Now Entering, The Void. I want to cry. I somehow rejuvenated my interest in wikis and content management and then I just started scribbling stuff... I'm being sucked in. Someone, help me. I... Can't let go. It's too interesting.

Right now, I have a stomach ache, a to-do list a mile long already in the red, and a semester's worth of pain, stress, and grief. And what do I have to look forward to? My personal content management system that will save me... Yeah, right. But... It's kinda cool though. Anything in the face of laziness...

Hey j00. Gong hey, fat boy! (Uhh, kinda like the saying gung hey fat choi, which is how I was taught to say good luck during the Chinese New Year or whatever)

Mr. Spock's Dilemma. (smack dab in CIS 144H) Is anybody a Star Trek fan? (no response) Is anybody not a Star Trek fan? (hands go up) You all fail. (in that semi-serious geeky kinda tone... so momentarily funny)

Game Time. C'mon guys, let's play a game. This one is called Ignorance. It's where I shut my mouth and do my work and pretend like nothing bothers me. Ah, can't fool me. I don't know because I'm ignorant. Yeah, buddy...

Dear False Promises. Dear False Promises and Empty Dreams. Your downfall, your downfall, your downfall.

Thanks for playing.

Truth Dragon. Yo, I'm all about Gimme The Truth Hardcore. And you know what? The truth hurts like a fuckin' knife. It just goes through you. Blaw, like that. Cut's you open, makes that flesh wound. Ha, now you know what truth is.

Oh yeah, that and intake header exhaust. Hmm...

I'm so bipolar or something. So calm (clam), so boring... So crazy, so irrational. So selfless, so selfish.

Taken Away. I really don't understand me or the world sometimes... It's like... If I talk about something, it'll just evaporate or be wrong. So I can't do that. I can't talk. I just can't. It got me in trouble the first time, so let's try listening. And then I pout and I listen and I cry and I laugh, all in the hopes that someone would notice me. To read me through and through so that I don't have to do any of the talking. And then it comes, just like I wanted to. And then I have to hear something. But it's not what I wanted to hear. Or maybe it is, but it makes me feel uneasy, hearing what I wanted. It's like... I kept reaching and struggling... Now the struggle is coming at ease and that makes me nervous. What, I'm supposed to just grab your hand now? Give up my struggle just like that? Do you have any idea what mental pains I've brought upon myself by this? Apparently not... Tossing around the idea of the way things are and could be. I feel like I'm being tossed around again. I feel like I'm being used. But isn't that what I wanted all this time? But maybe I'm not listening. I'm not being used, I'm being helped. I dunno, this is just the way I feel. And people don't feel for no reason. So why is this? If the truth is that there are people out in the world to help me, then why do I have to cry help and then refuse it when it comes. Why. Why do I gotta be all difficult like that. It's like an asymptote. Some things just can't be, even though they want to. I want to. And then I don't.

Hmm... How to take this one day at a time... I don't know. I really don't know. But I so wish other people would just cave in before me so that I wouldn't have to do any work. I mean it's all fine and dandy to go gushing out hey I feel this and hey I do that, but in the end, when nothing really substantial came out of it, all there is is an open flesh wound... Do I really want to spend the rest of my semester licking those wounds clean? No. Gotta turtle up and be all hardcore like a badass... No weakness. Or at least no visible weakness... I think I'd rather cry myself to sleep every night than be unbrave.

Hmm... Feelin' kinda selfish right now... Secretly wishing, hey, I hope certain things don't work out. But that in itself would be a jinx. So what do I outwardly think and express? I hope everything goes well and I hope everything is fruitful. In this way, fate will make things crash and burn, leaving me as the sole survivor with the choice of pushing TheButton. Since life is all about TheButton.

"You're standing. It's like we should be standing. Eh, I'll stand. See that? We're all standing, together."

Dude... I so wanted to stand... But I knew I couldn't. It was wrong... It was right... It hurt. I just wish someone could have told me, hey punk, go ahead and stand up. Even then, I'd be like, no, no... I can't...

Alright maybe I'm still not listening... That... That could definitely be the case. I hate this. I really do. Why? Because I love it so much.

Be Calm, John Spartan. I have to remember that it is indeed possible to live a stable life... Cuz, you know, sometimes ya just get carried away with things... Like when people, your friends, are too hot for their own good... And then they seduce you...

But no matter. Life goes on. Stably.

I Oughta. Here, I'm gonna have some fun harping on something somone blurted out... I poked fun and then this person retorted back with a conditional threat. But what concerns me is that he said "when" instead of "if". And from shoddy MTV soaps, we know that a drunken mouth speaks a sober mind. So... When. Not if. When? Am I to have faith in this when? Am I supposed to fulfill this when? Can I revel in the pleasure (or massive unpleasure) I would receive in contradicting this when statement? I dunno. I don't know.

Beat the Faith Roll. I dunno... I heard an "I don't care"-ish kind of attitude today... Not good. Not good at all actually. Maybe I should do my job as an annoying little punk and replace that negativity with something positive. Harp harp harp on the academics. As we should be doing. But uhh... Yeah. I'm slipping. I have my weeks all mapped out and such... The work's right in front of me, but I've yet to dive in. Let's see... How are my tactics holding up... Well, I've got allies. Or something. People sucking up my time and attention. And then all this other environmental garbage like people asking me to do stuff or suck up more time. But no. I must be steadfast. There are only three threats this semester, and they will be handled elegantly, gracefully, and masterfully, if that's a word. I dunno... A threat is a lot to think about. But sometimes... I feel... I dunno. Recently I just had this flash. A rational flash... What if I was to remove a threat from the field... It would certainly make the battle easier... But it would make life so much more boring. And I do mean that. I know what it is to have and have not. Is it worth continuing on a road with no time-sucker worthy of my attention... Certainly worthy. Many times over worthy. Heartbeat worthy. But is that the most rational thing to do now? Is it the most tactical? Three threats. Two threats and a permanent damper on my Brave. Three threats. I dunno, I guess I'll take it all one day at a time, because that's what I promised myself.

Randomnity.

Schrodinger's Semester. I'm not really sure this is the healthiest way to live out the semester... But I think that's the best way to describe how I feel about it. Like Schrondinger's Cat. Something can and can't be, because it just is. But please, please don't talk about it. Let's not even worry about it and just take it as it comes. It's all good and well to play psychic and postulate about the future... But let's please... And I beg of you, for my sanity and for your service, please let's not talk of anything... Let us find out together, in time.

Fuck the World, Jimmy! Ahh, to Arun and many a game of Monkey Ball... *sniff* Good times... Anyway, no lie, my English teacher is like, you know what the most common word in the English language is? // No, what? // Fuck! An adjective, a noun... Fuck you, you fucking fuck. // At that point, we're all like wtf is this guy smoking... Pretty cool though.

Why Do You Build Me Up? I don't know, but that's the best freakin' part!

Hypnoward. Yo I so fuckin' wanted to be hypnotized. But I can't! I have a listening problem! I don't listen enough! Heaven forbid. I actually think too much, he says! Fucker!

Psychic Been Played. Rich opened the door as I knocked and Frank knew I'd use his computer. "Mark I give you
full permission to use my computer". That fucker.

Golden Blaster. After a night of all that halo-halo, let's hope that the Golden Aura isn't turned into some drama-swept sack of sorrow. Be happy, just like ya said. And with that, I'm off to prepping my books to study and then help Pete with DDR. Wee...

