Gyarrr....

My pirate name is:

Mad Sam Rackham

Every pirate is a little bit crazy. You, though, are more than just a little bit. You have the good fortune of having a good name, since Rackham (pronounced RACKem, not rack-ham) is one of the coolest sounding surnames for a pirate. Arr!

Get your own pirate name from fidius.org.

Cryptonomi-fun

I don't know if it'll be that funny to you folks but when I thought about it introspectively it almost made me fall out of my chair, which would have been embarrassing since I was reading in the breakroom at the time. I love this book, Cryptonomicon. You all should definitely give it a read. He's great with the subtle yet over the top sarcastic humor that I strive to create in my own book. Anyway, here's the passage, truncated a bit:

"Don't look at me that way," Avi says, "I don't masturbate."
"Never?" ... "Why on Earth would you do such a thing, Avi?"
"Enhances my devotion to Devorah. Makes the sex better. Gives me an incentive to get back home."
"Well that's touching," Randy says, ... "But it's more masochism than I'm willing to shoulder at this point in my life."
"Why? Are you afraid that it will push you into-"
"Irrational behavior? Definitely."
"And by that," Avi says, "you mean, actually committing to Amy in some way."
"I know you think that you just kicked me in the nuts rhetorically," Randy says, "but your premise is totally wrong. I'm ready to commit to her at any time. But for god's sake, I'm not even sure she's heterosexual. I'd be madness to put a Lesbian in charge of my ejaculatory functions."
--Cryptonomicon by Neal Stephenson. p. 672


Ah good stuff. I'm really liking Stephenson's work. Snow Crash was really good and so is this one. I'm definitely moving on to the baroque Cycle in the near future. It's basic 3000 pages of the same historical fiction goodness that is Cryptonomicon. You can read more about Neal Stephenson's tasty literature here.

Adventures In Moore

The last few days have been...interesting. I suppose that's a good word for it. The words strange or alien might/could also suffice. Let's see, where do I start? Well, last night I promised Lori a ride home from work since our shifts were ending at the same time and her work is across the street from my work. So, after they let me go, I walked out to my car and barely took note of a strange popping sound as I started it. I exited the parking lot and proceeded across I-35 to Convergys where the lovely Miss Loreli Randolph was waiting. While driving over there I had listened to a phone message from my new friend Jennifer in which she had inquired about some kind of fun to be had after my shift ended. Lucky for everyone, we all decided food was in order. So then, Lori and I took off in the general direction of Jennifer's apartment and soon realized that my car was not acting like a normal car but more like a pressure cooker failing to keep it's vaporized liquid contained within. I flipped on the heater full blast in order to try and keep my overheating engine block from cracking and in hopes that we would make it to Jennifer's without any stalling, exploding, or any other bad thing that cars may decide to do. Fortunately, we made it there in one piece and without further damage to my poor car. After parking it there in a fire lane, we all piled in Jennifer's roommate's car and went to IHOP with me secretly hoping that whatever problem may exist in my car might go away while we were gone. There at IHOP, I had a very pleasant meal in the company of two of my favorite lady friends while we conversed about how to tell when or if people are gay or not and why. Sadly, after that, Lori needed to go home, so we went back to the apartment to find that my car didn't want to go anywhere. Jennifer was nice enough drive us back to Norman to drop off Lori and to collect for me some toiletries and extra clothing because she was nice enough to invite me to stay the night so that I could be there to get some help for my sick car the next day.
Small side note to anyone from Michigan or anywhere else that's not central Oklahoma and has not lived there for very long, tedious trips down dark side roads and dead-ends can be avoided simply by listening to the directional advice of the natives. That's all I'm saying about that.
Anyway, we made it to Norman and back in one or two or even three pieces depending on how you look at the car/driver/passenger unit as a whole. The point is, we lived through the trip.
I've never had any person, especially a girl person, invite me to sleep in their home before they have known me for two months. For that, I am very grateful that she feels she can trust that I'm not some kind of serial rapist and/or murderer. That, or she just doesn't care. Either way, I appreciated it.
So, we stayed up until about six in the AM talking and having a merry ol' time until. At one point during the night/morning, her roommate called and seemed upset that I was there. I apologized for causing problems but she said it was ok. At some point it was time to pass out. The next day at around three when we were able to crawl out of bed and get clean and stuff, Washua called and I told him the symptoms of my car's ailment and he gave some instructions of how I might get it home without killing it so that he could fix it. Through this it was found out that I either had a bust radiator or a busted radiator hose. He would have to come to Moore to fix it. He got there and looked 'er over and we found that a threaded plastic piece clamped to a hose that was attached to the radiator had snapped off in the engine block. And fuckin' A if we didn't have any way of getting that little shit out of there. Come about six, it was time to leave. Although she insisted otherwise, I'm sure that Jennifer was sick of me. We said goodbye and I went off to help Josh and his clan at his work. After that came back to Norman town had a grand time on Joshua and Crystal's new trampoline until Shawn brought me here.
Now here I sit with my car in still in Moore, wondering how I'm going to get to and from work for the next couple of days. Oh well, even though it is quite immediate, I'm gonna go ahead and give it the ol' "climb that mountain when we come to it", and hope it works out.

