No Modern Person Here Remembers You, And We Can't Identify The Enemy, And It Could Be You, So It'll Cost You

--"Love and War 11/11/46", Rilo Kiley

"Very funny, guys. Whoever fucking took my dessert give it back now," I announced as I looked into the Yoshinoya bag where my chocolate cake wasn't.

The crestfallen look on my face bespoke the validity of my ire. It was one thing to joke about taking my favorite part of the meal, but the thought of one of them doing so seemed especially cruel. What's more, whoever had slipped out of the bag refused to speak up just then even though I had given a sufficient pause in the conversation to allow the guilty party to confess. Amid the snickers, chuckles, and half-hidden smiles, a few felt my pain. I don't know--it had become a running joke in the office that mojo shivers does not share his dessert under any circumstances. Of course, this had led to the constant threats to the sanctity of the assorted cakes, candy bars, and other various sweets which constituted my after-meal dining. But it had also led to some parties, like Jennifer, honestly feeling concern for my well-being.

"Whoever has it just give it back now."

I sat down at my desk nonchalantly after it was clear no one was planning to step forward. If they wanted to play games with me, well, then the would see how a master trickster operates.

In between bites, I managed to get out, "I figure it had to be one of three people. One, it could have been Jennifer since she was one of the two other people in the car, but I don't think she has the heart to do something like this. Two, it could have been Albert since he's always been the one to threaten to steal my dessert away from me. Not to mention his desk is right next to mine so he would have had plenty access to the paper bag with my dessert in it. But I think it had to have been Jeff since he was in the car with me and handled the bags at various time. Of course, that's just a guess."

This time it was Jeff's turn to protest. He was always professing what a good, decent guy he was at heart. That didn't stop him, however, from chiming in with Albert whenever it came to taunting me about my weakness for chocolate cake. He shook his head and told the whole group that he hadn't done it, that he would never do something like that, and how he couldn't believe I could accuse him like that.

For good measure I took a stroll around the desks and checked in my cake was on any desk top or in plain sight. But the culprit was too smart for that. Whoever had done it had it locked away from wherever somebody might think to look for it.

"If you say so. But whoever it is, all I can say is that they better give it back before I finish my teriyaki chicken or else you'll see me pissed as you've never seen pissed before."

I continued to eat my meal while the accusations and pleas to just give it back to me begin to fly slowly among the group. I would have chimed in too if it hadn't been happening to me. At various times during the meal I tried to listen intently to see if anyone was any closer to deducing who among the party assembled had actually absconded with my precious commodity. I watched us amateur detectives retrace the path of the bag from the drive-through window, to in my car, to inside the building, to my desk. Who touched it, who walked by it, who seemed especially coy about handling his food--all these various people pored over to get me back the chocolate cake that had now been missing for a good twenty minutes. Yet at the end of my meal no one was any closer to deciphering who the culprit was.

"I still have my bet on Jeff," I said.

"It has to be," someone else said. Albert had even gone through the trouble of opening every drawer and showing every possible nook and cranny on his desk so I had eliminated him as a suspect.

For a moment, there was a thought it could have been Elio but, because he had never actually handled the food since he hadn't ordered with us, he was eliminated as the thief. That didn't mean he couldn't have been hiding it for whoever had actually done the deed, but the chain of evil had not originated with him.

I stood up, took one look around to see if I could see the cake from my vantage, but I still could not see it from where it stood. I sat back down, again anger showing in every pore on my face, while I waited for the cake to show up.

And that's when the guilty party finally revealed himself and how the whole thing had gone down.


why must you try to ruin my peace of mind?

As I pulled the slice of chocolate cake from behind the back of my computer where no one could see it, I explained myself. The collective gasp and shocked faces among the collective was priceless.

"I took it out when no one was looking and then acted like somebody else had done it. After all, the best way to prevent someone stealing something from you is to steal it yourself," I smiled coyly. "That way no one even thinks to try." I ate my dessert in a state of perfect bliss, content that I had fooled everyone.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

P.S. - See you all after Boston!

Can You Still Remember, How It Seemed That We Could Live Forever In A Lovers' Dream?

--"King of Yesterday", Jude

The last thing you ever heard from me was, "You think I'm fair?! I never told you this was going to be fair." That's the last thing I ever remembered shouting to you from across the table at that Chinese place we used to go to. I didn't mean to shout. You know how things go. It was a whole bunch of little things that got under my skin--some your fault, most mine--until I finally snapped. I wanted to hold off telling you till later, why I was so angry and why I had come to dinner so late, but I never got the opportunity. We fought. I said what I said. You left.

