Ok. Tomorrow's Tuesday. Larkin will be back the day after tomorrow. At 8 PM. Maybe, if I take twenty sleeping pills, I can just sleep until then. No, wait, I'll die.
So Sterling's mom is being a Nazi about the relationship between him and Kathy, much to my disproval. Kathy is awesome. And Sterling and her go together so well, I can't even believe it. For his mom to seperate them is such an atrocity unto everything I believe in! It's love! Something so unique, that they actually go together well, is too rare to be destroyed by some overstressed, conservative religious fanatic parent. I mean, I don't blame her for being irritable, what with all the kids, but she has no right interfering with the forces of awesomosity. Damnit! If I could drive, I'd hook those two up faster than a... fuck, I'm out of good analogies. my last one was-
JohnH778: man, your life is like yogurt on fire
JohnH778: it could be good
JohnH778: if it weren't on fire
Anyway, Sterling and I are in a deprived situation. I'm dying due to a lack of things to do, and he's dying due to a tyrannical, menopause-stricken superbitch.
But, selfish of me to act so depressed. It's not that bad. She'll be back the day after tomorrow, and besides- I heard from her today on AIM, and she seems to be having a great time. All those colleges begging at her feet... Larkin's amazing. She's like, the supreme queen of the academic universe or something. I swear I had this fantasy in fifth grade that I'd be dating the smartest girl in school.
Maybe there is a god?
No, it must be Joe Pesci.
Monday, June 30, 2003
True
(SIC)NaRuTo: shit sorry dark angel, im a dumbass
Dark Angel: don't worry about it, I don't take any of it to heart
Dark Angel: the internet is about as personal as buying condoms in a convenient store
Dark Angel: don't worry about it, I don't take any of it to heart
Dark Angel: the internet is about as personal as buying condoms in a convenient store
Sunday, June 29, 2003
Psychadelic Indeed
Time to do one of those things like Todd did. And I will start out with the word-
Pancake; oven; cooking; Iron Chef; Chairman Kaga; fake kimonos; anime conventions; Canada; maple leaves; maple syrup; waffles; IHOP; tacky Hawaiian shirts; Tyler Lamb; fat people; Americans; pigs; mud; forests; hiking; wilderness; tranquility; an AK-47; Russians; silly furry hats; Chicago; blizzards; my dad getting pissed at the cars for not working; ice; ice skating; falling; broken bones; x-rays; radiation; cancer; sodium benzoate; Dr.Pepper; caffeine; 2 AM; sandwiches; chicken; KFC; Colonel Sanders; old guys; the government; Nazis; Klein High; waking up; breakfast; pancakes
Pancake; oven; cooking; Iron Chef; Chairman Kaga; fake kimonos; anime conventions; Canada; maple leaves; maple syrup; waffles; IHOP; tacky Hawaiian shirts; Tyler Lamb; fat people; Americans; pigs; mud; forests; hiking; wilderness; tranquility; an AK-47; Russians; silly furry hats; Chicago; blizzards; my dad getting pissed at the cars for not working; ice; ice skating; falling; broken bones; x-rays; radiation; cancer; sodium benzoate; Dr.Pepper; caffeine; 2 AM; sandwiches; chicken; KFC; Colonel Sanders; old guys; the government; Nazis; Klein High; waking up; breakfast; pancakes
Bored as Fuck
Fuck. Why big post error? Here's the story again- thanks to Julia for telling me how to indent.
Mr.Fujiyaki didn’t always reside in central Texas. His ever-present Japanese (research regional dialects in Japan) accent revealed that to most that knew him; but few people really knew the old man anyway. Even his martial arts students only had a formal relationship with him. His lack of friends and the fact that he was an ethnic minority earned him the status of being tied with Jim as the most mysterious person in town. Even the church didn’t bother him; the community had long given up conversion, as Mr.Fujiyaki, unlike Jim, simply took a silent and stoic attitude towards their evangelism. Being a very mellow person at heart, and already a Buddhist anyway, he preferred to remain within peaceful relations with his American neighbors.
The only group of humans anywhere in the world that knew much about the old martial arts instructor lived across an ocean that only 60 percent of Centerville’s residents could spell the name of. The Pacific. The Fujiyaki family revolved around the martial arts. The sons and daughters of the family were trained to become world-renowned fighters, and eventually took their parents’ place as great teachers at the Fujiyaki School of Martial Arts in Japan. Being of better staff and funding than the old man’s shopping center gymnasium, the Fujiyakis’ school taught both Shotokan karate-do and kendo, the way of the sword. It was a highly respected dojo, and quite famous overseas, a fact the family took pleasure in taunting old Mr.Fujiyaki with.
The reason Mr.Fujiyaki, a son of the family destined to become a great master, was not now a teacher at this school was mostly due to his own decision to refuse such a position.