Semester Blitz. Somebody's gushing out some positive energy... How annoying. I mean just in general. All that wafty, hippie crap. Yip-tee do-da for positive energy. Dork. But uhh... If that's what the Golden One says... Then I guess that's what the Golden Follower will have to do... You dork. But like I said, might as well get swept away by all the positive energies in the semester...

By the way, on statistics and perception... How could you call something the greatest ever if its the only one you've ever been emersed in? Hell, you don't even know half of what you've gotten yourself into (like a wise man point of view, which is the best part). I mean, maybe you can say and compare and contrast from observation, but that's not good enough. Let's just please be aware that your comment on the greatest ever is shallow, uninformed, completely biased, and probably untrue. But I'm just playing Captain Obvious. I don't disagree with you at all, and no one in our immediate circle would beg to differ. And that too is the best part. So let shallow, uninformed, biased opinions ring true for the semester ahead, because ignorance is bliss, especially when you've got a good following of people who feel exactly the same way.

Semester Resolution. To learn the true meaning of trust and faith in the face of darkness, and to be caught up in the flow of positive energies.

The Warmth of Darkness. Dear You. We made out. Because you said so. You wanted it. I had no idea. We could scare them away. That's what you wanted. And then I did it. To both of them. And then they're gone. And then I saw you. That's what you get for wearin' somethin' kinda skimpy... But, uhh, yeah. Now there's this burned image in my mind, and you won't go away. You seriously won't go away. That sucks.

See? Better zero than an up and a down at all. It burns. It burns!

Cliff Jumping 101. Ferhat Kutlucan, PhD. So his deal is like you get five points on your final grade if you show up to every class. Sweet deal.

Fight for Life. Life is a tactical game. And this semester is going to hurt bad like a motherf*cker. There are three enemies on the battlefield, and only two are in sight. It's going to be a constant battle, each and every day.

The difference between a fool and a smart man is that a smart man learns from his mistakes. The difference between a smart man and a wise man is that a wise man learns from both his and the fool's mistakes. A wise man is truly wise when he knows that he knows nothing.

Shut the Hell Up. People who make excuses on American Idol cannot sing. There are no bad days, sucka. Let's see your average talent, biatch.

Playing Psychic. One vision and then I'm off to bed, because that's the thing to do.

I foresee... A semester of a lot of struggle. A semester without any struggle would already denote something being wrong... I can see myself in one of two positions, the more unfortunate of which involves being like a zombie... A depressed, lonely soul seeking one thing and one thing only... But at what price am I willing to pay to prevent being zombified... At least being a zombie is a stable state, where I can't say much for any of my alternate routes... I'm so very hungry. It's so close... Please, just sweep me away... Let the tide come and engulf me... Then we'll really see how good my psychic powers are...

Necessary. Yup! See, even this person enjoys that part of the song. I do too.

So Very Lonely. Here I am, feeling kinda empty on things to do... Of course there's lots to do, but I've lost any drive to do anything. I'm lost and lacking. And I only want one thing. It's like waiting for a glacier to melt. But inside is an oh-so-sweet reward... Time to exercise patience...

Memoirs. I want to play a drinking game. I want to play I Never. I never played I Never! Haha... Lust and fear makes a great mai tai cocktail.

So, let's say you're a member of a class, like a given class of objects. Regardless of how cool or anti-class you are (i.e. the anti-groupie group, I was in that, hahaha), you still exhibit traits of being a whatever. Hmmf. No matter how ya spin it, a weird duck is still a duck.

American Idol Twins. They're great!

Compuciety Class. Wee, I'm gonna have so much fun in 350. Mostly because the guy sounds pretty cool, even though the work is on the verge of cool work turned suck. Although no pertinance to anyone but myself, there's attendance, journaling, ethics case, and oral report, all ten percent... And then two exams and a team project worth thirty percent each.

(You know, if I was a teacher and wanted to harp about attendance... I'd give less points off if a student told me that they were going to be out if they didn't plan on coming to class. I mean, I understand, sometimes you have those days where you don't give a flying fuck. But just tell the teacher, it's common courtesy, even if you have a bullshit reason. I'd say even less points for an elaborate explanation/story, however fake, of why you won't be or didn't come, and what you'd do to make up the time in addition to seeing me face-to-face about it. That's just me...)

He asked us this question about computers, technology, and the military. All I could envision was Tom Clancy things, a digital world, and lots of hexagons.

Recommendation given: take the data mining class. What is data mining anyway? Is that like looking for data about data? Metadata? Patterns in data? How to handle vast amounts of information, maybe? Maybe, just maybe.

Oh and a random idea. Sometimes those paper-based address look pretty cool. Yes, even those Sanrio or Hello Kitty ones. So I was thinking, why not make cutesy templates for Palm devices that look just like those paper books. Wee, so purty.

Do Well in the Skirmish. I wonder what would happen if there was an all-male cheerleading squad... Uhh... Go team, go?

Japanesing. Japanesing. That's when you eat hot dogs like Takeshi Kobayashi... Anyway, I randomly read somewhere that Japanese art is about the space between the material as well as the material itself. Where, like logic and regions, nothingness is a something. I want to make something very Japanese one day... It'd be black text, white background, all serifs, and Asian writing. Big. Stylish. Empty. Schway.

Roomie Patience. He unplugged my fridge. I was gonna snap. But it was an accident. Thank God for venting, waiting, and listening. Work with me, not against me. It's all about the flow, see?

Thatch Adams. I fill voids in my notes with sets of three-stroke thatch patterns... One, two, three. Tilt a little, find a void. One, two, three...

And on things that matter to me most... We have three votes proceed, three votes yield. What is a punk bitch to do.

Uhh yeah that and I need a diesel gray scarf. One of many accessories I don't own. All cool people have diesel gray scarfs.

Socra-artic Method. I wonder what kind of class would it be if the writing teacher was like, hey kids, write away. And then like you slowly, and I mean freakin slowly, introduce formal writing concepts to completely uncontrolling, chaotic writing. Or any form of artistic expression... Holy shit! A random art generator! With rules and algorithms! Ugh, go me, go me...

I was totally thinking of taking Dr. Finley's (you da best!) music theory class with a random music generator... And then introduce rules to the program. Like, Mark, make a fugue. Haha, fzck dat yo, just tell me what a fugue is and I'll program it!

Backupload. Like why is backing up files such a tedious task? Most people don't do it. Solution? Use idle bandwidth to continually send files to a backup server... Options include ignoring system files or uploading files with a similar frequency as they are modified... Yes, your bio report is safe and accessible online.

And like where the hell did we learn the concept of e-mailing oneself as a method of back up? What is that?

Engrish Tactics. One day, HTMLism will have site sections entitled Save Fading Life or Fight for Life. Weee...

Reft Brain. Maybe I failed English because analytical reading and essay writing are two seperate skills... Maybe I'm kinda okay at essay writing of stuff I like? Uhh, meh, maybe not... "HSS 101 is usually taken in the fall... You probably transferred in or failed or something..."

I tell ya... Lotsa biomedical Indians... By the way, if CE is Chemical Engineering, then what is the abbr. for Civil Engineering?

Oh, and it's true. My english teacher? No eye contact.

A thesis. Is a controlling statement. Yeah, so much for control in this post... It's funny, we learned an acronym for coordinating conjunctions. Guess what, it's FANBOYS! Haha, werd. For, and, nor, but, or, yet, and so. Or Boyfans, but that isn't as funny.

And that Charles Darwin guy? And the idea of evolution and natural selection? Diesel.

Fencing Philosophae. I wonder if the sport of fencing holds any philosophies... It's so cultured and diesel. Foil, epee, sabre. Ooo... But I'm sure all sports and all job masters develop expert mental states and great philosophies.

