| Regrets |
[Apr. 24th, 2007|02:00 am] |
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I hate it when people say they have no regrets. How can this be? I feel like my life is one big regret. |
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| Little Debbie |
[Apr. 22nd, 2007|03:05 pm] |
In the past, she was always there. Those delicious Swiss Rolls. Those funky Zebra Cakes. Little Debbie was one of the lowest maitanence lovers I ever had. I could always find her week after week at the Jitney Jungle, always for a dollar.
But then she broke my heart. My waistline expanded. I discovered that seeing Little Debbie all the time was bad for my health and my appearance. So, I kicked her to the curb.
But every now and then I think about those Little Debbie nights, and I think about giving her a booty call. Only a dollar. She's pleased many of us, and yet, so many of us have booted her out of our lives, replacing her with South Beach Diet bars. And Little Debbie sits at home, already near a spinster, with her brother Otis Spunkmeir. The Keebler Elves don't answer her phone calls. But Little Debbie gave us her all, and only for a dollar.
Cheers to Little Debbie. You deserve a drinking song named after you. |
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| Neruda |
[Apr. 17th, 2007|01:13 am] |
My fingers fight writing. Pablo, you said you could write the saddest lines; if only I had your skill. Majestic to conjure sadness in a string of words, and it's already been said. I cannot compete with you. I cannot.
I cannot. That is my saddest line.
I cannot.
"The night is shattered, and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance." - XX from Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair |
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| My Phone Doesn't Work |
[Mar. 31st, 2007|11:49 am] |
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My phone was soaked in the rain and doesn't work properly. So, if you have called or texted and I didn't respond, that is why. Please contact me through a myspace message or e-mail at NCorbett42@hotmail.com. I'll try to get this problem fixed in the next couple of days. |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 26th, 2007|12:09 am] |
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I have had a strange spring break. From a wedding at Crabtown to headbutting a guy, to negotiating with a former Raven's runningback to going flat broke, it's been interesting. All I want to do is get out of Norman, but I don't know how long that'll be. The only time I've left this town is to see parents, which doesn't really seem to count. It's been a year since I've been on any sort of adventure, and because of the Bar Exam and the need to start a new career, it seems it may be another year before I may leave. I'm going stir crazy in this town. I love Norman. It's like my Shire, but sometimes I just feel the need to get away. Drive anywhere. But I have no money and little to no time. I just need to get away! |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 3rd, 2007|03:33 am] |
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It's late. Or early. Depending on perspective. 3:33. Make a wish. The place seems so quiet. Refreshingly quiet, yet empty. Very empty. |
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| Insanity |
[Feb. 17th, 2007|05:50 pm] |
My head always runs at about a hundred miles over the speed limit, only to come to a screeching halt at the wrong destinations. No, this isn't it. This wasn't where I was driving to. This doesn't look right. Where to stop for directions? Where to rest? But it all doesn't matter because the right place is hundreds of miles away. I'm standing in the tumbleweeds in a no-man's land of bad conclusions. There are no blinking lights on the horizon, just the hollow sound of wind and night air. The telephone poles hint that there is civilization somewhere, where normal people rest their heads after a long, fulfilling day. And they think normal thoughts as they amble about their normal lives. When they run out of milk they run to the convenience store at the corner. Their kids daydream of baseball cards and comic books and one day will have kids of their own. And the news man bears a cheshire cat's smile that stays with you long after the tv set is turned off. The neighborhood watch serves as a social club, and the church bell rings every sunday at 9 a.m. sharp.
But that world somewhere over the canyons and road signs I passed doesn't seem much better than the cold air whispering past my ears and the scattered bad memories I left in the dust. Maybe that place over the valley isn't any different. Maybe I was meant to stand outside in the cold for while and just listen. Pause. Breath. Maybe this road never leads to that city. Maybe this road leads to another road, which leads to another. But those are the thoughts that keep me awake. And the drive is a long one.
I turn the key in the ignition. The silence breaks and my thoughts go screaming down the desert road, breaking the sound barrier. One day this car will stop to rest. One day I'll know where the road is going. But right now it's driving madly through the dark, the headlights my lamp in the darkness and the fumes of nicotine my breath. One day though... |
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| It Has Arrived |
[Feb. 15th, 2007|04:44 pm] |
Yes ladies and jellyspoons, it has arrived. The "Half Hour News Hour" is here, but possibly not for long. For those of you blissfully ignorant, the "Half Hour News Hour" stands as Fox News' retort to the "Daily Show." Apparently, the highly esteemed "fair and balanced" Fox News Channel decided that if the liberals had their say on Comedy Central then, by golly, conservatives needed their half-hour of comedic giggles...and shits. Not so shockingly, Fox News provides the "balance" in "fair and balanced" by presenting almost entirely a conservative slant. Confused? Well, this is their explanation: the rest of the media is so infested with liberal, pinko, terrorist loving, sushi eaters that the only way to be fair and balanced is to be conservative. Hence, my friends, that think tank of cable news gave birth to the "Half Hour News Hour."
Apparently, "the Daily Show" has posed such a threat to actual, "real" news that a "real" news-station had to respond in kind. Or not so kindly. However, the sheer horror stems not just from the poor writing, but instead from those who deliver the news. In one clip, Rush Limbaugh plays the President of the United States and Ann Coulter his Vice President. The object of satire now delivers the satire like a bully who, when he finally receives his comeuppance on the playground, resorts to chimpanzee wit in order to redeem his bruised ego.
Watch if you dare. |
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| Home Movies |
[Jan. 29th, 2007|10:48 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  aggravated | ] |
There isn't some magic line you can say to make things better, and there sure as hell ain't some great scheme to pull out the ass in times of trouble. And the cameras don't stop rolling after the audience claps and cheers. It keeps rolling, rolling, rolling on through the bad parts, through the stupid mistakes, the missed cues, the fuck ups, the frustration, the bad, and the ugly. History is one big movie review. Alexander the Great: four stars. George Bush: a Razzie Award. Oscar goes to: Eli Whitney - thanks for the Cotton Gin boss. Best date of all time: 1066 Norman Invasion. Best Song: Star Spangled Banner. Best Screenplay: the Holy Bible.
What's your favorite invasion? Favorite plague? Favorite word of Latin derivation? What's your favorite mistake you've ever made? Least favorite? Rank them. Rank your friends, rank your favorite CDs, rank your best pair of socks, rank your best lays, worst lays, favorite flicks, sexiest chicks, and don't forget the top 10 celebrities you would totally want on your desert island. The cameras keep on rolling.
There are no perfect lines to say to make things right. There is no script to play ball by. But we sure like to edit the footage when we show it to our friends. We make our own movies through our words, our blogs, our stories that we spin. Hell, we sometimes, after watching those damn home movies, convince ourselves that those things are the real deal, that this is how it all happened. Truth is a casualty of life.
It's all a movie of our own making.
Cue Credits. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jan. 16th, 2007|07:33 am] |
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I share a birthday with John Carpenter. That makes me very pleased. |
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