Videotape
RADIOHEAD
In Rainbows

When I'm at the pearly gates
This'll be on my videotape
My videotape

When Mephistopheles is just beneath
And he's reaching up to grab me

This is one for the good days
And I have it all here
In red blue green
In red blue green

You are my center when I spin away
Out of control on videotape
On videotape

This is my way of saying goodbye
Because I can't do it face to face
So I'm talking to you before it's too late

No matter what happens now
I shouldn't be afraid
Because I know today has been the most perfect day I've ever seen.

spoken truths; I wouldn't really know how to describe them.

it can't be worse than here, in my head.

a plastic bag over my mouth and nose.
the transistion is slow and thoughtful.
i just wish i tell everyone i love them.

clairvoyance

Your head racing with thoughts abroad
time spent on nothing you see unchaste
my picture sitting on top of your desk
the sun fades when you don't stand to protect
a life so pure and mine so reprobate
I'm fumbling with decisions and you keep on straight
in your eyes the mirrors to view your guide from behind the lines
it'll tell you to keep your precious mind away from me
unamused, the joyless tone you take
creates the bruises that won't be cured by the burning of a stake
I'm just a man and my father has taught me well
but I know
there's more than one way to get out of hell

I actually dive caves for a living, true story

I think that I use all of my friends.
The amount to which I can use them determines their involvement in my life.
I have a poisonous mind.
I still catch it wrapping itself around ideas such as pain, a critical notary in seeing evil, but more importantly a test of my own willingness to continue; lagging out under stresses of passion, with which my mind is likely to take ridiculous detours to fulfill; becoming foggy with anger, a type of gasoline used in the fire that my soul uses to burn itself away; and in these pursuits, in retrospect, I can only find time wasted that could have been used thinking productively, such as this. Time is something that is precious to a person of myself, one struggling with efficiency, foremost today as a human being, a piece of the puzzle in modern society, but more importantly within himself, efficiency of the use of what is very scarce but valuable to me in that I have a blatant opportunity to correct the wrongness about myself, time.
I see time not as a line, but as a point. One single point. And I am constantly living in that point. The past is always with me, however, and the future I will always have to look upon, and when I use my past as a tool to help grasp a more appealing picture of my future is when I become the most productive in all aspects.
This reflection sparked my think about my friends.
My friends, I use you. And please free yourself from any social definition of the word "use" and see it for what is really is, or what it can be interpreted as. I will use you to learn. I will take from you what knowledge I can either decipher, accept, or inquire for, and when, or more optimistically, if your well runs dry, I will move on to another. I consider someone my friend if I can use them, if they have something for me to take along with me.
Some of them I can run dry in days, some weeks, some in years, and there will be the few whose reservoirs are as big as I regard my own, to which I add the label "best".
It is always a difficult task to test the depth. I can use a flashlight, but sometimes the surface is too low to even see. I can drop a stone, but that won't tell me how much is underneath the surface. It is always a difficult decision to dive right in and swim amongst whatever may lurk beneath. I've met some friends to whom the decision was easy, but it had turned out the the water, the information, was too cloudy and I had a rough time finding much to my delight. These friends hold depths, while worth exploring, are outside of my capability to explore, and/or the information that I find is beyond my understanding. But my favorites are those whose depths are so expansive and clear that, in as many earthly years as I may share with them, I may never see the confines. There have only been two, one which is open and looks much the same as I've seen my own to look like, one which is rich in knowledge and a pleasure to scuba into because it is almost like home, in traveling said well I've found new spaces within my own; another which is a bit more of a mirror image, completely opposite but strangely similar all at the same time, my curiosity for which will never be satisfied and my excitement for will never fizzle, as it feels like somewhere in it's furthest reaches it connects with my well. There is so much I can learn during the underwater spelunking of this well of knowledge, so much I can use, that I'll gladly drown myself in it just so my soul will never have to leave it.
Somewhere in there I hope to find some clarification to the tie-ups within my own head, the equations you've solved maybe you can hint me of the answers.
With this generosity it takes for you to allow me to explore you in such ways, I warmly extend the offer to dive within mine, and search as you will, for I hope that I am usable.

uhh yeah i'm zac and I wrote this. this is how i think most of the time, especially when
I'm wide awake and it's morning.
I've had enough of this... whatever you'd call it...
philosophical mumbo-jumbo...
it's seriously 5am and i'm going to bed.
I still have a script to write.

