I noticed my roommate will place his personal belongings at certain angles, and put a small amount of tobacco on his computer’s mouse. It’s obvious he wants to know if I have touched any of these things. I certainly don’t wish to know what is hidden on that computer. I think not knowing is far better in this case. I find it somewhat humorous. Does he have any idea that I realize his intentions?

Here I sit holding both lustful and “pure” thoughts in my head at the same time. It’s almost like a split screen view.(Though such thoughts are usually far from the words we have to describe them. Such is that comparison)

As I read more about the Hindu idea of detachment, I am of course confused. In a previous period of my life I did practice something of a sort of detachment. Yet when I look back at that time, it seems like I didn’t truly have a soul.

I desire her.

The person who looks closely at things sees the scratches. My mind is fidgeted with them.

It’s nearly 7 in the morning. I don’t know why I decided to start laundry. Having a roommate who also might need the machines, and who shouldn’t have to come stir me to make room for his own means I must see it through. I can’t just walk away from it now.

My memory is not so good sometimes. I have been using Evernote for sometime now to keep a record of things. It’s both a web app,(Which I was using even before I got my lovely android.) as well as a phone app. I highly recommend it.

Concerning scratches: I noticed the tiniest of nicks on my phone just now. It must have happened when I fell asleep and dropped it behind the bed. I am slightly upset that such things bother me as much as they do. These things are part of owning, and using things. It wasn’t until recently that I mostly got over being able to deal with CDs that have scratches on them. It still bothers me a little. I don’t know why. I know that it is foolish. Though conquering such things has always been difficult for me.

Another thing I just realized is my heart beating. I can see why we associate it with love. It is life.

There are clocks everywhere in this house. Why?

I fell asleep in the afternoon, and woke up in the middle of the night hungry. I think I will have some oriental noodle soup.

They are selling our local NFL football team to a Muslim man originally from Pakistan. Sounds like one of those success stories to me. Sadly I must report the towel head jokes are in full swing, and some people aren’t very happy. One woman at a thrift store said, “I can’t support them anymore. That would be supporting terrorism.” I am pretty sure she was serious. WOW! What ignorance. I just walked away.

Today we stopped into a bikini club on a whim for drinks. I had been there before a few years ago with my brother. Not much has changed. The girls that dance in the day are black and/or mixed. I wonder if that is on purpose? It could be discrimination. I know the girls who dance at night are the ones who make the money. Mostly they looked like they were on something. One however appeared to have it together. She was a true performer. She got my dollar.

Last night I got to go see Breaking Dawn Part 1. It was highly enjoyable. I had not seen any of the other films in the Twilight Saga previously. Though I’ve read all the books, I never imagined the movies would be something I would like very much for some reason. I was pleasantly surprised.

There weren’t too many people who attended our showing. I was expecting it to all be young girls in the theater. That wasn’t the case. In fact I don’t think anyone was there who was under 25, and the majority were over 30. I found that very interesting.

I have of habit of purposefully listening to what people say to each other when they come out of watching films. I was slightly disturbed to hear one conversion between a couple who thought Bella was ugly compared to all the other female characters. Bella was beautiful to me when I read the books, and beautiful to me on the big screen. I imagine that couple’s idea of beauty involves Nordic qualities.(Which they themselves seemed to have to some extent.) It would seem to them that beautiful is nothing more than an idealized familiarity. The word Nazi entered my mind by the time we had found our way back to the car. Though I may judge people too harshly.

I found out someone I know has most likely been a deadbeat dad for the last 16 years. He’s denied it. Though the possibility has grown more real in his mind as his health deteriorates. Now it begins to be slightly important to him. Sickening.

When I told my co-worker one of my pen names was cerulean he laughed, and just about called me stupid. He also thinks all religions besides Fundamentalist Christianity are stupid as well. So his calling something stupid doesn’t mean much.

So why mention it? I was thinking about how petty things hurt, no matter how much our heads know it’s silly, and that we shouldn’t really take offence. Like when I bought the tiny table-top xmas tree, and my roommate said something to the effect of, “Oh we don’t need that. I have a little one that lights up.” When I bought it in the store I imagined it being in the living room as my contribution to the season. It’s on the night stand in my room right now.

Once again I am doing/experimenting the form known as Dirty Pretty. It’s more of a style than a form. It’s not strict enough to be a form, I don’t think.

I’ll give you an example I wrote below. I would have just simply linked it, but because it’s marked Adult it would require registration to read on allpoetry.com.

f.i.x.e.d   vis ion

A  c r a c k e d  whore
With a worn out  s-l-i-t
Takes it up the b u t t

While her e.y.e is fixed
On -her- next  des per ate  f.i.x
Ass um ing  the fuck ing prick
Don’t bOuNcE with  -his-  $ bills

Black e.y.e.s would be O fuck ing K
As  l  o  n  g  as -she- gets p.a.i.d