What's worse than the fact of your leaving was the fact I never took one step to stop you. It barely registered on the meter of what had gone wrong that day. I figured you would be back. I told myself to give you ten minutes. Then thirty minutes. Then till the next day. But you never quite came back. You never returned.

Next came the phone calls to your apartment, your cel phone, and everywhere else I thought I could reach you. You never returned my calls, though. And so I gave you some space to work things out for yourself because that's what I thought you wanted. It's not what I wanted. I don't know who you could have wanted that either. But that's what I did, I let you walk away.


you were my setting sun and now you're every view

I sit on the roof of my building where we used to come when you felt like being romantic and I felt like indulging you. Looking out over the city I remember the closeness, the proximity, the feeling of being right next to you. I remember how great that felt. And I also remember falling in love with you, little by little, on this roof, in the bedroom, and among the rest of the world. That was a good feeling too. I don't even know how long I've been up here, looking down at a world I no longer feel a part of. It just isn't the same without you. The roof just doesn't mean as much without you next to me. Nothing really does.

Is it really you I miss? Or do I just miss being in love? Those stolen kisses, private moments, secret language of inside jokes and one-word anecdotes? I can't separate the condition of being in love from the condition of being in love with you. Can this feeling be mine again, only with someone else? Or was it somehow tied to you inexplicably? Am I destined to forever link loving someone, anyone, to loving you?

You... were the one who gave me dirty looks at the most inopportune times.

You... were the one to act even more foolish when you thought people weren't looking.

You... were the one to kiss me when I thought you hadn't even noticed me at all.

You... were the one to shy away from attention from everyone but me.

You... were the one who always slept next to me in the afternoon when we both decided to stay home from work.

You... were the first to see me in the hospital and the last to leave.

You... were everything.

So I'll just sit on this roof if that's okay with you. I'll try to figure out what to say to you when you come back. I tried to walk away from you like you did to me. I tried to forget it all. It's a lot of pain to carry inside me, but there are far too many good memories that I'd be destroying too. I need you back and I'm willing to wait for all time right here if I have to.

Just come back.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

Daiforum is back !!

http://www.daiforum.com


A heartily thank you to IamMINE, Touff'ray, HanyouDCTU, Stovila and HeartlessCloud, for making it possible!

^*^

You And Me, We Come From Different Worlds, You Like To Laugh At Me, When I Look At Other Girls

--"Only Wanna Be With You", Hootie and the Blowfish

To my long-time friend on her twenty-sixth birthday...

Yeah, you're right, I'll never top last year's post. I hope this suffices, though.

LITTLE SISTER
by E. Patrick Taroc

You’re the sister, it’s been said,
I never had while I was young,
The missing setting at my meals,
A mini-mojo, but in heels.
You’re what I should’ve had instead,
The brat who got on my last nerve,
Telling me I got what I deserve
And making sure as hell it stung.

We wouldn’t have seen eye-to-eye—
Most constant siblings never do—
But we might’ve gone toe-to-toe,
Jousted, jabbed, and jawed to and fro
When it came to the reasons why
You were more talented than me
Or why insults came easily
When the target was as flawed as you.

Yet when shove came to push at last
And I hastily had to name
Some of the ways we remained tight
That may not have been in plain sight,
I’d say, “I can’t escape my past.
I love her though good sense says not;
She’s like wind I ran from, yet sought,
Air which both snuffs and fuels my flame.”

Some may ask what are the ties that bind
Little Miss Chipper to Eeyore, Sad,
For it’s true we’re Pepsi and Coke,
Doing our darndest to provoke.
Yet she’s one I was blessed to find,
The one who makes me less alone,
She’s the sister I should have known,
I should’ve known I always had.

Copyright 2006 E. Patrick Taroc (04/21/06)

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

Time Casts A Spell On You, But You Won't Forget Me, I Know I Could Have Loved You, But You Would Not Let Me

--"Silver Springs", Fleetwood Mac

Seven years ago today a girl named Rachel died.

Seven years ago I had the thought that everyone else had at the time, we will never forget about the tragedy that took place on that day. The horror and sadness were forever more going to be engrained in our memories or so we thought. But, like with everything else, with time our recollection begins to become less vivid; the feelings, less pronounced, until finally we find ourselves looking upon the date and not even realizing that it has been seven years. That's where I found myself today at work. I sat looking at the calendar, thinking that April 20th was important for some reason. Granted, it only took me about fifteen minutes to figure it out, but that is fifteen minutes more than it would have taken even two years ago. There was a time when I was reading Rachel's Tears and her other books at least once every few months. I was that obsessed with trying to emulate her--her generosity, her warmth of spirit, everything. I would not have even thought it would have been possible to forget what happened so completely. I would not have even thought it conceivable that I could have put her out of my mind totally that I would let the day pass without remembering her sacrifice.

