Buster McLeod

Everyone needs an emotional trigger,

Everyone needs an emotional trigger, something that turns them from mild mannered Clark Kent to raving lunatic Mr. Hyde. Mine, I've decided, after hearing a co-worker retell the story of his friend who had the same trigger, will be when someone tells me that I'm "living in a dream world."

Today, for a special guest

Today, for a special guest appearance, we have the color puke green.

There are certain hours, like

There are certain hours, like between 6-8pm, and between 8-8-10am, that this site is uglier than it usually is. I've always liked people that were unstably balanced between beautiful and ugly, that flip-flopped between the two. Not generic looking, where you always look average, but people that look drastically different from day to day.

Today was another one of those days that I fell asleep on the bus both to and fro work. It's getting old. I still feel a little self-destructive, as if I should punish myself for wanting more than I am getting by being boring, and not saying anything interesting.

I don't want to imply that I can say anything interesting even if I wanted to, but that's how I feel. It's just like us to say that we're pretending to be worse than we really are, when we're actually try as hard as you can to be something more, but just failing at it. We'll call that, "untapped potential" not "wasted cries for help".

It would be nice to read purposefully boring content, that didn't try to be self-conscious (like this) or sarcastic (yeah, imagine me, sarcastic!) or even at all hinting that they were anything but boring. Or maybe it's better to just pretend that that would be nice, because it would be pretty easy to do, when most likely it would just be boring.

I'm going to say that I've been enjoying some of the things I've been seeing lately, like erasing.org, waferbaby's new grimm section, and just about all the words and pictures I see during my day, on the bus, in books, on the tellie. Love love love. I've actually been feeling like being around people this last 24 hours as well. I hope to see you soon.

I'm writing things too. On my computer, but not online.

Have you heard the one

Have you heard the one about what happens when you search for dumb motherfucker on google you find George Bush as the top result? There's a good article about it in this great publication. But really, the thing that makes me happiest is that now more than ever there will be a huge number of links like dumb motherfucker to this store, therefore forcing google to continue to make this their top search result for this particular query. And it's funny how nobody is really disputing whether or not this is a correct correllation, but only about how the google search engine works. I think it just shows something about us when we are so delighted to have the correct results show up for a query.

The Famys talk about a

The Famys talk about a kid who only has on ventricle in his heart, whose family could find no assistance from any doctors in the world, and the fact that they had no money and lived in Guatemala didn't help. Father moves to Seattle, works for a while at mimimum wage, then rushes his son to the local Harborview Hospital's ER room. They will fix the problem with the kids heart (try to) even though they cannot afford the hundreds of thousands of dollars it will probably cost.

I sat on the couch for a long time just now thinking about my death, and whether or not I could actually face it without any fear. And, by the rate of my beating heart, I could not. At least not easily. As scary as the thought is though, there's some pleasure in that fear, which is scarier and has more texture than really anything else I've experienced through mere paths of logic.

The only answer to anything I can think of is "okay, so it's better not even existing." What kind of problem can be solved, really solved, by anything other than removing both the cause and the effect. Manifestation is the same as Dilemma. Solve world hunger by getting rid of people. Solve conflicts between people by getting rid of people. Solve all people related problems by getting rid of people. And really, nature itself is always thinking of the right answers, and we don't have to fear that it will make the wrong choices when we're gone. But I guess you're saying that we want to solve problems and keep the people, so compromise is born. Eat the people! The problems of this world are made of people! I cannot win. Why must the people stay? Wouldn't it be the most humanitarian act of all to just get rid of us all? What the hell would be lost? Flood. It's such a simple solution, and if it's done for the right reasons, it's not giving up at all. It's coming to grips with the best and only solution. 6 billion less mouths to feed. 6 billion less reasons to dread waking up in the morning. Why is life so sacred, when it always comes to nothing.

Would people think I'm a monster or maniac if I began politically preaching this as the answer to all of America's and the world's problems? What would the response be but violence against what immediately becomes a panacea to everything Stephen Hawkings and Buddha were talking about. The Universal Answer to Everything. I forgot about taxes. Death and taxes. Old, old, idea, but new new political party.

All of our logic, all of our rules, every reason, every joke, theory, guess, weakness and strength is based on assumptions. All of those assumptions are somehow connected back to life. Everyone looks for reasons to live, searching for years for the meaning of life, the reason to be, the raison d'etre, and we, I, reach some kind of half-satisfactory poetic response, which we take to heart because it is the best we can do. Humanity itself can adapt to anything, the worst living conditions, the worst realizations of fear, the worst lifestyle, and think why why why why why all they want and what comes back from this search query, but because because because.

Thought patterns fit to molds pre-designed. Journal entries want to be a certain length. Everything is meant to fit its purpose, the purpose comes before the result. The effect before the cause. I'm not kidding. Something here is seriously wrong.

If I just kept on writing, would anything change. How long will you read this, and try to follow? I dwop jffjadl; woiu jklj lkajs lj jdlksfj ;a answer jal joop erik is a retard unix adobe illustrator hewlett packard erik benson: sent mockerybird's B... help ERik Benson: Inbox No new e-mail, 10 unread in inbo submit what the hell. How does one throw a tantrum when he hates the words he uses but needs words to describe the hate? I want to get to the core.

Of (p) tags. To every paragraph, a (p) tag. Push the page down the page. Why should I. Slow time. Low stime. And drag you through it. The freedom here to do anything I want, mixed with the lack of consequence, the lack of response, the lack of reason, the lack of reward, the presence of indifference, the presence of wit, incorrect grammar, this is what I do, e.e. cummings, wallace stevens, stream of consciousness writing, it kills me.

