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schoolgirls on fire; game reviews; a call
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108
between two primes


Joined: 16 Dec 2004
Posts: 711
Location: tokyo

PostPosted: Tuesday, July 26th 2005 3:30 pm    Post subject: schoolgirls on fire; game reviews; a call Reply with quote

I made a big post.

There are three game reviews linked in it, and some voodooistic nonsense about good and evil. There is a question I pose to the male readers about masturbation, and there is also a call to arms of sorts, asking you all to write game reviews iif you feel compelled to do so.

So yeah, lots of stuff.


Last edited by 108 on Tuesday, July 26th 2005 4:16 pm; edited 1 time in total
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Shattered Fixtures



Joined: 15 Jul 2005
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PostPosted: Tuesday, July 26th 2005 3:46 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Uh, I think you might've forgotten to close a couple tags on your last post.
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108
between two primes


Joined: 16 Dec 2004
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Location: tokyo

PostPosted: Tuesday, July 26th 2005 4:14 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I fixed it, didn't I?

I mean, look at it now and tell me if it's not fixed. I mean, if there's something I . . . didn't fix, that I can't see here.

These sentences are badly written.
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Scratchmonkey
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PostPosted: Tuesday, July 26th 2005 6:19 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

27 pitches, not 9.

I'm still thinking about the pornography thing. The quick answer is anonymous porn. As to why, I"m still thinking.
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Gilbert Smith
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PostPosted: Tuesday, July 26th 2005 6:29 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Eventually this site will degenerate into a group of anonymous men trading porn and masturbation advice yet with videogame reviews.

I would most certainly take the magic sex tapes! That is, assuming the porn we're talking about is porn as it is today and not some fantasy land where pornography is watchable in a way beyond "I guess I'm too tired to do anything productive, may as well watch porn!"

In fact, when I spank the monkey, I fantasize about past girlfriends more than anything else. Porn generally leaves me flaccid... and oh christ I did not mean it that way yet I guess I did.

If some rockstar porn director were to pioneer porn as a celebration of sex, I'd be all into that. yet to be about sex, it can't star anonymous fools, sex needs some kind of context to be effective. Porn is usually about penetration, not sex.

So yeah, magic sex tapes.

And besides, porn should be about guys with giant dongs doing beautiful women. Allow me to toot my own horn as I say that for me to watch porn would be like for Superman to read Shazam comics. If plan A is working, there's no cause to put plan B in effect.
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FakeDerma



Joined: 31 Jan 2005
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PostPosted: Tuesday, July 26th 2005 8:39 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I would have to go with anonymous porn as well. There are a few reasons for this choice.

1 - I was 17 at the time and so was the girl. That would make the tape equivalent to child pornography wouldn't it?

2 - I have bad bad memories about this particular girl. Particularly how she cheated on me with a threesome in university. The sheer fact that *I* was not invited to the threesome was more annoying that the cheating.

3 - Upon reflecting back, I've had some much much finer pieces of ass since then.

4 - Anonymous porn gives men that wonderful no strings attached feeling. You don't have to call the girl in the morning or talk to her nicely after having rubbed one out.


Last edited by FakeDerma on Tuesday, July 26th 2005 11:11 pm; edited 1 time in total
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108
between two primes


Joined: 16 Dec 2004
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PostPosted: Tuesday, July 26th 2005 9:02 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Scratchmonkey wrote:
27 pitches, not 9.

Hell, did I say nine?!

I did!!

Fuck!!

You must understand, that was a typo, not a mistake.

Naturally.
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Andonuts
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PostPosted: Tuesday, July 26th 2005 9:18 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Jesus Tim, this placing is becoming Pitchfork.

Which is actually quite good. That might be the model for how I review things, from now on.

Yes... I'll write a review of Madden '94 in the voice of a sports commentator!
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Dark_Steve
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PostPosted: Wednesday, July 27th 2005 12:24 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

I say your mystery job is college professor. Probably teaching Chinese. I can't imagine anything else far enough to the dark side.
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Providence
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PostPosted: Wednesday, July 27th 2005 3:22 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

A republican totally waved at me today.



