Archive for June, 2008

Those Were The Days

Posted in Ennui on June 27, 2008 by polarbearface

Hi, uh is, Sarita there?

Who this?

Hey! It’s me. I was thinking maybe you know, we could, go get a bite to eat
maybe check out that new Rambo mov–

– Seriously. Who this?
I know you?

It’s uh…it’s me Howarde (with an e), from two nights ago.
Do you remember, me?

Oh right. Yeah. I remember you. Hey listen…about that. The other night.
I had a lot of fun. You’re a cool guy. (Sighhh) But I just ain’t ready for this shit.
You know gettin’ serious. I’m sorry… Goodbye uh…

It’s, Howarde.

Howardde… Yeah.
..sorry, bye..


I, think
it’s over…

Ahhh.. Man, don’t worry about her… You’re a good guy.

Yeah, but I was really into her. I felt, something.

Now – now wait. You just wait, you’re an awesome guy. A fun guy!
And a damn good man. A whole lotta’ people can attest to that.
Hay. You know what?


It just so happens that while running my Bar, I run into a lotta’ ladies
looking for a good man — could maybe introduce you.

Hey, that’d be really great! Do you know anyone in mind?

I sure as hell do buddy — name’s Akiko Takahashi. She’d be just perfect for you!
Gotta a nice pair a’, you know — way up your alley man… yes sir —

– Well, I want serious relationships — no one-time thing.
I’m tired of the games..

Would I, your best buddy, ever in a million billion years,
screw you like that? C’mon, man – You’re my boy!

Thanks…man thanks.
For everything.


It’s Like, You know, a Social Thing

Posted in Social Studies on June 24, 2008 by polarbearface

Sleep it off Caruso. Sleep it off.

David, Ally and I are both disappointed in you.

Many people over the times have been confused by things they do not readily understand. When you read Proust, Nabokov, Dickens, or I don’t know, Charlotte Brontë on a cool, summer day, you might have to read through it a bit slower than say, People Magazine. Unfortunately, this is our culture. For instance, when you read Lolita, for the first time, it’s perhaps unlikely that you will completely understand ALL of the impressive literary references. These days, things have changed. And although I’m certainly no Mozart of the English language, I do know talent whence my eyes hath feast upon it. It is at this point, I would like to request a thought towards the best writers in our digital age, those of the Interwebs. (Everyone that’s anyone uses, this very specific and boring terminology.) Many people use the Internet for writing. I am one of them. And like you, who surely writes as you do breathe the fine air of this planet, I find it enchanting to throw in several of the slightest literary and newsworthy references from time to time. Or as the Franch would say, la recherche du temps en temps.

Place of Where They Make You Better

Moving on, towards the individual’s instinct to write, draw, scribble, and doodle, dare I say, is it possible, that our visual cortex has or is being reformatted to write better through the screen of a computer, rather than that of the pencil and paper? Is this one single step forward in our evolution! Are we being entirely abused by the ease of typing, word font, the fitting cliche terminology, etc. etc.? Why, I dare say we are. I wonder what human evolution has to say about this… Moreover, I wonder what Detective Caruso would say about this.

Explain this to me...

An interesting part about this blog is that after you read it, you will suddenly feel as though you’ve…done this, before. Or that you’ve, had a moment of strong coincidence… I assure you, it’s likely that this is because I’ve somehow tapped into your consciousness. Because I have an ability to see into people’s words, feel their presence, know what they’re thinking before they know I know, and how to adjust accordingly to their body temperature because that’s what I was taught… Or maybe I don’t have said, magical powers. It’s not like I’ve evolved any different from the next guy.


Papi, why u do dis to me?

You know, a lot of people have asked me this in the last 4 days: what is your blog about? Or, I love it. So, what’s it abo— Stop. Just stop. I’m going to ‘splain this to you right now. Clear this up. My blog, is about, being a 14 year old girl who just wants to fall in love all over again, and not with that ugly boy at summer camp. It’s about being a 23 year old boy, who just wants to write to no one, because he has everyone to talk to, and sing to, and be appreciated by, etc. etc.


What what, in da butt

It’s about being a 10 year old dog, plainly wondering what life is about, why his fur is falling out, why his eyes can’t see as well, and why his food tastes like cardboard. It’s about you. It’s about being together in this crazy world, together, you and me. The author and the audience. Your reaction, and my reaction to your reaction. It’s about us, and them. It’s about this:

I can’t stand how you eat. Like one of those goddam polar bears.
What’s it to you? You didn’t seem to mind when we were together.