It's been said that time heals all wounds, but sometimes I think a corrolary exists to that maxim. I think sometimes think that time severs all but the strongest of ties. I wanted to remember her always. I always wanted it known that there was at least one person on Earth who looked back on her lovingly every day. Sure, it was an admiration from afar, but it's probably the strongest I've ever felt about a person I did not know personally. Yet the further it got away from the day she died the less it became a focus of my life. One only has to look at this site to notice how much I've moved onto to discussing other topics when before I started this site I used to talk about her and Columbine a lot. With every passing year, though, it got harder to keep such a positive influence in my life as constant as it once was. It became less important for me to re-read the book, to revisit that part of my own life. It was a different time for me back then. I was in a different place. Maybe that's why I forgot about today. Or maybe it's just because it's been too long since I've had occasion to bring it up to anyone I know. Everyone who knows me has already heard me regale on and on about Rachel and how good I think she was. Once I had no one to "introduce" her to it became harder to keep her in everyday conversation. Consequently, it became harder to keep her and her ideals fresh in my mind.

----

I used to have the biggest crush on this girl named Erin in my elementary/junior high school. I would talk about her for days on end to anyone who would listen among my friends and cousins. I exhibited all the usual signs--writing her name in my notebooks, daydreaming about our future together, and, of course, glancing in her direction every chance I got during class. For almost five or six years she literally was it for me. There was no one person I thought about more during those days than her.

But like most schoolboy crushes, it came to an abrupt end as soon as I graduated and moved on to a different high school than her. I forgot completely about how enamored I was of her.

Flash forward a couple of years and I was walking up to eat breakfast with a friend in town before heading out for the day. I walked into The Only Place In Town, a restaurant that was nearby in Sierra Madre, and who should be our hostess/waitress but Erin herself. For a split second all the familiar nervousness came back even though it had been a good two or three years since I last saw her. Sometimes there are certain people you just have knee-jerk reaction to. She was still beautiful as ever. I wanted to say hello, acknowledge my recognition of her, but, like I said, time severs all but the strongest of ties. In my head, I thought it had been too long. I felt awkward being the first one to say something to her outside of the bounds of the waitress-waited upon boundaries. It was as if I broke my silence on knowing who she was, all the pent-up and repressed longings for her that I thought I had put away for good would have come rushing back. I couldn't let that happen. I would not let that happen.

So, like a jerk, I pretended I didn't recognize her or, at the very least, I played it too cool to say anything about it. I must have come of as an ass, I admit it, but I've always ascribed to the "out of sight, out of mind" theory. I really had forgotten about her during high school and I really thought that to change that dynamic now would have been a mistake. I ate my breakfast without a word to her about catching up or inquiring how she was doing now. I ate my breakfast practically ignoring her presence, which was made an even harsher of a move by the fact that she had only one other table of customers. She kept on checking on us and I kept right on pretending I didn't know her from Eve. And, as I was leaving, I did not even say even so much as a good-bye.

I sometimes wonder if it was just the awkwardness of the situation that compelled me to keep quite or if perhaps I'm just by nature more reticent. As with anything I do, I do not feel like I'm beholden to convention. Convention says you should give gifts on Christmas and birthdays. Convention says you should say good-bye every time you leave someone's company. Convention says you should share dessert. And convention says when you bump into an old acquaintance you should engage in small talk and at least pretend like you're interested in what is their current situation in life. For starters, I do not believe in small talk and, secondly, I cannot work up enough interest in a person that I haven't seen in a couple of months, let alone a couple of years.

Still, I should have been nicer if only for the reason that she used to mean something to me once. Not personally, of course--but anyone who brings you joy in any form or fashion is worthy a little courtesy... even from a wretch like me. I cannot help but wonder, though, if time did not work as it did, if I was able to hold onto all those enamored feelings I had in junior high, if that encounter would have gone differently. Maybe if I held onto a small inkling of my "like" for her, I would have been able to stammer out at least a "how have you been" or "it's great to see you again."

And maybe, just maybe, I could have held onto the goals that I set for myself when I first came across Rachel's story. If I kept more of the pride and admirationg I felt for this young woman, I wouldn't have forgotten what today is the anniversary of and, most importantly, I wouldn't have forgotten a little each day about the kind of person like her I am striving to become.