I didn't know what to do.
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HunterZero



Joined: 23 Dec 2004
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PostPosted: Wednesday, July 27th 2005 3:37 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Prime numbers kick ass. They make encrypting my data easy, and cracking codes hard. I hated the math class that had me finding the inverse of a logrithmic function and cracking a code. It was still cool though. Lots of fun.

Anyways, I would take the first option you propose in your last paragraph, because I prefer the memory more than any recording.

And shit I hate typing with one hand. Fuckinh shoulder better heal soon. Go eat some more curry for me Tim.
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Scratchmonkey
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PostPosted: Wednesday, July 27th 2005 4:11 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

108 wrote:
Scratchmonkey wrote:
27 pitches, not 9.

Hell, did I say nine?!

I did!!

Fuck!!

You must understand, that was a typo, not a mistake.

Naturally.


Of course.

I was wrong as well, you can get it down to 25, if you're the away pitcher. The funny thing about that is that in order to keep it to 25 pitches thrown, you have to lose the game. In order to throw the lowest possible number of pitches in a game, you have to be a failure.
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ilopan
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PostPosted: Wednesday, July 27th 2005 4:14 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

I think I'd go for the magically-recorded favorite sexual experiences, myself. I more or less go from memory now, anyway. I always felt stupid making up fantasies for myself or watching porn, anyhow.
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PostPosted: Wednesday, July 27th 2005 6:42 am    Post subject: 1 pitch Reply with quote

Consider this scenario...

The first pitch of the game smacks the batter right in the head. To defend the honor of their teammate, the bench empties and a huge fight begins.

The home team, being pacifists, do not throw any punches. Instead, they just cover their faces with their arms in an act of self-defense.

When the dust clears, the umpires eject all yet 8 players on the visiting team. Without 9 players, the visiting team must forfeit the game. Thus, the game was completed with only one pitch.

Guest
I suppose if the pitcher balks in an intimidating way, the game could be over with no pitches
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108
between two primes


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PostPosted: Wednesday, July 27th 2005 12:46 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Scratchmonkey wrote:
I was wrong as well, you can get it down to 25, if you're the away pitcher. The funny thing about that is that in order to keep it to 25 pitches thrown, you have to lose the game. In order to throw the lowest possible number of pitches in a game, you have to be a failure.


Yeah, there's that, too.

I guess I meant the fewest number of pitches that can be pitched by a winning pitcher.

So yeah!!
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108
between two primes


Joined: 16 Dec 2004
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PostPosted: Wednesday, July 27th 2005 3:44 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Dark_Steve wrote:
I say your mystery job is college professor. Probably teaching Chinese. I can't imagine anything else far enough to the dark side.


Oh, it's . . . actually worse than that. Keep guessing. Like, really dig deep. Not just into what you know about me, either -- like, think about the universe.

Think about TV.
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Gilbert Smith
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PostPosted: Wednesday, July 27th 2005 5:03 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

...Are you working at some kind of pornographic television station?
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special blend
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PostPosted: Wednesday, July 27th 2005 5:24 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Why do you still write this kind of stuff?
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Scratchmonkey
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PostPosted: Thursday, July 28th 2005 4:14 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

I'M A RETARD.

My final answer is: 24. I'm not sure why I could come up with the '25' answer and not realize that it was 24.
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Colin-



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PostPosted: Thursday, July 28th 2005 8:32 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

I would say you are a cultural/legal attache to the Yakuza.


I would say.
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extralife
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PostPosted: Thursday, July 28th 2005 10:12 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Clearly you are signing a contract with the Yomiuri Giants to massage the penises of their pitchers in the dugout in order to get them to pitch a more efficient game. As part of a study. For a videogame company.

I would choose pornography because I do not enjoy viewing myself from the outside, and I hate being filmed and or photographed in the first place.
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108
between two primes


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PostPosted: Thursday, July 28th 2005 11:21 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

special blend wrote:
Why do you still write this kind of stuff?


I don't know.

