How Google Works for me:

The last remaining fragment of a quote rebounding in my head, a quote from the novel I had just finished by the name of Middlesex, something having to do with dappled, so I proceed to google 'dappled quote' and out jumps this poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins:

GLORY be to God for dappled things—
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;
Landscape plotted and pieced—fold, fallow, and plough;	5
And áll trádes, their gear and tackle and trim.
All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:	10
Praise him.

 Which of course makes me google something else that caught my eye: rose-moles. Which I then google and come up with yet another link in the never ending Google chain: Sprung Rythm. When is Googling enough? Google fuck, Google trick, Google backseat lover, google exhaustion and city madness. I will Google the fuck out of you. I Googled him. Even Google hates him. Googled to death.

This (shit) writes itself

You know that moment in the night when you are too wasted to remember photos being shot of you doing crazy shit you might not want posted on facebook and then it happens with a cheerful forewarning of, "Oh great now I can post all those Hilarious X locale pictures I shot!" on a Facebook wall and so I start backtracking to see if I can remember anything indecent I might have been caught doing (yeah, I'm doing great in the living life department) and I come up with zero not because I wasn't doing anything that I shouldn't have been, but because I don't remember parts of the night. ZING! Jaggermeister 1 PJ 0.

Things NOT to Google while incredibly High Part 1 of God knows how many:

Buto dance.

Seriously freaked me out.

romantic vs. cynical chat excerpt

I: Do you recall moments of looking into each others eyes and thinking this is not like sex with a guy I really feel comfortable with like a boyfriend
Me: No waaaaaaay
I: Feeling like their eyes are empty
I: Do you even look?
Me: Hmmmmmm
I: I recall looking last time and not seeing anything, it was odd
Me: It's called sex
It's impersonal
It's not making love
Sex is just getting pounded
and liking it.

Awesome things today:

• bought my cleats and some awesome NB sneakers for a total of $53.00!
  
• this purchase also means that I didn't get the job I was hoping for but,
  
• it means that I can now go back to smoking all the weed I ever wanted to smoke again!
• this deserves a second sentence just for me to really brag about it. WEEDWEEDWEED!
  
• it also means that I have to keep working at the place where I am kind of "feh" about
  
• back with my bitchy co-worker who fucking hates my guts and is jealous of me
• I figured out she was jealous today when she played back an entire conversation I had with an Israeli a month back. I couldn't even remember!
• there is not much to be jealous about.
  
• I also feel like she is stealing my people technique and it is kind of freaking me out.
  
• saw a acrazy movie with A. the weed didn't help make it any more coherent. Sex, drugs, and severely jaded, moody, teens.
  
• how glad am I that stage is over and done with.
  

Me: Oh you've got really pretty eyes.
Israeli dude: Yes they're beautiful.
Me: I've got pretty eyes too (I lean in close, open my eyes real wide).
Israeli dude: They're nice but not as beautiful as mine.
(a beat of silence)
Me: Our children would have beautiful eyes.

Awkward chit chat ensues and then Israeli dude leaves and my boss tells me, "It would've worked on me".

No, I will not go there,
walk that well traveled path,
Feet planted firmly on the ground
stepping solidly.

No, I will not obey you,
tow the line habitually drawn,
straight lines carved on the earth
which I cross over defiantly.

No, I will not love you
give in to your many advances,
your pleas for love,
for love,
for love.

No, I will not care,
give myself over to empathy
hoping to create a moment,
a chain around us, bonded.

No, I will not forget
your image intricately drawn
in the back of my mind, a shadow,
your smooth skin, prickling.