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Can't help but rant:   
04:50pm 27/03/2008
  Pulled from : http://www.sfsignal.com/archives/006391.html
Which was started here: http://nancykress.blogspot.com/2008/02/ya-shock.html
In regards to the 'explicit' nature of YA fantasy/sci-fi. Too explicit?
I perhaps take exception, as I find self-censorship of thought to be as dangerous as governmental censorship or suppression of thought. It is certainly far more invasive, as we now live in a country where 'thought crime' exists.

( Rant, or rambling, can't quite tell )

If anyone reads this, and absolutely positive doesn't agree with me, I accept this. I hope you spend some time thinking on it, however. 'For the children' has become the rallying cry of both Big Brother and Little Sister. The Nanny State is not simply a thought exercise. The self-abnegation of personal responsibility into the hands of our lawmakers and corporate interest groups is as visible in the small places as it is in the large. Those who accept that a single standard can cover all possibilities are denying themselves freedoms as well as others. There is middle ground, however easily we fall into categories settled in black and white. If it requires more effort than you are willing to make, please check out of the human race.		  
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Write fast, die slow   
05:41pm 13/05/2004
  Well, it's been a fantastic week. A front brake job, a broken drivers side window last night as we were heading out to dinner, my vacation plans started to come together. And then my boss got thrown in jail yesterday for 90 days. All hail the new Kitchen Manager Pro-Tem.
Fuck me right in the ass. I already have plane tickets, and my boss, though apparently she mentioned a raise YESTERDAY for me during this period of no-kitchemanager, today didn't seem willing to discuss it.
That's not alright with me. If I'm doing my job, and 70% of the actual work of HIS job, I expect (and will shortly demand, I don't doubt) a bit of grease on the wheels of my sanity. Because I gave up my day off today to keep them from having unholy, unnatural hell descend on them in the form of the monthly Chamber of Commerce meeting.
I mean, nobody else who works there could imagine a way to make a vegetable quiche. I made it happen, like the god-beast that I am.
Jesus, the world is just full of fools and fatuous fucks.
It's just a good thing I don't read the news or watch the nightly horror-fest on TV that shows at 9 and 10.
I'd very likely be preparing myself to battle it out against the new Cthonic overlords who've recently invaded Nigeria and Guatemala and are even now plotting the downfall of all free nations by overwhelming them with media-friendly psychopathic babbling fools who wear the 'only driven once' faces of snarling baboons.
Or maybe I just hate the guys who do the weather and sports.
At least Denver's decided to snow on us, now that the window in the car's broken. How very sweet. And to think that Tuesday was a nice 85 degree day that I spent entirely indoors, chained to a heat lamp and whipped with "Thank you" plastic bags for to-go orders and reams of paper bearing arcanely determined prices for foodstuffs.
What the hell, I'm leaving in 6 days. California, not exactly my favorite state (of being or the Union), but there's some good people there. Hopefully I'll see them when I manage to gnaw free from the familiar, uncomfortable zip-ties of family.
"Daddy, why doesn't anyone understand me?"
"Maybe because they can't tell what you're saying unless I take the duct tape off your mouth."
(Inserted non-quote randomness in place of the absolutely VULGAR and CRUDE and downright DEHUMANIZING things that I'd prefer to say)		  
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Another night.   
12:33am 10/12/2003
  Another night in Parker. God damn, but the inside of the WaffleHouse is becoming as familiar as the inside of my eyelids. When you begin to learn the names of the staff, and what's going on in their lives, it's not neccesarily a good thing. Especially when you figure out that the stack of used creamers from the coffee you drank in the last hour can easily do double duty by acting as a yardstick.
At least I'm easily (too easily, it feels) on my way to becoming the 'go to' man at my job, with our corporate chef *cough*Jerkass*cough* gone the way of the Passenger Pigeon and the Dodo.
The money, of course, doesn't change much, no matter what position you hold in the kitchen, until you get salaried and it drops down to about 5 bucks an hour, since you spend most of your life there.
However, settling in here is a bit easier. Nicer, too, with computer access and a few people to talk to. Somehow, though, I'm the only person my girlfriend can manage to talk to. The people who never, ever developed the essential skill of personality-editing-for-the-enviroment are at a loss when transplanted, I guess.
At least the heat's on tonight, with 2 inches of new snow out the window and 3 inches of slush-turned-ice on the roads. The coffee is leaving a warm, leaden pool in my belly though.
Thankfully, the muses were sweet and brilliant on my shoulder tonight while I was sitting there, feeling the spill of sensation from the cold window and the heater vent just above combine for maximum discomfort.
Somehow, adversity and neccesity are truly the mothers of creation (not invention, nor application, but creation, though either of the former can be applied as easily as the latter; it's just not me).
There are things that go well in life, but there's far more that's just unpleasant for me right now. Including relationships. Let's not go there, though.
At least the Jaegermeister in the freezer is happily turning into sludge, which will nicely counterbalance the heat in my stomach. However, the churning sensation when the two combine is something I don't quite feel up to anticipating.
And tomorrow, a whole 15 minutes at work, to make a single bread order! How fuckin' amusing.
My structure is, no doubt, totally disjointed here. But hey, you don't have to read it if you don't damned well please.
Got a girl from work hitting on me.
Got a pair of toes that're slightly discolored from my socks and freezing, soaked shoes on the walk home.
Got a total lack of money for the Hellidaze.