In other news: Our travelers in Louisiana, tragically, are dead, or so they say.

Complicated Chick Really Doesn't Quite Describe Her

Intoxicating, unobtainable, really fucking cool... Those are all things that can be used to describe the girl I met at work about a month and a half ago. Now that I'm over, and have sort of come to grips with the reality that we can not be a couple, I've now been able to focus on trying to be a really good friend. At this very moment, that shouldn't be too complicated a task since I'm technically her only friend. That should not be read as, "almost her only..." or, "only real...", or any other phrase that doesn't quite mean "the one unique person baring the definition of only". Since she's moved to Oklahoma to live with her roommate a year ago, she's done nothing but sit around her apartment. I know, I thought it was sad too. They are moving out of this state in May. That gives me roughly ten months to experience as much of her as I can. She's like a strong drug. I'm addicted. That's probably quite evident in light of the fact that I'm following the post of a few days ago with one like this. I'm probably mentally ill and need help. I'll leave that task to you, my friends, since I'm not fit to captain this boat anymore.
Oh, and by the way. She is complicated. You'll notice by the timestamp that it's about four in the morning. I just spent about five or six hours with her talking and watching a movie. What really sucks is that I can't talk about any of it right now because it's not my info to give. The worst part about that is it's at the heart of the matter. I kinda hope there comes a time when I can talk about more than just the periphery.

In other news: I have no idea about the status of my friends in Louisiana. I received no call in regards to the safety of their arrival there. I'm hoping they are alive and well and enjoying some gumbo. I'll report back when I have more news.

Oh yeah, I might be driving to South Texas in about five or six hours to visit Emily.

Not so bad anymore

Well, I suppose I'm doing better now. It seems that when I drastically over react to things I get over them more quickly. That's a good thing, I guess. I'm still not completely over it, but I'm closer to normal. Still, things like that always seem to throw the apparent direction of my life in to the blender and push the frappe button.

In other news, Alex's surprise party was a huge success. He was completely surprised which is really the best we could hope for. Played some cards at the bookstore amongst the Harry potter nerds, ate some cake, played some Halo. All's well. Have a good night folks.

Bad Things

I can not begin to describe in detail that would convey to you the pain and hurt that resides inside me right now. Please, mind not any typos or grammatical mistakes as I am crying and half-drunk as I write this.
I now believe that there is no one for me. There is no person on this planet that can feel about me the way I feel about them. I have not the proper combination of characteristics to be appealing to any female person, whether it be that I don't believe in god, that I've had sex before marriage, or that I'm male, or that I'm but ugly. Those simple characteristics, whether acting alone or in concert, bar anyone from loving me or setting me in as a possibility to be loved.
You can not possibly believe the fiction in my head that I had set down as history not yet made before tonight. I have not in my life had all the walls of reality and hopes and dreams and ideas come crashing down in such a momentus way and with me feeling like such an ignorant and hopeless moron.
She has made it clear to me that she is not, can not, and will no be interested in me in any romantic way. How I should have known. And how my mind and morals are twisted as I sit here and know that I can not betrey some of the things she told me even after she had just finished tearing out my heart and soul. Yet I know it as truth more than most truth I have ever known that she did not mean to hurt me in any way, but only to save me from hurt. It is an impossible conundrum that could not help to do anything but exist.
I have nothing and see nothing. In this road I travel, there is nothing for me.


P.S. O God, if you are there and you exist, you are cruel, and unfeeling.

