Hey Daniel, Suck It Blogspot

This is what i see after reloading my page several times (the page being daniel's comment section for "one week in the grand scheme"):
Word Verification

Loading...

(this is space to type)

Finish (this is a button)

Ahhh! I typed in "Loading..." which blogspot didn't think was funny.
Well, this was my comment:

haha...i have to do this for journalism, but i want to do it for me. makes me sick when i realize how much time i spend with a computer, as opposed to a human being...aim, facebook seem like an illusion of human contact.

lets talk after we conquer this.

I Always Wanted Curly Hair

I'm not done with puberty...or is it that puberty is not finished with me? Either way, I have new arm hair (these ones are visible sans microscope). My grandma swears I'm taller, which is why she's my favorite grandma (remember the sick woman who let us watch Jaws and Halloween before we could subtract...that's her, Grandma Archie). Oh and my facial hair is still funny, and not Daniel funny, more David funny. There's nothing masculine about patches, it just sounds like a dog name...a generic one. I want a beard...damn Ramin...and Michael...and Jillian (haha kidding).

My hair distribution is weird, bordering on stupid. Chest? Nope. Face? Patches. Hands? Patterened. Ass? Bountiful. If i ever went bald, my subsequent hair transplant would come from my butt.

Coffee's for Closers

When i read exceptionally brilliant, heart-felt writing i want to delete my blog...
I imagine busting through the swinging doors of my writer's room, blunt weapon in hand, waiting for my blog writing staff's eyes to meet mine. The mace, candlestick, trident clinks and clacks against the floor as I let it slip from my small, delicate hands. I swagger to the closest window and glare, breathing heavy, building dramatic tension. And then i go there. I drop the Alec Baldwin speech on them like an A-bomb filled with kamikazes (think Glengarry Glen Ross monologue delivered with the vitriol of pig daughter voice mail). This goes on, blood trickling down their earlobes and splatting on their crisp, white dress shirts. Near the end of my tirade, i snatch one of the baby-faced writers by the pits and i shake him...a good strong shaking. A half an hour later, i release the sweating husk and he crumples into the fetal position. I wiggle my numb fingers and part with these words: "Write personally. Write profoundly. Write punly. Write better."

I also understand that brilliant, heart-felt writing is a process...haha that's a great word for it. So don't fret...this blog is safe.

B-sides the point

Time to unclog the drain. I present to you my blog post junkyard; unfortunate entries that didn't make it past the creative process. Unedited, uncensored, uncircumcised, and unposted, until now...my b-sides:

5/20/08
Dear God, thank you for this wonderful day. Help me have no bad dreams, no Jaws dreams. Bless the food that we eat and enstrength our bodies. Bless mommy, daddy, peter, natalie, me, and everyone else in the world. In your prayer, amen.
I haven't said these words, in my head or out loud, in years...at least six or seven.
This is the prayer i'd repeat every night before sleep. Mom created the base of the prayer and, every night, my sister would inject "Jaws dreams" at the mentioning of bad dreams (probably because my grandma would let us choose whichever VHS we wanted when we spent the night...sick, sick woman.) I thought the prayer was magic. It was like a nightly incantation we'd all chant in unison to ward away the bad omens. I never really took to organized religion...sorry mom.

5/20/08
People that have taken me six years to befriend:

Albot.Liz.Jimmy.Leah.Alyssa.Andrew.Michael Hsiao.Kristen.Dhivya.Melanie.
And now they're gone...can't wait until i see each one, perhaps at the same hangout? haha...maybe.

9/23/08
if attractive people can find flaws with their appearances, what are the rest of us gonna do?
Self-conscious and shallow for two hundred, Trebec. This one is awkward. I remember writing this after a gym outing with Ramin...he was commenting on his physical flaws, and the whole time i was stabbing him with telepathic knives...blunt ones.

10/31/08

My shitty paper recieved an A-...shut up.

It made my day. And i had an awesome day, besides the paper. I saw Role Models with theresa, which was hilarious in its own david wain way, and i finally washed my filthy car. But then the sun went down, my tired thoughts wandered, and i decided to choke the joy out of my day. It's a nightly chore, to wring out the day's events in my mind like a dirt-soaked rag. I'm dry now.

I am particularly drained by my inability to enjoy anything. I dont really do anything except write. I am a collection of words, not experiences. I'm done talking
Yeah, and i'm done writing this post (no period here...because i'm just that over it)