(no subject)
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I write like
J. K. Rowling

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

This is the entry that I used:


(no subject)
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It's been a while. I'm not sure how long exactly but definitely a while. Things have come together and come apart. Events were witnessed and occasionally participated in. I might have even partaken in some foodin and drinkin and sleepin. Things have been things. You know how things are.

In a way it has all been good for this writer's outlook on things. When writing it sometimes feels like an absence of doing. You can write about so many things but you're not experiencing anything while writing. It is a very still act. Stones write, waterfalls experience. Or asteroids. Or rolling stones. Heh, Rolling Stones. Mick Jagger Meister.

How far have we come? Technologically speaking, I mean. I can imagine the early 70s. Sitting on a folding chair outside of my front door during a warm summer eve, with a typewriter on my lap and a stack of paper to my left or my right. Typing away at the night, pounding keys that echo against the trees and houses that surround me.

And now? Now I sit, netbook on lap. Hell, it's even kinda shaped like a typewriter. Writing random thoughts that might end up online somewhere. The dog chasing the sounds of random strangers passing by.

It's the end of July. August comes next. We've already passed the equinox and the days are shrinking and this is - this is what it is supposed to be. And just like the pink horizon I find closure in the darkness that envelops us that we call night. But feelings and emotions do not reality reflect. They're just chemical meditations upon the events that happen external of us. Or maybe they're something else. I don't know. I'm just rambling on. Typing for the hell of it.

Over and out?

"Cold clear liquid in the refridgerator (water or vodka?)"
Leo cartoon
The sun is like a gold madonna
And when she bears down upon me with her manta rays of heat
I curse her
But, secretly, in my heart
I must admit,
I miss the 80s.

(no subject)
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I was going to write a short movie about a stand-up comic. He's doing his act and, unbeknownst(sp?) to him, there's a zombie plague going on. As he's doing his routines, unable to see the audience due to the spotlight on him, the audience eventually becomes all zombies. He's talking to a crowd that's not responding to his humor and so he becomes depressed and kills himself on-stage only to then rise up..as a zombie. I was going to call it "Dead Serious" but that name's already taken.

(no subject)
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You know it's a cold winter when a temperature of 30+ seems warm to you.

Sick on a Tuesday morning....
Leo cartoon
I'm sick. I don't like being sick. I especially don't like being sick nights. Now this type of sickness is not a fever sickness as with a fever sickness I am usually unable to sleep, or, have to force myself to sleep only to experience the monotony of 2 minute dreams in which I perform a basic, boring task and somehow have my attention horribly focused upon it. i.e. the putting on of socks. I'd be forcing myself to remain in the sleep state only to wake up in hot sweat.And going back to sleep again. And the socks again. And waking up. Each period lasting seemingly a couple of minutes.

No, I'm sick with a different sickness. Some sort of infection but no fever. My lymph nodes are enlarged, swollen. This started on Saturday the 7th. Maybe it was building up earlier. Recently my throat started to hurt. Maybe I should take up singing while sick. I lost my voice due to a cold once and had to force air through it to make loud noises that came out as high pitched squeaks. I could finally sing like a castrato with my balls intact. It was actually a good time knowing that I can do this for a while until my regular voice returned.

When I went back to Moscow with my family in the summer of '02 I spent a whole day talking in my Stephen Hawking voice. That is that while we normally talk while exhaling I was talking while inhaling. My vocal chords, not being used to this, take upon a sort of vibratory machine/voice synthesis sound and I walk around sounding like the old English cosmologist himself. But after  of about half a day of this humorous endeavor something clicked and I started to sound normal while talking while inhaling. However, to my amusement, I discovered that now talking "normally" (as in when exhaling) I now sounded like a machine. This lasted for a bit. I think a few minutes because I didn't want my regular voice to remain that way so I stopped the inhale-talking and kept quiet for most of the rest of that day.

I still remember a specific aspect of that summer. Sitting in the kitchen in the middle of a summer Moscow night, drinking tea, trying to write (pen on paper) and looking out the window at the boulevard below. It was the apartment of a family friend and he had not used it since his mother had died. If memory serves it was, like most Russian apartments, filled with books. With books placed perpendicularly behind the regular stacks in order to save shelf space. There is something inspiring about the written word and something magically weird. Two people can glance at the same written symbols and get a general meaning out of it with their heads, and personal experiences providing the more exact details. This hasn't been fully developed with films yet however a lot of good directors have mastered the half-revealing allure of books thus allowing their moving picture creations to hold enough vagueness to remain entertaining through many viewings. No, I'm not going to list those movies here. Well, maybe not yet.

Drinking black tea ("English Breakfast".) 2 bags with a slice of lemon (lemon juice in tea is just awesome) and a spoon, stainless steel, inside a plastic blue mug with "Southwestern Bell" plastered on the side in gold lettering to the right of the Bell symbol.

The sun has come up. It is now Tuesday. I'm semi-wrapped in a blanket and am slightly cold. My throat still hurts. The tea is helping.

Paalam, you noobs. I'm out!

Stolen from IlyaG
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1. You can ONLY answer 'Yes' or 'No'.