P.S.S. I had to take down the post before last. The one with the picture. Looking at it made me cry and my mind try to cave in.

P.S.S.S. Please, do not try to tslk with me about this with me. At least for a few days or weeks unless I mention it first to you. I can not bear to discuss it any more.

Amsterdam

This morning, Richard; Ole Long, Tall, and Ugly; that cur of a roommate, woke me up. He woke me up twice. Of course, the first time, I asked him to, but the second time was totally uncalled for! What a jerk. He wouldn't even keep his pants on, for crying out loud!

Anyway, we attended Tuesday Lunchday at J.J.'s Pizza Stop. Too bad it was closed. We made the trek over to Hideaway, because the thirst for pizza must be slaked! The pizza was pretty good, but it was too expensive. Ashley tried to steal Washua's mustang from Crystal, but it didn't work. Mustang Sally, you'd better slow that mustang down.

After lunch, I went to work. This was when my day got exciting. You know, from my previous post, that I stole a pic from Jen. What you don't know is that I also stole a pie from the bakery. I carried it around in my pants all day. I would not recommend doing that, by the way. It's messy, it's sticky, but then again, if you're into that sort of thing, why not? It was not just any old pie. It was coconut cream pie. That's right, that crazy roommate Richard's favorite. However, he got none of it, because I ate it all on the way home. It was hella good. It had me feelin' hella good, so I'm gonna keep on dancin'.

At one point during the shift, I had thirteen customers come through right in a row. They had thirteen items each, and the last one had a black crystal ball that called to me. As I stared into it, I traveled back to New York City in the year of my birth, 1588, which, coincidentally, is the year of the defeat of the Spanish Armada in the English Channel at the hands of Admiral Sir Francis Drake. The Native American Injuns I encountered there were not very friendly, so I left. Cherokee people, Cherokee tribe, so proud to live, so proud to die.

After I returned to Wallymundo, and that man in black left with his funny ball, things really started to get interesting. An Hispanic gentleman waltzed in to the store and leapt up onto the conveyor belt of a closed register. "Tengo una fiesta en mis pantalones!" he wailed, then proceeded to rip off said pantalones and waggle his genitals hither and thither. He hopped from lane to lane, dancing about. The Walmart security personnel fast-roped down from the ceiling, assault rifles at the ready, but they all fell, a la Orlando Bloom in Blackhawk Down, breaking their backs. Stephanie, the flirty punk lesbian, and I all tackled him, then tied him up with our fallen comrades' ropes. When he found out we were all over eighteen, he invited us all to a swinger's party. Despite our intense desire to be in a VH1 late night special, we declined, but we kept his brochures for their immense literary value. Hey now, you're an allstar, get your game on, get paid. Then I stabbed him in the balls.

The rest of the shift was far less exciting. On my drive home, picture of Jen in phone, and pie in pants, I drove through the sheeting rain with my windows down, completely eliminating any need for a shower, because I brought soap. When I got home, Alex and Sheena were there. Alex and I made sweet sweet lovin' all night. On the table. Over there. And by that, I mean he was there. Their car broke down. I cried a little tear for that, but then they turned their backs, and I did a little jump for joy, because they are here, with me, and the sweet sweet lovin'. I stayed up talking about wacky dreams, pet libraries, damned computers, and shootin' the breeze. I considered going to sleep a little bit. I'm sleeping to dream about you, and I'm so tired of trying to live without you. But I don't mind.




Stuck on the end of this ball and chain,
And I'm on my way back down.
Stood on a bridge, tied to the noose,
Sick to the stomach.
You can say what you mean,
But it won't change a thing.
I'm sick of the secrets.
Stood on the edge, tied to the noose,
You came along and you cut me loose.

My Epiphany

I'm sure some of you cats have read this before but I'm gonna post it anyway. Another silly rant from the past.

My Epiphany

In an infinite space with infinite possible arrangements of energy and matter, having infinite variations of physical laws and constants to act upon them there is an infinite number of possible situations.

Thus proving that somewhere:

a. There is a God.

b. There is not a God.

c. Every one’s beliefs are correct.

d. No one’s beliefs are correct.

e. The square root of four is negative two.

f. The square root of four is two.

g. Somewhere there is a 40 foot tall weasel running backward up a staircase, simultaneously, singing the national anthem in every language at once, sucking on a burning frozen pop-cycle flavored like green love smarnickles, having a hysterectomy, inventing the wheel, discovering fire, and dreaming about Meg Ryan, at, before, and after the second you read this.

h. Somewhere, absolutely none of the above stated is true, including the thesis, thus, negating all of existence, and falsifying anything I have said and will ever say.