Haha, I hoped no one would jab me in the gut with a foil because I ate a lot of bacon for borkfast.

Blog York Times. Sometimes I wonder if it's worth having a blog in the form of a newspaper... You know, where each entry is sacred, holy, and perfect. But that would detract from the whole spontaneity of the situation, I think. That and...

I wonder why it upsets people so that blogs make entries into oblivion, unlike wikis. I mean, it's a little tedious, but all you have to do is blog about yesterday. Get lost and you'll have that cascading feeling...

Michaels Zeta. Here's the biggest pussy alive! // I am what I eat.

Random This, Mosucka. Ugh... At the advice of my brother, I left a memo on my voicemail... Discovery? I sound just like him. Nooo...

Anyway, memo included: random something generator. Originally an algorithm for a random word generator given a sample of words. Features include possibility exhaustion (given a probability rate of 5, minus 1 for each successive use of said extension). Other generators include poetry (for Rich) and word patterns, and a random image generator. That algorithm would take into account the nine or four neighboring pixels... And then use the same algorithm as the word generator.

Wario Battlecry. Wasah!

Wield Knowledge. I'm at odds again. Always about the same thing. Whether to hang out with my peers, people who are as dumb as me, or my teachers. Teachers, people who will, no matter how good your relationship is, always have this lofty layer of seperation from you. They can bestow upon you the greatest power and embrace you with their comfort, but there will always be that thin layer... There's no fear in peers. But I guess this shows my failure to understand the existence of peers willing to be taught. People who share the same quest for knowledge as you. To acknowledge that group wholeheartedly, fearlessly, and selflessly. There's no I in team, biatch.

Sorry, You. To a person that I thought would never encounter the dark side of my mind... I apologize. At their lack of their wanted presence, I mumbled to myself and mentally said, "Fag." That and I had a dark thought. Why is it such a big deal? Because I thought people who I admire this much shouldn't ever mix with these retarded thoughts. It just isn't right. My desire is waning and I'm becoming complacent. I'd never want me to think that way ever again.

I wanted to help you move in ...

Sleeping Like a Blog. This is my post on how blogs aren't that big of a deal. The technology has always been there. FTP. What makes blogging so special? Simplicity. Bringing the technology to the masses in some deliverable form. A package. Like Shaolin kung-fu and soccer.

Sock Death. All of my Champion socks are falling apart at the same time. Maybe it's because they're the same age... Got new socks today. Mostly white Calvin Kleins. Haha, burned money on white clothes...

Multiplicative Faux Pas. A or B? // Yes.

A, B, or C? // Mch, I wouldn't choose either of them. Wait, you said three?

Gradient Tactics. Okay, so maybe life isn't about being right or wrong... But a massive tactical engine. There exists N many choices in the world at any given time... You're free to do any of them. But... It just kinda depends how you go about choosing which one is better. Just like Kazaa and how imperfect it is. There are many, many MP3s for [insert title of popular song here], but there's one copy that just sticks out like a sore thumb. Most of the time, it's a safe bet. Sometimes, it's a dud. Other times, it's a radio rip. Either way, in a binary world, that would have been the "right answer". But you can't exclude the fact that so many choices exist, regardless of how rare or wofty they are... 43 hits, 43 points, that's pretty weighted. Sounds like a right answer to me. But I'm just saying. That, and... Listening to people just improves your tactical points. Make a better decision. No one is forcing you to do anything.

Primal Song. Two unrelated concepts... but I'll make them fit.

In Bergen County Chorus, Mr. Bell let us sing this round... Something about a traditional Native American chant. "Now I walk in beauty, beauty is before me. Beauty is behind me, above and below." It was really beautiful. If only I could remember the melodies... It was only for warm up.

I don't understand why sex has to feel so primal. And so guilt-striken. I mean, some people don't feel that way, but I do. It's like I've been reduced to this binary creature who wants one thing and wants it right now. I feel so... Illogical. Like nothing I ever did in that state was right, ever. It was all wrong. You like-a da beast.

Foresought Heights. I saw the catalyst and felt nothing. Okay, maybe not nothing, but certainly nothing to the degree of what I worried myself over in the winter. The best I can offer myself is to day this semester one day at a time, conscious of making a more-informed decision with each day and person that passes.

"As much as it pains me to admit, academics has first priority, second to what I know and love..."

Rockman Theory. It's really annoying how the beginning of The Juliana Theory's Liability sounds like a Mega Man song... I was all excited until the meat of the song came on. I mean, it's not a bad song. I'm just saying I was lead in the wrong direction... Punk.

Valete, Salute. Leave as a ragtag bunch of misfits (the best misfits), come back as a well-oiled Zanarkand machina. Me? I'll be D Doctoring the weekend away.

Just... Keep Jumping. Mmm... Sexy Irish dancers...

Decadangle. If I isolated certain parts of other people (and me too), I wouldn't like 'em. But these attributes belong to the same people I love to death. So I think... Had I not met certain people under these certain cosmic circumstances, would I not like them as the same, genuine person they are? I'm just concerned cuz I love 'em a lot. A lot. I like it a lot.

Tank Gods Its Tursday. Me eating buffalo kickers, Cinnastix, and Go Bananas. Go Bananas's popularity is autocatalytic. People like it because other people like it. And the Cinnastix sauce? The ad should be like, Hey, it's funny.

It Comes Wit a Sauce. Saucemariosep! Hahaha...

Sofa King Soupid. So this mang at the cafe needs to get rid of two bowls of soup. One medium full, the other mostly full. Picks up the medium with the left, no probs. Since the bowls were styrofoam, the mostly was all wobbly. What does he end up doing? Putting the mostly bowl in and on top of the medium one. He was sloshing soup all the way back to the garbage. You spaz.

The MacGyver. One of my many inventions to invent. The McGuyver [sic], the machine that tells you what you can make and how to do it using the parts at hand. Like... I need a support structure and all I have is marshmallows and tooth picks. Go!

Magical Heart. The art of seduction must be the closest thing to magic. I mean, what other universal constant is there that exists in every person? Harnessing all that raw, sexual energy for your any desire... What? I'm just saying. It's like magic. Sexual magic. It's a magic.

Scoirish Proide. I cannae remember if bagpipes were Scottish or Irish... Either way, listening to Bag makes me wanna break out and do something Riverdanceish. And yes, Riverdance was quality even though I slept through a little bit of it. And yes, Lord of the Dance can suck my balls. And don't go around pulling that American pride shzt at the end of your show. No, American pride isn't bad. But the fact that it stuck out of nowhere did suck. [insert firework-assisted Irish pelvic thrust here] Bang!

Delectable. Yo soy heart the ooey gooey goodness of Cinnastix... So bad. So, so bad.

Trust or Assimilate. Houston, we've got a problem... (Well, two actually. I forgot my bag, with my books, in the car...) We've got a big thumbs down from the Big Brother himself... Let's see... Be a little punk and not listen? Trust in that recommendation and follow suit? Listen quietly, assimilate the opinion, and take each day as it comes... Blarg.

It's Your Mess. I'm in no position to actually use this joke (hah, I think I made it up myself) but I still think it's funny.

Hey Brother So-and-so. // Yes, Brother Whatever? // How do we get rid of this stain/mess/thing? // Hmm... (vocative) Pledge!

Get it? No? ...

Pourne Identity. Thars porn on them thar hard drives... This guy sounds like Simon and Garfunkle... Heh. [hat tip to Slashdot for the linkomatic]

Singa Crack. Without American Idol and the biting commentary, I'll settle with Star Search and Lance Bass. Yup! (The necessary... Yup!)