I usually think about bodies.

I stayed up last night. Until about 3 of the clock. After the time change, it was around 2. I began working on my script, finally. Kris and I are writing a movie about all the shenanigans we'd gotten into as kids. Except we'll be playing ourselves, so we'll obviously be much older. We decided to adapt the script so we wouldn't have to be little children, just big ones.
I had to wake up at 6 this morning for CARE+ training at work. It wasn't nearly as bad as anyone had expected it to be, our supervisors keep it interesting by putting on antique best buy training videos after we watch the modern ones, just for the sake of laughing at the choice of words everybody uses. Best Buy employees used to "tuck and roll" when talking to customers, I guess? I learned that eighteen-hundred year old people don't know much about the integration of technology into their everyday living, but know a lot about how it can expand your lifespan roughly seventeen-hundred-and-twenty years beyond the average. I hate the way coffee makes me feel. I drank two cups of it this morning to stay awake, and the comedown from a caffiene bender is atrocious. It had me jittery to the max after 40 minutes. During the class, a supe was talking about how our customer demographics change during the holiday season, how our main one's rev percentage goes up by about 15. It's basically the middle class male segment. But he got into specifics of why and he was talking about how dads always want to buy the best gifts for their children. There was a hand-raise question that I chose not to participate in. For the next few minutes after that, I wasn't thinking about anything else but how I can't remember the last time my dad's actually given me a gift. But it didn't make me sad, because he gives me so much on a day-to-day basis that I really wouldn't want him to get me anything anyway. I appreciate him and I'm really glad he does what he can for me, even though I'm really not worthy of it yet. I just plan on returning the favor someday. I snapped out of it and got back into thinking again, like a corporate robot again, and got a few pieces of candy for answering some questions. I really don't need candy as an incentive. Having a job is incentive enough. Took some classes online, blah blah, day at work.
I feel love. I have love. But I also know how it feels to love somebody that you don't want to.
I'm in love with something that can mold me. It can scar me, but scars are an art to me, so I don't mind them. But it can mold me. It has the power to turn me into whatever it wants. I'm not going to let that happen, but it can. I'm in love with something that I can't leave a mark on.
It's surface is impenitrable, and if it leaves me it will find new love in an instant, while I'll just have to sit back and ponder the world more. I'll have to philosophise. And I don't want to do that. I can only do it in litte chunks and I have a lot of little chunks to go through.
I don't want to love this thing. I do love it. And I love loving it. But I don't really want to.
If it fades, it fades. But if it doesn't, it was meant to be.
I don't have a safety net.
I'm not well.
I've been seriously thinking about killing myself lately.
I'd do it without a doubt in my heart.
If I didn't have a brother, I wouldn't even think about it.
But I'd do it like this:
I'd wash my car, put on my sunday best and drive up to Max Madsen Mitsubishi.
I'd be so excited. Excited to drive last year's Lancer Evolution 9 GT.
I'd spend two hours walking the lot, looking at the car up and down. I'd burn that car into my brain. I know the ins, I'd learn the outs. A black one. With the 17" alloys. 1997 cubic centimeter turbocharged inline 4 cylinder engine making 366 horsepower at 6900 revolutions per minute.
Six-speed manual gearbox. Curb weight around 2900 pounds. Zero-to-sixty in 4 seconds.
Active split differential and yaw controller sending power to any of the four wheels individually as it's needed to keep the car on the road.
You can turn it off.
And I'd walk confidently onto the sales floor and casually bullshit the car with a salesman for another 45 minutes.