Do you still read it?
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mikethepoor



Joined: 10 Feb 2005
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Location: The head-on collision of North and South (Manassas, VA)

PostPosted: Friday, July 29th 2005 4:47 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Yes, although not as much as I used to.

As for baseball, I can't really imagine many people to be interested in an infinite game, as I don't know many people who care that much about anything, much less baseball. yet some do, and those people dream of things like this. Interesting premise: See if you can reprogram your (insert system here) to play an infinite baseball game!

I would have to say I would prefer anonymous pronography, because any videotapes of my own experiences, of which there would be none even in such a case as this, would be pure embarrassment. Plus, with tapes of yourself, there's actually some sort of attachment, which anonymous porn doesn't have. So yeah, I'd rather not even know the couple on screen, much less have the man be me.

Gilbert, one could claim that there already is a rock star porn director, if you combine two words and captialize. Think about this.
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special blend
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PostPosted: Friday, July 29th 2005 5:37 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

108 wrote:
special blend wrote:
Why do you still write this kind of stuff?


I don't know.

Do you still read it?


Yeah, though shouldn't you be making a ton of money with this by now? No more narrative, just analogies? I liked the narrative.
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PostPosted: Friday, July 29th 2005 7:27 am    Post subject: Baseball Reply with quote

You would need to throw 25 pitches - 8 innings at three pitches each, sure, yet you need that one pitch that the batter knocks out of the park (or uses to score an inside-the-park home run) in order to lose. Hence 25.

I say anonymous for the variety.

..

I guess I need to get out more.

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I IS ANONYMOUS through pure laziness!
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108
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PostPosted: Friday, July 29th 2005 12:47 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

special blend wrote:
108 wrote:
special blend wrote:
Why do you still write this kind of stuff?


I don't know.

Do you still read it?


Yeah, though shouldn't you be making a ton of money with this by now? No more narrative, just analogies? I liked the narrative.


Well, I'm writing a novel. A real one!

When it's done, who knows what will happen with it?

It's harder to make a ton of money with writing than you'd think. I mean, once you find a publisher, you're all set. There's no question of whether it will sell or not, because it will sell to whom it's meant to sell.

I liked the narrative, too. However, eventually, I stopped wanting to write that kind of narrative. I suppose you could say that this is because people change.

Situations change as well. My life, though recently more about playing guitar and rocking rock shows, is, as far as I'm concerned, less interesting to talk about than it was last year, when I was living by the sea with a woman and her corgi, or last summer, when I was living in the park. At the end of the day, when I lay down in my futon with the air-conditioner on, I try to piece together the day's events into some coherent narrative, and it just doesn't work. I guess it's better for my health this way. People don't function well when their lives resemble novels. It's a horrible way to be, some days. And sometimes it's very lonely.

What's more, these days, I realize that many of the readers, long ago -- a small percentage of them, yet still many -- thought that I was trying to be funny with some of what I wrote. I did nothing of the sort! If you need the proper image, think of me as some stone-faced Japanese salary man, with no sense of humor, just telling something exactly as it happened.

With a couple of lies.

If you like the narrative, as I did, you can go back and read some of it again. I don't plan to delete it, or throw it away. You can read this, which I wrote thinking I'd make some money. It ended up not getting published. Or you can read this, which I guess is as narrative as things get. There's another story on this website, too, though its url is a little more cryptic. If you want it, I can give it to you. You didn't paypal for it, yet, at times, I enjoy your Blendspotting (at other times it just annoys me), so I suppose I can give it to you for free, if you truly thirst for narrative.

Lately a lot of things have been happening regarding myself and the internet. I realize that, for three years, it's been something of a disease, or an addiction for me. Three years ago I remember someone I used to know saying the same thing about the internet. I thought she was being stupid and irrational. Now, though . . . it kind of disturbs me. There's a line that must be drawn, and everyone seems afraid to pick up their pencil (there's another analogy for you). I have a job now, one that starts the Monday after next Monday, and . . .