2. You are NOT ALLOWED to explain ANYTHING unless someone messages or comments you and asks.

Kissed any one of your LiveJournal friends? — Yes
Been arrested? — No
Kissed someone you didn't like? — No
Slept in until 5 PM? — Yes
Fallen asleep at work/school? — Yes
Held a snake? — Yes
Ran a red light? — No
Been suspended from school? — No
Experienced love at first sight? — No
Totaled your car in an accident? — No
Been fired from a job? — No
Fired somebody? — No
Sung karaoke? — Yes
Pointed a gun at someone? — No
Did something you told yourself you wouldn't? — No
Laughed until something you were drinking came out your nose? — No
Caught a snowflake on your tongue? — Yes
Kissed in the rain? — Yes
Had a close brush with death (your own)? — Yes
Saw someone die? — Yes
Played Spin-the-Bottle? — Yes
Smoked a cigar? — Yes
Sat on a rooftop? — Yes
Smuggled something into another country? — No
Been pushed into a pool with all your clothes? — No
Broken a bone? — No
Skipped school? — Yes
Eaten a bug? — Yes
Sleepwalked? — No
Walked on a moonlit beach? — Yes
Ridden a motorcycle? — No
Dumped someone? — Yes
Forgotten your anniversary? — No
Lied to avoid a ticket? — No
Ridden in a helicopter? — No
Shaved your head? — No
Blacked out from drinking? — No
Played a prank on someone? — Yes
Hit a home run? — No
Felt like killing someone? — No
Cross-dressed? — No
Been falling-down drunk? — No
Made your girlfriend/boyfriend cry? — Yes
Eaten snake? — No
Marched/Protested? — Yes
Had Mexican jumping beans for pets? — No
Puked on an amusement ride? — No
Seriously & intentionally boycotted something? — No
Been in a band? — No
Knitted? — No
Been on TV? — Yes
Shot a gun? — Yes
Skinny-dipped? — Yes
Given someone stitches? — No
Eaten a whole habenero pepper? — No
Ridden a surfboard? — No
Drunk straight from a liquor bottle? — Yes
Had surgery? — Yes
Streaked? - No
Been taken by ambulance to a hospital? — No
Passed out when NOT drinking? — No
Peed on a bush? — Yes
Donated Blood? — Yes
Grabbed electric fence? — No
Eaten alligator meat? — No
Eaten cheesecake? — Yes
Eaten your kids' Halloween candy? — No
Killed an animal when not hunting? — No
Peed your pants in public? — Yes
Snuck into a movie without paying? — Yes
Written graffiti? — No
Still love someone you shouldn't? — No
Think about the future? — Yes
Been in handcuffs? — Yes
Believe in love? — Yes
Sleep on a certain side of the bed? — No

Tiny Toons
Hmm, I moved to Manhattan. I didn't really expect it and it turned out to be a spur-of-the-moment type decision caused by me seizing an opportunity by the coat tails. But tonight (or, technically, last twilight) upon walking home I reflected that it was a good choice. Not  only because I'm in Manhattan and thus location-wise I'm quite close to the social and economic epicenter of New York but because, as I was walking home from the grocery store, I was reminded of how much this place feels like Moscow. Not the real physical Moscow of today but the vague memorable Moscow of my kid youth. The Moscow which lives on in the nostalgic remnants of memory within my mind. My childhood in Moscow, as well as the 2 subsequent trips back there, are my Kaddath in the cold waste. It reminds me of a story from a Russian book that I have called "The Troll's Gift". The book itself is a collection of Scandinavian children's stories most of which related in some ways to trolls. There is a story there about a kid who, alone in his bedroom one evening, hears a knock on his window. The origin of the knock is from some magical character who ends up taking the kid to this land which exists only in the twilight. A land that is a sort of overlay over our real reality. And as I was walking to my new Manhattan home today in the twilight I was reminded of how this story as well as the Twilight Zone series relays the concept that the twilight is somehow weird. And it is. It feels like that. The weirdest thing is that it always feels nostalgic to me. As if all twilights are part of the same time period. Like in that comics, "The Invisibles", some time/place combinations are related because they are spacial and temporal locations where another universe is intersecting with ours. That's how twilight feels like to me. Like it's the same event repeated whenever I'm outside experiencing that part of the evening. And I get a similar feeling looking out the window at night. It feels like home but from god knows when.


[LJ2ME (http://www.xfyre.com/sw/lj2me.html)] I write random things
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He had a brilliant way of making money. He'd hang out at socialite parties and seduce rich female ceos and get confidential information from them while in bed. He used this information to play the market, raking in tons of profit. He called it "inside-her trading."

Late night early morning thoughts
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So we think in words...but what if we don't think in words? What if words are just ..... identifiers? stretched around concepts or whatever sublayer it is in which we think in?


Ever have something in your head that seems logical? Or maybe something that seems to flow? As in rhythmically/rhyming? But when you phrase it externally (i.e. say it out loud) it doesn't flow or isn't as logical as it seemed in your head.

Maybe the underlying layer of thought is plastic and easily mutable but the verbal concepts (I don't know if "identifiers" is the correct word. Maybe avatars? Like cookie cutters dipped half way into water. They give a semblance of shape to something shapeless) have limiters. And when the concepts are being phrased in our heads with verbal identifiers we might be ignoring some but not all of the rules that apply to that aspect of identifiers. Like grammar or something. But when we express this concept externally like by speaking we can't ignore the rules and limits of the identifiers as easily and need to fess up to the fact that they affect the external output of our thoughts more than we thought they did (i.e. what we end up saying might not rhyme or whatever)

Uhm...this is hard to express properly. Need nap.


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