Simon and Audiofunkle. There was this weird bug in Audiogalaxy that would attribute random songs to Simon and Garfunkle... Written to disk as Simon and Garfunkle, put into the database as Simon and Garfunkle. Hence, Simon and Garfunkle are attributed to every major pop song to date.

Bug-Crushing Snug. Why does it feel like every time someone mentions security, I keep thinking the inability to do cool things...? is there such a thing as being able to do magical, convenient things while being secure at the same time? Just one of many pipe dreams, supposedly.

Twisty Badness. Guilty pleasure in culinary form? Fruity twist twizzlers!

The Problem of Scope. When all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail.

Habesne Lac? Hah, I'm so slick. Back in the day when I was actually enjoying Latin, I made a Got Milk ad featuring some random emperor. Just a map background, an enlarged head, and a cummy, I mean, white set of lips. Airbrush, of course.

Eww. Here, Eat This. At some point in the past, I didn't know what okoy was and Ray told me to try it. Funny, I still don't know what okoy is. So much for being knowledgeable about Filipino cuisine...

Cash One With Girlsfriends. Probably written a day when the lack of my friend's company hurt me a little...

People are fuckers. When people have girl friends or boyfriends, they are fuckers. Spending too much time with their mates. And... Changing. Not real. Not the same person. All mushy-like. It's quite disturbing. Why change for someone else? What, you can't retain a group of friends? Are you suddenly absorbed in that person's comapny? Are you like a puppet? It's sickening. Fuck you. Jealous? Can't be. I dunno what it's like. I don't wanna be like that, either. Fucker.

No, Not You. "i'm scared of commitment. i'm scared of the future. i'm scared of change." Don't. Be. Scurred.

Call the Word. What does your phone number spell?

Die, Splash, Die. The memo was written a while back, but I was pretty irked when the PDA version of the New York Times sprouted a splash page. I mean, that was one unit for depth, one unit for effort, and three units for choice. That's a lot of wasted time. I know, I know, HTMLism has a splash page. So sue me. Splash pages are evil. I'll take the front page one day. You'll see. You know, the moment I develop something useful.

Where Do You Want to Go? There are four types of influences in life... Falling under the combination of goal-oriented or reactive, and positive or negative.

Goal-oriented positive. He's my hero. I want to be just like him. I'll copy him. I'll do what he does. It made him sucessful. That should work for me. He's the greatest. I want to be great, too.

Goal-oriented negative. Yo, what a fuckin' slob. Can't even do a roundhouse. We can't be like him. Yo, what a fuckin' porker. How the hell did he get to this level? That's fuckin' embarassing right there... Yo, let's do whatever we can to not be like him.

Reactive positive. Look at all the cool things you'll get once you succeed! Mmm, butter...

Reactive negative. Look at all the crazy shzt that's going to happen to you if you don't straighten your life out. Look at [insert goal-oriented negative figure]. Do you want to be like him? Hah? Look at where he is.

Aside from reactive positive, I was thinking of a specific person in each one. Some close, some far. That... really sucks that I know people who do that. But anyway, I just wanted to note that none of it is working. I'm still pretty lazy.

Sometimes. Sometimes, a window just isn't a window. It's a way out. From everything. So easy... Sometimes, you really don't care where a road goes, just as long as it gets you away from where you are. Sometimes, you feel weak... And then...

And then you realize where you are. Who's next to you. Who's company you're in. What great reality TV you'll miss. But all these things that you realize will only bring you back to your original thought. All these things, all these things... Can't they just go away. My, that's a mighty fine window...

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

Life as an Array. Is life a set of achievements or catastrophes?

Achievements. Buildings are meant to be destroyed. Celebrating a victory is only temporary. You'll always be blind-sided in your happiness that you did just enough, developing complacency with the world. The moment you are satisfied is the moment you die.

Catastrophes. Life always grows. Nature can't be stopped. There's always something that needs fixing or rebuilding. Look up to the sky. There's only one way to go when you're at the bottom.

Better to Have... Sometimes, it feels like I can just curl up into a tight little ball and say that I was right the whole time. I'm always right. But where does that put me? How much of the world can man alone lift? Is the rollercoaster ride worth going back to the same, exact place? Or worse? You're short by the cost of ticket. How many tickets can one boy afford... Tickets, penalties, demerits. Tickets, admissions, opportunities. It's only impossible if you lose sight of your priorities, or so I've heard. If it's all about the priorities, and I'm always right, then why isn't everything falling into place...

Mark, what's your favorite day of the week?

Today, where chasing tomorrow is only half the fun.

Reality Comes a Callin'. Where F is for fraternity.

Vicious Cycle. It's like walking up to a ledge every day and jumping. And then dying. And then walking up to the cliff again. Only to jump and die. I mean, some people interpret it as a nice free fall. A necessary and natural high. Me? I'm dead. Sucks.

Good for Nothing. Funny, the morning I start preaching about academic integrity is the same day I don't perform...

This campus is so fobulous. I feel like a freak.

Oh, the DAs here are great. Just sit back and relax, you know? I'm trying to get through the doors, and there she is, as far away from the desk as possible. I extend my card to the little window hole, with her putting forth the least amount of effort as possible. There I am, trying to speed up the process by shoving my entire wrist and arm through the whole. You stupid bitch.

And on lines of infinity... You know, by hiding a skimpy article of clothing and just showing bare skin, you can give the illusion that someone is totally naked beyond the crop of the picture. Haha, magic.

Story Time's Over. Having heart for a group means having a heart for school. Based upon the institution of academics, you must remain true to those obligations. Having heart for a group also means having heart for those around you, be they mentors, peers, or otherwise.

Six Degrees in the Morning. It's... Almost six o'clock in the morning. Not an ounce of work done... But the fun part is I'm quite guilty of playing make it fit. I pray to God that the fun will come to play... But let's not jinx ourselves.

Circuit Breaker. Normally, I'd put life, my MP3s, on random, and happily invite a particular set of them to play... Revel in the joy that those songs bring me and what they mean to me. Or what they meant to me. In the past week, I've found myself irked at the fact that they were playing... To the point of making an audible noise in disgust, quickly striking the Skip key, or hunting down a way to make the songs never play again. I don't have the heart to delete them, in the same way I don't have the heart to get rid of a lot of things... But it makes me wonder. Is my love for the world waning? Am I starting to not care, again? Is time taking its toll? Was I right, in that, time heals and erases all? Why am I letting time do this to me? I halfway promised I wouldn't let it happen... Although I'm actually hoping this is just me being lazy. My attitude is merely an apparent not-care due to the lack of exposure... Once I'm exposed again, I'll care. But... I dunno. It should have already happened. That or I'll get bum rushed (hah) in a week or so... Hopefully. I invite the tide to come in and sweep me away.

14:08 1/21/2003 Addendum - The concept of rush is so funny... Cuz, it's like, you're... Rush. -ed. Hence... Rush.

So Little Effort. Taking a cue from whoever is feeling happy this year, I guess I'll feel the same way... No need to be sour all the time. Just some of the time.

Anyway, my food artillery consists of (and will continue to consist of) that easy to prepare Mac and Cheese stuffs, frozen dinners, heat 'em up Campbell's soup, Cup Noodles (notice the illogical lack of Of?), Starkist Tuna snackies, and probably more Wheat Thins and Orangade and bottled Dasani (because blue makes the water taste better). All easy to make guilty pleasures. Oh yeah, and Pop Tarts for any visitors from over the pond (the bastards)... Let's not focus on how unhealthy those foods are or what a lazy fzck Mark is... Let us all revel in the goodness that is effortless food preparation. I mean, what the hell, why would anyone subject themselves to exterting some extraordinary amount of effort for food... Yield, people. Effort to yield ratio.