If time didn't erase all feelings I could have still been that person I was back then.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

She Was A Rare Thing, Fine As A Beeswing, And I Miss Her More Than Words Could Say

--"Beeswing", Thompson Richard

Sometimes I wonder what it must have been like for Rachel as her friends seemed to abandon her. Sometimes I wonder what it must have felt like to not understand what she did wrong or how she could fix the situation. I wonder if she had thoughts of replaying everything she said or did, trying to find the one thing that might point to why she was being so suddenly ostracized. I wonder if they froze her out--hiding their screennames on-line, ducking her calls, refusing to see her. I'm sure she had some clue as to why it was happening, but I do not think even in all her wisdom she could fathom that the transformation from friends to stranger would be so complete. Maybe it would have been better if they had held more bitterness about it. Maybe it would have been better if they had been mean and callous, heckled her in the halls more. Yet I suspect that the change would have more resembled the formality of being declined for a job or being told one didn't make the sports team rather a brutal stabbing or punch. The pain would have been more dull and crushing rather than a sharp bolt. Sometimes I wonder what it must have been like for Rachel not knowing so much of what she could have done to keep her friends.

Then days like this come along and I no longer am left to wonder.

She may not have been my closest friend or my longest friend, but losing someone you thought you connected with, without benefit of explanation or reasoning, hurts no matter who you are.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

It's Not A Case Of Doing, What's Right, It's Just The Way I Feel That Matters, Tell Me I'm Wrong, I Don't Really Care

--"Play For Today", The Cure

Yesterday, after I saw Whispertown2000 in Los Angeles, I met up with my friend Kerri Ray to test out my brand-spanking new membership to the Arclight. I'd been wanting to see a movie I'd first heard about on HSX called Hard Candy that, from the outset, intrigued me because it supposedly dealt with the rampant problem of internet predators. However, instead of presenting the tale straight up as a cautionary tale about a young, innocent girl getting lured into a trap set by some nefarious older man, it turns the tables by imagining a case of the predator actually becoming the prey. I've always liked movies like Death And The Maiden where you don't know where your sympathies should lay or, indeed, if you can believe what each of the characters are telling you. Hard Candy keeps the audience interested by presenting its story very much along these lines.

When the audience first meets Hayley, all of fourteen and "obviously" in over her head, she is agreeing to meet up with 32-year-old Jeff at the local diner. It's a testament to both the writing (playwright-turned-screenwriter Brian Nelson first screenplay) and the acting by both Patrick Wilson (Jeff) and Ellen Page (Hayley) that the transition between their awkwardness at first meeting up to her actually asking to go home with him doesn't seem contrived or the least bit unbelievable. Hayley's character's motivation seems to be a mixture of defiance and naivete, while Jeff seems to be manipulating the machinations rather subtly, providing Hayley with a dozen different opportunities to back out, while at the same time casually mentioning a dozen other reasons not to. In fact, for the first ten minutes back at the house one honestly believes that the film has nothing more to offer than the same old tale of young girl being seduced by a deceitful older man. From him not stopping her from drinking screwdriver after screwdriver to him showing her his photography studio and suggesting she might make a good model for him, one thinks the story is headed to a certain place rather quickly.

It's not until Jeff passes out and wakes up, hands and legs tied to a chair, that the real game of cat and mouse begins. You see, Hayley has an agenda that goes beyond merely turning a mere pedophile into the police. Hayley's out for revenge and it's how this revenge tale plays out the makes the movie both exciting and dangerous. On reading one site's review of the film, I happen to agree with the sentiment that there is a certain hazard in positioning Jeff as the victim in the film. He obviously is no saint and the lengths to which Hayley goes to exact her revenge is notoriously over-the-top. Again, it is only by the acting and the manner in which the exact sequence of events is plotted, that the story maintains believability. With films like this I'm tempted to see for myself the inconsistencies, the plot holes, the dialogue flaws, but, all in all, I kept right on waiting to see them. Not only does Hayley sound and act like a fourteen-year-old, albeit an "honor student", but I found the fact that the film makes Jeff sound and act like an internet predator with the guile and intelligence not to ever get caught the real trick. In truth, this film unfolds more like a play would, with dialogue between the two characters in a confined space making the bulk of the movie. Yes, it does have action set pieces, and, yes, it does seem to fall a bit flat with its last fifteen minutes, but I wholeheartedly believed in both of the characters and I wholeheartedly believed that not only was this scenario plausible, but I actually found myself asking my friend if she thought the film was sparked by a true incident.

