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Facebook and I have divorced.

You were right LJ. Facebook was sexy, and everyone wanted a piece of her, and she did whore herself like a timbit hoooker.

You might not be sleek, or popular, but you're reliable, and I heart you.

What's new with me?

Something big. I have a new short term goal, and it is to design the next great web app. It'll be the next Facebook. lol. It's all I really think about. I wonder if I'm maturing? ya think? I don't think about girls nearly as much as I should, and I rarely go out. In fact, I've rarely seen any of my friends. But you know what? I like it. I like the silence, and solitude. I like not having to look people directly in the eye, because everyone has become estranged...I like swallowing in the world, and preparing to exhale it in one giant rush. soon.

I started a play. I"m fed up with K.N. I was hoping she would show me hers. God I miss her writing voice. But no, she's not sharing it with anyone. She's very protective with it like a junkie with rocks. I'm a bit disgruntled and annoyed, and I've become resigned. I don't think she's as great a writer as I once had.

It's up to me. If I want to beautify the miasma of this era, I'll have to do it. .

I will attune myself to Sein, and be a clearing for it.

I told that girl I loved her. Then a few days later she broke my heart. 0/3. I don't think I'll ever be able to say, "I love you", again. The utterance becomes a cursing for my relationships.

She's good. She's somewhat happy with her new boy toy in Montreal. lol. Yes, that giggle is still charming. I'll be seeing her in a week. Yay.

that's all for now.

ttyl LJ.
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Last night I fell for a girl. She stood a proud 5'3, and had short brown hair that curled along her jaw line. The hairstyle accentuated her cuteness, and framed her eyes well. She had the most gentle brown eyes I've seen in years. These light brown orbs gave you a serene sense of happiness. As if everything could be right with the world again with a little love or a timely smile. Our intimacy was bounded by the 13'x 10' dimensions of the Ollie's dance floor. We danced to all genres of 90's music, but it was her lively rock n roll rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody that stole my heart. By 2am she was gone. She had disappeared into the incomprehensible world, and I'm likely not to see her again. I'll always think of her when I hear Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody.

This morning I looked for her on facebook, and found her profile page. She's happily seeing this guy.

What could have been..

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I've only read the first 7 pages, but there's a parable in that I can't shake. You'd have to read the novel to appreciate the parable, but I'll try to give the gist of it, albeit a poor one. In it we have one, Jose Arcadia Buendia, who after meeting a river gypsy trades in a mule and two goats for a mysterious object of magnetism. Jose believes that the magnetic device will allow him to discover mountains of buried gold. He's obstinate with his hope despite being told by the gypsy that the magnetic device could not be used for such a purpose. Jose's search is fruitless, and he squanders some of his young adulthood.

In this parable a number of facts stick out. Firstly, Jose trades concrete productive objects (mules and goats) necessary for his family's subsistence, for a device that he hopes will allow him to quickly reach some end. Personally, I feel this is how our society is technologically oriented. We seem to have this unshakeable belief that technology will somehow deliver us to the promise land, and we'll give up anything to expedite the process. Since we're committed to this believe, we tacitly allow technology to permeate our lives. However, we forget that technology is a means to an end, and not the end itself. Sadly, as a collective, we're in a state of amnesia about what the end is. I rarely come across someone who'll strike up a conversation with me about the meaning of life, man's place in the cosmos, or what contours outline the human condition. So in this state of amnesia, we continually re-invent means; we copy a copy ad infinitum and ad absurdism. In this technological regress, we forget ends, and lose our humanity.

What I hope from this post is that you read it, and ask yourself this simple question, what is it that I want from this moment.this.breath.this.life?

p.s. the answer is not more "stuff".
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Silence. In darkness, we hear a VOICE---imbued with a sense of its own history:

VOICE (O.S.)
Everybody wants to get on the Van
Gogh boat. There's no trip so
horrible that someone won't take it. The idea of the unrecognized genius slaving away in a garret is a deliciously foolish one. We must credit the life of Vincent
Van Gogh for really sending this myth into
(CONTINUED)

VOICE (O.S. CONT'D)
orbit. How many pictures did he sell? One? He couldn't give them away. We are so
ashamed of his life that the rest of art history will be retribution for Van Gogh's neglect. No one wants to be part of a generation that ignores another Van Gogh.

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.....that we give it so much importance? Artists are
respected by the poor because what they do is an honest way to get out
of the slum using one's sheer self as the medium. The money earned is proof pure
and simple of the value of that individual....The Artist.