With the story I'd make up, I'd convince that asshole to let me take it for a spin.
Ten minutes, I swear on my life.
It'll take me maybe twenty to get to where I'm going.
I'll take one last look at the outside of the car.
The shiny black paint; the car is hunk of obsidian formed into a race-sedan.
All of the sharp angles, the symmetry is perfect.
There'll be plenty of sharp angles. Maybe not so much symmetry.
The door opens with a crisp pop, and the Sparco racing seat cradles me firmly, but allowingly.
The door shuts with a very positive connection.
I'd start the engine, and it would quickly whirr up to 1800 RPM and drop back down to an idle.
The weather would be just as it is now. About 60 degrees, no breeze, very dry air.
The car would run as good as it'd ever would on this day.
I'll drive it due north. The radio would never turn on. The engine getting more masculine as it warmed itself up would be enough.
I'd be so happy. I'd be the first one to drive a brand new Mitsu straight into heaven, right onto the Nurbergring.
I'd stop at a gas station on my way up to Chicago. And I'd remove the enormous rear wing that is attached to the trunk lid. Too much downforce. And when I leave, I leave the wing behind, laying on the ground. And I'd hit route 57 North towards Chicago, then 90-94 East towards Indy. Once onto 94 I'd press the gas pedal. Hard. It'd be about 5 of the clock. The car would hit 140 with ease. After that wing is gone, the car would essentially go faster, at the cost of high-speed rear-end stability. Right around the left hand curve that takes you towards the skyline, I'd push the car very hard. The tires would be screaming in pain at what I'm putting them through. The yaw control would be working hard trying to keep that loose back end on the pavement. And then traffic slows down. I'll keep on trucking at 160+ now, on the shoulder.
The seating position in the car is such that you sit at the perfect angle to see far in front of you.
I turn the stability controls off. And I'm staring into the skyline. It's not that great coming up from the south. Up the road, the grade in the road drops a few degrees. to a car going 165 miles an hour with nothing holding it onto the road but it's own weight... think of a paper airplane.
But I think of physics. The laws of physics.
If a car going 168 miles an hour suddenly hits a drop grade of 5 degrees over a 1000 foot run, with approximately 3000 pounds of negative lift, how far will the car fly before it meets the road below?
Let's find out.
Well, there are some variables.
I'll be turning the wheel ever so gently. The quick change in velocity before takeoff will send the car rotating through the air.
And I didn't plan on landing back onto the street. I planned on overshooting the boundary on the side of the skyway and plummeting to the coast below.
5000 feet.
3000 feet.
1000 feet.
427 feet.
brakes.
and 450 feet later I come to a complete stop.
What a rush.
Car off.
with no time to cool down after that run, and no oil pump rushing oil through it, the turbine casing is glowing red hot. it will be severly damaged after it cools. brittle and scarred.
I'll pull out a knife.
Hold it high into the air.
And strike down, as fiercely as i can muster.
1
2
3
4! times.
now there's no air in the tires.
Let's try it again.
I saved the turbine's life by starting the car back up.
it's heart is pumping blood back through it again.
I should only need about 2500 feet to gain enough speed.
When I put the car back into gear and release the clutch, there's a wonderful shower of sparks that bellows from each wheelwell.
Now that's more like it.
And we're going.
and going.
I can see it coming up.
This is such a waste...
...some chinese-made machine worked really hard on this japanese car.
I hit the grade.
And I'm sailing through the air. There's a long drop ahead of me.
This is retreatism. There's a place for me, too.
And before I crash land on the ground below, I say to myself...
Jesus will want to talk to me. This is a way more interesting story than every other devout christian who lived a life of servitude and wants to kiss his stinking feet has.

