You don't need to see his identification

Its always a strange thing when a random person starts talking to you in public. Your first reaction is what the fuck is going on, who is this person and why are they talking to me. Then a context is form where be it inquiring about the time, or where something is, or an innane comment about the weather and order is restored. Balance is attained. It is interesting how we as people desire to be with one another and yet take so many measures to isolate ourselves from each other. There was in incident in the news a little while ago about a person who got hit by a car and all these pedestrains walked by and complely ignored them. Just did not want to get involved at all. I says alot about our isolated nature.

Lets just say we'd like to avoid any imperial entanglements

I was thinking about the glorification of war and how it contrasts so strongly with the accounts and experiences of people who have actually experienced war and combat. They seem to be so entirely at odds with each other. War and being in the millitary in general is one of the few contexts in which human beings can actually kill each other without retribution. One of the few mediums where homicide is sanctioned and actually honored. And so it is of little suprise that the people who have come back from this experience are largely scarred by the experience and very much reluctant to commit themselves to such an endeavor again. I was watching the Civil war and it was talking about how one Union veteran remembered a certain battle as 'the most terrible day I have ever lived.' Now I can think of a few bad days I have had over the past years maybe even really horrible days, but the worst day ever, that sucks. Seeing people you have grown accusstomed to and maybe from your home town be blown to shards for hours and hours, that bound to fuck up your day. And mind and how you perceive that world.

If you only knew the power of the dark side

John Wilkes Booth is an fascinating character to me in history. Specifically his intense interest and devotion to the southern cause. He was a successfull actor before and during the war and could have lived out an easy life but he felt a strong hatred for Lincoln and loyalty to the south. I looked up his history online and I found out he had been born in Maryland to British parents an acting family and I still coulden't really ascertain what it was that motivated his sympathy towards the south. In fact one of his brothers Edwin intensely disagreed with his feelings about the whole thing and refused to perform with him during his later years. He spent his last days brooding alone drinking heavily, and pondering ways to at first kidnap and then assassinate the president. Also I find it interesting that Lincoln would have attended the showing of 'Our American cousin' without any kind of guard or protection against possible threats. I guess it had not happened before but Booth just walked in while the president was engrossed in the play and shot him in the back of the head. And a student of history wonders how reconstruction and that whole process would have been different had Abe been at the helm instead of old Andrew Johnson. Probably alot better.

Then i'm off to applebees..

"Wasted", 'shitfaced,' 'hammered', the adjectives used to describe an extreme state of intoxication all sound somewhat unappealing. It seems strange that so many people who actually like to put themselves into a state of conciousness known as 'trashed.' Although this vocabulary is understandable as anyone who has been in said state can readily attest. I prepare for another long day of toil admist a severe deficiancy of sleep. Thats another word I get a kick out of 'toil'. To me it conjures up images of dirty laborer shoveling coal into some kind of furnace or engine faces dirty and covered with sweat. Although the toil I am about to go into is nothing near that sort of physical intensity it is more a mental challenge. Being able to make it through those hours.

Every day is horrible to you

I remember a few years back having an argument with my friend Joe about different senses of humor. I was talking about the Blue collar comedy tour and all the 'redneck' comedians that I so strongly detested. Foremost of them was 'Larry the cable guy', the one who looked the most redneck of them all. And I think the most terrifying thing about him is that he likely in reality resembles a large portion of the population in the south. Anyhow I was saying that a large portion of the redneck humor employed really base and obvious jokes. In essence I was saying that it was dumbed down comedy. Basically our argument centered mainly on my contention that there was different senses of humor that appealed to different people. For instance a fart joke or a slapstick routine compared to a good satire or a play on words. One is easy to understand and comprehend. The other is more subtle and crafted more intensely. I think just it seems its really common in a lot of comedies to employ obvious forms of humor and I find it depressing. Word

Maxamize efficency

I was reading once Tuvan throat singing that it was developed by nomadic herdmans galloping alone on the vast steppes of Tuva. The isolation it was implied in a way inspired this unusual form of singing. I was wondering what other patterns of behavior might develop amongest individuals alone for a long time. Would you start to talk to yourself? Or end up having whole conversations? Create a vast paralell world with its own chracters. Like someone living by themselves for a long time. Perhaps the isolation could also be honed, someone alone with their own thoughts could write stories create intricate tapestries and worlds. Whatever else might be true and I know this from myself, it certainly creates in individual somewhat uncomfortable in large groups. A burden and a curse.

Fear will keep the local systems in line fear of this battlestation

A fine Saturday midmorning. One of those days I wish I had a duplicate, a doppelganger or a clone of some kind. Someone who I could dress like myself and punch and for me and work my shift while I was whiling away the day engaged in all manner of toomfoolery. Of course they would also have to be only semi-sentient and independent so I woulden't have to split part of my check with them. Well maybe a small portion. Alone again in this weird apartment contemplating many things. I yearn for something, anything. Activity of some kind new experiences anything of any stimulation. That perhaps is the saddest thing of all. If I did suddenly have some kind of circumstance where I did not have to work its unlikly I would be able to conjure up anything of interest at all. Likely I would be back here at this horrible computer doing this or something else. I need a freighter capable of intersteller transport. To flee. We cannot get out, a shadow moves in the distance, we cannot get out.