Do midgets have night vision?

The Greatest Story in the History of Forever

           Once, when I was small, I was walking down the streets of Compton eating candy that I had just stolen. However, the candy was paid for through reparations for slavery, so it was an excusable action. As I continued on my way down the street, suddenly, a fat hairy midget fell out of the sky and almost landed right on top of me, but luckily, I have cat-like agility and speed, so I was able to jump out of the massive projectiles way. I got up, dusted myself off and went back to where it had fallen, I couldn’t even discern his face from any other part of his body because he had been traveling at such a high velocity, all of the bones in his body had splintered out and torn up everything. As the blood pooled outward, I noticed that some pedestrians had seen what had happened. Rather than stick around and have to answer questions from police about what had happened, I decided to go on my way. I stepped around the gruesome spectacle and continued on my way to the anti-PETA meeting.

I had a bad feeling about today. In some cultures, a fat midget falling from the sky is bad luck. As I approached the warehouse that we held our meetings in, I noticed the distinct lack of deafening metal being blasted, which is very strange because these “meetings” were little more than drunken parties that broke out into rioting that led to crippling amounts of civilian casualties and extensive property damage. I entered the building and immediately I noticed something was very wrong. I quickly drew my heavy machine gun that I kept in my backpack, I never left home without it. It smelled funny in there, the air lacked the tinge of alcohol and the floor was slick with blood, it was fresh, and it was everywhere. But the one thing that really made my head spin was that the stereo had been smashed. Somebody was going to pay big time, even when police raids occurred, they knew not to break anything that we valued, so the police weren’t responsible for this.

I took another cautious step into the house, a floorboard creaked upstairs and I instinctively snapped my rifle up and gave a few looks around, nothing moved. I darted in between rooms, witnessing the utter destruction that had befallen my beloved second home. When I got to the kitchen, I noticed that all of the chips, soda, and fruit snacks had been eaten, their containers ripped open and carelessly tossed on the ground. All the canned food was gone too, except for canned fruits and veggies, I quickly opened the fridge to make sure nothing was hiding in it and saw the most messy, dripping, gooey mix of condiments and leftovers I had ever seen. Whoever had torn through our fortress had done it in a hurry. I circled back around to the front door and, satisfied that the lower level was reasonably safe, I started my way up the blood splattered stairs, luckily I had purchased some very reliable combat boots a few weeks before, my stance was rock solid. I continued up the stairs in a crouch, rifle drawn, ready for anything, before I got to the top, I primed a grenade, yanked out the pin and bounced it into the hallway, these were hard to come by, but I didn’t want to risk getting ambushed.

After the grenade exploded, and not having heard any despairing screams, I continued my way upstairs and walked down the hallway, checking every room. The last door in the hallway was the room I stayed in, I tried the door, locked. I adjusted my pants, did a very quick stretch, took a step back and gave the door a solid kick with the ball of my toe, just above the doorknob. No luck. Not wanting to try and pick the lock, which would leave me vulnerable to a surprise attack and would be moderately time consuming, I decided to shoot the lock open, so I did.

Suddenly a fat hairy Turkish man jumped out from behind the wall and let out a screech as his quadruple chin swayed around wildly, like a water balloon that has fallen and hit the ground but hadn’t popped. In a fraction of a second I snapped my gun up to bear and let out a long burst of fully automatic gunfire. The specially-hardened depleted uranium armor piercing rounds penetrated his flesh but only a few managed to make it out the other side, the creature must have been at least 5 feet thick. He flopped to the ground in a twisted heap and a bone drifted out of his now-open midsection, but it wasn’t his. As I realized the truth, a look of horror came over my face, he had eaten all of my comrades! I opened fire on him again, eyes and heart swelling with nothing but pure hatred for the enemy. The funny thing was, right before I pulled the trigger, his head jolted up, but luckily, my weapon tore it to shreds before he could gobble me whole. He had been waiting for me to let my guard down. It’s a good thing that I had stayed alert or I might not be here today, passing on this story to you.

The End.

That shit can be expensive though, right? Damn. I need a job.

From Mattieu Ricard's blog.


Recently, in an international flight while the meal was being served, my neighbor, a young American Midwest, asked me with a hint of surprise
--  Are you a vegetarian?
--  Yes.
-- Do you think that meat is something impure?
-- Not at all, but I do no harm in eating.
--  But all the animals eat each other. C'est la nature. Is nature.
-- Maybe, but I do not eat them.
-- If one of these animals was here, he might eat you!
-- Certainly, but I don't think this is reason enough for me to eat them. To quote George Bernard Shaw, "Animals are my friends and I do not eat my friends."
-- Oh, the animals are your friends ....
-- Yes.

A couple of times it's cheesy, and I skipped the first scene, but when all is said an done, this is pretty righteous.

http://blogs.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendID=114034976&blogID=319365502&Mytoken=FC07A3F0-1C95-4704-83BCA6018CF5A7EA1328045

This is a secret.