I especially identified with the idea that this girl was so driven by thoughts of revenge that she would go to such lengths to entrap the guy. Not only is it revealed she was manipulating him the entire time they were chatting on-line, but it turns out she has been the one stalking him, finding out when his neighbors would be away or occupied to pick the perfect time to lay her trap as well as doing her homework about whether or not he is, in fact, guilty of what she thinks he's guilty of. I won't ruin the movie by telling you one way or another if he's a bad guy or if he even committed the act or acts she accuses him of. One of the strengths of the film is that your loyalty to both characters gets tested as you learn more of the whole story... just like any film which utilizes suspense should do. I don't think there's any good guy or girl nor any evil guy or girl for most of the movie. It's only in the last few minutes of the film as one of the characters meets his or her demise that you are let in on the last twist of who's more at fault and who's more sadistic and cruel. But up until then, the movie is a very good exercise in playing against the audience's instincts and spoiling all traditional values of what makes an individual a monster.


it’s not a case of share and share alike
I take what I require

I left the theater very satisfied that I'd been privy to an original piece of filmmaking and, upon further thought, I think it's because the film speaks to the nature of compulsion. What makes a person commit evil deeds and what justification, if any, makes them, if not defensible, at the very least excusable? By presenting this subject from an untraditional point-of-view the film succeeds momentarily in making the audience believe that the line between reasonable punishment for a crime and inhumane often begins and ends with what one can get away with.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

Eh.

I hate eating food from one place in particular, but we went there anyway. I ate 25% of the food on my plate cuz I just felt so tired. Maybe it was the breakfast I ate two hours earlier or having less then 4 hours of sleep. All I can say is that the food was heavy. Even if it was hot (88F) I still took a nap with my fan going. Had one of those weird dreams that seemed like I was actually awake, but yeah, it was just a dream.

After taking my dog for a walk, I picked one green mango. (Yes, I have a tree.) It's been about a year since I ate mangos (I can't stand the ones from the grocery store, both actual fruit and the dried ripe ones), but it's always been something I look forward to. Even the sap was fragrant. Haha. I don't make the best pickled mango, but I'd like to learn. Ripe mango is good too, but it can get very messy biting straight from the fruit. But back to the mango I picked--I just sliced it and poured soy sauce over it. Something I learned from my neighbors over ten years ago. I know it's bad, but it's good if it's just one medium-sized mango. My teeth start feeling weird after finishing the first mango. =
Sorry no pictures for now. Whatever you google does no justice to the beauty of mango blossoms or a tree full of fruit.

Sing Out This Song I'll Be There By Your Side, Storm Clouds May Gather, And Stars May Collide, But I Love You Until The End Of Time

--"Come What May", Moulin Rouge Original Motion Picture Soundtrack

Hey it is -----, I don't know why I am telling you this but I am telling everyone I can so I think I am just doing it, but Mom died on feb 27 and we had her services on march 2nd. I know it won't affect you either way but at least tell your mom and thank her for everything that she did for my mom while we were together.

Bye, -----

I received that e-mail in the first week of March, but, due to an ex-girlfriend's not knowing that I'd switched e-mail addresses, I didn't actually read it until last night. At first I felt bad that I hadn't been able to at least respond one way or another to the e-mail. I mean--if somebody tells you their mother just died you don't stay silent. It betrays the confidence somehow. In that situation they're waiting for you to respond, they want you to respond I think. And if you do not, then it's like you missed the point. It's on the same level as somebody telling you that she loves you. If you stay silent, she might as well as have said nothing at all. You've got to have a reaction. You've got to go to an extreme to let them know that the news has affected you just as much as her. She wants other people to feel the loss with her. In this case, I think my ex wanted me to at least say something nice about her mom even if short to let her know that I too would miss her. I felt really bad that I couldn't give that to her.

The thing is I can't separate how bad I feel about her mom being gone to how bad I feel that I don't feel more about it. I've searched my emotions and I've come to the conclusion that, while I am very sad she's gone, I don't know if I would go so far as to say it has affected me tremendously. Maybe the impact has yet to make its mark, maybe some memory will re-ignite a couple of days or weeks from now and I'll realize what a loss it really is. I spent most of today thinking of some of my most happy memories spent in my ex's mother's company. I thought about the days and nights I spent at their home. I tried to remember some of the conversations we had. But the truth is, unlike my times with the actual ex, I do not have one instance I can point to as the shining moment I will always remember. Like I said, it could merely be the idea that the reality hasn't set in yet.

What I really believe, though, is that simply don't care as much as I used to. I've talked to my ex exactly once on the phone in the last two years. I've maybe sent four or five e-mails in that time. Yes, there was a time I thought I would spend my entire life with her, but slowly that future faded. There was a time when my first thought upon hearing that kind of news I would have flown to wherever she's living right now to make sure she was okay. I don't just mean while we were together, but we managed to remain some sort of friends for a few years after we'd broken up. As little as two years ago I could very well have been writing this at her house, staying with her, to make sure she was going to be okay. I don't know if she would have liked that, hated it, or been indifferent to the idea. I can only tell you how strongly I felt we were and what kind of action was normal for me at that time.

