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Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in
Haikon Die's LiveJournal:
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|Wednesday, July 27th, 2016|
Early (around 6:30 AM) this morning, I found a dildo lying in some neighbor's yard. There was an inhaler in the yard next door. Just now (around 6:00 PM) I observed that the inhaler was gone, but the dildo was still there.
|Monday, June 6th, 2016|
|Thursday, January 7th, 2016|
|Thursday, December 17th, 2015|
It's hard to have enough willpower.
|Friday, June 26th, 2015|
This guy, David Ronis, just died. He was the father of my friend, Jason Ronis. When I was a teenager, my mom's house was a bad environment, so I spent a lot of time at Jason's house. Like, I would spend the night there, and go to school from there, and spend the night there the next night, sometimes for seven days in a row or more. I don't think I spent more time at Jason's house than at my own house, but I wouldn't be surprized if that were true; it was pretty close, and I wasn't really keeping track.
So far (it's been about two and a half hours) I'm more upset about David dying than I was upset about my own mom or my own dad dying. Maybe that's just because I'm sad about my life in general these days.
I wasn't very sad when my mom and dad died. I was more relieved than anything else. No one ever believes me when I tell them this. Well, it's more like they don't understand me than it is that they don't believe me. It's like it's something outside of their experience. It's not like my parents were cruel to me, but then, outside of their bouts of cruelty, they were kind and loving; they just weren't ever either. They set no example for being creatures of emotion. Unless you count curiosity as an emotion, or amusement. They both liked laughter, mirth, amusement, curiosity, wonder. Those things, you could count as emotions. They sometimes felt moral indignation. They both embodied the attitude of sanctimonious, snobbish, moral superiority that people hate left wing liberals for. But they only felt that way towards strangers; toward abstract, hypothetical neighbors of neighbors. So, I guess, they were creatures of emotion, but they weren't creatures of emotional connection. They never hated me. My mom loved me, but she never really expressed it. It's possible my dad hated me, but that he never expressed that. They expressed anger toward me. They were both angry people. They weren't violent, but they were hurtful. I almost said "hurtfulness was their element" or "anger was their medium" but that's not really true. It wasn't the medium they lived in. They lived, they spent almost all of their experience in ponderance, in thought, in a detached, smug superiority, or else in the sarcastic humor of brainy nerds. But anger was their medium of interaction. They couldn't relate to anyone else, or communicate with anyone else, unless it involved hurtfulness, or rage, or one of its close relatives.
My parents had a profound influence on me. Much more profound than I care to admit. And I'm glad about that; I like who I am. Nevertheless, I'm a lot more sad about David dying than I was about my mom or my dad dying.
|Sunday, June 21st, 2015|
I only know this because of facebook.com, but today is Fathers' Day. I had a father, but he died. He was survived by my mother, who buried him, eventually, after five years of procrastination, although she never went through the trouble of getting him a tombstone or something. My dad had four living children when he died, too, but none of us ever bothered to mark his grave either.
|Tuesday, June 9th, 2015|
Holland, Michigan is a fuckin' weird place. The people are weird.
|Monday, June 8th, 2015|
Major was the superintendant on the apartment building I lived in in Detroit.
He got really sick in the mid aughts. I don't know what it was, but I'm pretty sure it was cancer; it was something they had to treat very aggressively, and the treatment was harder on him than the disease itself. Emily and I both kinda assumed he would die then, but he got better, and was well enough to work and ride a bike around after that.
But, after 2012, he became steadily more infirm. Each week he could work less than the week before, and the difference was enough to notice. That was when I basically got my job; when Major became too weak to do it himself. I mean, I had worked for Allen before, but only on occassion. It became a daily thing because of Major dying. Because Major wouldn't let the fact that he couldn't work as much stop him from working as much.( Major Walton´s deathCollapse )
|Tuesday, May 19th, 2015|
I fixate on problems a lot. I have a hard time accepting life as it is when life includes an important problem to distract me. I don't expect everything to go my way, but I expect, like, something. I expect to at least know which way it is going. I need some kind of resolution or closure.
It's hard to liberate yourself from your selfimposed need for closure.
|Sunday, May 17th, 2015|
Emily Shinn got married. It seems like she did it because her husband, Ryan Allen, became really religious, but I've lost touch with her to the extent that I'm not even totally sure about that.
