as nothing i do is of any consequence...

Justin picked me up yesterday...we went to see Nurse Betty...it was really good...we stopped by my car afterwards and it started when we jumped it...but when i tried to drive it, it did the weird thing of not wanting to go when i pushed the gas pedal at first...so we left it there...slept over there, then Justin wanted to study at Starbucks...blah...we went there for about an hour or less...while there Tom Waits was played on the overhead twice: "In the Neighborhood" and "16 Shells from a Thirty-Ought Six" i kind've enjoyed that, but later some Belle and Sebastian was played: "The Rollercoaster Ride" and that upset me at first, but then i just delt w/ it and enjoyed the good song i was hearing...after that i introduced Justin to the wonders of the Sub Shop...we then went to take my car to the X-Pert Tune that i got the gas filter replaced at a little while back (i thought it might be that or something else gas-related due to the problems w/ the pedal...) after a while of not finding anything wrong w/ it, they determined that it was the starter...they couldn't get the part in 'til Monday so i'll have to wait to get it fixed...but at least i know the problem now...now i'm back at home, blah blah blah...i think i might hate girls now...although i don't have a real reason, but i'm pretty sure that my lack of having a reason is the actual reason itself...(pathetic losers like myself should know what i'm talking about...) one more observation: my dogs are far too co-dependant...i can't just let 'em outside and have them go do their business most of the time...they want me to go outside w/ them...such weenies...oh well...but that's kind've cute in its own way i guess...blah...maybe i'll be able to do my homework tonight...who knows?

quote of the day

"........."
-Ian Curtis 18 - 5 - 80

which brings to mind another quote floating around in my head by Chan Marshall (Cat Power), "oh to be at the bottom of a river..." (but you shouldn't believe the hype i'm saying...(that's a paraphrase of sorts of Public Enemy, by the way...))

"The Slow and Subtle Movements of a Stump" (i mostly just started doing this spontaneously on here)

I have no arms or legs, that's why i move around in this wheelchair by blowing into a tube certain ways. The different ways i blow into it control its movement and direction. It's a rather neat invention for someone like me. It doesn't matter that i can't talk while moving. . . since I can't talk. Yes, I'm basically a limbless mute. But I like to get out. Fresh air and scenery does me worlds of good--very much good in contrast to the sterility of this "special care home" I now live in. I don't mean to sound bitter about it. They're very good here; I even made the final decision to put myself in here. I can't live by myself anymore. A lot of the time I have to be spoon-fed. I hate it and I try to eat like a dog, mashing my face into my food, when I can. It's messy, but it makes me feel less helpless sometimes. . . and I need that sometimes.
That's my only real problem with this place. It's just the fact that I can't live on my own, do most anything (I say "most" more out of pity for myself than for the purpose of being entirely truthful.) that I want to or need to. . . It's not entirely hopeless and I'm extremely thankful for the kindness of others (since it's something that I must depend on), but I won't say that it's had any great life lesson and wouldn't trade anything for what I've learned. Quite the contrary: I'm scared to think about the things that I'd do in order to get my arms and legs and voice back again. But I digress. . .
They taught me Morse code when I first got here. That's one of the main reasons that I'm capable of writing at such length. The other main reason is due to the "what will they think of next?" wonders of technology. When I insert my knowledge of Morse code into this microphone that gets placed inside my mouth by means of clicking my tongue, words are magically "typed" into this computer. It even has its own added Morse code for punctuation and everything. "What will they think of next?" I will admit that it is a bit tedious, but one thing that I do have is an immense abundance of time. Now my thanks go out to the medical side of technology and its amazing wonders. "Keep a human stump living and well for an excruciatingly monotonous and oh-so-very-long human life span!? My! what will they think of next!?" Sorry, but I'd be doing a horrible injustice to myself/everyone if I kept all my bitterness inside and tried to pretend that it wasn't there. I try to overcome it as much as I can, but I'll never be able to surpass it. People with much lesser problems can't even come close, so how could I? But to beat a cliché (isn't that impressive! You wouldn't believe the effort that that character takes!. . . or maybe you would. . .) into the ground (and I will here, I like this cliché (ouch! my tongue! I need to find ways around that word.) and I'll keep using it.): But I digress. . .
I'd better calm it on down w/ the big complex parenthesis structures before I turn into the illegitimate stump of Faulkner or something like that. People won't even be driven to read this by pity (or a voyeuristic perversion for suffering) alone. Unless, of course, the writing itself was the perversion for suffering that they had. But I'm so far off topic now I'm beginning to forget what I was trying to say. I guess that it's another time for digression. . .
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[i'm stopping this here and continuing it in another post, since it's getting to be quite large, and i've barely even started w/ it yet...]

"The Slow and Subtle Movements of a Stump" cont'd. (read last entry first if you haven't done so...)

I read a lot too. I have my "help" (that makes me feel very aristocratic, I guess I am a masochist's billionaire) copy the pages of the books that I want to read onto disc and I go through them on the computer screen. Sometimes I feel as though everyone's going through too much trouble for me, but the reading helps keep me sane. I watch movies sometimes too, but not as much. Some movies are great, but I think that I identify with literature more--like an amputated version of cinema. . . of sorts.
Shortly after I ended up here, I requested Dalton Trumbo's Johnny Got His Gun. They tried to talk me out of reading it at first. "It will severly depress you." I knew what it was about. There was a reason that I chose to read it. And they couldn't have been more wrong. It actually uplifted me. It helped me to suss out some things that had been going through my head concerning my condition. And also it helped me to think that, while I have neither arms, legs, nor voice, at least I still have sight and sound and the many crutches that technology provides. Basically, at least I'm not as bad off as Joe.--I wonder how many people's spirits I raise on a daily basis? I'm a beacon of hope to women and children the world around--a shiny beacon, yet small and dull.
In case of emergencies, I can also communicate simple ideas by moving my mouth. As the common person is not a lip reader (and neither am I), it doesn't work very well for conversational purposes, but if I keep it slow and simple the basic idea can be communicated--hopefully. This idea helps me with my "walks."
As I stated earlier, I enjoy taking the wheelchair that I'm plopped into every day and breathing my way around the streets. The people here were very much against this at first, but I eventually convinced them of my need to actually fucking live, just a tiny bit. They mentioned the garden and its walkways again. I mentioned isolation and utter misery again. They suggested I be escorted, if not pushed around. I suggested being treated like a dog as little as humanly possible. And I did "choose" to be here and my mental powers have yet to be torn from me (although at times it seems like it would be much more convenient), so I was able to have another of the very few pleasure that I can get out of life. . . But I have it and I make do the best I can with it. Seeing people, breathing real air, moving. . .
Of course, I am limited to moving around the good parts of town, staying among larger groups of people and all. Yes, I enjoy freedom, but absolute freedom, of course, is a myth. Any freedom is subjected to certain bounds. Mine just happens to have a lot more than others'. I merely try to enjoy what little I have. It'd be ignorant to give it up for even less. I know what an easy target I am. A mouse won't climb into the nest of the owl (for an analogy). But I enjoy what little contact with the general public I can get. It's perhaps for the better that I can't get any more.
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[stopping here for now...i might just go to sleep since i have less than 8 hrs to sleep now...work in the morning...yay...but i'm getting caught up in this...hopefully my ideas won't diminish...and i hope even more that they're good in the first place...oh well...i've got where this is going to go mapped out pretty well...i thank everyone who's actually kept up thus far...]