it's not 2009.
it's 2010.
this is my first post of the year, and also the first post since my "fuck blogs" hiatus.
should have let y'all in on that.
so i've been working at UCONN CENTRAL STORES for 4 weeks now.
It's a pretty rad job. cool boss, all that. gettin paid.
been playing in a new band called krillin.
some shoe-gazer-type shit. i like it.
just was tweetin some shit while bloggin.
damn gettin meta up in here.
anyway, thought i'd let you blog-heds know that this is going to be the new repository for things like anecdotes, explanations, and reviews. get on that shit.
philosophical musings? check my tumblo.
peace buttheads
-John Thomas Diener
facebook gone
my facebook is gone. again.
it's a stupid website and i have been looking at it far too much.
it may never return.
i don't know yet, really.
but, from the ashes of my facebook, i have created a tumblr account.
it will be relatively empty until i manage to figure out how to link all of these sites together.
god damn it.
don't forget about me, kittens.
mental. acuity.
got class in an hour, and i'm not even dressed yet. geez.
beginning blogs always makes me feel uncomfortable, because i feel like i shouldn't chew your ear off about things. but then again, this is the only spot where i can do that. so.
i have 4 classes left (including the one in an hour) and i'm really excited to be done with it all. i've had some academic setbacks this semester, and i really want to be done with it, so that i can move on. i'm also looking forward to winter break.
i'll be working for the UCONN SURPLUS STORE, which is essentially a warehouse where uconn stores its extra shit. i guess the name could've given that away, but most people have no idea what i'm talking about.
i'll be getting paid about 9 bucks an hour to haul around heavy furniture. and then returning to my apartment after a hard day's work. it's so blue-collar. i love it.
in addition to this, anders may be coming to live with me for break, and possibly working with me. this is mostly an effort to prevent me from getting cabin fever up here.
winter.
struggling writer.
booze.
solitude.
this break might get very shining-esque. i hope i don't wreak a snow-cat. those are fucking cool as shit.
ok, i gotta go bye.
-John Thomas Diener
night of the demons
great movie.
otherwise, i am well.
well, maybe next time i will have some revelations for you.
i've been home. things have been going well. too much family time and not enough girlfriend time. the usual complaints about home.
things may be looking up for me in the near future, though.
the semester is almost over, which means my ass is swamped in work. it also means, however, that i am getting closer to being home for winter break.
my plans for winter break include:
- wearing a jumpsuit
- drinking
- drinking while wearing a jumpsuit
in the meantime, though. i will be paying for all the weekends i spent having fun.
i will be trapped inside my room, typing furiously, and crying.
the only way to help me is to ignore me.
luckily, i've been feeling unusually motivated to do things lately.
this comes at a strange time, when there is very little to do.
EDIT: i have no money
i also changed my layout again. drastically this time. i really want to attract new readers, but then again. i never post anything meaningful here.
"i love beafleef. it is the most sporadically updating website with no content!"
-leefer
EDIT: no i won't.
night
-John Thomas Diener
ibuprofen
it's like air to me.
here's a tweet that i decided is now a poem.
talk
don't try and tell me about beauty
i've looked in the 3's and the streets and
i've looked at the bottom of a bottle
happy 400 tweets
now, die.
it's not great, but i like reading it.
i've going home tomorrow after a long fucking weekend.
went to boston, blacked out, came back.
been sleeping off that mistake for two days now.
i feel like shit and my throats sore but i got no cigarettes.
shame.
i'll be picking up my beloved on thanksgiving at 2 AM in new haven.
she could have gotten another ride, but then what would i be doing at 2 AM?
nothing.
besides, long car rides back from new haven are good for the soul.
i've heard.
i've been writing this bullshit for about an hour now. fuck sleeping, i think i'm going home now.
no problem with that, is there?
just
turn off your speakers and turn up the nature sounds
less lamps and more moonlight
your fingers will pull my heartstrings
and the music will be terrible.
don't wear that mask, ok?
can you hyperlink from an epitaph?