And I'll take him out for a few laps on the track.
We'll ride in my car. In my cupholder there's an iPod with all of my stuff on it.
And in his, there's an orange mocha frappucino.
We'll talk and he'll have a good time because I'm not all caught up in his presence. I'll be able to talk to him like I talk to my best friend. Ask him unclouded, unbiased questions about life and love. And then we'll change the oil together.

He tells me that didn't plan on being the apple of everyone's eye. And that he's really nothing to cry about. He is born of earth every so often and tells me that when somebody says that they're jesus, and you ask them and it's very likely, that really is him.
because he is really just an idea. And when somebody understands that idea enough, it inhabits them. He tells me that he doesn't like when people call it crazy.
And when people expect a "moment"
We'll grab a beer and take a walk to my old town.
He'll ask me if i want to hang out with any of my friends.
I'll tell him no, because there's only one other that would be able to just hang out with us, jesus.
And he's probably playing final fantasy right now.
Jesus wil tell me that he just can't fucking beat Ruby Weapon in FFVII, and I'll laugh and and tell him that I did. He'd call me a fucking liar and I'll just tell him to shut up and drink his beer.

That's what I accomplished at work today.

this is what i want.

I have a problem.
What's right to me is not to another.
And I'm wrong.
I'm mad that I'm wrong, and now it's a bigger problem.
I'm telling the truth.
And she tells me the truth.
We're both wrong,
and we're both right.
But I'm the smaller person, and I pick the fights.
I damage her, and I'm not that good at fixing.
I have one friend I can talk to.
And he told me that
I'm as best as I can be if I try to concieve all things,
I'm good again if I can accept a good suggestion,
but if I take what I say, or what anybody else says, to heart,
I'll lay dead in my tracks.
I also told me that,
after I'd lost all the memories I'd ever had with the death of my Ipod,
It could be worse.
A woman could cut off my penis and throw it out of a car window.

you're in the blenders, now, too.

I'm a very weak-minded person.
I don't know how else to describe this,
these hallucinations I see all the time. The ones I see on the screens of computers... thatsadrag
And the ones i see while I'm looking up information on washer-dryers... I see you in a grey tank top and your hair's still wet from the shower.
I want to hold you.
But that's about it.
I want somebody who i can find myself with.
But you've already done it.
We were fun. but you're not fun anymore.
I don't take people's word for anything.
And if you already know who you are, you're free to blaspheme my search for myself because you already think you know who a good person is.
And you haven't figured out yet, that, I'm not taking your word for it.
You can go to school all you want, you can be trained in classrooms to make tons of money.
But nothing can beat real-world experience. Once the books are gone, all of the variances will come out, the ones you didn't learn about.
I see you in the model kitchen, behind the island making eggs the way you like them.
I see me sticking my tongue out at you because i think they're gross.
You won't talk to me. You probably think I'm going to give you shit.
I probably will. I'm just expecting you to give me shit back.
But you don't.
I won't talk to you. Probably because everything I've ever stood for, you've already determined is disgusting and you don't want to involve yourself with.
Well, you're so good at picking up on it that you fell in love with me anyway.
You love a drug user.
You love a drunk.
You love a heretic.
You love a vagabond.
You love an asshole.
You love a child.
You love me.
I can accept you, easily. You don't see it. I'm always going to give you shit. I do it to everyone.
It's called keeping you in check.
I'm actually out to get you. To corrupt you and get you to accept satan as your lord and savior.
Right.
I see you in the CD aisle. I talk to album covers like they're your ears.
I see the computer chairs rocking back and forth.
I see you in the little girl who's lost her mother in the home theater section.
In my future, I see money. money to support my family and wife.
You're going to school, you want to work all of your life.
You'll always be smarter than I am, wiser, more intelligent.
You'll always be as tall. You'll always be as loud.
You'll never be my little darling. Unless you try to be.
All I've ever wanted from you is someone to protect.
But you're so good at guarding your pain, you ust never want to feel it until you're alone.
I've only seen you cry three times.
But I know you have more to cry about than that.
That's what my fucking shoulder is for, god damn it.
My steadfast shoulder. Fucking cry on it, for pete's sake.
You've never let me seen any emotion from you, no kind of emotion that make you human.
FUCKING OPEN UP TO ME.
I see you in the checkout line. buying our son a camera for his birthday.
I see me right behind you, on a leash, chiming in when i'm needed.
I want to see me carrying you through the doors.
I want to see me cradling you while you fall asleep.
But you keep fucking it up.
Because you're **** *******.
And you change for nobody.

