Tuesday, January 1, 2019

Disregard That

I haven't posted here in quite some time, and I don't anticipate coming back again with any regularity. I was going through a nostalgia trip and remembered this blog. When I went through and looked at a good many of the posts I've made here I was stricken by how much I've changed and grown.

Most people want to improve and that's good. The thing about that, though, is when you look back at yourself, you might often wish you had never been that way. I was very upfront from the beginning about being inappropriate, but it was meant to be in an almost charming disregard for the most meaningless of our social restrictions sort of way. Not in any dehumanizing disregard for the respect or well-being of oppressed peoples kind of way. It's strange to think that myself and the social landscape has changed so much in the last 8, even 3 years, but here we are.

I made a lot of comments and assertions in this blog that I would never make today, not because I'd be afraid of repercussions, but because I no longer think that way. I'm not going to take any of them down because I believe that it's important to acknowledge the past and learn from it rather than sweep it under the rug. I have learned, and hope to learn much more. I don't really expect anyone to ever stumble across this page, so this is message is mostly for me.

Continue to grow.

Be better.

Friday, October 30, 2015

A Letter of Thanks for an Underappreciated Service

The art of the long-form letter is dead.

Or, if not dead, being kept alive only through artificial means;
Against the express wishes of its DNR.

A friend of mine collects pen-pals.
In this day and age.
They hand-write their letters and send each other chocolates from across various oceans.
I don’t know where to buy stamps.
I’m not saying I couldn’t Google it, I’m just saying I’d have to.

When I was young, I was fascinated by handwriting analysis.
You can tell so much about a person by the way they push the tip of a pen across paper,
And I was always so desperate to glean insight into humanity.

I prefer typing. 

It’s not that I want to hide my nature,
It’s that I’d rather be judged on what I deliberately state,
Rather than on what I subconsciously imply.
There’s no stopping that, of course, but the illusion of control is important.

I would have sent you a letter,
If I had your address,
Or knew where to buy stamps,
And doing so wouldn’t be so bizarre.
So instead, there's this. 

I’ve been dating occasionally.
It’s not terribly enjoyable, since I don’t like people.
I can like a person.
There are several persons whom I enjoy very much.
People, though, are terrible.
I wish them well, but well enough away from me.

We talk, but nothing is said.
There’s a wellspring of near infinite passion within everyone.
Any passion within them, they don’t share with me.
Everything is flat and empty.
Sometimes I equate it to juggling handfuls of pudding.
It’s cold, messy, and I’m not sure what I expected to get out of it.

I feel it important to note that I’m sympathetic.
I’m not an easy person for most people.
To those closest to me, I’m an open book;
Incapable of the slightest subterfuge.
Others can never quite seem to put their fingers on me.
Which is a shame;
I rather like people putting their fingers on me.

No, what I truly dislike is the duplicitousness of the dance.
I’m told that a great time was had,
Through a strained smile beneath hollow eyes.
I agree;
My face mirroring theirs.
Then we proceed to never again speak,
And I feel vaguely unclean.

But you…
You’re a layer of fiery charisma and pop-culture references,
Stretched paper-thin over a skeleton of terror,
And a shameful history with macaroni and cheese.

Just like me.

There was a time when I was frustrated,
Not angry or resentful,
But frustrated that you wouldn’t allow me one proper date to conjure up what I was sure,
In my hubris,
Would have been a glorious connection.

But you said no;
You said it in clear, simple, respectful words.
You were honest and open.
And let me tell you,
Because it’s the point of this letter,
That’s still the best experience I’ve had with dating in a long time.

Thank you. 

Wednesday, February 11, 2015

Adam Jones vs the Staycation: Part 5

I planned on saying that today was another nothing day where nothing of note occurred. One can't expect to have a life where everyday that passes is worthy of drawing in others and reporting. Then I started wondering if maybe that's exactly what life is and that's the point of it all. If life is indeed a brief flash of light between two eternities of darkness, should we not shout out and proclaim every day of it? But that's not what this is about. 

Last night an old friend got in touch with me out of nowhere just to tell me how great I was. She said "You are made of star dust and amazing."

Today I worked up the courage to do two things that terrified me.

Today I finished the designs I've been struggling with all week.

Today I had beer, then subsequent coffee with an old friend and reminisced about the best times of the worst times. 

I sat down fully convinced that nothing of note had happened since we last spoke.

Wow, I can be such an asshole sometimes.  

Tuesday, February 10, 2015

Adam Jones vs the Staycation: Part 4

Caution: The following post contains tasteful old-timey artist renditions of nudity.

I felt a lot better today and got some more design work done today, but again, that wasn't the important part. The important part was that a good friend of mine was off of work today and spent many hours on the phone with me engaging in delightful shenanigans. The best part of which is when we got drunk and over the phone began googling images of 18th century erotica. 

I truly, truly wish I felt comfortable sharing everything I found with you. There was one image of what I can only describe as a man riding a cockstridge, greeting his lady and waving at a cherub flying overhead. Magnificent. However, I will show you the image that had me laughing the hardest It wasn't even erotica. I will explain, but first... the image:

That baby in the water? That baby is fucking done. Whatever bullshit he had just endured in the last several seconds has rendered him unable to even. He just can't anymore. He's like "Dude, I'm out. Just take this fucking fish and go." 

There even seems to be this whole rescue effort as the other cherub flies down to get his, and there's a third one in the bushes as lookout. The angel is even running direct interference, keeping that lady distracted while they save their downed comrade. Not that it matters. That lady can't even be bothered by the fact that she's getting felt up by an angel. Her expression only says to me that she's vaguely wondering what her servants are making for dinner... and that fucking wet baby... 

Just take it and go, man. I'm done.

Monday, February 9, 2015

Adam Jones vs the Staycation: Part 3

I managed to get some good design work done today, and I had dinner with a good friend, but all day I just couldn't shake the feeling of being completely exhausted. 

I'm hoping that this is a result of starting to let go of some of the stress that has been pushing me through the last six months, and that tomorrow will be better. I really don't want to feel like this for the rest of the week. Although I refuse to let it weigh me down, there is a lot I would prefer to get done with this time off, and today's level of exhaustion would simply not allow for it. 



I've been sitting here for a while trying to find a way to cap this off with something funny...

It's not working.

See you tomorrow!