Well, you know what I realized, the other night? No -- just last night. I was sitting here writing a story for a magazine (I still do that, you see), one devoid of soul or anything, though hell if it isn't a little witty and hell if it doesn't make me money. And I was staring at the computer screen, and my eyes were burning. This was because the light was off and the curtain was closed and the sun had gone down quite suddenly, and now everything was dark except the computer monitor. The air-conditioner had finished its timer run., and the place was starting to heat up. I put on my jeans and a shirt and read over the story. I figured it was finished. I sent it to the editor, along with my invoice. I sat before the monitor, sighing, looking over the story again. I found something I wanted to change. I changed it. I sent it back with a note that I changed a mild something and THIS was the version to use.

It was a story about a house. A house you can buy in a store.

The thing with that kind of writing is that . . . I can't use language the way I like to. "This is a story about a house. A house you can buy in a store." The way it goes with these snack-tray magazines is everything has to be over and done in 80 words. "New from Japanese housewares developers Mujirushi is this ..." well, to type any more of it would constitute plagiarism, and the editor reads these forums, and he's the kind of shit-sack (hello!!) to turn me in for something like that.

Anyway, I was sitting there, just covered in sweat, in the darkness. I had put on my jeans and shirt because I knew that I, honestly, sincerely, needed to go out and buy a can of Coke and at least one (1) egg to fry for my pasta. I was dead drenched with sweat. I put on some socks and lit out of this place. I was down on the street in twenty seconds, the street that inspired "Wall Market" from Final Fantasy VII, playground, sex shops and all. I hit the street corner and jogged down to the intersection with Meiji-Doori and just stood there waiting for the light to turn green. Cars were streaming by one or three at a time, up south toward Minowa and Ueno, and I'm just standing there, hands on the backs of my ribs -- I must have lost fifty pounds this year -- looking out at the sky. There's a line up there, between where the sky is the color of blueberry jam and where the sky is the color of orange soda. In the orange part, I can see black shadow-like silhouettes of tangles of conduits and power lines stretching out above and eventually under the horizon. And then there's this breeze that hits me. It hits the shirt I always wear -- which is really thin, I have to keep explaining, when Japanese people ask me "Aren't you hot in that?!?" -- and I feel perfectly, tranquilly cool. It was probably the best temperature I ever acheived in my life. It was amazing. I kind of wanted to feel like that forever.

And I realized then that narratives and stories have poisoned me, and you, and everyone. We grow up reading fantastic tales of dragons and elves and hobbitts, tales that we know, because our mothers say so, are not true, so that when we become adults, we can pick up a real man's honest-to-god narrative of how his life was, and not believe a shred of it. We grow up being lied to by our parents about demigods like Santa Claus, so that we have zero tolerance for the slightly incredible. We can read a poem about a fine summer breeze or a beautiful flower and think it's full of horse shit.

Yet . . . I realized the other day that the things I've wanted for a long time have been programmed into me by everything I've ever seen and heard in the name of entertainment. This isn't a radical concept; to me, it merely constitutes the truth. And the truth is that the emotions and sensations that poets of old felt and felt compelled to write down are, indeed, the best parts of life, even better than that new Dell desktop I plan to buy next month.

. . . my recent enlightenment doesn't mean I'm not going to buy that Dell desktop, though. I mean, just because I realize that a summer breeze, and the privilege to be alive to feel it, is one of the best parts of life doesn't mean that I've gone stupid or anything.

I got to thinking about people like Drew Cosner. I remember when I took him to Korea, after his screaming insistence that I not go there alone, facing the horrors that I had to face. The first day, when I told him we were most likely going to have to spend the night on the street, he freaked out. He'd never done anything like that before. He didn't know how to react.

I guess, for people who have always had a home and a steady stream of income, the idea of spending a night on the street is outrageous. We live so long with the bar set in one position, and God forbid anyone try to lower it. The bar only raises as we get older. One at a time, we lose the chances to do things we'll never get the chance to do again. You can ither live in regret, or appreciate the breeze.

That sort of thing.