The picture a mother's son does in jail hangs on her wall as proof that beauty is
possible even in the most wretched. And this is a much different idea than the
fancier notion that art is a scam and a ripoff. But you could never explain to
someone who uses God's gift to enslave that you have used God's gift to be free."
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Camus believed that the only real philosophical question was the one asking if one should commit suicide. Which is basically a restating of the cliche question, What is the meaning of life. For one must know what one's purpose is, or failure of, in order to evaluate whether life is worth living.

The Absurdity of life is based on the assumption that there are no universal truths. Morally, one acts in accordance with intents believed to be true. Thus if there are no eternal truths, but an infinitum of a posteri truths, every moral action is permissable, and the meaning of life is a trivial question. Life is now. However this conditional existence leads to alienation and absurdity. Man can know longer seek refuge in memories, nor find a promised land.

Illusion and light can no longer bring comfort to him. He becomes a stranger. He is a man divorced from life, and actor without a setting. Alienation arises on two fronts. Man is alienated with himself, and with his world.

He lives in a society that is fixated on a deterministic view of the cosmos. A causes B. B causes C. Thus A causes C. Man regiments his life according to time. Since time determines all phenomenon. In his regimental lifestyle of M-F, 9-5; brush teeth, cold cereal, piss, speak, eat, finally done, home, cook, bed, stir, repeat, he becomes an automaton. In effect man tacitly agrees to become mechanized deterministic beings when his essence is that of a contingent being. In living he attempts to efface his essence, and this is why he is alienated with himself. Thus our lives are absurdities.

Furthermore, he seeks to escape this alienation through a process of delusion. Transcendental believes in an afterlife, or ideologies are his typical lines of escape. Man hopes for a future that will ultimately bring his death. Moreover, man distracts himself in abstract ideals that removes him from existential concreteness. Thus the absurdities of a life erected on transcendental goals becomes evident.

more to come...
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2006. You were a turbulent year. I'm happy to see you leave. I should have known that we wouldn't have gotten a long. I was born in an odd numbered year. Look at you. You're such a symmetrical, even number. I felt ackward boxed into your constraining evenness, and regularity. Was that why you introduced me to a lot of pain? To even out my oddness? I've persisted through your punishment. I'm still odd, and I'm stronger because of it. So thank-you. I'm ready now for the sexy hot 2007.

bye 2006.

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Apparently the new Facebook fad is to start a group with your last name, and invite other people with the same last name to join. My invitation to join the 'Proud to be a Dang' Facebook group arrived a few days ago. So far there's 397 of us. That's a whole lot of Dang, considering that I've never met another Dang before.

A few Dangs attend Ivy League Schools, while the rest are hoodlums or bums, or simply forgettable. My life is headed towards the latter categorization. Also, there must have been a Dang bomb that exploded in California during the 70's because that's where the majority of us reside. The Dang girls are strikingly beautiful, whereas the guys are geeky looking. I doubt that our mediocricy will protect us from other hegemonic 'last name' groups such as the Li or Wang. Oh, and of course the Morgans.

I've started to read the Communist Manifesto. In short, Marx was correct in his analysis of the malevolent nature of Capitalism. I can't believe he wrote it over a hundred years ago. The majority of what he and Engels predicted is occuring right now.

I adore cunning linguist.

I hope everyone's 2007 is their chocolate truffle parfait year.
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It's ironic, but I stumbled upon the mozilla addon called stumbled upon. You can get it here:

http://www.stumbleupon.com

It's a very fun add-on to have. Basically, it directs you to websites that people with your similar temperament enjoy. For those of you that are familiar with 'Pandora', the idea is similar but measures websites instead of musical preferences.

During my first two clicks, I discovered:

http://www.jacksonpollock.org/

and this satirical site:

http://www.sjgames.com/illuminati/politics.html

Hours of fun...

that's all for now.

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I got these items from Pam's LJ, but it was too hilarious not to rebroadcast. Thank-you Pam!









How do I get one of those form? Why click here
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Holy fuck. I remember reading a promotion for the first Ottawa Ipod battle at Barrymores on Nov. 14, but dismissed it as another local pabulum. However reading about some of the global ipod battles occuring, I realize that I should train for the next event. My music geekiness is low, but fuck how great would it be to battle The Beatle's, "Elenor Rigby" with the ARctic Monkeys', "Mardy Bum". The possibilites are infinite.

For a music geek this is intellectual competetiveness at it's finest.

check it out:

Paris-Paris Battle 1






Ipod Battle Montreal

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