True Story & Random Quote

Wednesday, June 23, 2004

The glass tumbler from the grassy knoll.

Three weeks ago I ordered a phone line. Two weeks ago I checked on my status and they said that my order doesn't exist and never had. Last week while I was considering another phone company I recieved their first bill.

I only just hooked up my phone yesterday, and today I got my first telemarketer.

He didn't even try to sound professional, just young. He was selling long-distance plans. I was without one, so I bit. Then just as he was verifying my identity another person got on the line. The telemarketer said, "Justin?" The other guy said, "Nope, wrong number." And then they both hung up on me.

Wednesday, June 16, 2004

I got it later

I was on my way to work when I passed a scrolling marque outside an off track betting building, it had a memorial up for Reagan. It said "Reagan". Then it said "1911 - 2004" and I thought how nice it must've been to have lived so long. Then it said "9:15AM" and I thought: Wow, he died about the same time it is now. Then it said "83°", and I thought how odd it was that they would release that kind of information about the state of his death.

Sunday, June 13, 2004

If you're curious: the pig painted it's spot back on

We were lying bed when she asks me for a story. I open my eyes, look around, and the first thing I see is a blue, stuffed pig on her mantle. My mind kicks into gear and I start telling her the story of the pig who was insecure about his one big blue spot. My pig had already encountered a witch and was running happily home, spot-free, when I notice that she'd fallen asleep. I didn't know what to do. Of course stopping the story is inconceivable, so I just keep on going, right up to the end.

I even do an afterward to provide a nice bit of conclusion.

It was kind of weird, since I was basically talking to myself. And it's not like when I normally talk to myself in the car, then at least I can have conversations with the other cars around me. This was nighttime, and she was listening, but then she wasn't, and my story had just put her to sleep, and it'd never done that before.

The story was done and I slowly drifted to sleep kinda unsure about things. Right before my head sunk through the pillow I opened my eyes and realized that even though she was asleep, she probably still heard me talking, and what I said has probably gotten into her mind and has infected her dreams.

I started to think: this story, it became like a virus, and that's kinda a nice goal.

For some reason that made me happy. After that I fell happily asleep.

Sunday, June 06, 2004

Bella doesn't really care

I had just come out of the dank hallways of the PETA building where I had tricked their hypocritical dictator into getting eaten by his own robot bodyguard, the same robot that he had used to intimidate me when I first came in. I went over to the elevator, pushed the down button, and got on when it arrived.

There were three other people in the elevator, and just as the door was about to close I saw Nic Cage get dropped of by a heliocopter and run into the bank right next to the PETA building, holding a giant sack. The elevator didn't move anywhere, and a few minutes later it just opened back up again, at the same floor/place when I got on, but now a very bloody Nic Cage was standing there and got on.

Everybody was staring at him, and he was trying to make up a story where he didn't just attempt to rob a bank and got brutally shot. His ankles were bleeding like hell. Then one of the other elevator-passenger's started talking. He was obviously military and said he used to fly planes.

You think you're going to die. Your entire body is telling you that you're going to shut down soon. But you know what I was told? You're body was born with a slow death wish. Every individual organ in your body is waiting for the moment when it can finally shut down and stop all of it's hard work. But when you put all of these individual organs together, for some reason it creates a body that wants nothing more than to continue to live as much as possible and at any cost.

Then the elevator doors opened up to an empty cliff face and I heard the roaring of the heliocopter a few seconds before it lowered into view. Nic Cage jumped on and the heliocopter roared off. The elevator doors closed, and that was that.

Wednesday, June 02, 2004

My cocktail took the brunt of the impact

Just moved. Now living in a new home with one new roomate. Same old truck and one previous roomie.

Moved everything in on one day. That was Monday. Memorial day. The previous landlord showed up at the previous house on Sunday with the new tenents, and was a bit shocked that everything was still there and not here. At least that's what his weird, paranoid note said-- neither of us were actually there. The note talked about how we cost him a half a month's rent and accused us of delibrately avoiding him. This coming from a practically absentee landlord who once left a gaping hole in our wall for the first two frosts of our first winter.

The other roomie met up with him on Tuesday, and reported back that the landlord seemed very happy with the job we did moving out and cleaning. That means I have no worries left in the old house, and I can concentrate on this new place.

That means lots of unpacking.

Unpacked stuff gets squeezed in whereever there's room, and there isn't a whole lot of room in my new bedroom. I could do with a couple bookshelves, a media rack, and a closet organizer-- lacking those, my organizing plan so far has been to make more space by reconstructing the Leaning Tower of Pisa in a corner.

It wasn't leaning when I started it, it just ended up that way.