An old stupid poem I found

If you are in a car
Know this
I didn't invent the car
And I didn't invent a damn thing
It's all already been said
Done and did again
I once read a quote
"The overabundance of truth cannot be consumed"
and
"All possible interpretations, even the most contradictory - all true"
so
The overwhelming truth is that it's all true
and we'll never know it all
so where does reality lie?
Or is reality just a lie?
All the cliches can't be wrong
We tell ourselves the truth
and so do they
and we're all just being honest
Brutally and sincerely
Compassionately
With every ton of our being
George Washington never told a lie
but that's a lie
just like the cherry tree
Cross my heart and hope to die
Scouts honor
My hand is on the bible
Nails chewed to the flesh
The whole truth and nothing but the truth
The world is on trial
And we're all wrongfully accused
Billions sent to the electric chair
Billions sizzling and scared
Seeking the forgiveness for a crime without a witness
That everyone saw
And everyone confessed
That they did this
Because the truth left no stone unturned
Because evey stone was simultaneously turned
And every stone was left unturned
And we all burned
were burned
and always will be burned
Or is it the opposite?
Can the truth reverse regret?
And are we all just the gods and godesses of our pets?
And the truth remains I'm now just rhyming where it fits
Can you find the truth
just by faking it?

Primer 2

At this moment 10% of my final paper for Rhetorical Places is complete. I have a guiding idea that I can use to fill in 20-25 pages but it's likely going to be sloppy. I have to manipulate my field notes, not in an unethical way, to be exemplars of the theory I am pushing. The challenge here is going to be using rhetorical sources from class. I am not going to overload it with sources. I don't think I need to. If I find out later that I do need to well then so be it. It's due tomorrow so fuck it.

Consumption consumption consumption.

Primer

Deep breaths and such. When it comes down to it, the amount of time I spend writing a paper (10 pages, that is) comes down to 2-5 hours depending on the complexity. Sure, there is reading and prep work involved but really it's not much actual writing time. And since I never edit before turning in, this means even less time. Which means, start fucking writing. This post here is my primer, reminding me that I have the ability to write more than 140 characters or the Facebook equivalent with links and videos. With the amount of time I wasted this weekend, I could have all three final papers done. But I didn't have the panic then. The panic that inspires haphazard, coffee fueled, sleep deprived sentences to form on the page. Most of the time I don't even know what I'm saying before it appears in front of me. There is some cognitive science that explains this but I don't remember where I read it. Anyway, in hindsight it usually turns out ok if not a little rough around the edges.

I just shifted in my seat and farted in the process. Did the people behind me hear? Who knows! Head phones in, shame averted.

So I am off to write about the problem of parrhesia in modern democracy and human affinity for Truth. OR some such nonsense.

There, that's like a page, right? No problem.

TELEVISION

Tonight I end the tyranny of unfinished seasons of lovable television shows. Tonight, I will begin to focus and not be left wondering, "What happens!?" Dexter season two is complete. I will not procure the next few seasons until the summer. Veronica Mars ends tonight. I swear I'm not addicted. Your mom is addicted. YOUR MOM.

Here it is...

Skate

Bought a new board. The deck is Null, a local skateboard company, with Venture trucks, Spitfire 92D 54mm wheels, and I actually don't remember what kind of bearings. It's an 8.25 width instead of the 7.75 that I used to ride. I've only ridden it about 1/6 of a mile but so far it is super smooth, smoother than I've ever ridden before, and I feel more balanced even on faster downhills. I'm looking forward to riding around more and getting back into skating in general. This has been a boring update.

Dogs dogs dogs

Boy my dogs are tired!

Scotch n me...

Are having a little get together. A reading party. Glenlivet on the rocks and a book on toxic tourism. And a sleeping cat curled up on the table basket. Quiet except for the buzzing of the fridge and dryer, the occasional bird chirping. Zombie dog is asleep in the couch, dreaming and silently emanating foul smells from her rotting mouth. All is well in the world.

Fooled you

I'm here. George Lopez just popped on the television. We have secret partial cable without paying for it. But we watch netflix instead. Cause fuck commercials geez.

