Hey, girl, move a little closer

Junior philosopher, ahoy!
Remember lads: no quarter, for you certainly shall receive none.

Sexuality is a funny thing.

Like "ha-ha" funny? Yeah, it certainly can be. I think there's been, what, a group of people called comedians or something that can possibly make a lot of money telling bawdy jokes.
I don't know I haven't really looked into it that much, but I think it's like the third oldest profession after prostitute and professional murderer.

Until 1973, the American Psychiatric Association considered homosexuality to be a disorder

And before you get all butthurt at how close-minded they were, the debate centered more around what constituted a disorder than whether or not homosexuality was one.
Though they weren't exactly free thinkers back then.

One often gets the impression, however, that we are no more sure about these matters today, despite our modern veneer of self-assured sophistication, than we were in 1903, when Major-General Sir Hector MacDonald, knight of the British Empire, hero of the Battle of Omdurman, and an icon to every schoolboy in Scotland,

COMMAS.

put a gun to his head and blew out his brains. He did this to avoid court-martial for serious 'moral failures', code for homosexual practice.

Yeah death before dishonor.
Holy shit that's back when knights knew how to act like knights.

currently prevailing dogma that one is either gay or straight with no continuum between the two poles.

Well I'd say if you're between two poles you're more one than the other.

Anyway let's move on because I get the feeling we're not coming to a point ever.

What is truth, said jesting Pilate, and would not stay for an answer.

Nope we're skipping this entry too.
Now there's a quote by Marcus Aurelius. I think it might be out of context.
Now there's a quote by one of the smartest people ever, Tacitus--
starting to get a little bored, frankly.
I have no idea what he's talking about. Some sort of politician?

When film producers mine the quarry of great literature for new movies, one of the perpetual problems they face is that there was usually someone there before them.

I always thought the problem of movie adaptations was they either miss the point entirely or have to cut 90% of it to fit it an hour and a half (or fourteen hours if it's a new movie).

Lynne Truss had a surprise hit a few years ago with her light and breezy (and did I say ‘surprise’?) bestseller, Eats, Shoots and Leaves, about, of all subjects, punctuation.

Something that could stand a little brushing up from you, friend.

It was a kind of anally retentive primal scream, if such a paradox can be imagined, and one which appealed to all of us anally retentive punctuators who insist on spelling out the words correctly when we text, not even baulking at the use of the semi-colon.

"Baulking" looking a little funny to me ("balk" is how I've always seen it spelled) but a quick check confirms that is perhaps a UK spelling (though it seemed somewhat hesitant to call it commonplace) so I'm giving you a free pass on this, but I'm watching you. Scum.

There must be quite a big constituency of anally retentive punctuators out there, because in the same vein, the author has returned with this perusal of manners (or rather, their demise) and the rise of rudeness in our increasingly belligerent societies.

Let's correct some sentences.
Ignoring for the moment "punctuator" isn't a word, of course, since he seems to be coining a new term.
If it were me I'd first edit "quite a big" to either "quite large" or simply "big" because "quite a big..." is needlessly wordy but if there were ever two terms to describe philosopher and blogging in general those would be they, and then I'd probably look into splitting some of these massive paragraph sentences into smaller sentences.
See how annoying that gets? Fuck me.

That’s important because many literary writers seem to think that ‘literary’ means that Joe Soap shouldn’t be reading it. There’s no such attitude here; on the other hand, it’s not an easy read.

>not easy to read
>for the general public
>general public
>read
Well I think I found a flaw in "David Pearce's" master plan.

Ritual, whether it be at a Tridentine mass or in the precise depth of bow one person renders to another, is all about putting the participant into a particular state of mind; it’s about being, not thinking, and in order to read this book you really need to be Japanese.

Tridentine?
Why do I really need to be Japanese when it's a book written in English by a non-Japanese person?
Does this imply that you can somehow capture being Japanese better than the Japanese themselves have done it? Is it possible to be more British than the British? How could one even being to objectively quantify how part of a culture a person is in a given culture?

Either Magnus Mills occupies a surreal, sub-Kafka world, or the rest of us do and just don’t know it

This sounds so much like the opening line to a book I'd have to read for school I got chills thinking about what my late June and early July schedule will be.
Douche chills, that is.
Christ all mighty. Well I guess that's it for today. I have some shit I'd rather be doing.

