Sunday, January 31, 2010

Five Moments in the Life of an 11 Year Old

1. Zone out at school on a tedious sciencey Benjamin Franklin-branded computer game you're not even that good at so as to numb any feelings of existential ennui.

2. Believe deeply that you are one top tier pair of Rollerblades away from forever banishing that feeling of ennui. Also, if mom agrees to elaborate plan to either a) install an ice rink and house a penguin in sister's old room or b) add a Pepsi machine to your own room... you will likely be a content person for the rest of your life.

3. Silently judge any children whose moms packed them worse lunches. Or better lunches.

4. Have sweet, chubby best friend call hot, anti-intellectual, well-developing half-black classmate. Listen in on other phone. Hear it confirmed that she thinks you're sort of cute. Take her to Johnny Rockets with best friend as third wheel. Order a grilled cheese because she does. Throw olives at a parked cable company van because she does. Wildly embellish story of your aggressively mediocre Halloween the night before. Watch her smile. Feel like you took a risk and fucking won. Experience dopamine and endorphin levels the heights of which you won't again reach in your life until you fall in love, nearly die in a spectacular freeway accident, find professional success.

5. Ruthlessly negotiate a minor allowance raise with two thoughtful, striving caucasian human animals who were then just 20 years older than you are now and upon which you once projected all the faith and love your immaculate little heart could beat out.

Saturday, January 23, 2010

Awkward Ice Breaker with Attractive Co-Worker

So, back at work again, huh? How was your hiatus? So like what were you for Halloween and stuff?

Thursday, January 21, 2010

Lawyers, Moms, and Money

me: something about singularity theory.
entertainment lawyer: fascinating! you're wonderful, give me 5% of your future earnings.

me: something about singularity theory.
white girl: fascinating! you're wonderful, take care of me and fill my gaping emotional wounds and perhaps eventually give me 50% of your income.

me: something about singularity theory.
mom: yes, you mentioned this the last time you came over. i get it. here's some sticky toffee pudding i just baked for you.

Friday, January 15, 2010

Persian Guy in his mid 30s

who's either the son of some rich monster or a success himself or a fuck-up playing near the sun on the verge of imploding with a bald spot that mocks him and me driving some smallish shitty bubbly new expensive but not truly baller gunmetal grey Ferrari due north on La Cienega toward the Hills at 10pm: I'm happy. I like what vaginas feel like. 50% of human beings have vaginas. Delightful. I guess I'll fuck 12 more of them kind of randomly drunkenly have good stories in the morningly and then get married and cheat a few times but that's all. I'm not a sex addict. I'm ultimately loyal. I just like feeling needed and revered and attractive. This is the best car I'll ever have. This is the smallest my bald spot will ever naturally be. My eyes look sunken. I'm going to text $300 to Haiti so this bitch in my passenger seat will notice and want to fuck me a little more tonight after I inundate her with omakase and effort and lies.

Friday, January 1, 2010

Scenes from a Small Town Snack Stand

Gruff About To Begin The Process Of Dying Relatively Soon Owner Of Small Rural Oregon Snack Stand Organism: I'm going to talk about eating bear with a confidence and cadence that make me interesting and magnetic and then brutally rib Paul, the 40something Half-Dead Beta Wifeless Small Town Construction Worker Organism poorly fixing a pothole outside of my snack stand in this misty littoral community I will never leave.

Just Traveling Through Town 20something Won't Be Dead For A While Hipster Performatively Imbibing Cowboy Coffee Even Though He Prefers Milk And Sugar Organism: I'm going to enjoy gruff owner guy and his racist jokes because he's funny and beautifully grotesque and there's something about people so culturally off-point and idiotic and yet so much like me in every other sense -- something about them which reminds me that culture is flimsy and insubstantial. That the totality of human ideation is like a tourist trap trinket shop, our great artists and thinkers just #creepyfatpoorsweet Mexicanlady shopkeepers hawking their shitty wares. The only thing that is at all real is dying, crying, fucking, and being a piece of pink consciousnessmeat locked in the badbacked bodies of these slow, can't jump very high our knees hurt herd animals.

Autistic Eleven Year Old Local Not A Fag Just Lonely And Weird Boy On His Laptop Playing A Shitty Online Game While He Waits For A BLT Organism: Before my body perishes, the entirety of my brain will be mapped and preserved, including whatever layers of complexity additively form consciousness. Hence, it is possible my generation will be the first that, put simply, lives forever. I will never die. I will never fucking die. God, I am so sad and bored and don't even like computer games that much.