Moving Music. First it was an unnamed Capcom MP3 (which I knew was from Mega Man II). Then it was an Air Man remix performed a la piano. Then it was a Wood Man Remix. That brought me back to that place. Where I know that whatever I'm studying is truly good. Mega Man music 0wnZ j00. It's really good. And I'm glad that there are just so many things in this world that I love enough to not care about all the bullshit surrounding it. People are good. And so is the video game industry. Long live quality music. And quality people.

They Came From. Behind! Does it mean anything that serving up web pages is still very much a centralized activity... I mean, there's the offline/online sychronization of client and server. That's great. But it's still one diesel client disseminating this thing that goes out to billions of users. Can't we link those nodes up and make something P2P out of it? Like load balancing the Slashdot effect? Yes? No? Someone, help me out...

Welcome, Bradders. psiuindahousesaywha? WHA? Wah? WAH? HUH? Huh?

Darkness Looms (And It Smells). There's this lingering fragrance (short of a smell, I guess?) and it makes me upset... That sucks. Because I read (and thus am convincing myself of) this thing that says smell, of all your senses, gives the greatest... Like, memory or flashback feeling. This... Smell. Odor. Fragrance. Aroma. It's... Upsetting.

Memes Don't Exist. Tell your friends.

The Bergen Sound. A group that never existed, but will always keep near my heart.

The Natural Log. Jon Wu is a Log. Who the hell is Jon Wu, you ask? Well, he's just a guy. I talk as if I know him well. But I don't. All do know is that he was in Bergen County Chorus (as well as All-State and Regionals) many a time... Ugh, now I'm getting bitter that I don't have any singing ability... Anyway, I'm really happy for the guy. Not only is he smart like MIT style, he's in the Logs, which is diesel. I guess... He's just another person to aim for. And by aim I mean admire. People who are better/smarter than me help drive me... And uhh there's nothing more stimulating (upsetting?) than seeing a peer where you want to be. So you know it's possible.

*sigh*... So many random memories of Bergen County Chorus. Like Chris. Singing. Ugh, I don't even remember how it goes... Mmm hmmm... Mmm hmmm...

Bergen County is golden. And it always will be. Time to ugh do some work... You know, practice. And become Wu-proficient.

Congratulations, Mr. Super Bass Better Than Everybody Wu. But it's true though. He's that good.

Latent Psychic or Para-Psycho? Whoa I just remembered I had this totally fzcked up dream that I was hanging out at a diesel party with The People. And I just found out that my brother wants to have a dinner party with The People... Hmm... Coincidence maybe.

Jigglypuff. Ha, I remembered one of these corny chemistry jokes... You know how life on Earth is all carbon-based? And then there's discussion about the posibility of silicon-based life on other planets since silicon is chemically similar to carbon... The punch is something like, "We don't know if there are silicon-based lifeforms on other planets, but there's certainly an abundance of silicone-based life in Hollywood." Haha, get it? Breasts? Tetas? Burrrestesis?

Gee, a Metric Mean. I remembered that Jakob Nielson used a geometric mean to calculate one of many seemingly useless numbers in an Alertbox column. I'm still not sure what a geometric mean is for or why anyone would use it over an arithmatic mean, but it's one of the techniques that Palladio mulled over...

Haha my HCI lady at school says Mr. Nielson is a messy guy. Apparently he stayed at her house. It was like, I was just joking. I'm like, do you know any famous people like Tog or Jakob? She's like, yeah...

Where the End Just Isn't Here. What is Final Fantasy Unlimited? Looks like an anime... I hope it doesn't suck like that Final Fantasy OVA, blow me...

Coulda Shoulda Didn't Rrread. Here's a list of books that I should have read for school, but never did. So much for coasting. And here I am making the false proclamation that I'll read them. Someday.

The Handmaids Tale by Margaret Atwood
A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess
Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury
1984 by George Orwell
Brave New World by Aldous Huxley

Rhyme Time. A har har in the title. Rhyme Zone, an online dictionary to fill the void of, "What rhymes with...?"

Tao Do You Do It. I once contemplated the existance of a grand theory which would encompass my two newfound ideas, one rooted in Taoism and the other in human relations. As predicted in a passing thought, the fundamentals of human relations are merely a subset of the greater idea of flow. A person is like a tide, or any being projecting an outward force. To flow against this tide would break the very core of what one is trying to achieve. To flow with the tide, for better, worse, in disagreement or strife, is the key to calming the beast.

Suit Loose. Kick off the Sunday shoes. Sometimes people wear these tight/baggy PJs... It looks really hot. Or girls in PJs in general. Like why would they randomly wear that to class? No one's complaining. I'm just saying. Anyway. Tight near the waist. Super baggy at the bottom. And somehow, they gracefully don't touch the floor ever. They must be super comfy... You know, made out of that thin-enough kinda cloth. Yeah... Perfect in the way it hugs the skin and accents certain, uhh, parts of the body... Rawr...

Cascading Style Sorry. I just realized something (while being vain and looking up backward links to me... courtesy of Google, of course). Apologies to web surfers who 1. come to this site and 2. care about CSS. That's like N times M for never. Anyway, no, this site no longer is table pure. I'm using a Blogger layout. It looks pretty sharp. Come to think of it, I don't even... Oh wait, I do remember. I was going to say I don't remember what my old design was. But I do! It was blue. It rocked. It was an amalgam of different websites... Which I never gave credit to. Maybe someday. When I get things up and running again to full capacity. But that'll be never.

Priest. Disclaimer: This was copied from the Google cache of the Priest node at Everything2. Why? This particular article doesn't exist anymore. I was looking up a Stephen Lynch lyric. So, I figure, I'm doing the Internet a service by "upgrading" this nice person's work (as well as Mr. Lynch's) into a stable, live format. The views expressed in this song do not necessarily reflect those of the original transcriber or the owner of this page. Relax. It's funny. Laugh.

By the way, I wonder how the phrase "spread eagle" came to be... Does something look like an eagle?

(idea) by Andara (2.9 d) (print) ? Sun May 06 2001 at 20:56:18

This is the seventh song from Stephen Lynch's album A Little Bit Special. The music is lovely and the vocals are beautiful. It's a wonderful song. That is, until you actually listen to the lyrics. This is a song about a Catholic priest and his overflowing affection for an altar boy. Irreverent and disrespectful and quite typical of Stephen Lynch.

deep in prayer my cross to bear
I kneel upon the floor
temptations of a Catholic priest
aren't easy to ignore

but I cannot control myself
it rips my soul apart
for one small sheep among my flock has
stole this shepherd's heart

altar boy, altar boy
confess your sins to me
you will find the grace of God
inside my rectory

Sunday mass or bible class
I catch him in my view
I close my eyes but there he lies
spread eagle on the pew

and when I see him in that frock
my conscience goes awry
I'll give him some communion wine
that's spiked with Spanish fly

altar boy, altar boy
is it gonna be heaven or hell
you can play my organ all night long
if you promise never to tell

our Father who art in heaven
hallowed be thy name
I could dress him up like the Pope and then I-
oh dear God the shame

no, no, no lead us not into temptation
deliver us from sin
we could pretend that he was Jesus Christ
and I was Mary Magdalene

altar boy, altar boy
confess your sins to me
you will find the grace of God
inside my recotry

oh altar boy, oh altar boy
confess your sins to me
you will find the grace of God
inside my rec-(breathing sounds)-tory

Howard... Howard Who? Howard Zinn. A high school buddy of mine mentioned him to me, so I'm merely propagating that idea several months later to the Internet. I'm not one much for history and politics and all that other unmath jive... But he is. Well, he's across the board. Johan's one of those cats (hah, cat) that can do everything. Go Johan. I hope you're having fun in Deep Springs. That's that weird school that requires effort to get into. But uh, hey, weird schools yield easy access to America's best institutions. Supposedly. Regardless, Johan is the coolest (and only) Swede I know.