Mr.Fujiyaki was the youngest of three sons, and due to complications, his mother died while giving birth to him. When he was fifteen, his father also passed away due to Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease, a rare affliction of the brain and the human equivalent of mad cow disease. The family’s school had not been quite as prosperous at the time, but Mr.Fujiyaki’s brothers, the rightful new owners of the family’s dojo, saw to that. They filed a lawsuit with the beef processing company that sold their father the contaminated beef he contracted Creutzfeldt-Jakob from, and won several million dollars.
That was in 1958. Over the course of twenty years, Mr.Fujiyaki’s two brothers used their small fortune to rebuild the rundown dojo, hire some of Japan’s greatest teachers, and make the school among the most prestigious martial arts schools in all of Asia.
During this time, Mr.Fujiyaki himself didn’t concern himself with running the family’s dojo. He preferred to simply be a pupil of the school, and while his brothers were shaking hands with Emperor Akihito, he was wringing the blood from his own hands, callusing from his endless training in both specialties of the dojo, karate and kendo. He didn’t care for fame- only self-mastery and tranquility.
During all this time, the two Fujiyaki brothers lost more and more faith in the philosophies of their own art and Buddhist religion, and began to grow greedy and power-hungry. By the 1980s, they’d turned into money-grubbing powermongers that sought only to profit from the dojo’s students. They moved into a huge, Western-style house and began, as any American would want to, living large. They’d grown fat and lazy, not willing to take care of the usual duties of the dojo’s upkeep, and hired more workers to carry out their every task. They had servants in their house and chauffeurs to drive them around in their expensive European cars. Their lifestyle was any pig’s dream.
But when Mr.Fujiyaki protested all this extravagance, pointed out the hundred pounds each the two men had gained, they were infuriated. They argued that the students of the dojo were nothing more than walking bags of money, that the fruits of their labor should be feasted upon as much as possible. After much verbal and physical violence (in which the two brothers lost a lot of fights, due to Mr.Fujiyaki’s superior athletic ability at the time), the two obese corporate whores the brothers had slowly transformed into exiled Mr.Fujiyaki from the dojo and from the family. Mr.Fujiyaki swore his revenge on the family, and vowed to start a dojo of his own to teach the true way of the martial artist, which was, in his mind, to be as self-sufficient as possible. To depend on material possessions was foolish, he thought. A true warrior should depend only on himself.
Unfortunately, Mr.Fujiyaki’s funding wasn’t in spectacular condition. His brothers had strangled him of any real money whatsoever before he left the family, and he was forced to work washing dishes in a sushi bar for four years, living in a small apartment in Yokohama. Once he’d saved up about 20,000 dollars, he moved to America, and found the perfect location for his new karate dojo. Cheap real estate, cheap housing, a nice warm climate, and a great place to buy fresh produce were all he needed. He leased a small part of a shopping center, and with his remaining money, remodeled the building with its own gymnasium, and bought a tiny two-room, one story wooden cabin to live in.
To get his dojo going, he was forced to work part-time as a cashier in a convenient store, but once the small goofy Texan crowd caught interest in that “new Chinese place next to Gunny’s Shack”, Mr.Fujiyaki gained several young students in 1991, and made enough money from their membership dues to the dojo to make a living. It wasn’t much, but after all, he was used to depending on himself, and had a fondness for growing his own food in the garden behind his cabin anyway.
Jim was his first, and youngest student. He was eight at the time, and though he didn’t believe in Mr.Fujiyaki’s philosophy of a “true warrior”, he showed a remarkable love and talent for fighting. Not only that, he always brought nice wildflowers in to spruce up the small shopping center’s karate school. He grew to respect Mr.Fujiyaki as a mentor, or, at least his teacher. Mr.Fujiyaki also respected Jim, as he was the only student that didn’t poke fun at the old man behind his back after lessons. It comforted Mr.Fujiyaki to know that he had at least one friend in the world he could turn to, because no matter how much he meditated, no matter how he tried to clear his mind of troublesome thoughts, the memories of his family and his exile always plagued him. He could never be rid of the visions of his father, slowly growing weak and then dying, his brothers gradually withdrawing their faith from compassion, and depositing it in money, power, and the lust for both.
Mr.Fujiyaki lived a relatively successful, but tormented life. He also knew he would hear from his family again- simply because he was familiar with how his two brothers had before loved to taunt him with their concept of their power and wealth. At the very least, they’d send someone to Texas to ridicule Mr.Fujiyaki and his tiny dojo.