-John Thomas Diener
53
i'm going back to my older style of blogging. it works better because it mirrors the way i think.
i don't think with capital letters. do you?
so, to re-cap this weekend, i did things that i couldn't afford, and helped my dad celebrate turning 53 years old.
i'm not sure what you do when you turn 53, but i think it includes drinking at noon and then having your son drive you to your mother's house for free food. i mean, i would do that.
seeing my dad today has really brighten my outlook on the next 20 years.
it seems bleak that i was worried about turning 20, but i think it's really harrowing. once you are 20, you are "in your 20s." and every day wasted is a day wasted in "your 20s."
i don't know.
if my dad can have a good time at 53, i think that i'll be fine.
that's all.
also, david lynch directed a PS2 commercial back in the day.
how about that?
is it better than the PS3 ads with gamers giving blood to nazis?
yes. it is.
-John Thomas Diener
fvrsh
Well, folks. I've been very sick.
It's been very unforgiving.
My class attendance is at a all time low, and I need to start picking up the pieces soon, because before you know it, It'll be the end of the semester. And then I'll be fucked.
But enough about THAT. This weekend will be very eventful.
Maybe Headgun show/Providence(?) trip Friday night.
Brownbird @ The Whitney Crib/Cuddling in a smelly basement with my beloved on Saturday.
Hard drugs/Painful moments on Sunday.
There you go. Everyone wish me the best of luck, and if you want to get in on this fuckery, lemme know via txt or email.
Chio!
-John Thomas Diener
experimental jet set, trash and no star
This is going to be a REAL short one.
4 in the morning.
Think I got swine flu.
Listening to Sonic Youth (yes, i know.)
Going to bed.
Going to attempt class tomorrow.
Crying.
I need more friends who are cats.
Some of them will talk like Tim Curry.
I require the solace of shadows and the dark of night. Sunshine is my destroyer.
-John Thomas Diener
It took me a long time to get here
It's been a really fucking long time since my last post, leefers. My last few posts have started like that, and I really owe you a apology. Actually, no, I don't. Either way, I will try and be more current. I'm here listening to the new "ice princess" album and drinking English tea with milk. It's soothing, even for 3 in the morning. This post will be painfully long.
Well, first off, I am in economic crisis. I'd like to believe I can survive without any income, but it's impossible. Really. Impossible. I applied for some jobs on and off campus today, and one of them seems really promising. The position is simply described as "Assistant Delivery." I want to work at a warehouse. At night.
I'm waiting for OpenOffice to finish downloading so I can make an attempt to salvage a Shakespeare essay. It will be the reason that I'll be up all night tonight. If you are reading this and it's still November 6th before 9 AM, please send me a message. I'll need it. Fortunately, I have my lovely flatmate to keep me company while we type furiously.
I'm committed to cleaning up the looks of this blog. Grammar, spelling, layout, etc.
I'm headed off to Brooklyn tomorrow to see my girlfriend. She's great. The Long Island Expressway is not. I'll have some company for the ride, though, so not all is lost. This will sound cheesy, but, I'll say it anyway. I can't wait to see her.
I may quit smoking. Not sure if I really care enough to.
Been trying to read some more lately. The Road and some Robert Pinsky.
It is getting very late, and I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow.
So I will leave you with that, Leefers.
Goodnight, and good luck.
-John Thomas Diener
rock bottom: a love story
well, leefers. it's been awhile.
i've been preoccupied with things lately, girlfriend, midterms, etc.
i'll spare you the gory details.
i'm back, and my usual winter depression is setting in, albeit more subdued than normal.
i'm going to be spending a lot of time working on schoolwork and the rest of my time will be devoted to walking in across the snowy landscape listening to a pretty voice from (too) far away.
i'll try not to neglect this blog too terribly.
today i took a midterm and then went to the dining hall to get food before my next class.
i got kicked out for falling asleep.
i'm skipping my next class and going back to sleep.
if you would like to step into my world, listen to this and lie on your back in bed.
stare at the ceiling and keep your socks on.
'cause it's going to be a long winter.
-Jizzy T
the water collector
“Soon, my brothers! Soon The Water Collector will return with my gift to you. This year we have flourished, under my guidance. To many more years of prosperity, brothers!”
