here is some blump.

last weekend at a party i met the boy who was in that Papa John's commercial where there is a guy sitting on a couch made out of pizza boxes. I mean "met" as in smiled at him from across the room while another person told me what he did for a living. this is me and my tremendously amazing social abilities, after all. i embarass myself. sometimes i'd like to be a hermit, but then i remember when i was and i felt lonely all the time and it was really boring. one of my professors in college said that the best critiquers of society are those who are outside of it, and i got excited, me being a hermit and all, because i thought this would make me a world famous author, if i could actually stop napping so much and write something. then i realized that she meant outsider as in "racial outsider". and i am as whitey miss whitebread cracker honky as they come. BUT WHATEVER, I WILL CRITIQUE SOCIETY ALL I GODDAMN WANT TO. FOR EXAMPLE, YOU SITTING THERE, RIGHT THERE, ARE DUMB. AND YOU OBVIOULSY CAn'T DRESS YOURSELF VERY WELL. AND YOU, OVER THERE, YOUR LAST PAPER WAS REALLY STUPID AND CLICHED. AND FINALLY, YOU, IN THE SHIRT, YOU SEEM SO SELF-AWARE BUT ITS REALLY JUST YOU TRYING TO HIDE YOUR OVERWHELMING FEELINGS OF INADEQUACY. I KNOW YOUR MOTHER BEAT YOU WHEN YOU WERE LITTLE AND HAS ALWAYS CALLED YOU UGLY, BUT THAT'S NO EXCUSE TO SLEEP WITH SO MANY WOMEN AND NOT CALL THEM THE NEXT DAY.

this has been an eye-popping experience.

i love sharing with other people and introducing them to new things, but i just want to complain about something for a bit. i loved henry darger from the moment i saw his fucked up world of drawings at the chicago art expo in '98 and padraig made me examine them closely, and they were my favorite thing at that awful acres and acres of bad art and frighteningly thin upper-class people dressed in all black and fine eyewear. (the snack concession stands there sold fruit and brie and wine.) now peeps be jackin' my interests and falling in love with henry darger, and he is not my happy secret anymore. it makes me even more upset because i understand how ridiculous it is for me to get upset about something like this!!! BUT NEXT THING I KNOW, SYNAESTHESIA OR HEINZ KETCHUP CHIPS WILL BE THE BIG THING, AND I WILL BECOME LESS SPECIAL. well, vomit me a lung. (i mean, cry me a river. but for some reason that previous sentence was what i thought of first when i was trying to think of the phrase "cry me a river".)

there is a conductor on NJ Transit who looks like a tiny version of Denzel Washington. Is Training Day a good movie? i may be forced to see it.

that whole dead bodies thing in georgia would make for a really good black comedy. i have the feeling that it started out sort of innocently, where like the incinerator broke, and they didn't have enough money to get it fixed, but they needed customers to get money. so they started to hide a few bodies. but then by the time they could afford to fix the furnace, there were too many dead bodies all around, and they couldn't bring anyone on the property to fix the furnace cause that person would see all the dead bodies!!! but they couldn't shut down either, because they needed the money!!!! so there kept being more and more dead bodies, and they were running out of places to put them!!! i imagine this situation sort of like that old I Love Lucy episode, where she was in the chocolate factory and all of the sudden the conveyor belt went berzerk. only, without chocolate, but with dead bodies!!! anyway, if it becomes a comic movie, a good name for it would be: "HOLY FUCK WHAT THE LIVING FUCK DO I DO NOW?" or "Dead Bodies Ahoy!" or "A Georgian Tale".

i regret the fact that i watched figure skating last night instead of watching the "GLUTTON BOWL" on fox. i also regret that regret.

i desperately want to move out of my home. does anyone know of any nice apartments in the nyc area with no evil roommates, big kitchen windows, and lots of red geraniums in pots? but firstly i guess, i will need a car to get me places where i want to go.

what a dilemma.