Send Packets for the Swarm. This article on swarm intelligence was really cool until it turned me off by talking about networking and rerouting... The parts I do like, however, are the stuff about ants and intelligent behavior arising out of the many dumb. Makes me wanna study ants. And then it goes on to mention autocatalytic functions of ants leaving trails for food... Ha, I know that one from SimAnt. Awesome game. I guess this just reinforces the idea of many, many simple agents doing complex things.

Blah. In case anyone's interested, I think this article is similar... Actually, the only reason I pointed that out is because I wanted to know what sematectonic meant. That and stigmergy. Typing in either in Google will yield more ant and networking articles. YayNot.

Phatty Hizzouse. I think I want a house like Bill Gates. Something with a lot of technology in it. And a lot of organic things to contrast that. And feng shui compatibility. But mostly technology. Ooozing with wireless networking, tablet PCs, LCDnessosity and all other goodies that will probably make what I just said super outdated. Whatever's hot, I want it.

Culinary Macgyver. Yeah, you heard it. I wanna be the culinary Macgyver. So many times I'm trapped at home, out of all the ingredients (yeah, all two of them) that I know how to use... See, if I was the culinary Macgyver, I could just cook anything using the stuff in front of me. Kind of like that Food 911 show. But as my family pointed out, those families are stocked. I, on the other hand, am out of food. You can't make lemonade if you don't have lemons. Well fzck it. I'm saing, make mad prune sauce to put over that left over corned beef. Or whatever is there.

Mathematica Progresso. No, it's not the geek sauce of choice... Every time I was presented with N math problems given M minutes to solve them, I'd pace myself accordingly. N/M minutes per problem. But sometimes that wasn't good enough, or my scheduling of time would demand a more complex algorithm. And here's a discussion, because I'm too lazy to actually code it.

Originally, it was going to be some kind of DHTML app on my computer. In a little pop-up window, much like a clock or something. Better yet, it could be a native Windows app, but I still don't know how to program those. So, my first thought was to have support for the progress bar widget. All good an well, except for the web, where there is no standard progress bar widget. Sounds high time to go out and make one or find one made by those DHTML professionals...

Each math problem or "item" could exist in one of three states. Completed, passed and thus incomplete, or not yet reviewed. Sometimes I'd exhaust my N/M minutes for a given problem and still not get an answer. I would then force myself to go to the next problem, as per the schedule. That's called pace, but that problem was incomplete... Reviewed, but not finished.

Uhh time would be some kind of input variable... Damn input validation. Something in seconds, or an actual clock interface. Meh. HH:MM:SS maybe? There would be a countdown to the next problem... Preferably showing in red when the time comes close.

There would also be a cursor highlighting the current problem you should be on. It auto-advances when your time is up or when you tell it that you're done with that problem. A click. I'm already thinking hand-held app, like jog dial click. If you "review-finish" the entire problem set, the program would reallocate your remaining time across the incomplete problems.

Oh yeah, for my math book, there was always this peave of an irregular sequence of numbers. It wasn't one through twenty, it was 13 through 67 odd. Then there should be an autolabeller, you know, if you don't say anything, or a sequence generator that supports initial and terminal numbers. Odds, evens, custom... Just like that.

Chini Foo. Mmm... Staring at hot RAs in shorts... Err, I mean, you know, good wholesome Chinese food.

FAQ You. If I was being a super nice guy with a lot of time and money on my hands, I'd be concentrating on writing GameFAQs for games that are purely in demand. Why? So you could get super FAQ recognition. Hah.

PS - I hate stupid FAQs, or shitty FAQs made by stupid people that are purely subsets of other, greater FAQs. To all the stupid FAQ writers and makers of useless information or poorly laid out information, FAQ you.

Pick Ross! One of the funnest games ever, even pen and pencil style, is Picross... Mmm, tasty square filling...

Must Wipe Drool. Must... Have... Ultraportable... It's em bare assing how people think that laptops can and will be bulky. Hell no. If I was me, and I am, I'd make a company that specializes in the lightest shzt ever. Yeah... Lazy!

Riothero. I never understood Riothero. Apparently he is/was some kind of web celeb.. His site is always incoherent. Never stable. And yet I keep going back.

Riothero is an incredibly cool name. I only wish I thought of something that quippy myself... Even though quippy isn't a word...?

Atom Bow Mole. I had a chemistry teacher named Shrek. Great guy. Anyway, we were learning something about chemical reactions and how atoms actually go about their business... And we learned that it was more likely that two atoms would collide than three. For three seperate physical entities to strike the same spatial area with enough force and the right conditions for them to bond, that's rare. So there you have it. It only takes two.

Dammit. That reminded me. It only took two. You're out.

Cleartext Revival. In my big, fat head I had a project called Textport, in which I aimed to diagram (and eventually program) the world's greatest text-only based browser. I still have time.

Where Today Means Yerterday. Today I'm working on a site. It got boring real fast because I didn't know what I was doing. Neither did my mentor. We're not focused. We need to address one issue at a time, not everything. I can't design really. I just improve and rip. Ouchie yay... oochie wallie wallie, oochie bang bang.

Mark's Research. This sucks. I read one paper, print out seven more. It just doesn't stop.

Ain't No Webslinger. The weapons of the web I can list right now are HTML, CSS, and Javascript... When they're powers combine, they make... Captain Planet? Uhh, close. DHTML via the Document Object Model... Yay for webisms.

Infinite Monkeys. It's said that given an infinite number of monkeys and an infinite set of typewriters, they're eventually bang out a work or Shakespeare, or anything really.

TV to Watch. The HBO original series, Six Feet Under. It's pretty weird, pretty different. It's about this guy... Who's sorta gay... And he helps run a funeral... Something? Parlor? Home? I dunno. That's why it's called Six Feet Under. Something about dead people. Beacause when you're dead, you're buried six feet under the surface of the earth. Supposedly. I don't know. I don't watch it anymore. But that's only because I don't watch much TV anymore. Stupid college.

Blog to the Fourth. I had this idea for a four dimensional blog... More table-like than anything. Three dimensions should be text, audio, and video. The fourth bloggish dimension would be time. So, here was a table of binary codes I made, something to do with how the page would be laid out...

001 - text only (a standard blog entry)
010 - audio only (for those days I felt like singing/saying something)
011 - audio with transcription (for being extra studious)
100 - gallery (crazy with my digital camera)
101 - images with (again, more studious)
110 - video only (if I had a digital camcorder...)
111 - video with transcription (superness)

My primary file formats would be mpeg, jpg, and mp3 because they're so easy and common.

Buddy Buddy. Is it a proper reflection of how people view others if you look at their buddy list? A buddy list, in my view so far, has two characteristics that may feed of that opinion, namely buddy alerts and categories. Cuz, you know, buddy alerts are reserved for that special someone. You don't put someone on buddy alert unless you like them. It's true though. Like, why would you need to know the precise moment someone signs on unless you can't stand being away from them? That kind of attitude is a likeness thing.