I think perhaps, though, there is a statute of limitations on how close you feel to a person after you stop seeing them in your life everyday. It doesn't matter how close you were at one time. It doesn't matter what you may have meant to one another at one time. It doesn't even matter that you made promises to always be in each other's life.

I liked her mom. I really did. She was always nice to me up to the point I stopped being nice to her daughter. She humored a lot of irresponsible, annoying, and definitely immature displays by me all because her daughter, at one time, was rather fond of me. However, the minute her daughter decided to end all contact with me, I may as well have been dead to her and she, for me. It's not her fault. That's just the way it is. My ex connected us together. Once that link was severed there was no reason for us to remain close.

Am I a bad person for not being overly upset she passed away? I feel like I am but I can't muster up feelings that simply aren't there. It's true what they say, you can never go back to how you used to feel. There was a time, because I loved and was so in love with my ex, I grew to love her mom as well.

However, love doesn't last forever--at least not for me.

when I wrote to you about my mom dying I went back and reread it days later and realized how angry it sounded at you, nothing personal but I am just kinda of pissed at the world right now, however I at least expected you to write back and acknowledge the fact that my mom is gone, I am suprised that you didn't at least do that for everything she did for you while she was alive and for what, once upon a time, a friend you used to be for me. Wow Pat I am not mad at you really, I am more softly shocked than anything, but you never cease to amaze me.

-----

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

I found myself staring at the Graduate Program in Asian Studies page on berkeley.edu for at least the fourth time just now. The deja vu is so intense, almost like rapid black flashes in my vision. Yet more intense is the opacity of my memory as to when I first clicked onto this page. I remember clearly each time that I knew I'd been in this place before, but the knowledge of 'before' is braced in the midst of a memorial ice floe, and I have no idea how it got there. Anyway I am going to have to take a million standardized tests soon, and the more I think about it, screw all degrees ending with E.

The Question of the Day

"So did she touch it?"

Maybe not all asked in those words. Others asked...

"Did you get massagy?"
"Did you hit?"
"Was she legal?"
"So did you pick up or just pay for it?"
"Anyone sit on your face?"

But in some form or another that's all I've been asked today. Yeah, the people who've read my blog can easily come to that conclusion because last I wrote, I talked about my friend getting sucky yakky in Japan. But not once did I ever say I was going there for Jap poon. If I wanted asian ass I would have gone to Thailand. And that's not until next year.

But I'm insulted you all think I'm a dirty whore. Yeah, I've done my share of hideous beasts, but that's not what I'm all about. Is it not possible that I went on vacation just to go on a vacation? So what, if I went to Japan and saw many J-pop girls who would get it right on their foreheads. Does that automatically mean I slept with some of them?

There are other things in life more important than doing hot little asian girls with jacked up teeth. Things like... um... well I can't think of anything right now. But I'm sure they're out there.

So please don't assume I'm a man slut. Unless of course you've seen it with your own eyes. Then yeah, I guess I can't lie to you. But everyone else, DON'T ASSUME!

I Think I'm Trying Too Hard, Wish I Didn't Have To Try So Hard, I Wish It Came To Me Like Air, Without A Worry Or A Care

--"New York Minute", Whispertown2000

MS - That doesn't mean I have to wrap it, do I? Because that would be kind of pointless. It would just get messed up in transit and then I would have spent all that energy wrapping your gift for no good reason.

B - Do you ever wrap it? Do you even know how to wrap a gift?

P - Sure, I do. I've wrapped presents before.

B - Well?

P - Well enough.

B - Like my daddy always says, if you're going to fight, don't tie your hand behind your back beforehand. There's no use in doing something good for someone if you do it badly. Especially if that someone is me, darling.

P - It's bad enough I have less than two weeks to find you a gift. I have to worry about how it's presented? I'm telling you it's too much work.

B - It's called being considerate.

P - Being considerate's evil. In fact, I think being considerate is what killed off the dinosaurs.

B - Don't be daft. Being considerate is what keeps people going, it's what keeps people from going crazy. Hmmm, in your case, more crazy.

P - I just don't think I'm very good at it.

B - You're not good at it because you don't try. And you don't try because you think you're above it.

P - I just think it's rather pointless. The whole exchanging of gifts for the most part I believe is rather perplexing.

B - You don't want to get me a gift this year? You don't have to if you don't want to.

P - It's not that. You're like the one person I do like buying stuff for now. It's the whole idea of having to buy people presents on their birthday or Christmas or whatever. I cannot abide feeling obligated to do something for someone. If my heart's not into something, it's not into it.

