pimento

illdomyscientificbest:

Ali and I have been listening to Selena Gomez and online shopping for underwear with trashy sayings on the bum. I feel like an annoying 16 year old girl. Why is this happening?  See what you are missing, Haley.

P.S. I miss you and you should tell me how your new adventure is

Come see me.  I’l cleanse that bod of yours of all that Disney star.  Portland is big.  Which is fun. I’m sculpting like a real art student, we should bond on that.  No tacky bum sayings will ever surpass the totally hot suggestive bum photo.  

“Plan B is this:

You’re to be different now.  Your behavior will be changing.  Your thinking is to change.  And people will watch these changes in you and they’ll come to experience the world in your new manner.”

“How?” Richard asks. “How do we change?”

“Richard, tell me this:  back in the old world, didn’t you often feel as if the only way you could fully truly change yourself in the powerful way you yearned for was to die and then start again from scratch?  Didn’t you feel as if all of the symbols and ideas fed to you since birth had become worn out like old shoes?  Didn’t you ache for change but didn’t know how to achieve it?And even if you knew how to do it, would you have the guts to go forth?  Didn’t you want your cards shuffled differently?”

“Yeah Sure.  But didn’t everybody?”

“No. Not always. This feeling is specific to the times we lived in.”

“Okay…”

“And Richard, haven’t you always felt that you live forever on the brink of knowing a great truth?  Well, that feeling is true.  There is a truth, it does exist.”

“Aha!”

“Yes.  Well, now it’s going to be as if you’ve died and were reincarnated but you stay inside your own body.  For all of you.  And in your new lives you’ll have to live entirely for that one sensation - that of imminent truth .  And you’re going to have to holler for it, steal for it, beg for it-and you’re never to stop asking questions about it twenty four hours a day, the rest of your life.

   This is Plan B.

Every day for the rest of your lives, all of your living moments are to be spent making others aware of this need- the need to probe and drill and examine and locate the words that take us beyond ourselves.

Scrape.  Feel.  Dig.  Believe. Ask.

Ask questions, no screech questions out loud-while kneeling in front of the electric doors at Safeway, demanding other citizens ask questions along with you-while chewing up old textbooks and spitting the words onto downtown sidewalks-outside the Planet Hollywood, outside the stock exchange, and outside the Gap.

Grind questions onto the glass on photocopiers.  Scrape challenges onto old auto parts and throw them off bridges so that future people digging in the mud will question the world, too.  Carve eyeballs into tire treads and onto shoe leathers so that your every trail speaks of thinking and questioning and awareness.  Design molecules that crystallize into question marks.  Make barcodes that print out fables, not prices.  You can’t even throw away a piece of litter unless it has a question stamped on it-a demand for people to reach a finer place.”

There’s silence.  The water’s white noise is invisible now.  The sky has cleared and the stars are timidly reappearing, point by point.

“What do we ask?” Wendy says.

“Ask whatever challenges dead and thoughtless beliefs.  Ask: When did we become human beings and stop being whatever it was we were before this? Ask: What was the specific change that made us human? Ask: Why do people not particularly care about their ancestors more than three generations back?  Ask: Why are we unable to think of any future, say, a hundred years from now? Ask: How can we began to think of the future as something enormous before us that also includes us? Ask: Having become human, what is it that we are now doing or creating that will transform us into whatever it is that we are slated to next become?

Even if it means barking on street corners, that’s what you have to do, each time baying louder than before.  You must testify.  There is no other choice”

Taken from Girlfriend in a Coma by Douglas Coupland

rules.  And Haley is super insightful for realizing it.

illdomyscientificbest:

Haley, I just realized you’re missing my art show because of your life/emotional crisis trip. But that’s okay because you can buy my love with luxurious gifts and your sparkling personality. That’s all.

It is sparkling, isn’t it?  Have yo naked ass a ball until I’m home to yell at you for public nudity.  And I suppose the only way to remediate this failing is to turn our home into a PHAT calf reena art show.

And you were a house on fire and I couldn’t understand why
“Burn me all down to the ground,” you said, the fire is on the inside
Flames dancing like ghosts behind the windows
Pain jumping from the walls
You want to keep this private, I can see that
But you can’t ask that of me, we’ve only just met
I said we need hope now more than ever before, do you believe it?
The answer was silence, I’ll take it as a no
We all want to be normal anyways
We all want to be somewhere else than where we live
But that’s not reality, it’s just point of view
Let’s not talk about the weather
And whether or not there’s really rain in the clouds
Unless you just want to know if I feel the same as you
It’s more measuring up than just wasting time
But time is not on our side, you’re burning
Rain would only be a temporary fix
And there’s just no place right now for cute ironies like that anymore
You’re a house on fire

We all write songs about life, we just sing them different
You sing the words but you don’t know the song
And you expect us all to sing along, how selfish
The lengths that we go to to put so much distance between us is staggering
You’re burning alive with stress and life
Both hands in flames trying to hold the fire inside
Drop and roll, repeat line for emphasis
I’ll repeat it and repeat it until you believe it
You’re gonna be ok, say it to me
The answer is still silence, I’ll take it as a maybe
I can’t decide if I should knock down your door or on it
Say the word and I’ll take a hatchet to your heart or a pin prick
Cut right through the dark, let it spill out the contents
On our knees sorting through the remnants
Pour out your hate in my hands, I’ll let it slip through my fingers
And this is for all of us
And this is for the times that we only listen long enough to know that the other person we’re talking to has the same opinions we do
For when we’re burning inside, for when we’re trying to hide that fact
This is for the scalps that we went after to be only the best-dressed
Add another notch to our belts, add another feather to our headdress
I want to be the bigger man for you, but I can’t take all this truth
I’m trying to kick the habit here, but these track marks are 100 proof
“Burn me all down to the ground,” you said
I’ll kick through your ashes, hope they sober up my head

You have to make sure that I cook an all out meal at least once a week this summer.  I mean, we’ll have to cook dinner every night, but once a week I want to try a new recipe/technique of sorts or whatever and have a real meal.  I’ve been food gawking for an hour now.