Night owl

I'm realizing more and more that I should rework my schedule to allow for late nights. Instead of committing to waking up super early, I should commit to staying up really late, perhaps even napping in the early evening to at least get some much needed sleep before I stay up late doing work. I don't know if this will stave off the procrastination but I do way better work at night and I'm usually too tired to maintain it. I wasted hours today just staring. I could have been doing other things or napping knowing full well I wouldn't get shit done. How can I make this a reality without it seeming super odd to everyone around me and generally fucking with the day to day living situation?

New method

Write without concern for the end product. Write without concern for citations. Write what I'm trying to say and then see if the research I've done supports it rather than the other way around. I can only keep so many things in my head at once and when it comes to getting down the argument, my own ideas should probably take precedent. I can always edit them later.

Two pages down.
Eight (minimum) to go.

And now a poem:

Too many god damn cooks in the god damn kitchen
Said the man with the man tattoo
On his manly arm

Shut the fuck up, George, you idiot
Said the other man acting manly
With his manly mouth

Man, y'all just need to cool it off like chicken broth
Said the third man mandating manners
To the man and the other man

I don't understand. What is happening here?
Said a man demanding an answer
Nearby, a bystander, standing

No, really.
Look over there.
In the kitchen.
Five god damn cooks.
In a small god damn kitchen.
Making manicotti.
Clearly that kitchen can only hold four fucking cooks.
Said the man with the man tattoo.

You are insignificant and nobody cares.
Shouted a woman from across the street.
Who wasn't listening. And didn't care.

A conversation with a friend recently had us questioning our desire to move on to PhD programs after getting our MAs. At the heart of this conversation was a desire for hands on work or outdoor work. I miss the warehouse, I miss putting things together or cleaning things up, driving around with the windows down to do some task or another, organizing rooms and pallets. Anyway, that's one way to go. There's something about manual labor that is more and more attractive. Maybe this is a normal thought process to go through in grad school, constantly questioning what you think you know or your ability and willingness to research and write. The learning part isn't the question, it's the producing part. And always feeling you should be doing something else in every moment.

Anyway, that's a thought.

Run

Odin is behind me trying desperately to unravel a rope toy. When he gets down to the last strands of toys he gnashes his teeth together trying to get those last little bits. The sound is terrible. We are about to go for a run. In case you didn't know, the following is an excellent tool for planning your runs. I wanted to stay off sidewalks as much as possible since Odin would be with me and this was helpful.

http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/

3.1 miles. And hopefully Odin will get worn out and not bother me all day while I work on writing this paper.

The Internet

The internet has become a glorified LiveJournal. That's why you don't miss it that much. Its everywhere!

Before

This is the yard before we tear it up and plant some grass seed. And before I breath in way too much dust.

Testing mobile blogging

Because I have nothing better to do. Did it work? How about this picture I am about to take...

Bloggggggggggggggggs.

Oh, and that picture.

That's a shitty cell phone picture of a "painting" I made for my good friend Georgia for some reason, birthday or moving away, I can't remember! It has been cropped and mirrored. Last I saw it it was hanging in a hallway, slowly fading away because I used permanent markers instead of paint. The larger picture has a table with a flower with a face saying, "ESCAPE!" AND THEN SHE DID!

Title Page

This is a reference to my first blogger blog which still exists but is private and only accessible to like 8 people. It's called The Quiet Media and it is still quiet. This one is a little bit louder. It's also not my other public one called Non-Academia. I keep feeling constrained like I have to maintain the gimmick so hells bells I just started a new one to quell my attention span's longing for things other than whatever I am doing at the moment.

I just bought two coffee related items. My headache is almost gone. Too much shooooooogar. I didn't intentionally misspell sugar at first but in the process of deleting I decided to undelete and keep typing. This is the kind of quality life-reporting you will see here on A Little Bit Louder. And maybe other stuff. Maybe I will actually keep up with this one?

Maybe I will go figure out the paper I have due in two days. But first, I must post this on Facebook cause that's where its all happening.