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I would apologize for the Faulknerian, steam-of-consciousness style of this belated update, but I’m not feeling very repentant these days. Apologies for my non-apology, then. How very meta-ish. I’ve been working on a long (for me) writing project, a piece of fiction that I hope to have out and published in the near-term. Life has also intervened in many places, but that’s bound to happen.

For reference, I’ve included a brief primer on how to use the 20-80 scale. Judging life on this basis has changed my worldview somewhat, though my personality remains relatively unchanged. You can view that here: http://oregonbaseballreport.wordpress.com/2011/08/29/jason-parks-primer-on-the-20-80-scale/

Without further adieu, a manic dive into the mind of a man. Is it me? Yes, and no. The details differ, though the gum-chewing maniac talking about #want and choking on his own spittle is deeply recognizable. So it goes in the funhouse mirror of writing. More soon, I promise.

There’s nothing there for us, at least nothing that seems to jump out and grabs attention like the shiny display you can’t look away from on a downtown-bound train because you’re packed in there and there’s no other place to go and you can’t fall asleep because you’re standing up and fat and sweaty and you can feel your blood pressure creeping up and oh boy who’s that pretty woman looking at me what’s she looking at me for I can feel her looking through my soul and reading my #want and I can register her disgust and I have to look away must look away run from me eyes shut! And closed. Breathe. Phew. There’s nothing there for us baby, because I can’t commit I can’t support myself so how I can support the both of us, darling? Don’t you see, it’s not meant to be, and you can’t comment on the terrible rhyme you just made because this is not a time for jokes you are breaking up and running away because it’s all you know you need to be alone you need to be left alone and you can’t breathe again and your breath is synonymous with being all lonesome and sad with your three days of stubble and plain black coffee one splenda on the train to nowhere in particular. You have no job no money no hope plenty of dreams and talent and even a smidgen of a work ethic but thing is that’s not what matters in this world what matters is that you know how to use it and that’s the rub, you don’t have anyone who’s going to teach you the people who were supposed to show you how to deal with people failed at this particular aspect of life and therefore failed you through their recklessness and weakness so now it’s come to this and it’s a loop of suck and flavorless chewing gum that you can’t stop chewing because if you do you just might eat your hat however uncomfortable and unpalatable that may be. Whatever happened to Fiona Apple man where’d she end up she was all sad and shit but holy crap she could sing her ass off I kind of liked her even if she wasn’t all together but who is? I certainly do not fall into that category, I’m more of the toolsy prospect type who couldn’t actualize my ceiling but has carved out a niche for himself in the turgid mire. So much of this is down to how you leverage situations and relationships and people don’t take kindly to you for all sorts of nonsensical reasons even if they think you’re a good dude, because people are funny. I don’t have any enemies, oh wait, that’s not true I have at least one and of course it’s a woman, because that just plays into it doesn’t it and oh shit I just choked on my bile and can’t stop hacking what in tarnation am I going to do? It’s a pertinent question these days, as there are so many barriers to entry but NAFTA ain’t coming along anytime soon, and what good did that do for anyone anyway? More barriers, more frustrations, more crosses to just lay down and let them tie my arms down on, but good luck hoisting me up man because I am an enormous human being I am human and I just want your kisses and money please so good fucking luck you traitorous dipshits I will not be crucified I am a man I will be twenty-seven soon there is nothing for me here except love but who needs that I need a sense that my ambitions can be realized can they? The gum, though flavorless, retains its elasticity. It’s a 55 gum, perhaps it could be a 60 or even a 65 if it actualizes it’s flavor potential and takes that initial “five o’clock” flavor a bit deeper into the chewing itself but it’s above average and I’ll take it for now as I paid $1.50 at the bodega for it because I wanted beer and candy but wanted to retain some semblance of self-control to go with my recent yoga kick. Fat, hairy men doing yoga by themselves in a livingroom bare of any furniture save a few shelves of books, a sound system, and many boxes of tapes from the 80s must be terrifying to many people, but I’m not afraid I am flexible and sweaty and non-violent and dead sexy to overweight unemployed females of a rather broad age range and other certainly damaged but worthy human beings whom I’ve neglected. A toast to douchebags is unnecessary as there’s very little that I’m willing to acknowledge as most wounds have been self-inflicted but there are two people that I harbor resentment toward but only one that I actually hate. Hate is heavy, the weight of a sleeping toddler borne over many city blocks because they are totally helpless and unable to support themselves in just such a situation. I’ve done the carrying, it’s a workout, and everyone has been carried at some point even if they haven’t been loved. Is it love? It’s a search for meaning, and if meaning is meaningless without this ephemeral feeling then that’s quite silly but then you know better, don’t you? Whatever happens, you’ve been loved though it’s not always been what you’ve sought and right now you crave possibility. It’s there, but where? A furtive chew, a sigh, and ding-ding go the train doors get off you have to make it go go go!

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