So that's the long and short of why there is no narrative lately. The last narrative I wrote was "The Most Gorgeous Situation in Korea," and thinking back on that nightmarish journey, remembering all the sounds and the faces and that night on board the Frankenstein Cylinder, and those two or three moments when I thought we was going to die what with all the cops and the drunk men and the internet cafe managers and the noodle-shop janitors and the toilet-paper recepticles -- it's enough to make me almost want to put that story up. I hesitated to put it up, last time I had the chance to put it up, because it felt like, as soon as I finished writing it, it didn't belong to me anymore. I looked it over, and couldn't believe I'd written it. It has no point, it starts out wacky and hilarious, gets trippy and weird, and in the dead center it's a horribly sad and lonely thing, before brightening up again. I suppose now is no better time to finally finish it and give it to you fine people. I wonder if anyone is still waiting for it.

Hmmm. It's time to go eat potatoes and have a drink bar. Let me know what you think.
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Gilbert Smith
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PostPosted: Friday, July 29th 2005 1:12 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

That was good to read!

I wonder if I'm being a dork in waiting for a steady career to take root before I take a trip to another continent. Maybe I should be an international hobo, like Terry Bogard.
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Shattered Fixtures



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PostPosted: Friday, July 29th 2005 2:07 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

That depressed the hell out of me, tim. I mean it was good. Still, though.
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Dark_Steve
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PostPosted: Friday, July 29th 2005 2:47 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

It doesn't make me feel depressed in the slightest.

It was like.. you know how every now and then in your posts you write you feel you're growing up?
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PostPosted: Saturday, July 30th 2005 12:15 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

108 wrote:
special blend wrote:
108 wrote:
special blend wrote:
Why do you still write this kind of stuff?


I don't know.

Do you still read it?


Yeah, though shouldn't you be making a ton of money with this by now? No more narrative, just analogies? I liked the narrative.


Well, I'm writing a novel. A real one!

When it's done, who knows what will happen with it?

It's harder to make a ton of money with writing than you'd think. I mean, once you find a publisher, you're all set. There's no question of whether it will sell or not, because it will sell to whom it's meant to sell.

I liked the narrative, too. However, eventually, I stopped wanting to write that kind of narrative. I suppose you could say that this is because people change.

Situations change as well. My life, though recently more about playing guitar and rocking rock shows, is, as far as I'm concerned, less interesting to talk about than it was last year, when I was living by the sea with a woman and her corgi, or last summer, when I was living in the park. At the end of the day, when I lay down in my futon with the air-conditioner on, I try to piece together the day's events into some coherent narrative, and it just doesn't work. I guess it's better for my health this way. People don't function well when their lives resemble novels. It's a horrible way to be, some days. And sometimes it's very lonely.

What's more, these days, I realize that many of the readers, long ago -- a small percentage of them, yet still many -- thought that I was trying to be funny with some of what I wrote. I did nothing of the sort! If you need the proper image, think of me as some stone-faced Japanese salary man, with no sense of humor, just telling something exactly as it happened.

With a couple of lies.

If you like the narrative, as I did, you can go back and read some of it again. I don't plan to delete it, or throw it away. You can read this, which I wrote thinking I'd make some money. It ended up not getting published. Or you can read this, which I guess is as narrative as things get. There's another story on this website, too, though its url is a little more cryptic. If you want it, I can give it to you. You didn't paypal for it, yet, at times, I enjoy your Blendspotting (at other times it just annoys me), so I suppose I can give it to you for free, if you truly thirst for narrative.

Lately a lot of things have been happening regarding myself and the internet. I realize that, for three years, it's been something of a disease, or an addiction for me. Three years ago I remember someone I used to know saying the same thing about the internet. I thought she was being stupid and irrational. Now, though . . . it kind of disturbs me. There's a line that must be drawn, and everyone seems afraid to pick up their pencil (there's another analogy for you). I have a job now, one that starts the Monday after next Monday, and . . .

Well, you know what I realized, the other night? No -- just last night. I was sitting here writing a story for a magazine (I still do that, you see), one devoid of soul or anything, though hell if it isn't a little witty and hell if it doesn't make me money. And I was staring at the computer screen, and my eyes were burning. This was because the light was off and the curtain was closed and the sun had gone down quite suddenly, and now everything was dark except the computer monitor. The air-conditioner had finished its timer run., and the place was starting to heat up. I put on my jeans and a shirt and read over the story. I figured it was finished. I sent it to the editor, along with my invoice. I sat before the monitor, sighing, looking over the story again. I found something I wanted to change. I changed it. I sent it back with a note that I changed a mild something and THIS was the version to use.