B - Sometimes you've got to suffer a little foolishness in your time. For me, the way I look at it is this. It might not make me happy at first to go out of my way for someone, but as soon as I see that smile I remember why kindness gets paid in kindness. It's true what they say--you give a little, you get a lot.

P - But that whole theory is predicated on the idea that I'm after people to be kind and considerate to me. What if I'm indifferent about people treating me nicely? Doesn't that mean I don't have to be nice to them?

B - Why wouldn't you want to be nice to someone if you had an option?

P - Because I don't care sometimes.

B - Hell's bells, Eeyore, there's such thing as being apathetic. And you wonder why people get irritated with you so quickly.

P - But isn't exhausting being on your best behavior all the time, B.? Don't you get tired of actingly falsely in front of people?

B - Because I'm one to be somehow facetious to the general population? You should know I really am that damn nice. Or try to be, anyway.

P - All the time?

B - All the time I can be.

P - Without fail?

B - I can't say without fail, but more than most I would say.

P - Sorry, but I'm going to have call bullshit on that one. You've got a definite mean streak and you get just as pissed off at people as I do. I've heard it. I've reviewed the tapes.

B - True. But I think you could say that'd be the exception and not the rule. I'm better at being courteous than not.

P - My point exactly. I think I'm more suited to being "whatever's whatever" than putting forth the effort to say and do things I really don't feel strongly about. You know me, Breanne, you can't say that I don't feel passionately about stuff. I just don't think I should have to attempt to do things I know I suck at.

B - Like wrapping presents?

P - Like minding the p's and q's. Isn't enough I feel strongly about you that I want to get you a gift that would make you happy? Do I really have to dress it up to the nines, only to have you discard all of my efforts in a matter of seconds?

B - In for a penny, in for a pound, Patrick. The way I look at it when I do something nice for a friend or a family member is that I've already spent the money to purchase the perfect gift, I've already spent the effort looking for the perfect gift, what's another ten to fifteen minutes to "dress it up"? What's another trip to the card store to pick out the perfect card? What's another half hour typing out a short letter to explain why I picked out the gift and why it reminds me of you? I don't think about all the hard work or all the effort. I think about how it's going to make you feel that I went to all the effort.

Tell me the truth, sugar. Doesn't it make you feel special when somebody dotes all over you?

P - Yeah, I guess. But a part of me thinks that I'd be fine with the minimum effort as well. Personally, I don't even like having favors, getting gifts, or being paid attention to if it's not asked for. Most of the time when people try to do something nice for you, they end up doing it all wrong. Then I feel bad that I don't like it, but heaven forbid I say I don't like it. Or, even worse, I get practically stoned to death when I try and refuse thanking them for it. If I don't like the gift why in the hell should I thank them for it? I didn't ask you to get me a present and now I've got to be grateful you've stuck me with crap?

B - It's the thought you're showing gratitude for and not the execution.

P - I'm a bigger fan of the execution rather than the thought.

B - See if I get you a gift this year.

P - Not you, of course. You actually take the time to ask me what I want and to find stuff I actually might like. Just like people go through the motions of showing appreciation, I think most people buy gifts just because they feel they should and not because they actually want to find a "good" gift or a "thougtful" present. I'd say that I like only about 10% of the gifts I ever get, if that.

B - That's sad.

P - This I know.

B - I don't know--it comes easy to me to be thoughtful. I guess that's just the way I raised.

P - And I've honed my apathy to a razor's edge.

B - You do what feels comfortable, I guess.

P - And it's not like I'm a bad person, am I?

B - No, I wouldn't say that.

P - We all can't be saints like you.

B - I'm not a saint. I'm still little 'ole me.

P - Sometimes I do wish I wasn't so difficult or that I didn't have so many things I'm fussy about. But I can't help the way I feel.

B - No, you can't. I think everyone can change a little bit, though.

P - Just a tad.

B - Just a jot.

P - Just an iota.

B - Here's something that my mother taught me at an early age. She taught me that as long as I can look myself in the mirror with my head held up high, my conscience clear, and my heart light as a feather, then anything I do cannot be as bad as someone else says it to be. The only two people that can truly judge your actions are you and God. It's all well and good to want to be a better person for company and kin, however, at the end of it all, you have to like yourself most importantly. The question is do you like yourself as you are, Eeyore?

P - Well enough.