He rallies the village for a celebration that will never occur. Each day we revisit the same struggle to survive. The rumble of the Auto is the only thing that can silence The Chief. The metal machine sweeps into the village to bring the people their reward. As it sits idling, sun shining on the rust, people gather behind it with bottles in outstretched arms, trying to catch the now flowing water. The spigot is open, and the water is being drained into barrels. The hopefuls looking to get some extra are quickly shooed away. I stand alone, and watch The Water Collector step out. He’s the second oldest man in the village, next to The Chief. His dusty, grey beard and deep eyes conceal his expression. His condition mirrors the Auto: worn, but strong. He walks off to his house alone while others enjoy the fruits of his labor. He alone knows where the water comes from. To me, beyond the horizon is endless sand, but he seems to find the water on time each month. As I begin to walk over to the spigot where the crowd is now dispersing, I’m startled by The Chief as his bony fingers dig into my neck.
“You’re nineteen now,
“I guess I am, sir.” I mumble.
“Well, that’s a terrible attitude,
“You’re going to be envied by the entire village!”
I can’t find the breath to respond. I can’t believe The Chief’s decision. I have never been a good citizen. On more than one occasion I’ve been asked to leave the village, and it’s only because of the mercy of The Chief I’m still here. I’ve cheated, stole, and slighted other people in my village. I am the black sheep of my own family. My father is the appointed slaver of The Chief, which earns me no respect among the village. The other boys in the village play games and pranks, and I watch the unchanging backdrop of sand. They treat me like an unwanted cousin. They merely allow me to exist so that they can mock me behind my back. The girls in the village, well − I don’t know any of the girls in the village. I don’t know why I had just been given the most important job in the village. It doesn’t make any sense to me. The Chief’s deceitful eyes burrow into me. Water drips out of the corners of his mouth.
“Run along, now. Tell your father that his son is the new water collector!” he says.
“Yes, sir.”
The news is greeted with disbelief is my house. My father beats me half to death before he accepts that I’m telling the truth. He then demands I tell him why I was chosen.
“Why don’t you just ask The Chief? It was his decision.” This obvious answer further infuriates my father. His beatings, he says, will “harden me into a real man.” Clearly he wasn’t beaten hard enough. Only my bed accepts my tired, thirsty body. The dry, papery sheets are always honest. Sleep overcomes me as faint voices argue in the next room.
I am awakened to the sound of a busy house. My family is rushing to get to their jobs, and my mother has already begun cleaning. I see a half-empty plate of goat meat and I choose to leave without eating or speaking, as I usually do, to begin my first day as an adult.
The Water Collector’s house consists of nothing more than a few tin walls and one window. I knock on the door, and it opens.
“Hello, sir. I’m Arnold, the new water collector.”
A shallow grunt escapes his mouth, and he leads me inside. “Do you like living in the village, Arnold?” I’ve never heard him speak before, and his handsome voice surprises me.
“Yes, sir,” I say.
He gestures for me to sit, and I do so immediately. He pauses for a long time. “Do you know what I do?” he asks.
“You get the water for the village, and bring it back in the Auto.”
“What would people do without that water,
“They would die of thirst.”
He leans back in his chair and scratches his beard.
“What’s outside the village?” I ask.
He shuts his eyes, almost forcefully. He leans forward aggressively and puts his hands on his knees. “There’s nothing out there, kid. It’s all sand. Forever.”
I muster up some courage and open my mouth. “Well, where does the water come fro−”
“Only I know where the water is, kid. Remember that.” We both sit staring at a tin can for an uncomfortably long time. The wind makes it quiver on the floor, its contents rolling around inside.
“That’s enough questions, kid. Tomorrow I’m taking you to where the water is. Now get outta here. I enjoy no one’s company.”
I look up at the afternoon sun as I walk home. Everyone sweats and stains their shirts endlessly. The herder’s goats are worked to death, and then eaten. The farmer tries to make anything but weeds grow in a small patch of dry soil. Each villager toils until their will is broken, and then haunts the village like a ghost. They are useless, and silent. The villagers know if they do not obey The Chief, they will be denied water, and that means death or madness. Madmen are exiled by The Chief to wander the wastes, contemplating whether death is preferable to our meager existence here. Unfortunately, that decision has been made for them.