Conclusion: everything you know is wrong.

It's Official

The new Halo 2 maps are, indeed, better than sex.







>

Just Hanging Out

Some Sean Updates:

• I slept for a good part of the day today. Until five thirty, I think. Of course, it didn't help that I stayed up all night playing Halo 2 with Richard, Shawn, and some guy in Arizona. It was fun though. We won a large portion of the games we played.

• Work is going alright. It hasn't been nearly as fun lately though because my new friend, Jennifer, has been in Florida since the twentieth of June. It's alright though, because she'll be back in a few days. I'm excited.

• I shot the moon but was still able to almost lose at hearts tonight. Side note; robots aren't good at hearts.

• I'm not going to be mean to my friends anymore.

• My roommate doesn't talk to me enough.

• I finally finished chapter seven in The Book after three months of on and off work on it. Damn, I've been slacking. If you remember, starting this blog was supposed to help me get a jumpstart on that. I'm tryin'.
  

Discovered a new band tonight. They're called Ringside. I saw them on The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson. I knew I liked the song before the lyrics even began so I had to look 'em up. My kind of band. Hardcore mellow and all that. I've only heard what's played on the site, but I think it's pretty good. You should check them out.
Interestingly enough, the song they sang on the show does a pretty good job of illustrating how I'm feeling tonight. In a good way:

Tired Of Being Sorry

I don’t know why
You want to follow me tonight
When the rest of the world
With whom I’ve crossed and I’ve quarreled
Let’s me down so
For a thousand reasons that I know
To share forever the unrest
With all the demons I possess
Beneath the silver moon

Maybe you were right
But baby I was lonely
I don’t want to fight
I’m tired of being sorry

Chandler and Van Nuys
With all the vampires and their brides
We’re all bloodless and blind
And longing for a life
Beyond the silver moon

Maybe you were right
But baby I was lonely
I don’t want to fight
I’m tired of being sorry
I’m standing in the street
Crying out for you
No one sees me
But the silver moon

So far away – so outer space
I’ve trashed myself – I’ve lost my way
I’ve got to get to you

P.S. I'm guessing by the lack of comments that you kids either didn't like or didn't read my story. So, I'm wondering if in the future I should post anything like that again. Let me know, please.

P.P.S. Does anyone know where we are in the word association game?

Forgot to Mention

The other day a retarded kid tried to kiss my hand.

He called me "Babe".

More Mental Chow

Today I'm going to present for you people a silly short story I wrote a few years ago while I was on a philosophy kick. I would like comments with any reactions you might have about it, about the writing style, vocab, if you liked it, if it sucked, whatever you want to say. I'd appreciate it.
Oh, and not that any of you would, but just to be safe, even though it's not the greatest writing, please don't steal my stuff or use it without my permission. I'll have to get really upset and sue you and stuff, and that's no good. All rights reserved and that sorta shit. Brief quotes for critical writing and commenting is fine.

William Jacobs

By Sean Robert Cummings

“I think, therefore I am”

-René Descartes (1596-1650)

Will Jacobs was not the most popular guy in school. At the moment, I am sure it is easy to take this vast understatement as is. But to truly understand why he wasn’t well known, I shall tell you a story.

Will, like many people his same age, was attending college. He had been there for two years and had not enjoyed it much. This was to be will’s junior year and he was looking forward to it like a man on his way to his execution. Little did anyone know, this was not far from the truth.

One particularly gray morning, Will was lying in his uncomfortably small bed staring at the ceiling, wondering what it was worth to go on living. This thought meandered away as he turned and looked at the clock, which displayed the time in large green numbers: seven forty-five. This was only perturbing because Will’s philosophy class started at seven thirty. He very quickly jumped into his clothes from the day before and ran out the door. He arrived shortly, slipped in the door and found his usual seat near the back of the lecture hall. Good, professor Worton didn’t seem to notice. He began to nod in and out of consciousness as Worton droned on about Hamlet’s “to be or not to be” speech.

