:: a.whisper.in.water ::

:: Tuesday, July 06, 2004 ::

[ going slightly, i’d say ]

Blogger's Oath:
I, Aziz Khan, do solemnly swear to recount my trips to Boston, New York City (KNE-EEW YAW'RK CITAY??) home, and that sweet amusement park in Allentown at a later date not to exceed a few days from Whenever. That having been said:

In a conversation with Keith yesterday, I spoke of how I had taken part in a few more drinking-fueled activities this summer, but as of yet didn't consider myself a Drinker, per se. The flipside of that is that despite not having smoked in two weeks, I still consider myself a smoker, since "if I have another bad day, I'm gonna snap, go to Tinder Box, and get another goddamned pack of Djarum Vanillas." Regression ahoy, I say.

Last night, I stayed up 'till 4 talking to Jenn, most of it frustrating and wrenching, but, as is typically the case, ultimately concerned and caring, though it's hard to replicate that feeling on 4.5 hours of sleep in front of a misbehaving Atomic Force Microscope. I suppose Jenn and I are no longer non-exclusive, which leaves an odd, imaginary vacuum of now-dead possibilities that I’ve yet to fill with her. The end result is an exceptionally-lonely night, and an astronomical cuddle deficit that isn’t going anywhere.

The My Bloody Valentine helps a lot, though. I swear I’d be dead without music.

I'm also in need of new headphones, though my little Sony MDR-G72s have served (and are presently serving) me quite well. Yet another problem with being a stingy terminal music snob is that not only need I get most of my weird, amazing CDs (recent example: Air's Talkie Walkie) from the internet, but must also rely on the steaming, idiotic cyber-bazaar for audio equipment, since store-sold headphones simply aren't good+cheap enough. I miss my MDR-G82s; they were perfect, really, until I lost my temper one nasty morning and shattered them against the wall. I’d gotten them for $20, too; nowadays, I can’t find them for anything less than 50 Euros, or some such nonsense.

Despite successfully getting out of bed at 9:10, an urgent phone call from Annie-in-California requiring me to act as a secondhand internet conduit kept me busy, and prevented me from going to work until 10:20. (The whole affair, however, was yet one more opportunity for Walter to exhibit unmitigated awesomeness, and he didn’t disappoint: he expressed gladness that my priorities were straight, which, frankly, is an amazingly cool thing for one’s employer to say.) Between that, my already-short fuse (I kinda slashed my Venetian blinds down on one window during aforementioned phone conversation with Jenn), and three broken cantilever tips, I had a shit-ass morning, rescued only by louder music, late-night frisbee, and gorgeous weather.

The new LiveJournal icon comes from an icon generator linked to from Julien’s journal. Even though I couldn’t depict my surgically-attached headphones anywhere, I rather like it; I darkened the skin somewhat, put a mole and bags under my eyes, and even found an ugly, plaid Annie-scarf to wear (though I hadn’t the option of coloring it green). While I rather like the hair I’m sporting, the Japanese haven’t quite accurately captured the essence of my poofy, part-down-the-middle buttcut. Were it more pixilated, the site would essentially be a Diesel Sweeties Character-Generator.

Insofar as plans go: Annie gets back on Friday, which, in all honestly, might warrant my going to New York City a day late to see her when she gets back into town. Oddly enough, it took her going-away to rekindle regular conversation, which I rather missed quite a bit. Living with(out?) her has been odd. I’ve got too much space, and too many abandoned toys (and their boxes) litter the apartment, though I did scour the fucking kitchen today. I Lysol-ed that bad bitch John Woo style like some sort of filth-hitman, then promptly left the apartment while the air cleared such that I wouldn’t keel over from the fumes. It’ll be a pleasant thing for her to come home to: a clean floor, an empty sink, and a kitchen that doesn’t mandate held breath.

While I had a decent time in New York City a couple of weeks ago, I’ve got less of a good reason to go to this time around, since BOTH the rather (formerly?) nifty girls I met are not only Jenn-excluded from intimacy, but more fundamentally, are either boring, flaky, or both. Plus, this time around, I can’t crash at Lewis’, and I can only see Ariele Sunday afternoon, right before I leave, though seeing her at all is going to be pleasantly weird, if only initially weird. I have to get through the week first, though.

Did I successfully remind anyone of that old Pace Picante Sauce commercial featuring the misanthropic, salsa-snob bunch of cowboys?

Music: Prefuse 73’s phenomenal glitch-hop One Word Extinguisher. They came to Swarthmore for a free show the Friday night Jenn met Kevin. Prefuse aside, that’s almost doubtless the Singular Most Painful Evening Of My Life. Even now, eight months separated from it, I still just winced and doubled over.


:: Aziz 12:16 PM [+] ::
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