He was a man of letters

He was a man of letters and had many long correspondents with many people from many different walks of life, but most of them were cunts. He didn't have the unusual honor of meeting most of these people face to face, but with the then-modern technology communication was near instant anyway.
That's what they'll say about me after I die.
My lady (and I use that in the most sarcastic way possible) Danika has deigned to respond to my letter:

Dear Tim,
i write the way i think. there is not thought process in between the words and my fingers. there is a deeper meaning beneath all the nonsense, i guess you'd just have to know me to know waht i am talking about. i don't speak like this in real life all the time, but these words are written in the exact way and order that they were thought out.

Danika

mybrainisfulloffuck.jpg
Sooo I'm just here taking a break from hunting monsters because I find myself with almost enough parts for about a million different armor sets but I'm missing one integral component for each. I'm thinking of going for Lagiacrus armor because-- I don't know, but eh.
Barioth armor looks p. cool but I've never hunted a Barioth before and I don't really feel like learning an entire new pattern of attacks when I've fought Lagiacrus successfully a few times, and Lagiacrus looks almost as cool and is probably more useful to boot.
Oh yeah, I bitch about people here, don't I? Well let's fix that right now.

The pre-calc final (part 1) was today. I don't have much to say about it, good or bad. It just drained me and left me oddly hyper.

>drained
>hyper
High school girls.

Walking home today took forever. I just dragged my feet along, looked at the ground, and as I grabbed my keys out of my bag before I hit the back door I heard my neighbor call my name.

This is why I don't talk to neighbors. They probably want something from you.

They waved me over, and so I sighed, held my keys in my hand, and walked over to greet them.

Can't talk. I, uhh, left the stove on.

Mrs. F. asked me how much time I had left in school. I told her we had 8 official days left, and we talked about all of my summer plans.

I'm very busy this summer.
As far as they know. Besides, define "busy". Lagiacrus won't kill itself, anyway.

Mr. O explained that their grandson, Tyler, was coming to stay with them for the summer.

Is Tyler a chick? Nope? Don't give a fuck.

Tyler is my age, so they were wondering if I wouldn't mind hanging out with him, showing him around Easton, making him feel welcome, etc.

Oh my Christ why do I have to babysit an adult for you?

Why should I spend my precious time with some yuppie?

Yeah exactly.

But the morally conscious teen in my agreed.

>Morally conscious
There is not a moral choice to be made here. Both possible results are about as "good" as each other.
Stating the moral choice is to hang with the grandson (which you stated you don't want to do) implies, what, his time is somehow more important than your time? Obliging people is the morally superior option? The harder route is somehow the moral one simply by virtue it's more difficult?
I don't get it, man.

Today:
Today was hot. I wore a dress, a dress I love, because it shows me off in a way I enjoy.

WHORE.

Spent the day barefoot, knee-deep in the clean, clear waters of Assateague.

Nya-ha, a denizen of Old Country.
Now there's a lot of words about New York I'm not reading.
Now there's some shit about writing letters to dead people by putting them in a bottle and floating them down river and I'm suddenly reminded of the Police song.

Mom always said that it was good luck if it rained after someone died.

No, sorryimsorry's (ugh) mom, it's good luck to have rain on your wedding, not your funeral.

Today, I live for the chance to see tomorrow.

And then when tomorrow comes I live to see the day after that-- wait, it's self-perpetuating.

I live for a brighter future. I live for the idea that you can only get so low before you have to pick back up...

It's like everything I've ever said on this blog.
Except in reverse.

James (Jim) Clarence Higgins died May 16, 2010 at 8:45 PM.
He was alone.

And I will never forgive myself for letting him die that way.

"When we die, we die alone."
Oh my fuck her best friend and her ex-boyfriend died. They're the same person, but still this will get insufferable quick.

I apologized over and over but I mean really, how do you forgive fucking up prom?

There will never, ever be an event as important as high school prom.
Wait--

Day 26 - Your Definition of Love.


Oh look it's this shit again.

Love is when you look at a person and can't seem to remember your life before them.

Love is like a fortune cookie: full of trite wisdom and not really a fortune at all.

Today is the U.S. National Day of Prayer, and believe me when I say I used that to my advantage.

Work is prayer. Back to it.

Man I'd make an awesome leader. No economic hardships under my reign.

Jim went into the hospital earlier tonight with a fever of 105.8
He's had it for 4 days now...

