Senatorial

This is absolutely the wrong template for me. I'm not even sure what is going on here. Though it is scrappy and has pluck, I can assure you it will not last. The great machine will replace it with something far more indie.

Furthermore, I have forgotten who everyone is or who they're supposed to be. The X-Men in general seem to have fallen off the map a bit.

Here is a sad thought: Reese Witherspoon's June Carter probably made more people fall in love with June Carter than June Carter ever could. Is there an actor out there who could turn my life into an hour of screen time and make you love me? Probably. And that's a little depressing.

Aught Empire is going well. Did I just jinx it? I feel like, perhaps, the ideas have gotten less earth shattering. At least my own have. But perhaps that's ok. The original intent was not to change the world everyday, only to challenge two people to come up with something each day for one year. So far, so effing good.

We are fast-moving

Today is post number 48. I'm planning on getting absolutely tanked for number 50. Stay tuned.

I use this space in absolutely the utmost wrong ways. I don't say anything. I worry that if I ever do find a medium with which to utter forth my creative, ahem, juices, I'll just short-arm it. Afraid of getting hit by a linebacker, my arms will recoil and no truth will come out (the ball will drop). Fourth down. We punt.

I have recently become convinced a good friend of mine is dead. As Wolverine put it, "He does have really bad luck." This won't be funny if it turns out I'm right. Which I'm sure I'm not.

Is it someone else's responsibility to let you go? What if that isn't what you want? What if they've never put you first, and tell you they aren't putting you first? Whose fault is it then?

I've been at Camanche for too long now. I know I will get used to this schedule, and tonight was bad because I didn't bring enough to do, but I'm ready to come home. I'm lonely and ready to come home. My running routine is top-notch up here, and rife with hills scarcely found on the island.

Wolverine has asked I give more day-to-day updates. It's hard when I'm here, largely because my days go like this: work, run, eat, movie/tv, sleep, repeat. Somewhere in there I shower. I plomise. Tonight there was the reading of Klosterman. "Killing Yourself to Live" started with such fervor and promise, now I'm not so sure. I often love what he has to say, and I could isolate a dozen beautiful sentences from the first half of the book, but I find myself disagreeing with what he's saying AND (more importantly?) disliking how he presents it. He is the Rush Limabugh of indie rock, using words like 'obviously' and 'of course' when things aren't....obvious, of course.

Bah. There is a long list of people I want to see. Some of them are girls. Ok, most of them are girls. Not that it means anything. It's mostly coincidence.

A wrought iron gate for my ironic rotting gut

There. That's better. Like a nice warm sweater.

I am SO thankful for Beyonce Knowles. Her new single is beyond good. "Crazy in Love" blew my mind, but this may be better. It's less gimicky. Just her. So good. I really think, if she keeps it up, that she may go down as one of the best female artists ever. If not the best. Ok, now I'm cycloping it.

How is everyone? Christmas treated you well I hope?

I've been running a lot. Daily in fact. And as tired as I am once I stop, I really feel like after a few minutes of rest that I could handle some full-court basketball. See, the plan is to not be such a raging fat ass. I don't actually think I'm fat, not yet anyway. But the former plan was going to get me there in a goddamn quick hurry.

Check it.

You know how much I love you

"I see a darkness" by the bpb is brilliant. I have to thank Wolverine for sharing that with me.

And I could listen to twelve minute Decemberists songs all day.

How often do I post just to say how much I enjoy two particular songs? Not often. So, you know. Take heed and all that. Penny Arcade has a brilliant piece of writing on it today. It's not earth-shaking or anything, but the words are sculpted into this beautiful mass of precision that it makes me not want to even try. It's that good. You should go check it out and see if it resonates with you a'tall.

Your name is David Keenan. You're at Moira Donelley's house, just outside of Syracuse.

My brain beats a million times per second. I'm not kidding. It never stops, as much as I want it to.

I'm tired. I'm so tired. People have told me that I look sad, and that I don't sound happy, all in the last five hours. I don't know that either of those things are true, but I suppose it's all a matter of perception. I'm just really tired. And bored. What's that line? If you're bored, then you're boring. Well, I don't think I'm boring. I'm just fucking tired.

I spent the last two days up at the 'manche, far from myspace and from blogger. I mean, they exist, but my access to them is limited.

So bulletins regarding the day to day: Tomorrow I'll be on the roof at my parents house. There will be rain, electricity, bright lights, and probably a ladder. On Saturday, I'll fly to LA for an obscenely long hug with 80's era Storm, some cocktails, golf balls with Ted and Cyclops (did that one on purpose) and some Vietnamese food. Fly back on Sunday for rest. God, how I adore rest. Then the camanch again. Then home. Then Camanche. Fucking. Xmas. (re: Christmas) Got the presents ordered and e'rthing.

so fuck it, here's your love song

Oh, it has been an adventure. Let's go backwards, shall we?

I watched the Raider game with my dad, brother, and the Gambit. It was good times. After that (we're not going backwards anymore. Come on, keep up.) Gambit and I went to see the Tenacious D film. I was disappointed. Not by the humor, or anything. That was pretty much status quo. But the songs, oh the songs were a bit of a letdown.

Yesterday was Wild Turkey Day. I wonder if I can even do it justice in print. We played kickball. There was a deer carcass. I suck at kickball. Immensely. It is a game of precision though, if you can believe that. The thing is, you can't physically kick the ball past anyone. You can kick it on the ground, which is really your best bet. Catching the ball is tricky, too. But we pulled it out in the end. We drafted boy/girl/boy/girl, etc. I think I sealed the victory with my first girl pick. She was involved in at least three collisions, two of which led to scoring. Go us.

We also played american football. I really enjoy playing that game, but I am beyond sore today. I can't figure out why. Perhaps it's the lack of physical activity and then a combination of sprints and crashing into people? That might do it. But it was fun. There's really nothing more fun than catching a football in a dead sprint. Oh yeah, funny line of the day, as said by Cyclops: "I saw Wolverine and I said, 'There's my hole.'" He also said he didn't like Triple H later, which was random and hilarious. I heart Cyclops.

The party side of the day was rad, too. The SF contingent didn't stay too long, which was sad. But they all had a whole variety of reasons for parting ways. It was really nice to catch up with Cable. It had been about a year since I had seen/ talked to him. I've got to be better about that. But we rapped about comics and work and he offered me more shoes, since I've damn near rocked the original pair he gave me into the ground. So that was cool.

It was just nice to see everyone after being away for a few weekends. And I think a Port Costa trip is in order for this weekend. And then LA. Go LA! It'll be good to see 80's era Storm. And dirtbag. He's a new X-man. You probably haven't heard of him. Nate's house was a big hit. Northstar had a pretty interesting theory about the underwear on the wall.

I could knock down a house with all the shit I know.

I'm no fighter

And I don't ever want to be. I'm not going to start fighting you. Not now. I just don't care enough. So especially not now.

On the other hand, Havok kicks some serious ass. Of all the characters in the X-verse, I feel like Havok could handle his shit better than anyone. Well, him and Banshee. Who, if you haven't heard, was recently done away with. Did I write about all that already? It's ridiculous. I'm sure he'll come back. I mean, they all do. But Banshee?! Screw that noise.

24 hours, 15 minutes and counting.