The other one is categories... For me, and I swear, my categories are simply based on how I know you... You're either a member of my family, a purely or mostly online contact, a player of DDR, a person from Bergenfield, a peer from the Academy, an NJIT student, or some other super awesome faction of people... But I've seen other people's buddy lists. Some are simple, like Cruise People, or Asian friends, or Study Buddies. My brother's is Me (him), Her, Guys, and Girls. But the disturbing part for other people's is like Friends, Best Friends, Enemies... WTF. And I feel all retarded when I see that. It's like, what, I'm not one of your SuperFriends... Mch, fine.

Whatever. I'm just saying.

Hot Limit. The many faces of Hot Limit...

HOT LIMIT
by John Desire
Lyrics transcribed by James Gowdey

---

You stay so long!
Reaching, ramming!

You stay so long!
Reaching, ramming!

Precious love is always eating
Hot
Pie
Love!

(ass-kicking instrumental)

I've never shaved my wife
Gotta go, the light is bright
Shave me and warp around
Oho, more time

Fix me and turn around
Out of the way
Black and brown for the school
Surmount the sign!

Bowwow is burning a hole in my car
Sweeping me down to
HO
TEMPTATION
Betty is given the feet of my lust
Doubt the wind, burning in hell
Can't hear that well

You stay so long
Seem to wet my heart alight
History is well made--a bucket full of bone

Reaching, ramming
It's the food I want to be
Precious love is always eating
Hot
Pie
Love!

Marry the southpaw
Singlet that I fantasize
History is baremaid up all alone

Reaching, ramming
It's the food I want to be
Precious love is always eating
Hot
Pie
Love!

Wet towel that you an me
Get bent inside of me
This time, it's goin' nowhere
Do me foul

One's up and two down
Gum wrap another round
Don't wanna hear a boring joke
In my open mind

This guy is burning a Spyworm delight:
Pepsi-Cola to the knight

Holding me tightly and grab the light
Summer wind, burning fire
Kevin, me high!

You stay so long
Seem to wet my heart alight
History is well of a bucket full of bone

Reaching, ramming
It's the food I want to be
Precious love is always eating
Hot
Pie
Love!

Marry the southpaw
Singlet that I fantasize
History is baremaid up all alone

Reaching, ramming
It's the food I want to be
Precious love is always eating
Hot
Pie
Love!

You stay so long
Seem to wet my heart alight
History is well of a bucket full of bone

Reaching, ramming
It's the food I want to be
Precious love is always eating

HOT
PIE
LOVE!

HOT LIMIT
by John Desire
Lyrics transcribed by Jeffrey Faden

---

You say solo
We Jay rammin'

You say solo
We Jay rammin'

Precious love is all that's eerie
Hop by hop!

I say bush in the light
Gummi drops all light and bright
Shave green and walk around
No more time

Make the kids and turn around
Halloway!
Background and foreground for the
Joe master Thai

Harold is burning a hole in my pot
Cleveland get down to whole new nation
"A" is to give in the keys of my life
On a whim, burn in hell
Can't hear the well

You say solo
Semen in my heart tonight
Misery a foul maid and bop along!

We Jay rammin'
It's a pool that walks to me
Precious love is all that semen
Hop by hop!

Wear in SoHo
Semen in my heart tonight
Misery a foul maid and bop along!

We Jay rammin'
It's a pool that walks to me
Precious love is all that semen
Hop by hop!

Went sour you and me
Get better cyb3r m3
Piss Town is love enough to
Chew the found

One's up and two down
Cough her out for another round
Wanna hear a boring joke
In my open mind

This guy is burning a spyware delight
Pepsi-Cola through the night

Hobo me tightly and grab the light
Summer wind, burning fire
Heavenly eyes

You say solo
Semen in my heart tonight
Misery a foul maid and bop along!

We Jay rammin'
It's a pool that walks to me
Precious love is all that semen
Hop by hop!

Wear in SoHo
Semen in my heart tonight
Misery a foul maid and bop along!

We Jay rammin'
It's a pool that walks to me
Precious love is all that semen
Hop by hop!

You say solo
We Jay rammin'
Precious love is all that semen
Hop by hop!

Smbu
Trick Member



Joined: 26 Jan 2002

1. Posted: Tue Apr 16, 2002 2:19 am Post subject:

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

T.M. Revolution: HOT LIMIT

YO! SAY natsu ga mune o shigeki suru
NAMA ashi miwaku no MAAMEIDO
dasu toko dashite tawawa ni nattara
houmono no koi wa yare soukai

GOMAGASHI kikanai usugi no kyokusen wa
kakushinhan no shinayakana STYLE!
taisuisei no kimochi ni kirikawaru
shunkan no mabushisa wa ikaga na mono

KOKORO made nugasareru atsui kaze no yuuwaku ni
makechatte kamawanai kara manatsu wa fushouji mo KIMI shidai de

youseitachi ga natsu o shigeki suru
NAMA ashi miwaku no MAAMEIDO
dasu toko dashite tawawa ni nattara
houmono no koi ga dekisou kai?

KIMI janakutemo BATE gimi ni mo naru yo
atsui bakka no machi wa yuutsu de
SUKI o misetara fui ni mimi ni hairu
SABU i GYAGU nanka de suzumitakunai

musekaeru nettaiya o irodoru hanabi no you ni
uchiagete chiru omoi nara kono mama dakiatte kogareru made

youseitachi to natsu o poopy naru
atsui yokubou wa TORNADO
dasu mono o dashite sunao ni naritai
KIMI to BOKU to nara It's All Right

tokai no BIRU no umi ja kanjinakenatteru KIMI o
hieta WAIN no kuchizuke de yowasete torokashite sashiagemashou

youseitachi ga natsu o shigeki suru
MANA ashi HESO dashi MAAMEIDO
koi ni kamakete orusu ni naru no mo
DAISUKE deki ni mo OORUOKKEE!

YO! SAY, natsu o dare to poopy naru?
hitorine no yoru ni You Can Say Good Bye
oku no hou made kawaku ma nai hodo
houmono no koi o shimasen ka?


jamus_se
Trick Member



Joined: 26 Jan 2002
Location: Southern California
2. Posted: Tue Apr 16, 2002 4:27 am Post subject:

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here's what I've heard until I read the faq:


You say sum up!
Reaching willing!
You say sum up!
Reaching willing!
Prices malls had always heated up by par!

Hope all you realize
Don't call The Price Is Right
Save me the bump around
All over town

Next street you turn around and
Out of my way
Next time the mall will burn and
Look like the sun

Power, it's worth it and holding my heart,
Straight out this time, on the rhythm,
Get it, the ghetto had beat up my life
Far way
Straight into hell
Cash in the house

You say sum up
Those people we might harmonize
This will be a parity that bumps up all along
Reaching willing
People through the funking beat
Prices malls had always heated up by par!

Verily sum up
Those people we might harmonize
This will be a parity that bumps up all along
Reaching willing
People through the funking beat
Prices malls had always heated up by par!

Fetch out, it's you and me
Pay back the parity
Reach out and hold on to it
To be proud
Broker, who tunes around
Broke rat, another time
Want to be woven trillan
Right over time

This guy is burning the fine of his life
Pepsi-Cola through the night
Hollow and riding to paradise
Far away
Straight into hell
Cash in the house

You say sum up
Those people we might harmonize
This will be a parity that bumps up all along
Reaching willing
People through the funking beat
Prices malls had always heated up by par!