Faith said they're screening him for cancer again. I pray to God it isn't cancer. Not again.
I already went though this.

Wait, you went through it? What about Jim? I'd say he's the one with the problem, here.
Oh forget it. This has already gone on way too long.
Be seeing you, fags.

It's one of those days

It's one of those days on Livejournal where the only people updating only do so once every two years and have only done so four times total. Most of the entries revolve around "I resolve to post more." It never seems to happen.
Wouldn't you just start a new journal as part of some sort of "fresh start" plan? No, I guess you can't let those four golden sentences pass you by. Four sentences every eight years-- an entire book is only 10,000 years in the future.
I finally found a blog of some substance but the substance was so incredibly boring I found myself reading it without really retaining anything, sort of like school.
Holy fuck I cannot believe how dull you people are today. Is it a full moon or something?
No, it's 39% and waning. Jeeeesus Christ this was like extracting teeth, and I'm pretty much settling.

fidning it hard not to choke on the optimism that's being shoved down my throat.
although it has been getting increasingly easier to keep my head above water, if you know what i mean.

... No, I can't say that I do.
Hey, writing this shit is kind of like doing the "capture a Lagiacrus" quest without Cha-Cha, if you know what I mean. NO ONE KNOWS WHAT THE FUCK YOU MEAN EXPLAIN YOURSELF.

came across so many childhood photos of myself. it's interesting for me to try to see my soul inside that little body.

What, are you a demon or something? You don't see like mere mortals do, instead you see the mortal corruption they leak so people like Grey Knights and Exorcists are totally invisible to you?

my life is rather boring, but it's not half as lonely as it might seem from the outside looking in.

Is it boring or lonely? Is this implying you're not boring if you're not lonely?

keep your eyes locked with the pavement, you're in no position to be pointing fingers.
but niether am i. and yet here i am again.

inhale the sin, exhale the regret.

1. what did we used to have in common before i found myself?
was conversation always this strained? or did we just never speak?

I imagine a conversation with you is more of a struggle to understand what the fuck is happening than anything in particular.I always love it when people say that. I NEED TO FIND MYSELF HURRR. I hope a person says that to me one day so I can just point at them and say "FOUND YOU YOU'RE RIGHT THERE."

2. i feel like i used to just be a walking mixture of everyone elses' emotions.

Christ this is almost a religious experience, isn't it?
This is where you find God and become yourself by adopting the doctrine millions upon millions of people before you have-- errr, how are you unique, again?
Hey, hey, if we're all God's children, what's so special about Jesus?

slipped into a dream for an entire week, and woke up to find that things had changed since i had given in to temptation.

Holy shit has anyone played Morrowind? That's exactly what this is. She's an Ascended Sleeper.
It explains everything: the not making much sense, the apparent worship of dark powers, the sleeping for weeks on end-- well there's only one cure for being a 6th House Cultist.

i'm just trying to remain as simple as possible,
are you?

You have never had a simple day in your life, don't even kid.

it's clear to see that when we said we'd find ourselves, you headed in the wrong direction.

That's a bit presumptuous, isn't it? Oh we need to figure out who we are but you're clearly wrong about yourself. I somehow know you better than you know you.
Bitch at least I make sense from word to word.

beginning to see the world through brand new eyes.woke up this morning and just understood. it's hard to explain.

Holy fuck that's almost word for word a level up message in Morrowind. This is a journal for a Morrowind character.

i am a master painter when it comes with words.

i could cradle you with sweet nothings, give me just a moment and i'll tell you all the lies you've been dying to hear. i could... but i won't.

I think it's time to leave a comment.
Dear Danika,

What the fuck is wrong with you? Why have I been reading this for a half hour and cannot for the life of me figure out what you're on about? Are you like this in real life?

Yours,

Tim.
And she's disabled anonymous comments. Well, fortunately--
There, all posted. Hopefully this'll get some answers.
Good thing I got this Livejournal account.
See I'm not just funny jokes. I'm getting to the bottom of this.

i remember the days when there was no caution. when we took leaps of faith without a second thought.

"No Fear! No Pity! NO REMORSE!"

if there's a rehab for adrenaline junkies i think i may need to aquire a scholarship.

Scholarship for rehab. Pretty sure that's not how rehab works. Oh, forget it. We could literally be here forever trying to figure this out. I'll just have to wait for my comment to pull through. I'll update everyone on this important mission Friday.