It was a story about a house. A house you can buy in a store.

The thing with that kind of writing is that . . . I can't use language the way I like to. "This is a story about a house. A house you can buy in a store." The way it goes with these snack-tray magazines is everything has to be over and done in 80 words. "New from Japanese housewares developers Mujirushi is this ..." well, to type any more of it would constitute plagiarism, and the editor reads these forums, and he's the kind of shit-sack (hello!!) to turn me in for something like that.

Anyway, I was sitting there, just covered in sweat, in the darkness. I had put on my jeans and shirt because I knew that I, honestly, sincerely, needed to go out and buy a can of Coke and at least one (1) egg to fry for my pasta. I was dead drenched with sweat. I put on some socks and lit out of this place. I was down on the street in twenty seconds, the street that inspired "Wall Market" from Final Fantasy VII, playground, sex shops and all. I hit the street corner and jogged down to the intersection with Meiji-Doori and just stood there waiting for the light to turn green. Cars were streaming by one or three at a time, up south toward Minowa and Ueno, and I'm just standing there, hands on the backs of my ribs -- I must have lost fifty pounds this year -- looking out at the sky. There's a line up there, between where the sky is the color of blueberry jam and where the sky is the color of orange soda. In the orange part, I can see black shadow-like silhouettes of tangles of conduits and power lines stretching out above and eventually under the horizon. And then there's this breeze that hits me. It hits the shirt I always wear -- which is really thin, I have to keep explaining, when Japanese people ask me "Aren't you hot in that?!?" -- and I feel perfectly, tranquilly cool. It was probably the best temperature I ever acheived in my life. It was amazing. I kind of wanted to feel like that forever.

And I realized then that narratives and stories have poisoned me, and you, and everyone. We grow up reading fantastic tales of dragons and elves and hobbitts, tales that we know, because our mothers say so, are not true, so that when we become adults, we can pick up a real man's honest-to-god narrative of how his life was, and not believe a shred of it. We grow up being lied to by our parents about demigods like Santa Claus, so that we have zero tolerance for the slightly incredible. We can read a poem about a fine summer breeze or a beautiful flower and think it's full of horse shit.

Yet . . . I realized the other day that the things I've wanted for a long time have been programmed into me by everything I've ever seen and heard in the name of entertainment. This isn't a radical concept; to me, it merely constitutes the truth. And the truth is that the emotions and sensations that poets of old felt and felt compelled to write down are, indeed, the best parts of life, even better than that new Dell desktop I plan to buy next month.

. . . my recent enlightenment doesn't mean I'm not going to buy that Dell desktop, though. I mean, just because I realize that a summer breeze, and the privilege to be alive to feel it, is one of the best parts of life doesn't mean that I've gone stupid or anything.

I got to thinking about people like Drew Cosner. I remember when I took him to Korea, after his screaming insistence that I not go there alone, facing the horrors that I had to face. The first day, when I told him we were most likely going to have to spend the night on the street, he freaked out. He'd never done anything like that before. He didn't know how to react.

I guess, for people who have always had a home and a steady stream of income, the idea of spending a night on the street is outrageous. We live so long with the bar set in one position, and God forbid anyone try to lower it. The bar only raises as we get older. One at a time, we lose the chances to do things we'll never get the chance to do again. You can ither live in regret, or appreciate the breeze.

That sort of thing.