Among the dust cloud the shacks and houses stand rebelliously. The sand wants them to collapse, to assimilate into nothingness. The world seems to want nothing but perfect symmetry, and we are a blemish.
The adults in the village are staring at me as I walk home. The children kick up dust at me and shout meaningless strings of obscenities.
“Fucker!”
“Shithead!”
“Only a freak like you could be the next water collector!”
I feel truly envied by the village.
I don’t feel much like sleeping, so I count the holes in the wall. Eight. Eight beams of moonlight piercing my only shelter. A torn, burned book lies in my lap. It’s filled with symbols no one remembers how to read. I’ve read it since I was a child, reveling in its mystery. I squeeze some drops of water out of my pouch onto my lips, and one falls to the floor. I watch it disappear slowly into the sand and fall asleep.
---
I sit down for breakfast and am greeted by an unfamiliar voice.
“We all do what we must, so that we can drink,” my mother whispers.
I stare at her wrinkled eyes, and am filled with the urge to cry. I have rarely heard my mother speak in recent years, but her words are genuine. I don’t know anyone who is always genuine. I wipe my face with a rag and stumble out the door. The hairs on my neck stand on end as I approach The Water Collector’s house. I stand at the doorway and my eyes glaze over. The room is completely empty. A shrill noise diverts my attention to the rear of the house. The Auto is rumbling, and The Water Collector is leaning on one of many steel drums, some filled with a thick liquid and I reach into the nearest open one to fill my pouch.
“I don’t think you wanna drink that, kid,” he calls out, chuckling. His smile is unsettling and is filled with a kind of bitter irony. A harsh smell is coming from the barrel, and I can see my face reflected in its black surface.
“Come on, we want to get there before midday. Get in.”
I hoist myself into the massive machine. An array of blinking lights and familiar but unreadable characters lay before me. A spinning piece of jagged metal blows cool air through my hair. Something makes me feel guilty, and my skin is feeling itchy. The Water Collector is sitting next to me now, staring with the same grin from before. He leads me through a series of button-pushing and pulling, and without warning, the Auto begins to move.
“Now turn it the way you want to go, and don’t press the foot-button too hard now,” he says, still grinning.
As we move out of the village, I see my father talking to The Chief, and he pretends not to notice me. I never wanted to be noticed. That’s why I’m The Water Collector. I couldn’t do anything else. I am alone.
Once outside the village, the sand surrounds the Auto like a haze. The Water Collector isn’t smiling anymore, and he gives me one more simple direction.
“That way.”
After watching the silhouette of the village disappear behind us, any initial pleasure from driving the Auto quickly vanishes. The Water Collector is still staring at me, but he isn’t smiling anymore.
“Why don’t you steal from people anymore?” he asks.
“The Chief forbids stealing, sir.”
“Well, why do you listen to him now? Your balls drop off?” I can’t seem to find an appropriate response to that question.
“He took away my water privileges for two days,” I finally say. “I was so thirsty, I wrung out sweat from my own clothes to drink”
His stare is unwavering.
“Well, you’ll get plenty of water now, kid. You’re The Water Collector now. I’m just a tired old man,” he grumbles. “Your troubles are over.” He is smiling again.
A black cloud appears in the horizon, and I have to wipe my eyes before I accept that it’s real. I can’t find the voice to ask him if they’re real or not. It’s not like the other clouds. It’s moving toward us. As it passes overhead, I see a million creatures, all moving in unison, walking across the sky. My eyes look back at the horizon, and I am overcome. I must be going mad. My vision goes black, and I hear The Water Collector curse as he takes the controls away from me.
---
Ice cold water hits my face, and brings me into full consciousness. I’m laying on the ground now.
“Must’ve had a bit of a heat spell, huh kid?”
“I don’t think so, sir.” I pause and rub my eyes hard, almost violently. “Was that real?”
“See for yourself.”
I look out, and see an expanse of water that stretches as far as I can see. More water than I’ve ever seen. More water than I could ever drink. Enough water for the village to live comfortably forever. I wipe my eyes again, and this time, they are filled with tears.
“Why does it have to be like this?” I ask.
The Water Collector has anticipated answering this question his entire life.
“The world has ended before, kid. I’m not going to be the one to end it again. Peace has a price, even if you don’t know you’re paying it.” He pauses and looks at the sky.