And I really just want to sit down with my few true friends and talk for a long time over a table, letting the world fade into the blank history it so truly deserves.		  
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Reality.   
03:20pm 08/09/2003
  Somehow, reality's come askew and nearly undone once more.
Things seem to be unravelling in minor ways, at least, thankfully.
But the small things are still nothing to be ignored, reallty, I guess.
Perhaps a year to a year and a half in florida, working with my landlord/housemate, will be possible for me. Making way more money than I have in my life sounds pretty good right now, for understandable reasons, yes?
Well, no.
The girlfriend would have a fucking fit, for one thing.
Then the people who were planning to visit me here would not be finding me here, as it were, since I'd be away almsot all the time.
It'd be quite profitable, though. Quite.
Could get the car I want.
Mmm
Alas, such thigns do have their unfortunate side, such as the girlfriend problems. Paying my half of the rent here, AND in Florida.
Hell, don't even know if the dude is gonna go do it, so it'd be hard to plan on it at the moment.
Best of all, the entire thing would begin in 5 weeks. At least it's not 5 days, though.
Yes, so many things to think of, as I clamber through the sunlit streets of Colorado.
Definitely need a fucking car.
There's that to consider, but still, it'd beat the fucking hell out of workign at this shitty brewpud(tm) resteraunt I'm slaving at now, and hating basically every moment of the time I spend there.
Fuckin' lazy coworkers.
I'm not sure if I'm exhausted more mentally, or physically. both things seem to be in high demand, but not much more than just my brute slave-labor and organizational skills. Neither of which are exactly things I consider to be my best aspects. Aawww feckit, I'm going to go drop anotehr 100 dollars at Borders.
And fuck George R. R. Martin with a stick, at least until he gives out the new book, which has been delayed until JUNE of 2004, when the release date was THIS FUCKIGN MONTH.
Nothing spells obsessive writer-stalking hatred like delayed installments on a GREAT FUCKING STORY		  
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Hell is risen, aaaaayeee   
01:24pm 05/08/2003
  Well, here I am in Denver, sitting on my ass in a public library, trying to pretend that I';m looking for a job while reallyj ust wasting my time trying to keep caught up on the various net-things that demand much of my attention when I'm gone for more than a few days.
Unfortunately, the job hunt is becoming discouraging, mainly in the event that most of the available work situations are a great distance from my present residence, and I cannot damned well walk to work over 15 or more miles of city. At least there's a bus system, but it seems to be rather unreliable and probably slow and fucking expensive to boot.
However, for one ray of bright fucking sunshine, my girlfriend is about to start breaking my neck over my staring at all the beauty in this metropolitan area. What can I say? That kind of thing catches my eye, and the day I stop appreciating it, you may damned well hammer the nails on my coffin home.
So what is a young, virulent (and no, I don't mean virile) man to do with himself in this kind of a situation? I highly have considered turning into a male escort, hell, the pay's damned good!
That or direct sales (door to door, in other words, a way to eat shotgun) for Comcast internet/phone/cable/etc/etc/etc.
But hell, I'd feel like a total idiot walking up to someone's doior and smackign the doorbell while trying to sell them something I damned well can't afford or wouldn't pay for if I did for soem reason manage to afford it.
Anywell, hooboy. At least my roommates are tolerably long in the head (Damn you steven brust, damn you to hell for writing that!) and I've managed to keep myself established as a above-board, sane young man. What a crock of shit. I keep thinking about doing something totally 'in character' for my true, facade-less self, but really it's not worth the efforts or recriminations for the results.
But these things are all really a great big aside.
The real problem is this:
What in the hell am I doing sitting in a public library, dressed in 'going to interview for jobs' clothing, and typing gfaster than anyone in the 5 block radios?
Screw the slowpokes, it's not my fault this place can't seem to afford a quiet keyboard, huh?
At least it'll give some of these teenagers a laugh.
And speaking of teenagers, what the hell si with this suburban nightmare I've found myself living in? Teenagers, working every job available. Just because they need their spare money to buy whawtever products and music are currently the hottest 'in' thing, mainstream or out of mainstream.
Ok, that's enough of my meandering bullshit, I'm only wandering mentally across a page here, huh?
Time to go back to the car, and blast Black Sabbath untikl I think I might just have enough sanity to deal with another cold-walkinn on getting a job from somewhere that should be damned well PRIVILEDGEd to have me work there.
My favorite question so far:
"When was the last time you smoked crack on the job?"		  
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Reality   
09:30am 27/06/2003
  Well, now that I've been convinced that I need a Livejournal, here goes.
Waking up is hard to do. A warm woman, the sudden burst of Metallica through your speakers, shocking you both out of a comfortable and warm place which you really don't want to leave.
But soon, soon, my child.
The throb of a headache, the whine of a woman who does damned well not want to go to work in the morning, and expects sympathy for it, to boot.
Why the hell do I do these things? Might as well just start the coffee and shock my system into motion. Got a buddy calling to ask me to help him out with doing rental stuff today, picking up and delivery tents & chairs & shit. Fuck, I hate that work, used to do it all the time. And not today, the aches are too insistent about remaining in the knotted muscles from head to toe.
Damn it all anyways, we need to burn this flesh clean. The smoke from all the forest fires has settled into sinus and throat, leaving constant reminders with the slight pain of each breath.
Fuck, I love summer.		  
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hasai
 
 

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