B - Yup, then you're in trouble, sugar. I think I'll be wanting that birthday gift as soon as possible.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

armaggedon

last login, Friday, April 7th, 11h30 PM

"you don't have permission to access this website, please contact the administration team"

wtf i am part of it!!

then i realized. DoAsInfinity was not there, someone was messing around with his cyber-identity. Then started the whole bad movie

you know, in those high tech' catastrophe flicks, when the hero watch helplessly his computer, unable to react? well i am no hero, but i seen this bastard moving around the threads, then erasing them, one by one

ONE BY ONE

AND FUCKING ENJOYING IT

deleting about 2 years of a life that is maybe now gone forever

no time to cry, think quick, and beg out for help. MSN first. 2DL then. commenting along with other members what was going under our eyes, made it real, too real. sending emails, happily welcoming old friends attempting again and again to login. just a peak at his IP, please let me just see his IP

trying as a last resort to understand, to try and talk (no use). to realize the sad irony, too...the banners getting banned, and 13 640 good reasons to hate an unknown person.

the lack of sleep, the nightmares, waking up with a headache, and realizing in one click it was not a joke.

Forum has been hacked and for good

putting all the wildest hopes in the bunch of people that quickly accepted to give their time and effort freely, working together to the restauration of our home. watching them helplessly, and trying to be of some use, linking people...And on the background, wondering away WHEN THE HELL something went wrong

where there signs i didn't notice?

was it a pure case of bad luck, just a bastard that needed some fun?

what are the decisions to take, the best ones, in that state of emergency?



and still, believing in humans being, telling myself i was right to trust some of them. that behind the words of friendship, there is real friendship

that this is not a battle in vain

I Have Been A Fool For Lesser Things, I Want You So Bad, I Think You Ought To Know That, I Intend To Hold You For The Longest Time

--"The Longest Time", Billy Joel

I don't know how long they've been coming to Bill's Pancake House in Manhattan Beach. It was my first time there and, from what I tasted, not going to be last. As I sat there finishing the last of my steak and egg breakfast, I spotted them. They were a couple in their sixties, maybe seventies. She was a patchwork old thing and he was this big, hulking lumberjack of a man. Yet to look at them, it was she who protected him. It was she who made sure he was loved and made safe.

I couldn't catch the words at first. Maybe she'd been reading to him the entire time I was eating breakfast. Perhaps it was the dying of the clatter of silverware that I'd been using to shovel the meal it to my mouth or perhaps it was that I regained my focus on the environment surrounding my food--whatever it was, it was only then that I realized exactly what she was doing for him. She was telling him of the preview of the NCAA Basketball tournament, how Florida and UCLA were going to match up that night. He soaked every word she uttered in like they were rain from on high. He made sure to ask her questions to clarify what he had just heard. He breathed in every pause of her breath, taking them as if they were cliffhangers in a movie, and waited patiently with every opportunity she took to regain her place or clear her throat. I imagined he would have waited till the end of time itself. He was enthralled with her voice. Or maybe he was just enthralled with her.

At first I asked myself if she was doing it because he had some disability. Maybe he had a hard time seeing the words in front of him or maybe he'd gotten a little slow and that it was hard for him to make sense of the article without somebody reading it to him. I started to imagine scenarios straight out of The Notebook, where it was some tragedy of fate that would speak to me of how true their love is. I began to picture the horrible accident that had left him unable to care for himself and how she had dedicated her life to assisting him with every task, every chore, that a grown man should be able to do for himself. I thought to myself, now that's dedication, that's love.

Then I realized that possibly there was no ailment, no impediment, or trial that this man was enduring. Possibly he was fully capable of reading the story himself and she just did it because she wanted to. That might even be a more pronounced statement of an individual's love for another, the fact she might be willing to do for him voluntarily what he could do for himself.

It's one thing to do something out of charity or to take care of himself. Yes, that is a form of caring and compassion. But so too is a powerful statement made when one person just is there for a person for no other reason because there is a bond between them.

As I stood up to walk out the door, I smiled a bit for the happy couple and kept my tongue still. It really didn't matter why she read to him or what circumstances brought it about.

All that mattered is the doing and the fact she'd probably keep doing it until time itself ended.

Yours Swimmingly.
mojo shivers

Watched Late Spring again last night, to chill and to get a feel for the difference between Ozu and Hou nodding toward Ozu. But I mostly got sucked into watching.

The movie is really sad. I couldn't sympathize with it the first time around--somehow I couldn't read 'nascently faltering social smiles' as distinct from 'cardboard acting' before--but this time it was wrenching.

The Noh play is especially awful. There's no loneliness quite like being the only person in a room unable to enjoy something. I don't believe that it really happens how she hangs her head; it seems too expressive for an audience member, even a distressed one. I read it more as her seeing herself emotionally alone, which is worse--denying even the comfort of hiding in herself.