Mr.Fujiyaki didn’t always reside in central Texas. His ever-present Japanese (research regional dialects in Japan) accent revealed that to most that knew him; but few people really knew the old man anyway. Even his martial arts students only had a formal relationship with him. His lack of friends and the fact that he was an ethnic minority earned him the status of being tied with Jim as the most mysterious person in town. Even the church didn’t bother him; the community had long given up conversion, as Mr.Fujiyaki, unlike Jim, simply took a silent and stoic attitude towards their evangelism. Being a very mellow person at heart, and already a Buddhist anyway, he preferred to remain within peaceful relations with his American neighbors.
The only group of humans anywhere in the world that knew much about the old martial arts instructor lived across an ocean that only 60 percent of Centerville’s residents could spell the name of. The Pacific. The Fujiyaki family revolved around the martial arts. The sons and daughters of the family were trained to become world-renowned fighters, and eventually took their parents’ place as great teachers at the Fujiyaki School of Martial Arts in Japan. Being of better staff and funding than the old man’s shopping center gymnasium, the Fujiyakis’ school taught both Shotokan karate-do and kendo, the way of the sword. It was a highly respected dojo, and quite famous overseas, a fact the family took pleasure in taunting old Mr.Fujiyaki with.
The reason Mr.Fujiyaki, a son of the family destined to become a great master, was not now a teacher at this school was mostly due to his own decision to refuse such a position.
Mr.Fujiyaki was the youngest of three sons, and due to complications, his mother died while giving birth to him. When he was fifteen, his father also passed away due to Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease, a rare affliction of the brain and the human equivalent of mad cow disease. The family’s school had not been quite as prosperous at the time, but Mr.Fujiyaki’s brothers, the rightful new owners of the family’s dojo, saw to that. They filed a lawsuit with the beef processing company that sold their father the contaminated beef he contracted Creutzfeldt-Jakob from, and won several million dollars.
That was in 1958. Over the course of twenty years, Mr.Fujiyaki’s two brothers used their small fortune to rebuild the rundown dojo, hire some of Japan’s greatest teachers, and make the school among the most prestigious martial arts schools in all of Asia.
During this time, Mr.Fujiyaki himself didn’t concern himself with running the family’s dojo. He preferred to simply be a pupil of the school, and while his brothers were shaking hands with Emperor Akihito, he was wringing the blood from his own hands, callusing from his endless training in both specialties of the dojo, karate and kendo. He didn’t care for fame- only self-mastery and tranquility.
During all this time, the two Fujiyaki brothers lost more and more faith in the philosophies of their own art and Buddhist religion, and began to grow greedy and power-hungry. By the 1980s, they’d turned into money-grubbing powermongers that sought only to profit from the dojo’s students. They moved into a huge, Western-style house and began, as any American would want to, living large. They’d grown fat and lazy, not willing to take care of the usual duties of the dojo’s upkeep, and hired more workers to carry out their every task. They had servants in their house and chauffeurs to drive them around in their expensive European cars. Their lifestyle was any pig’s dream.
But when Mr.Fujiyaki protested all this extravagance, pointed out the hundred pounds each the two men had gained, they were infuriated. They argued that the students of the dojo were nothing more than walking bags of money, that the fruits of their labor should be feasted upon as much as possible. After much verbal and physical violence (in which the two brothers lost a lot of fights, due to Mr.Fujiyaki’s superior athletic ability at the time), the two obese corporate whores the brothers had slowly transformed into exiled Mr.Fujiyaki from the dojo and from the family. Mr.Fujiyaki swore his revenge on the family, and vowed to start a dojo of his own to teach the true way of the martial artist, which was, in his mind, to be as self-sufficient as possible. To depend on material possessions was foolish, he thought. A true warrior should depend only on himself.
Unfortunately, Mr.Fujiyaki’s funding wasn’t in spectacular condition. His brothers had strangled him of any real money whatsoever before he left the family, and he was forced to work washing dishes in a sushi bar for four years, living in a small apartment in Yokohama. Once he’d saved up about 20,000 dollars, he moved to America, and found the perfect location for his new karate dojo. Cheap real estate, cheap housing, a nice warm climate, and a great place to buy fresh produce were all he needed. He leased a small part of a shopping center, and with his remaining money, remodeled the building with its own gymnasium, and bought a tiny two-room, one story wooden cabin to live in.
To get his dojo going, he was forced to work part-time as a cashier in a convenient store, but once the small goofy Texan crowd caught interest in that “new Chinese place next to Gunny’s Shack”, Mr.Fujiyaki gained several young students in 1991, and made enough money from their membership dues to the dojo to make a living. It wasn’t much, but after all, he was used to depending on himself, and had a fondness for growing his own food in the garden behind his cabin anyway.
