the further discoveries of Jacques Cousteau

So today I was studying for my physical science test (I don't know why I even bothered, but lets not go there) and I read the word 'viscosity' so the self I am googled viscosity since I had no dictionary on hand and I found this little page where one creates one's own modern art.
We are the masses making our own, merci.

GENIUS that was just GENIUS

I decided yesterday that I should drop out of university and do nothing but listen to Led Zeppelin for a year.

I still don't have anything to say to you. but look here:

A funny critique of Mac users (that would include moi)

SIMPLY GENIUS compositions (and the only thing that makes me want to stop listening to LZ) (and if you see this guy, Neil Thornock, in person he looks like he could be a Marx brother. He even kind of walks like it)

and wait a second, wait a second, I just saw Tiny Tim did a recording of Stairway to Heaven?

I wanna walk all over you*

When I was three and a half years old I tried to convince my parents we should paint the house black.

My mom would take me along with her to our little local hardware store where she would thumb through catalogs and paint samples and I'd point to the black paint square.

We painted the house light blue.

But for me, I will always dream of black. Matte black, glossy black, any kind of black. I dream of someday living in a black house.

A few years ago Better Homes and Gardens focused on a home that was beautiful and black. This isn't just one of my own personal, weird quirks.

I would even like to have a room painted black.
I just painted my toenails black.
The only piece of jewelry I really ever wear is a large black ring.
I have started by default buying everything in black.

Black, black, black, black.

*AC/DC

the song remains the same, achilles

I seem to have lost my need to publicly declare my deep and intensely intellectual findings with the world of light years.
Maybe it's because I got tired of my indie music, I've been re-delving into the realms of classic rock and old country music which make me want to sit on a back porch stoop and/or hang out in back alleys, and tonight I went to a metal show (where I did hang out in a back parking lot and I tried headbanging for the first time since junior high) and now I have a trumpet mute in my right ear.
Maybe it's because I am now graded (in my film classes) on how pretentious I realize I am.
Anyway, I found myself with the salt of the earth today. I mean salt in a seedy way. I found myself waiting for a bus transfer at a stop in a corner of city I had never explored before but seemed to be frequented by large amounts of seedy salty people. I would like to emphasize for the rare person who might worry something terrible about my safety that I was in no compromising situation. I sat on a rock shivering and eavesdropping on everyone's conversations. My favorite was one man who started talking to someone about music.
"Who's your favorite singers?"
I could never tell how much the younger man was responding but the older man didn't seem to need any replies, he had a lot to say. I kept wondering who were these singers that both men had seen until the name Simon came into the conversation.
I realized he was talking about American Idol.
"Simon really lays it out. He says you're a cabaret singer*..."
It went from how Simon tells you whats what, to if you have a talent that's what you've been called to do and that's between you and God, to Whitney Houston and Janet Jackson "Love will save the day**," and then how you need to make something of your life, they can't put the hood into you, Oprah did it you can to, "I hate working too, I hate waking up every morning with my cat in my face. Tigger's right there in my face waking me up and I say go away Tigger and she says 'Feed me I'm hungry' and I feed her just like I have for a thousand mornings."
I did start thinking I had finally gotten myself an adventure when I got on the bus and it took me into the seedy quarter of town but I talked to the nice bus driver and he actually drove me right up to exactly where I need to be: the cheapest venue I have ever been to in my life. It was very reminiscent of the places I might find in that old home country I grew up in.

*he most definitely did not say the world singer
**Whitney Houston song

I'm not so afraid of algebra equations anymore

I was inspired a couple of months ago to dig through some of the old rock dears. Can I call them that? Maybe classic rock hellions is more appropriate.
How apropos?
I propose a toast.
And I pose a few questions
to you

well I would.
If it were time for such things.
But it's not.

my life for the next 50 years

The coolest part about making a film is when they give you the final and completely different draft of the script a day before filming begins and they don't change the call sheet so you have no idea what to have ready the next day because you're just a pion.

that fit in my life I can let go for your revolution

I had to dig out my stapler the other day so I could mail the French Monkey and get it off my back (my application for the dear internship). It was in a little baggy and I just noticed that on the bag there is some kind of list written.

Cincinnati
Fire Kites
Equipment
Not including
Newspaper

I know I write ridiculous poems....
But I don't know where this list or whatever it is came from.
And it's in my handwriting.
Isn't that the mark of a genius? Or maybe someone who's been ruffied.

Sad but remarkable news, dear folks. Today I arrived at the grill only to hear the story that apparently last week the Onion-cutter told my Boss he quit. He didn't tell his parents. They dropped him off to work today, he walked in the front door, out the back and onto campus. He has decided to become a university student and take cooking classes to learn to become a chef.
A student found him and took him to a cooking class and the professor let him stay. Luckily, Onion-cutter was wearing his uniform, so the student came down to the grill and alerted us.
I am inspired by his ambition.
But Onion-cutter does mean to quit and that is the sad part. Who else is going to think my jokes are funny and elbow me in the side? Who, now, is going to hear me updating our overseeing Grandmother on my life and then tell me "Good job" with a thumbs up?
Who is going to dance to My Sharona?

remember when I sat at a kitchen table and wrote that book

the why-man said less than seven hours and you're drunk
i've never repaired to that
i've never repaired and i've periodically tried
but i'm not the repairing type
drunk
drunk
drunk
and no worries
but some worries
yes some worries
just to hold to, even though pet dinosaur sits goldly

haha...fine, no more confusing you all with rotten poetry.

Signing a contract is nerve racking for me. I kind of feel I just renewed the lease on my livelihood today because I put my name down in blood for the spring and summer here. Why have I made this decision so early, because of France, why France? Bleh, that's for another day, or in other words, convenience of mail, my friend.
It was a little ridiculous. I had to APPLY to renew a contract. I had to fill out a sheet with name and number, address (??? hmmmm....can I write "HERE"?), SOCIAL SECURITY number (do I really have to fill out my SSN? I got a dead pan look of duh and the answer, yes), I had to give them a personal reference (luckily I know my Boss's cell phone number by heart....) and a different landlord reference (I've lived here for six months...yeah, that doesn't give you anything to work with yet). I had to answer personal questions and tell them where I was going to uni and give them my student ID number.

I'm glad we're screening our residents...

(should I just leave them my credit card to make it easier for them to steal my identity?)