riding the fence

i'm ready.
all of life's lessons that i can learn on my own i've learned.
and it's still so lonely down here.
i've tried to feel love in so many things.
so many things i shouldn't have.
and every night, i expect my blanket to make me feel better.
but on those nights where i don't have a blanket,
i have nothing.
i need to be taken away.
i won't be cradled like a baby like much of the others,
but grab me by the wrist and haul me up slowly.
because i've always rushed through transitions and i need to feel this one.
it been right in front of my face for so long.
i could have trusted in it.
the trust is all mine, but it's real.
i am real.
i don't want to relate you to anyone else. i don't want to discuss.
i need you, and all of you to help me out.
sometimes i'm clouded by shit that doesn't matter.
i need you to be the sun.
sometimes i drown in pools of my own crisis.
i need you to teach me to swim.
up until now, it's only been of you not being able to mean anything to me.
because if i don't know how i'm supposed to feel in your presence, that i can't feel anything.
i've been shown by other how i can feel.
and i'm smart enough to put that feeling into other things.
but i'm also smart enough to see the flaws in doing so.
nobody is smart enough to see the flaw in you.
flaws in yours, but not in you.
i'm still not certain, but i'm ready.
and i'm not going to learn through anybody else.
just how i've always been. you know.
you have to show me.
i have to show me.
i don't know if i can show me.
because you're in my hands as much as i'm in yours.
i guess all it i have to do is know my creator.
but i don't.
none of us do.
i don't care who lit the fuse.
i don't amount.
and neither will my loins.
we won't be the ones to travel abroad,
and seed the other planets.
unless YOU show me.
because i don't know the feeling.
the spirit.

clouds have split

you've finally seen that seeing you through my eyes isn't how it should be done.
however you came to realize that, i'm glad.
i know i've been thinking the same thing for a while now,
except i see me as much more than i am through your eyes as i do my own.
we need to digress. bring us back to when i was fantasizing about you while driving home
listening to menomena
so we're going to that concert together. on my birthday.
like our first date.
anyone else would be killed by this.
but we're smarter. stronger.
and we'll use this.
you have to take your future, separate it from mine.
and i'll take my future. and look at it.
when we decide, to join them together,
i'll finally have all of you.
like you've said i have all this time.
i even let you do the honors.
of breaking it off.
and i hope it makes you feel like you've got the upper hand.
when, in actuality, you have more moral problems than i have.
and i hope to hear about them someday.
I hope you let me in.
I hope you accept me as a prophet.

i'm not stupid

i have a job. that was enough, for a day. and with this job came the opportunity to get more of the things i needed to get done completed, including having my transcripts went out to KCC and getting my share ceck cashed. well, when i went and did this, apparently it was "illegal" and i had the only vehicle available to me taken away, with a firm "i don't care if you lose your job because of this" from my dad. what an asshole. well, i'm not going to lose my job over this, so i'd been finding rides for a day. it was no big deal. but, however, i had a lot of belongings to leave in peoples' cars. including my laptop. which, yesterday, was stolen from me out of jon's car. stolen by mike, surprise. it was in his custody and i needed it back, so i tracked it down. mike's with david, and they're going out to mike's mom's house to play guitar hero. or so they say, anyway. from what i find out, it's actually mike, david, and kristina going out to his house... hmmm i wonder. so i call david and ask him to come give me my shit and he says that he needs gas money. i put off dealing with that on the phone until they get here. when they arrive, immediately i ask kristina when she has to be home. midnight. ah yes. as i suspected, he's just using david so he can have kristina over for a day and she'll have a free ride back home. i ask david why he isn't making them pay for the ride, after explain this whole situation to him, because he's fucking oblivious to everything, and he says that they don't have money. well, kristina has a job and i'm not giving david money to go out to mike's house so i told him to make her pay for it.
i haven't been keeping up on blogging so this one is rushed the fuck out, but i hate how big of a player mike is.
players are not fucking cool.

inferior

I'll never be able to save you like you've saved me.
I'll never be able to protect you from anything.
You make me feel like a man when you yelp my name in bed.
But I'm a dog when you turn back into a human again.

shouldn't have told you.

Now that I know you're going to be reading this, I don't know how often I'm going to post into it.
Because I have a journal, a physical one, with maybe only two or three entries in it, but I know you're not going to read that one so I'm not afraid to write it it. You're talking to me right now and I'm kind of ignoring you because I'm writing this, but that's okay. I'm not going to get to see you on Wednesday and I'm a little pissed off about that, it seems like every time we get going in the right direction, something else fucks with our path. I was looking at the pictures that I took of you while I was at your house the other day, and by the looks of things, you really wanted to give me head. I scrolled through them in chronological order and they tell a little story. I was going to post those, too
but I don't know how.
What I'm trying to say is that I kinda ruined this blog for you just by telling you what the address is. I'll end up changing it soon.