Jim was his first, and youngest student. He was eight at the time, and though he didn’t believe in Mr.Fujiyaki’s philosophy of a “true warrior”, he showed a remarkable love and talent for fighting. Not only that, he always brought nice wildflowers in to spruce up the small shopping center’s karate school. He grew to respect Mr.Fujiyaki as a mentor, or, at least his teacher. Mr.Fujiyaki also respected Jim, as he was the only student that didn’t poke fun at the old man behind his back after lessons. It comforted Mr.Fujiyaki to know that he had at least one friend in the world he could turn to, because no matter how much he meditated, no matter how he tried to clear his mind of troublesome thoughts, the memories of his family and his exile always plagued him. He could never be rid of the visions of his father, slowly growing weak and then dying, his brothers gradually withdrawing their faith from compassion, and depositing it in money, power, and the lust for both.
Mr.Fujiyaki lived a relatively successful, but tormented life. He also knew he would hear from his family again- simply because he was familiar with how his two brothers had before loved to taunt him with their concept of their power and wealth. At the very least, they’d send someone to Texas to ridicule Mr.Fujiyaki and his tiny dojo.
Larkin is gone. Gone until Thursday or so. Therefore, I am bored as all unholy hell. I mean, moreso than usual. I don't have anything to look forward to in the evenings. I'm just sort of sitting around, or riding my bike around, or playing too much CS. I hate CS. It's the worst game in the world. But it's the only thing to do.
I'm also working on my novel-in-progress. Oh, I hope it's not turning into shit. The first chapter was cool, what with the fight scene, but this is really the first thing like this I've ever done, so all this background information for my characters may or may not be pure crap. I've gotta get someone who knows what they're doing to review it. Like, not Todd. Because Todd says everything is crap. Except for lying around in the sun at the pool. That's fun.
Oh yeah. I did go to the pool with Rob and Todd the other day. It was allright, I guess. I think I prefer sitting around his dark house, wearing his trenchcoat and drinking his sodas, but it's nice to get outside every once in awhile. As long as I just sit in the sun.
I hate pool games. Pool games suck.
But I'm really liking this new thing Blogger's done with their publishing utilities. It's all better-looking and stuff, and the italics button isn't buggy, and I'm not getting pissed because publishing takes forever. Good job.
I'm also working on my novel-in-progress. Oh, I hope it's not turning into shit. The first chapter was cool, what with the fight scene, but this is really the first thing like this I've ever done, so all this background information for my characters may or may not be pure crap. I've gotta get someone who knows what they're doing to review it. Like, not Todd. Because Todd says everything is crap. Except for lying around in the sun at the pool. That's fun.
Oh yeah. I did go to the pool with Rob and Todd the other day. It was allright, I guess. I think I prefer sitting around his dark house, wearing his trenchcoat and drinking his sodas, but it's nice to get outside every once in awhile. As long as I just sit in the sun.
I hate pool games. Pool games suck.
But I'm really liking this new thing Blogger's done with their publishing utilities. It's all better-looking and stuff, and the italics button isn't buggy, and I'm not getting pissed because publishing takes forever. Good job.
Tuesday, June 24, 2003
Well, it's my favorite time of day again. 2 AM.
Just three hours ago I was with Larkin. What fun we have! Even in the sauna-like humidity of a Houstonian evening, we enjoy walking around the park and getting kicked out of Starbucks. Sigh. Why must she leave at midnight? It's the only thing that keeps us from practically living together.
So, yeah. That was fun. I just wrote two or three more pages to add to my Jim, the Karate Florist story. What fun it is to have my very own little character(s) and plot to fool around with! I do believe this is coming along quite nicely. I'm in the midst of describing Mr.Fujiyaki, the karate instructor's past, and I've got this whole struggle deal going on. It then leads into Jim's beginnings as a student of the old guy, and so on. It's gonna be all cool. I've got it figured out now- there will be the old guy's daughter- then she'll come to Texas to visit- then Jim will fall in love with her- but then EVIL EVIL Fujiyaki family overseas will be all EVIL and take her away! And Jim will have to be all heroic and shit and save her. Whee!
Just three hours ago I was with Larkin. What fun we have! Even in the sauna-like humidity of a Houstonian evening, we enjoy walking around the park and getting kicked out of Starbucks. Sigh. Why must she leave at midnight? It's the only thing that keeps us from practically living together.
So, yeah. That was fun. I just wrote two or three more pages to add to my Jim, the Karate Florist story. What fun it is to have my very own little character(s) and plot to fool around with! I do believe this is coming along quite nicely. I'm in the midst of describing Mr.Fujiyaki, the karate instructor's past, and I've got this whole struggle deal going on. It then leads into Jim's beginnings as a student of the old guy, and so on. It's gonna be all cool. I've got it figured out now- there will be the old guy's daughter- then she'll come to Texas to visit- then Jim will fall in love with her- but then EVIL EVIL Fujiyaki family overseas will be all EVIL and take her away! And Jim will have to be all heroic and shit and save her. Whee!