Will always sat in the back. He figured; since no one wanted to talk to him, they probably didn’t want to look at the back of his head either. Will didn’t mind, he was used to this behavior. It had been this way ever since he could remember. He never made any friends, his teachers never offered to help him, and he could not recall the last time he had a conversation with his parents. Will was a very lonely person.

After a couple of hours, the bell rang. Will was hardly affected. He opened his eyes just as Worton was walking out the door. What a bunch of jerks, he thought. They didn’t even bother to wake me. He gathered up his belongings in a not to hurried fashion and headed for the next building on his schedule.

“Oh great,” Will muttered sarcastically as he approached the Henson Mathematics Hall. He was never very good at math because his teachers would never slow down and let him catch up when he was confused (which is precisely the reason he was confused so often).

Except for the occasional weekend, this was how every day went for next few months. Until one day, Will arrived to class on time for once in a blue moon. Professor Worton was talking about a famous French philosopher and mathematician by the name of René Descartes. He apparently had the idea that philosophy should be totally logical like mathematics. With this thought, Will already didn’t like the sound of this guy. However, contrary to the idea, Will was interested.

“René Descartes,” said Worton, “became famous by coining this phrase, ‘Cogito ergo sum,’ or, ‘I think therefore I am’. He used this thought to enforce his idea that all animals under God were nothing more than automata or machines. He said this because he believed that to think one must have a soul and only humans have souls.”

Will was astonished to hear something so interesting. He decided maybe he should stay awake from then on. After class that day, Will left that building feeling enriched. The lecture stayed in his mind for a time. He pondered it as he strolled through campus. He thought about it as he ambled toward his car after math class. He even considered it as he drove home. He arrived home from school that day, happy for the first time in a long time.

“Hi, Mom,” Will said cheerily as he skipped through the front door and up the stairs to his room. She flashed a wondering look in his direction.

“Honey, what was that?”

“What? Why do you ask that every day?” responded Mr. Jacobs.

“Never mind,” she said without tone and returned to her crossword puzzle.

Over the next few weeks, Will’s head was filled with Cartesian philosophy. He started to read his textbook more often. Stranger still, he even read Hamlet. He loved it all. Then he decided he would change his major to philosophy.

Will’s outlook on life started to perk up a bit. He was always on time to class now. Professor Worton didn’t seem to notice a difference, so Will started to sit closer to the front of the room. No one seemed to care. This was starting to bother Will.

A red-haired girl would sometimes sit a few rows ahead of Will. He had noticed her for a few weeks since his renascence into the learning world and had developed a small crush on her. She seemed intelligent to him because she would often answer the random questions that the professor would throw out. She also had an interesting way of spinning her pen around her forefinger and catching it with her thumb. He was infatuated.

One morning after class, Will gathered up his courage to talk to her. As he passed through the door behind her, he reached up and tapped her on the shoulder. She quickly spun around and looked him in the face. Her gaze appeared to pass right through him. As he was about to say something she turned away and walked off. Will was stunned. He stood there gasping for breath. He could not believe that she completely ignored him. When Will got home later that afternoon, he couldn’t remember what had happened after she left him. It was all a blur. All he could think about was his own measly life and how terrible it was.

That night, Will tossed and turned. His sleep was all one long nightmare filled with thoughts of his own death and how it would affect the people around him. Those horrible thoughts lingered as he awoke the next morning.

This is not going to be a good day, Will thought. He knew so, because of the gray clouds rumbling outside his window. He slowly sat up and rubbed his aching eyes. He leaned over and dragged on the dirty shirt lying on the floor, slipped into the untied tennis shoes, and trudged out the door.

Willed sauntered into the classroom and fell into a chair in the back. He looked up and saw Worton writing something about Socrates on the chalkboard.

“Not again,” Will muttered apathetically.

“I hate this class,” he whispered to himself, “I don’t wanna think anymore, so I aint.”

The pencil that Will had been holding fell to the table, rolled a few inches, and toppled to the floor under the desk of the redhead that sat in front of him. She glanced back at his empty desk. She looked back toward the front not giving it a second thought. That afternoon, when Will didn’t show up for math class, nobody seemed to care. That evening, when Will didn’t come home, Mister and misses Jacobs didn’t seem to mind. From that day on, no one ever saw William Jacobs ever again. In fact, no one had ever seen William Jacobs before. This was all because of the very strange, and very sad fact that William Jacobs had inadvertently discovered that he was only a figment of his own imagination.