So, just because I eat like a polar – I can’t even say it…that’s low. That’s below the belt.
It’s the truth. You’re a slob. Just look at Blinkie’s friend, hey you. Hey!
What’s your name?
“Blast Off.”
What? the fu-?
Your name Dude. Blast Off? Seriously?
“Yes, my mother was Three, Two One.”
“My father was Bomb’s Away.”

Oh my god, oh…wow. WOW.

It’s That Time, Again

Posted in Ennui on June 23, 2008 by polarbearface

Who am I

You’re just a computer. You could .. never understand.

I’ve been taking in a lot of weird waves these past few days. Weird waves are good waves, but when the weird waves start to loop, it becomes a weirder wave, and then I buckle. Like, a broken show. Right down the middle. The loop, circles around like a fly buzzing, my brains. Pink melt. I wish I could be more confident when approaching the past. I guess what I’m trying to say is that, I feel like my soul’s interface has been hacked by the Gibson:

Anyhow, I’m getting through it all. Or was, until I found out about Carlin’s Death. Very sad. He actually helped me to stop doing drugs (Snare, SYMBOLS; SNARE). Seriously. I was 14, or 15. And looked like this:


And I was doing all sorts of drugs because I thought that’s how it had to be, you know, on account of my being a product of weird, parental abandonment issues. ANYHow. I was watching one of Carlin’s stand up routines, when he said something to the effect of, “Your body knows when it’s done with a particular drug…” It was at this point that I realized, ACID was done with me at this point. I blame acid for my emotional awkwardness. Notwithstanding, I moved on, unlike some people.


No, that’s not what I meant.

Well what did you mean? Is this a game to you?

Listen guys, get a room.


So, you just think you can come here, and things will be alright, like nothing happened?

That’s not what I’m saying, you’re not listening.

Then what are you say–

Please, guys, trying to drink.

“Stay out of this Blinkie.”

“Yeah Blinkie, or it’ll be like that one time! Why don’t you and your quite weird friend make like a tree and leave… Jesus…”

So, is this it then?

Is what it?

This, wait. That’s weird.


That guy’s taking pictures of us.

Way to change the subject.

The Way You Move Is A Mystery

Posted in Uncategorized on June 6, 2008 by polarbearface

Know thyself.

I never thought I’d be the first to say, that damn, I’d like to get a motorcycle because you know what sucks? Being hot and having to walk your bike 3 miles back from the bank that you didn’t make it to because you got a flat, and forgot to pack your air pump. Just in case no one is reading this, that’s sarcasm. But if you are reading this, then it’s still sarcasm. My humor these days is like this:

I know, double you tea ef?

So, wheels. Yeah, everyone I know in Austin has a ride. Except 5 or 6 people. I know 4 people with cars. 5 people with motorized 2 wheel driving contraptions, and 2 people like myself, with proper peddling simple machines. If all of the people with cars need to be on a train leaving Chicago at 4PM, and headed to Hertfordshire by the following day (airfare / boatfare not included in equation package); and the 5 people with 2-wheel motorized driving contraptions are on a land boat, traveling approximately 55 MPH, roughly around the same time the train is leaving (except 2 weeks prior) — when will the 2 people like myself most likely meet up for beers on Sunday? Anyone? No one? Well. Well, does anyone remember this remarkably well-shot scene:

“Dude, I booked this conference room. Not you. So get out.”

“What, but I thought, that — wait. Is this a joke? This is a joke isn’t it?”

“Yes. It is.”

“Yawn…I wonder what Linda’s doing now…probably programming another me, hehe…”

“You know I really shouldn’t let it bother me, but it does, like, what does she think she’s doing?”

“You know this is stupid. I shouldn’t be mad. Ha, I’m not getting mad over another identical me, that’s – Life. Life happens, and you just gotta roll with it.”

“Come to think of it, I just feel like a lot of my time is spent worrying about stuff like that.”

“I need to just, relax. Not get mad at the little things.”

“You know what. I’m gonna turn over a new leaf. Out with all that negativity. In with some real positive change.”

You know, I have to say, I’m real glad I don’t work for the office anymore. That life was weird. I felt weird, like I was a business dude, always working, always making the big bucks, always on top of my business, and making conference calls, and giving lectures in leadership. I mean, the life, the drinks, the free access into booty-town, the booty-town corporate events, booty-town in the conference room at midnight, I mean… Just kidding. Booty-town is something I just made up. But my bosses had plenty of that. But things between us, just didn’t sit right. I knew what they were up to. And I left. Because we all know what happens when you stick around.