll get there, but, God wot, I'm gonna to find out.

Care to watch?
//ford every stream