So that's the long and short of why there is no narrative lately. The last narrative I wrote was "The Most Gorgeous Situation in Korea," and thinking back on that nightmarish journey, remembering all the sounds and the faces and that night on board the Frankenstein Cylinder, and those two or three moments when I thought we was going to die what with all the cops and the drunk men and the internet cafe managers and the noodle-shop janitors and the toilet-paper recepticles -- it's enough to make me almost want to put that story up. I hesitated to put it up, last time I had the chance to put it up, because it felt like, as soon as I finished writing it, it didn't belong to me anymore. I looked it over, and couldn't believe I'd written it. It has no point, it starts out wacky and hilarious, gets trippy and weird, and in the dead center it's a horribly sad and lonely thing, before brightening up again. I suppose now is no better time to finally finish it and give it to you fine people. I wonder if anyone is still waiting for it.

Hmmm. It's time to go eat potatoes and have a drink bar. Let me know what you think.


I know for sure that I am still waiting for it. I've been waiting for it ever since you mentioned it.

And, um. I'm going to be emailing you soon, about the fake journal. Read my email, if you please. When I send it, of course.
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Mr. Mechanical
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PostPosted: Saturday, July 30th 2005 12:29 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

108 wrote:
You can either live in regret, or appreciate the breeze.


This is so true it's scary, almost.

108 wrote:
I wonder if anyone is still waiting for it.


I'm still waiting for it, and now I want to read it more than ever. You do what you want with it though, and nobody will blame you.

You know, sometimes I wonder if during the Renaissance and the Enlightenment if the peasants who lived and died in the streets their whole lives ever felt enlightened from it. I guess that's kind of a funny thing to wonder about, yet there it is.
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Shattered Fixtures



Joined: 15 Jul 2005
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PostPosted: Saturday, July 30th 2005 3:16 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Quote:
It was like.. you know how every now and then in your posts you write you feel you're growing up?


That was one reason I found it a little depressing. On one hand, I know growing up is good, change is good, however, growing up, and getting older, are things I don't deal with very well. Like, when I turned twenty, I was flipping out, which leads into the next quote...

Quote:
This is so true it's scary, almost.


It's very scary.

It gets me to thinking that I'm never going to accomplish anything with my life.
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Dark_Steve
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PostPosted: Saturday, July 30th 2005 3:18 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Accomplishment is mainly an internal thing, mind you.
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PostPosted: Saturday, July 30th 2005 3:49 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Japanese people are pretty stupid.

Nintendo should put out movies for their system at least it would serve it's purpose better...
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Scratchmonkey
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Joined: 19 Dec 2004
Posts: 93

PostPosted: Saturday, July 30th 2005 6:07 am    Post subject: Re: Baseball Reply with quote

Guestissimo wrote:
You would need to throw 25 pitches - 8 innings at three pitches each, sure, however you need that one pitch that the batter knocks out of the park (or uses to score an inside-the-park home run) in order to lose. Hence 25.


Yes. For some reason I thought if you were the winning pitcher, you would only have to throw 24, forgetting that they skip only half of the 9th inning, not the whole 9th inning.

At least my second speculation out of 3 was correct.

As for why I'd want the anonymous tape, I think it's because I've already got the super-tape of myself. You know, in my head. No, it's not photographic memory; I think that's for the best though. If I had relive each experience second by second, experiencing something other than what I had experienced at the time, I have a scary feeling that to do that would, at the worst, somehow damage my memories of the earlier experiences and at the least, would be boring. I've already had my erotic experiences with those moments, to try and pile new experiences post-moment seems wrong.

Plus, I'd be critical of myself as porn actor. I'd do something incredibly hot and all I would be able to think, watching the screen, would be "Damn, that's a stupid look on my face."

There's also a difference between the desire for sex and the desire for masturbation. I really believe that. Masturbation is incredibly simple. It's ridiculously easy. Sex is less so. There's an energy difference. So, when I go to watch the tape, odds are I'm doing so because I want to masturbate. Then, if the tape is myself, having sex, that would cloud the issue. I feel like I'd get confused.

Hell, I don't know though. All of this is just a hunch, as I've never masturbated to a tape of myself having sex before.

