Fate Hates Me

For some reason, things often don't work out to my advantage when I'm trying to meet new people. It's fucking harder work than it should be. I was referred to what seems like a pretty cool sight, though: couchsurfing.com. Check it. I've mailed some people on it, and I'm awaiting responses: if I get some, then the site is awesome, if not, it sucks balls. It's only 7:50 pm here right now, but I'm struggling to stay awake. It's like 1am in the time zone I'm used to, and my bed time there is like 9pm. I can't wait to get behind the wheel of a rental car tomorrow and start actually exploring. The first time I typed that I typed "sexploring," and I really wish that was what I was doing. Ah me.

Swaddled in the Future

History. It's always hard for me to pinpoint the forces that push down on me, but it's becoming clear that history is a major one. I can't rectify the things I've done (or haven't done) with who I want to be, or who I am, or something. There have been so many people who have passed in and out of my life, so many who have come close only to have all ties severed for one reason or another. I feel like I've stepped on feet, and I feel like I don't even know whose feet anymore. It's to a point where I avoid people from my past at all costs, but that isn't fair, friendly, or healthy. So, I'm going to make an effort to be less of a dilettante in my own affairs, say I'm sorry to everyone equally, and hope the future will grant me amnesty.

Of course, this is a lifelong project I'm going to put off until I see how I build history in a place where I have none.

NZ, baby

I'm just....
...about....
.......gone.

Between the cones.

Went to the Jeep/4x4 rally today. I've never seen that much wanton damage done to anything in any one place, legally. It was amazing. 4x4 people have developed a language that is similar to English, but is heavily influenced by gear ratios. The only event we really got to watch was the rock crawl, which is really cool, but I feel like sports should have their basis in some sort of utilitarian purpose. I guess the purpose of the rock crawl is to help figure out ways to get trucks out of bad situations, and how to engineer things to be tougher. Here's the thing, though: I could crawl over those rocks faster than those trucks can, so what's the point? I say that if a car can't traverse a terrain at a speed of 15mph for an extended amount of time, it isn't worth taking a car there at all. SO, design those fuckin' four-bys tougher and crazier, boys.

Also, no electric entrants. What gives? Four electric motors located one at each wheel would eliminate the entire drive-train, giving a vehicle unlimited ground clearance.

Epiphany

Hassles.

judge greg mathis

Money may not be the root of all evil,
but it's a pretty good indicator of where evil spends its time
smoking meth.

I've seen the worst minds of a generation
selling broken used cars to its kids.

I hate cops.

How it should be done (A Butte County Interlude)

tear out all that shit that isn't working for you
and burn it
it's the only way you can ever become pure
you just have to punch an old guy
a really evil, scaly little devil
because you know what that fucking fucker
would do if you gave him even a split second-
he'd fucking kill you
so don't let up,
let the bastard have it

It was so easy

Shortly after my apology yesterday, I received excellent news: my passport had arrived. I didn't realize how grim and depressed I was getting until that moment. As soon as I saw that little blue booklet, my entire demeanor changed. I smiled in a very unsarcastic way for the first time in... half a decade? Finally; hope for a better future.

I went to the California State Fair today with the 'rents. I've rarely seen that many ugly people outside of Walmart. I don't know if that makes me ugly inside or something, but I had to put it out there. Of course, THEY were ugly INSIDE too. I mean, these are the kind of people who laugh at novelty license plate holders that say, "U.S. Marines: Mess with the Best, Die like the Rest," and poke baby cows with sticks to wake them up so their pissant kids can also poke them with sticks.

Anthology Apology

I'm sorry to you, days I've given no record. I've loved, hated, or been indifferent to you all, and I've allowed myself to forget. I don't even know anymore if that's the way I wanted it. I've lost myself along with you, in dry summer spots, in distant locales, in love affairs that strangely evaporated without any trace.