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Subject:get over yourself, grandma
Time:11:56 pm
get over urself, grandma

most people with vintage clothing look like grandmas.
anyone who wears vintage clothing does so to compensate for the fact that they are generally very uninteresting people to begin with.

i think that people with vintage clothing are very boring.
usually they don't have very strong social skills or, for that matter, a sense of humor.
some of them are feminists in order to compensate for the fact that boys don't think they are attractive because they wear grandma clothes

(which is funny because girls and boys wear grandma clothes in order to attract other girls and boys).

ourobouros.

there's this girl i know.

she wears really stupid glasses that make her look like a grandma.

i feel bad for her because she thinks that they make her look cool.
i think shes trying to be different or hip or something.
i don't really know what's going through her head from time to time.
i guess some people just try really hard to be stand out sometimes.

she really wants to be different.

i don't want to stand out anymore.
i want to blend into the wall like a dust mite

or that one crappy scene from garden state that people laughed at a lot because zach braff looks really despondent because his grandma made him a funny shirt that blends into the wall really funny haha.
people laugh a lot. we're amused but i can't figure out why so i just go along with it and laugh haha.

her grandma glasses haha.

people in vintage clothing also usually listen to baby music.
by baby music i mean twee.

twee is really stuid because it tries to be really cute and different but all of it gives you a lot of caveties because it sucks.

i don't like music that lazy people play and sing weird just so other weird kids can like their weird baby music and be weird and dance weird and, you know, just be so weird too.
people that wear grandma clothes (this girl with the grandma glasses) want to show all the other weird people in the world (which is everybody) how much weirder they are than them so that they can be the weirdest of the weird which is stupid.

we're all dorks. everybody is weird. we get it. you are not better than us.

get over yourself, grandma.

you're always too busy trying to prove something to everybody.
and it's not even just the grandma glasses, but everybody in funny expensive vintage clothes.

reinvent an image worth reinventing which is no longer an image because an image is inevitable and forever (unless you're naked).

i would really like to see the girl in grandma glasses naked.
does this mean i would really like to see my grandma naked?

i hate myself because i just wrote a poem about clothes.
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Subject:7 Years Later
Time:01:12 am
I can't really tell.

How are you?
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Time:10:54 am
In Transit

A bus station in Everett where a hundred pre school children flood through the doors like an unkept river. I’m watching soon to be mothers conditioning themselves, bouncing babies on their knees and smiling deep. It’s comforting.

There’s a draft that sweeps in every now and then and it’s bitter because it’s June and still raining. Spectators snap pictures from wooden benches and a good Samaritan passes out Ritz crackers into the crowd.

I guess I use this exposition as a delay, perhaps an overture, to what’s really on my mind.

I wonder awkwardly criss cross on a stiff wooden bench with no back where I’m headed and I tell myself Wenatchee. I ask myself again, I pound the question flat like an anvil slam, real contemplative, I say: Nic, where are you going? And all that responds is that dull clang.

Sometimes I want to be swept back to that point in my life where good Samaritan’s handed me Ritz crackers and mothers in training bounced me on their knees and the world ain’t a question anymore of where are you headed but where you are. Always, all those eyeballs glazed with a satisfied glaze of wonderment, the world a new place anytime you look at it different. Sometimes it feels better to ignore that nagging incestuous displacement, that changing course and shift in the sails. Feeling the world shift;

In Transit.
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Time:07:00 pm
So I recorded The Snow with Trevor and Dan.

This is what I sound like with a band:

The Snow or http://www.myspace.com/nicbrodine
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Time:12:37 am
In my SunDreams

In my sun dreams there is baseball on a lawn
And the war is over and complete peace on earth,
There is no discrimination and only human goodness,
And I don’t roll my eyes at any of it, either.

In my sundreams everything I write is perfect.
I reach into the garbage can and extract the tattered
Manuscript of truth, preach it real convincing with my fist
Slams on the podium, and everyone believes me.

In my Sundreams I meet a girl who is real pretty
And real smart, and we both feel real deserving of
Each other, and I don’t feel like bursting out
Laughing, When I tell her that I love her.

In my sunDReams I’m on a beach in Lisbon,
And I’ve never even been to Lisbon, but I feel the
Sand beneath me feet and the seabreeze on my face;
The knock knock of the cerebral cane against my skull.

In my SunDreams there are an infinite amount of
Reasons to love life and live it, and the trouble
Isn’t in finding one in particular,
But in looking backwards through the mirror
And finding yourself.
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Time:10:42 am
I'm not deep.



formulaicsentencestructuresandacondescendingtonethatgoesblahblahblabhalahbalahbal
whycanteverythingieverwriteeverbemuddledandconfused
whyismetryingtobewittymetryingtooutsmartyou.isthatwit?
assholery.
whycantiwriteanymorewithoutreadingitandholdingbackmygagreflex
iamarticulatelybulemic.
whycantwritingbesatisfying.ifeelatendswithmyselfandmycreativity.ifeellikeimkickingmyselfintheheadoverandoverandoversothatmaybeafewideaswillfallout.
whycantijustgobackintothewoods(itstoocold)andwritesongsaboutbirdsandsingsongsaboutbirdsandwatchbirdsandsmileatthemandsay'hello bird, my name is nic'andtheywouldgosquaksquaksquaksquakchirpandiwillrecordthemwithamicrophoneandtheywillbefamousandiwillsay'now birds you are famous'andtheywillsay
(learn how to fucking write you amatuer).
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Time:07:16 pm
Art (Literature, Music, Paint, etc.) is throwing a rock into a pond.
Circumference of the ripple. Height of splash.

Example: Ulysses. Pushing a boulder in.
Ulysses circumference. Look up Modernism in any textbook and you are looking up plot dynamics of the book itself. Fragmentation, unreliable narrators, stream of consciousness, etc. Splash. Banned in America, considered lewd and tasteless by many. Genius by everyone else.

Thought of that today.

amiriteoramirite?
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Time:04:49 pm
Wrote this about a week ago.

Free Image Hosting at www.ImageShack.us

Reading too much Joyce makes word puzzles.



And Merry Christmas.
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Time:02:42 pm
So Ulysses just turned into a 200 page play. It's all drunken absinthe hallucinations. Bad trip, man.

I am ?????????

Also, Three A- and a B. Good job, Nic.
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Time:07:02 pm
My Favorite CDs List of 2007 Okay

10. Pitchforkmedia.com
9. Pitchforkmedia.com
8. Pitchforkmedia.com
7. Pitchforkmedia.com
6. Obscure local band
5. Pitchforkmedia.com
4. Pitchforkmedia.com
3. Obscurer Obscure
2. Pitchforkmedia.com
1. You've never heard of this band before


I have no soul.

edit: But really, it's true :(
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