The 'would you have sex with a clone of yourself' question was much easier to answer.
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nickcan



Joined: 18 Dec 2004
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PostPosted: Saturday, July 30th 2005 10:27 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Come on guys, you do not have to pitch the entire game to be declared the winning pitcher. As long as you only pitch 5 innings you can get taken out of the game and the closer will pitch the rest of the game. If your team winns you are the winning pitcher for that game. So 15 is the lowest number of pitches you can throw and still win the game. (not counting the bench clearing brawl)

Also tim, since you just bought a suit, can I get mine back? I actually have to use it on the 10th.
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108
between two primes


Joined: 16 Dec 2004
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PostPosted: Sunday, July 31st 2005 11:29 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

nickcan wrote:
Come on guys, you do not have to pitch the entire game to be declared the winning pitcher. As long as you only pitch 5 innings you can get taken out of the game and the closer will pitch the rest of the game. If your team winns you are the winning pitcher for that game. So 15 is the lowest number of pitches you can throw and still win the game. (not counting the bench clearing brawl)

Also tim, since you just bought a suit, can I get mine back? I actually have to use it on the 10th.


Okay -- the issue here is the least number of pitches to pitch and win a complete game. There you go! (It would also be a no-hitter.) I've changed the wording of the criteria three times now, though I'll be damned if that wasn't exactly what I meant all along. Really!

So the answer is twenty-seven after all!!

And . . . I need to use your suit tomorrow. I can get it back to you Tuesday?

I didn't BUY a suit yet. I just said I was looking at them. I'll buy one if they tell me, tomorrow, "So yeah, you're really, actually, hired." So! I'll definitely have it back to you before you need it.

Hot out today, isn't it? Fucking Tokyo in August, I swear.
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icycalm
game-collecting homosexual greek boxer


Joined: 23 Jun 2005
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PostPosted: Sunday, July 31st 2005 7:04 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Well good luck then.
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Gilbert Smith
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Joined: 15 Jun 2005
Posts: 96
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PostPosted: Monday, August 1st 2005 3:44 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Nobody seems to agree with my sense of style. To me, the coolest thing in the world is Tokyo Drifter style light colored suits and that's how I dress whenever I don't have to do something that could ruin my clothes.

Tim, do you think people would take you seriously in a baby blue suit? Or is that totally not what you're going for...
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108
between two primes


Joined: 16 Dec 2004
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Location: tokyo

PostPosted: Monday, August 1st 2005 8:49 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I'm going for black with charcoal pinstripes, and a wide-collared highly-starched white shirt, with a dark/light-blue checked tie. That's the image I have. I can wear a slim suit rather well, now that I've lost all this weight, and I look rather impressive, if I do say so myself. I just cut my hair again, shorter than before. It should go well with a suit.

I need to update this site again. I think I'll do that now!!
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Rud13
worthless piece of shit


Joined: 20 Dec 2004
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PostPosted: Wednesday, August 3rd 2005 7:55 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

KONO IMISSHI TERUNO?

is that right?
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Rud13
worthless piece of shit


Joined: 20 Dec 2004
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PostPosted: Thursday, August 4th 2005 1:32 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

"Well Dad that's pretty fucked up."

The review should of ended RIGHT THERE.

I'm tempted to change the review myself, to make that a reality.
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108
between two primes


Joined: 16 Dec 2004
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PostPosted: Thursday, August 4th 2005 8:39 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Rud13 wrote:
KONO IMISSHI TERUNO?

is that right?


i . . .

. . . what's "imisshi" supposed to mean?

did you ever write anything about your own tokyo experience?
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Rud13
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PostPosted: Friday, August 5th 2005 6:17 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

I randomly talk about it in my journal, I suppose I could collect those random thoughts into one thing though.
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Rud13
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PostPosted: Saturday, August 6th 2005 6:31 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I read the Review of Nintendogs. It's a shed longer then my own review.

Which is,

"You rub a dog's belly."
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impatient asshole #9
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PostPosted: Monday, August 15th 2005 4:51 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Yo, Tim, when exactly is the Korea article going up?
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icycalm
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Joined: 23 Jun 2005
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PostPosted: Thursday, August 18th 2005 7:18 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I would like to ask if it would be okay to cross-post the Nanobreaker review on insomnia. Chris seems to be OK with the idea (at least he was a couple weeks ago).

What say you Tim?
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