It's so secret, that you probably won't even believe me when I tell you this.


But secretly, I am (or at least have convinced myself) one of the most manipulative, sleazy, backstabbing, unstable people that I know. (I only know myself by the way, so I don't have much else to compare things to.)

And that the only reason that I do the things I do that people see as good, are to trick them.

Because I'm so sneaky.

Hell, I think that I'm so sneaky that I've tricked myself! Into thinking that I can actually do something good for someone else!

--------------------------


Shit. I need to get some confidence.

Anyone know of any sales on any in the area? I don't want to go too far away from home. I'm scared.

Also, there should really be a better language invented in the future. Indentation and punctuation just don't cut it.

Art is probably a better language. I think that's what I need to become more fluent in.

My DREAM job is to be a concept artist for a video game studio that does fictitious/fantasy work.

My best chance at a stable career, however, is to redirect my efforts to my programming, even being on the second chapter of my book, today i had to go back to the first chapter and re-learn everything so that i could get a better grasp on it. That means progress will be slow. Terrifyingly slow.

So I can try and, to quote someone I try to take after, "be ballsy about shit" or I can give up on my artistic dream and spend the rest of my fucking life saying "what if." Which I wouldn't allow myself to do, but you get the idea.

It's fucking scary to have to make that decision, and senior year is right around the corner. I just applied to work at Ralphs over the summer, which would suck, but I have to start saving for college.

...


...I want to say to myself that I'll be okay.

I want to say that I know enough successful people (not only financially. Also mentally) who will support me if should happen to fail. But that's the last thing I want to be, a burden on any one or any thing.

So this is growing up, huh? Hahaha...

I have a feeling that I'll be in for one hell of a ride later on, and that I'd better invest in some good elbow pads, cause I think they'll be fallen on a lot.

I think I'm going to pursue both.

it was awesome. im so glad that i decided to put in the extra effort in order to be able to go. i wasn't even remotely expecting to see something like that. we got to go into restricted areas in the getty museum that ill probably never see ever again. it was really inspiring. we also got to see another drawing by some other random guy that was really good that was 4-500 years old. like on the original paper and everything. its so insane how revered art has been through the age for people to keep them in such pristine condition for such long periods of time...

it had two primary effects on me. one was that it made me want to practice practice practice so that id be able to draw the human figure just as quickly, although probably never as proficiently, as he did. and then that led me to the second impression it made on me.

my work will probably never be remembered for more than a few years at most after my death, if they even last until then and i dont end up just throwing them all out if i just become a part of our unartistic slave state. and i am keeping in mind that i should never try to be better than anyone else, only do the best that i can do, but its still kind of discouraging for me to think that i dont believe that i can do my best at all. *sigh*

it was a very memorable experience though, and i figured id put it up on cryspace, not just in my journal alone, so that i would remember it more often and practice drawing his various sketches. i would definitely love my drawing style to have trace elements of his work, even if they were so small only i would notice them. just looking at the tiny quill-pen drawing that the getty had, that was no bigger than my thumb, and looking at how absolutely brilliant his technique was really opened my eyes to how much of a revolutionary man leonardo da vinci is. even today, as in my case, his work and his mind are fueling the fire of a personal artistic revolution within myself thats more complicated than i am willing to write down in such restrictive text. that communication i will leave to my drawings.

leonardo da vinci fucking rules.

edit: see how epic this shit is? and thats just what he wrote down. i bet this dude had some crazy one-liners.

http://www.quotationspage.com/quotes/Leonardo_da_Vinci/

http://www.abeautifulrevolution.com/blog/the_girl_i_love/


they make me sigh.

a lot.

brings back memories.

ive got a lot on my mind. everything might be backwards, but not in the sense that youre probably thinking of...

really though.

i get the feeling, that my eyes are schizophrenic, not me. (read on if youve come this far) what other way is there to describe life? people quite often discuss how we're ultimately alone in the end, and that there's no real way to prove that any of us exist to each other, and if thats the case, and everyday we interact with each other as if we were there,

then wouldnt that confirm that to live life you have to be at least a teeeeny bit crazy?

right?
cause that would prove the backwards thing. everything isnt outside, but inside (oh great, now i sound like goddamn reading rainbow)

anyway im just misunderstood. not by any of you maybe, but to myself, absolutely.

thats probably the source of peoples (my own) victimization complexes anyway. we dont understand ourselves, so even if anyone else DID understand us, we wouldnt know it. and would still think that we were misunderstood ha! thats proof!...well, sort of. that we (I) have to be insane that is....

im just writing this thing to procrastinate this two page essay i have to do for ms hatanaka. curse you mr dennis and you making it so that we have to write in all of our classes!

bleargh! i saw one of my hamsters scuttle across the floor a little while ago, and i swear, the thing disappeared. i even got down on the floor and looked around everything that was in the area. no dice. oh well, i like it when they get exercise. healthy hamsters are happy hamsters. and happy hamsters make happy jeremys.