Verily sum up
Those people we might harmonize
This will be a parity that bumps up all along
Reaching willing
People through the funking beat
Prices malls had always heated up by par!

You say sum up
Reaching willing
Prices malls had always heated up by par!

Watt's Knew. Well, it's not new... Pretty old actually. Pretty Canadian too. MTV's Now What is also a Canadian show, Sausage Factory... I'm like one of two people that tried watching it. Anyway, I wanted to point out the obvious and say that one of the main actors, Adam Brody, was one of the weird psychic crazy characters one Smallville. Eh, I just had to make the connection. Actually, the people I most enjoy making connections with on TV are voice actors. I wanna be a seiyuu...

Hah, whoa, I just thought of this this morning... I was all like, "submitted for the approval of the Midnight Society..." etc... Adam Nicholas Frost, also of Sausage Factoryness, is Canadian (heh, innately funny then) but had appeared on Are You Afraid of the Dark. Man, that show was quality until it's Nth season. Then it got crappy as it kept going.

Dream Puff. The night of April 5th, I had a dream... I guess that day I was fretting over what would happen for our senior trip, who I would room with... None of my super cool friends were going, so I guess I had to settle. For my roommates that is, no offense. So I got an Alper, a Pete, and a Devin. Not bad. Not bad at all. But uhh, I guess I was still unsatisfied at the time... I dreamt about an ambiguously hot Asian junior with black hair... Someone that would totally chillax with me on the whole trip. And, you know, make it all worthwhile. No, it didn't happen. But that doesn't matter. The trip was fantastic. Why? Because the place sucked. And the Academy Class of 2002 > j00. Chillin' at the pool... Or just having wandering eyes... You know, all good fun.

Lincoln Park. I'm gonna blog this because I'm back to cleaning up the old Generaltso and I like revisiting old topics... So it seems that on the date of 5:12 PM 4/1/2002, I saw what seemed to be a guy, driving down whatever road Lincoln School is on (you know, the backside, or frontside, depending on how you look at it, with the flag) getting blow job from a girl in a red shirt... Weird. Kids these days.

And on a somewhat unrelated note, simply for its location, I was beat up. Yeah I guess I'll be free to admit it because I'm a grown boy... Man, now. A kid named Mark Savage and whoever he rolled with "beat me up". Uhh, yeah I guess that's what you'd call it. By the way, this was way back when. Back when I was in GTVA in RWB. So anyway, I found out that he smoked, and you know, being a young child and all, I figured, hey, smoking is super bad, why don't I just go around telling people about it. I think at the time his girlfriend or something by assocation was Sabrina, this girl I was totally obsessed about in middle school... Anyway, I remember repeating said gossip in art class, right about the time I started getting feedback that this was a bad thing to spread around. Silly Mark, blabbermouthing is for retards.

I think that set Mark off in a bad direction. Somehow, trying to exercise and all, I end up biking to Lincoln school, my playground away from home. There, on the hilly hills where all children play, I met Mark. He was all angry at me for talking about him. Okay okay, so he didn't sock me in the face or anything. But I do remember them just roughing me around a bit, which is as close to getting beat up as I ever hope to experience. Something about me complaining how expensive my glasses were when they swiped it away from my face and kicked it like a football... And one of the guys using a stick as some general phallic object poking behind me... Eh nothing big, I guess. Tossed on the ground a couple times, told to shut up. So I come home, all dirty, kinda sore (I'm a wuss), and crying, I think. My Mom's like, what happened. Not that she totally noticed. I was just roughed up. I fell, I said. A quick shower, and X many years of keeping my mouth shut and here I am.

There, that wasn't so hard...

Bob A Ram. Am I not the only person in the world that thought the Beach Boys were saying Bop A Ram and not Barbra Anne?

You Are My Hero Upso. I have an MP3 here, in Korean, labeled Papaya, 12, It's Up to You. It sounds an awful lot like Hero from Dance Dance Revolution...

Boiled Sprat!. Mark, thank God you have a family, a set of friends, and a life to bitch, whine, and complain about. Otherwise, where would you be without them...

Elelator Go Nowhere. Know what's kinda scary? Try going into an elevator and forgeting to push the buttons. It goes nowhere. Ooo...

Losing My Patience. So here I am, trying to be Super Mark and make great light of the situation. But both Finale and Sibelius, however cracked, won't cooperate with me. I swear, the only good piece of software I've used is Cakewalk, and that's not even in the right arena... My ultimate goal is to play stuff on the piano and sing just like Tori Amos's cover of Losing My Religion. I have awesome up the ass songs, I really do. Why? Because they were made by great, GREAT people. Anyway, this lack of cooperation is totally pissing me off and putting a cramp in my limited transcription abilities... I wish I had a copy of Cakewalk with me... ARGH!!!

Gynecology. By Stephen Lynch -- I'm a rich and famous doctor. Always knew I'd be an expert in the field of gynecology. Next on my agenda, checking your pudenda. Lemme see what I can find. If ya getcha nerve up, sip [sic] inside the stirrup. Single thought it crawls my mind. I love pu... tting women's minds at rest. I love pus... hing myself to be the best. Doctor Steven's in, ugh... I've got magic fingers. Doctor of the year. There's not a lip that I can't read. A pap that I can't smear. When your legs are open I begin the gropin', but I fear I must be blunt. I would just as soon I go to your balloon-ah, think that I'll stick to your c- front. Pu....

Phase Won. I was just talking to my bradder about the physical compromise to the super power of phasing through objects. Marvel already made it so and said that Shadowcat could only phase through things for as long as she could hold her breath, because she can't breathe while phasing. Sounds good.

School of Funny Ha Ha. "I cook with wine, sometimes I even add it to the food!!" - Anonymous

Here's a joke in standard formation. There's an object and then it's accompanying thing. A partner, topping, sidekick, what have you. But in order for that to work, said object should be in quantity, with the topping being, well, a topping. So, try ketchup. Some people l-l-l-l-love ketchup. Disgusting. Say this.

Would you like fries with that ketchup?

Joke analysis. See, it's funny because it should be ketchup the condiment against fries. Yeah? Ketchup in abundance! It slays me! Not... Oh well.

Humpernickle. I'm just not running out of these toasting quotes...

May all your ups and downs be between the sheets.

Here's to our wives and sweethearts, let's pray they never meet.

May the most you wish for
Be the least you get.

Toasty. Learn em, live em, love em.

Here’s to cheating, stealing, fighting, and drinking.
If you cheat, may you cheat death.
If you steal, may you steal a woman’s heart.
If you fight, may you fight for a brother.
And if you drink, may you drink with me.
~ Traditional Irish Toast

Work like you don’t need the money,
Love like you’ve never been hurt,
Dance as if no one were watching,
Sing as if no one were listening,
Screw like it’s being filmed,
And drink every glass like it’s your last.

Funny Side Up. Here's to the land we love // and the love we land.

24 hours in a day, 24 beers in a case // coincidence?

What is recursion? See other side. // What is recursion? See other side.

Twenty-Five Toast. Champagne to my real friends and real pain to my sham friends.

Master, You Forgot? I'm going to type something that's not necessarily reflective of what I believe... I'm just saying it's funny. Straight from the Master himself. When questioned about the phrase a second time, he forgot it was his own wisdom... "Pussy has no face."

Straight No Chaser. What does that mean? Apparently it's the name of an a cappella group, I mean, among many other things...

Save Fading Life. Should I be able to answer a question I posed to Ray... "Why do you wake up in the morning?" What is it that you live for?