“We are the foulest beasts to ever walk this earth, and The Chief has tamed us with a simple, undeniable desire.”
---
The water sloshes around in the back of the Auto. Each noise, each rattling in the machine causes me to cringe. It’s one of the hottest days in memory, and they’re all waiting for The Water Collector to return. I now know why I was chosen by The Chief. The Chief chose me because I can live a life of alienation and lying. No one would believe me even if I told them the truth. The Chief has chosen my job, and it suits me perfectly. If this world is our own creation, then we must be caged, and I need to hold the key. I drag my free hand across my face. “I think I’ll grow a beard,” I say to myself.
I try to stay focused on driving, but I look back and see him shrink out of view. The water is reduced to a line. And then, nothing. The horizon is dominated by sand, and for once, the world is in perfect symmetry.
two things.
NUMBER ONE THING
uhhh. i uhhhh. i think that i need to start going to sleep sooner. because it is affecting my sanity.
NUMBER TWO THING
someone really needs to invent free instant travel. cuz all this "driving" and "trainz" bullshit is really getting to me.
i have people to see. people who i miss.
(side note number one: that last thing refers to everyone reading this blog.)
(side note number two: SOMEBODY hates my blog. look.)
i'm so dumb it's funny
-Jizzy T
last days here
that old washed in beer smell.
the sound of distortion.
ringed stains on the fake wood.
i feel right at home here.
it's true that she never left home.
it's also true that she never shook my hand.
i could never understand women
but i guess i never really tried.
men don't wait for things.
not the good ones.
they take and take
and when the taking is done, they celebrate with wine and feast.
do i have dandruff?
am i ugly?
i can't speak for anyone but myself,
but i have a longing for the countryside.
we weren't made to meet other people.
quotation from today
Girl - "Did you dye your hair that color or is it just faded."
Me - "Uhhh, it faded, but I dyed it alot in the past."
Girl - "Do you know that you are torturing your hair?"
Me - "It doesn't matter because we will all be dead someday."
try to guess if i drank tonight.
-Jizzy T
in the fade
hey.
i'm not going to write about my first few weeks of class.
i'm not going to write about love.
i'm not going to write about music or movies.
i'm not going to write about anything at all.
i just wanted to say that everything looks good from where i'm standing.
you live till you die. i know.
-Jizzy
staring into the grain: 2009
i've been laying in bed for 20 minutes. i can't get to sleep.
i have class in 5 hours, and i'm alone.
there is NO reason for me to be awake.
except, of course, to blog and eat horseradish (both wildly underrated.)
15 minutes ago, anders decided that pitchfork.com decided that 2009 is over.
considering i cannot think for myself, i tend to agree.
besides, everything that was slated to release this year has already leaked anyway.
so heres my top 11 albums of 2009.
11. the field : yesterday and today
10. discovery : lp
9. memory cassette : rewind while sleeping (ep)
8. vega : well known pleasures (ep)
7. dead luke : the black plague in mono no. 3
6. sonic youth : the eternal
5. french teen idol : el siete es la luz
4. the pains of being pure at heart : the pains of being pure at heart
3. japandroids : post-nothing
2. the xx : xx
1. jj : jj n °2
that's it.
wish me sweet dreams
-Jizzy T
confession
oh, hello. i didn't hear you come in.
it's been a fucking long couple of weeks, ladies and gentlemen. so goddamn long.
sit down, this might be a long one.
i guess i've just been feeling off lately.
"off" is a good way of putting it.
alot of things are going well in my life.
apartment is good.
school is good.
friends are good.
i might even have a job!
i mean, shit.
but i've just been feeling dried up lately.
i'm not really happy with my direction in life, and i have realized that if i don't find something worth fighting for soon, i'm going to crawl into a cubicle for 40 years and then retire. then die.
no, that's stupid. too dramatic.
simply, i'm bored.
i'm bored and i want others to comfort me in my moments of boredom.
there you go. thats truthful.
i keep thinking to myself. "it'll get better when school starts."
but i'm not really convincing myself.
maybe i'm just getting bored of uconn.
maybe i really just want to fall in love.
oh, just shoot me.
-Jizzy T
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