Okay so what, freedom is our cage, we cannot deal with it and so we box ourselves into pre-defined molds. So what, that's nothing new. But I feel so used. So what if this page takes 2 minutes to load, so what if my configurability feature is screwed, so what if it's ugly, so what if it's only one column, you're getting tired of this.

I could go on, for the same reasons I can't bear going on. Again, destruction is the only answer. To destroy that which causes the problem, solves it. The answer, is nothing. If nothing is there, nothing is wrong. But look this is the longest entry in a while, preaching nothing. And I don't even care enough about saying this right to spell-check, to edit, to even re-read. So how could you care. How could you.

Push the page down the page. Push the face down the hall. Push the words into words. Nonsense is the closest I can get to nothing right now. To break words, to break grammar, to sometimes stick to it in an almost obsessively way, to study it, study it, then break it. Make the beautiful music, smash the guitar, make the beautiful Pieta, smash the face, make the soul in words, lock them and burn them. Products don't matter, it is the potential that is key, and noah obstaining from the bloggies, and me raising my hand in self-pity. I would like very much to stay this way, half way between. Don't say anything about this. This is something to be quiet about. Shhh.

Straight from Brooklyn, the mysterious

Straight from Brooklyn, the mysterious IT invention already has a detail page at amazon. I don't think anybody knows about this yet. Except you! You can also get to it by going to www.amazon.com/ginger. Time is in our hands.

To see which 30 special

To see which 30 special people get to split two tenners, check out the bloggie finalists. I have to admit that I was hoping to be among the finalists, much like how I once wished upon a star to be andrew's member of the day, also in vain. When will the world appreciate me! Here's a

Multiple Choice test:
A) By the way, I'm joking, please don't worry about my fragile soul.
B) Actually, I'm not joking, please worry about my fragile soul.
C) Damn it, why can't you just admit your weaknesses without admitting that you're admitting your weaknesses!
D) You suck.
E) What he said.

There are a couple different

There are a couple different fonts of personal knowledge that I drink from every day (you are currently drinking of the font of georgia). NO! I mean, fonts as in fountains. The first font is "The Font of Repeating What I Heard From Someone Else," which is comprised of sound-bites and conversations bites that were passed on to me from news articles, tv shows, and if I were of the video-watching ilk, which I'm not, movies. I like my words to have meaning, and one of the ways to imbue meaning is to repeat what someone else has said, and even better, repeat something that the people I'm talking to have already heard. This can be loosely effective, by saying, "George Bush, I'm sure he'll be okay, but I just hate the guy." It can be used slightly more effectively by using the lingo of the crowd you're in, such as a co-worker's message about office hours:

SELECT web-devs,questions FROM production
WHERE questions = "many"
AND knowledge is NULL
ORDER BY time DESC
GROUP BY web-devs

There's enough there to make sense to someone that doesn't know SQL, but really, people think I'm clever (or an idiot) because I'm using a computer language to communicate to people. And the most effective use of repeated words for my own use is the language of the inside joke. I sure am a snooty old boy. But if I'm in, I'm in.

Regardless of whether I use any of the three tactics described above, I am borrowing knowledge or language from a third party and passing it off as my own. In an ideal world, I would get no credit for this kind of interaction, because I contributed nothing to it other than the jar of my own mouth to carry the water of someone else's words a bit further down the stream. Kiss.

The next font is "The Font of Personal Repetition" where I repeat something I've said before, but to a new audience, or in a new context. Everyone has a collection of these things, thoughts that were once original, but which would be a waste to only use once. These are a little more valuable because I did come up with it originally, just not right away.

The final font is "The Font of Mysterious Newness". Where I say something that you've never heard before, and that appears so fresh that I'm almost immediately going to flip that particular coin of thought into "The Font of Personal Repetition" for later use, but which is freshest now. How often do I gain material from this font? That was my question to myself on the bus today. How often do I actually contribute in a new, original way. Is it one time a day? When? I can usually mark these moments because the person I'm talking to is as surprised by the new idea as I am. I'm going to pay a little attention to myself as long as I can stay focused to see when these events occur, and if I can, note them down here. Thanks.

Last night K and I

Last night K and I were robbed. Of our sleep. Not by jack-hammers, or by the crying of a baby, or by the dripping of the kitchen sink, but by an invisible monster. Something that came through the crack in our window, lowered its face to within millimeters of our breathing mouths, and sleeping eyes, and sucked the restfullness out of our souls.

I vaguely remember K saying that she was leaving for work, but the logic of the deal did not make sense to me, I kept asking, "Where are you going?" "Why are you going there?" On the way to work, I fell asleep on the bus. I had a dream of waking up way down in Tacoma. I fell asleep on the bus on the way home too, only to get off the bus after it had come to the end of its route. I came home and found K asleep on the couch. I don't think it's ridiculous to think that we were unwitting victims to a thief who is now more rested than two people combined.

Bush works to ban abortion

Bush works to ban abortion funds, the letters of the alphabet have never looked better, I woke up this morning with a painful churning in my stomach, a feeling I've had before and which I attribute to the intergalactic acid of bad dreams, I try to stave it off with thinking about my projects and drinking coffee and praying to God above, the fog is rolling in like a thick slug, into my workspace, my personal space, interconnected has redesigned, I will have sushi for lunch, when I was a kid I didn't play spy like claire, who needs permanent links to her pretty posts, but I did often hide behind the bushes of our neighbor's house with my friends and watch him do various imitations of birds, by lifting his arms up and down from his sides, which we understood was his way of excersizing with weights but which we thought was hilarious to no end, Bustercafe is really almost done, write to me if you want to see it, and let me know if you think I should somehow prevent too many people from signing up by either charging $1 or having people submit their writing as a sample, I do believe in God, didn't you know.