I didn't expect that to happen. I don't think anyone expected it to happen, until last year, when we got savethedate cards in the mail. They'd been dating for something like six years, with neither any indication that they would get married nor any indication that they would split up. Then, last August, when I got married, Emily and Ryan attended, and Ryan said that he had had a "religious experience" earlier in the year, and that that made him decide to convert. So Ryan became Catholic. And then he and Emily got married in the Catholic church.
|Tuesday, April 21st, 2015|
Sometimes, I think about the life I could've had instead, if I only did that one thing differently.
|Friday, April 3rd, 2015|
I gave up alcohol for Lent. It turns out Lent is really 45 days long, not 40. There are some Sundays peppered in there randomly(?), and Sundays don't count as Lent. You can break all your fasting and abstaining on Sunday. And on Saint Patrick's Day. But that's degenerate, I don't believe in that. So I haven't had a drink in 43 days.
|Monday, March 9th, 2015|
Major's been dead for a year now. All things considered, I never got very emotional about his, or any other, death. Not nearly as emotional as everyone expects. I'm unmoved to the point where many people are suspicious of what I say when I tell them how I feel. When I tell people how upset I got when my mom and dad died, that's definitely the closest I've come to being accused of being a liar.
Either I'm afraid, or unable for some other reason, to face my grief, or I have depression, or I'm some kind of sociopath. I mean, I'm pretty sure I have depression anyway, but I'm not sure depression is the reason I'm so cool about my friends and family dying.
Another factor in how I consider death, and I'm not sure how important this is, or how true it is, is that I think about death much more often than most people. For whatever reason, I feel like it's very likely that the people I know could die any day. I know, abstractly, that people live to be 50 to 100 years old, so my expectations are unrealistic, but nevertheless, I expect perfectly healthy people to die with little warning. I get the impression that other people don't consider fatal car wrecks might be a familiar reality.
I never thought about it before, but technically, I discovered Major's body. It didn't occur to me, at the time, that he was dead when I opened his door. I just thought I had discovered someone who was burning alive, who had somehow managed to start a fire directly beneath their bed.
|Thursday, January 8th, 2015|
This house I live at, Jodi's mom's house, is dysfunctional. I mean, there are things like "the sink", like literal components of a house, that don't function. And it's a dysfunctional home because it's a dysfunctional home, like, every time something like an appliance or a door doesn't function, it's a direct ramification of the interpersonal dynamics that are associated with the term "dysfunctional home".
It really takes me back to being a teenager and living with mom. Not that I would call my home then a "dysfunctional home". I just mean, like, I never thought unhealthy family dynamics would be central to my life again; I thought parsing out and coping with the personal relationships of the mentally unhealthy wasn't something I would get into again.( ExampleCollapse )
|Monday, December 29th, 2014|
|Saturday, December 20th, 2014|
I don't like living in the country. There are coyotes and wild turkeys, which is cool, but that's the only good part.
One thing I didn't expect was there to be garbage everywhere. Especially in the air. Everywhere you go, there is the lingering smell of burnt, toxic garbage, because everyone burns all their trash in these rusted, greasy oil drums. No one makes any effort to put their burn barrels out of the way or make them presentable at all; they're just in the middle of everyone's back yard. Anything that can't be melted, or otherwise destroyed with fire, is simply left where it is. If you see a tree in someone's yard, it's not because they put it there on purpose; it's there because some corroded remnant of a tractor got left there, so they couldn't mow the lawn in that spot anymore, so weeds grew up there, and by and by, a tree grew there too. I always thought of ubiquitous garbage and litter as an urban phenomenon, but it turns out the opposite is true: cities are really clean. And the burning garbage smell is worse than the Detroit incinerator. Current Mood: morose
|Friday, November 28th, 2014|
I hate Thanksgiving. I missed my exit driving home because I was crying. I was crying because sometimes I get to hating myself. It's because of my family that I do that, or more specifically, the memory of how my family behaved during every holiday of my life until I moved out. I'll refrain from telling the whole, involved story, but the take home message is that, on holidays, my family acted in a way that, especially then but also now a little bit, made me hate myself. They weren't even a bad family. I mean, if I could trade in my life with them in for a life with a different, contempory family, picked at random, I wouldn't take that gamble. They were just particularily, painfully bad at holidays.
I always liked New Years Eve the best, because that's the only holiday that's not centered on all ages family get togethers. St. Patrick's Day, too. I wish there was a holiday that wasn't based on family gettogethers, but wasn't about drinking a whole lot either.
|Thursday, November 20th, 2014|
What happened in 2009 that so many people's livejournals stop happening?
|Wednesday, November 19th, 2014|
Revisiting and rereading my livejournal fills me with terrible feelings.
|Tuesday, April 2nd, 2013|
I was just walking down the street and I heard someone mention to their friend that, "It feels like Kansas out here."
I haven't looked at livejournal in a long time. Looking now, it strikes me that my themes and icons and layouts and such are really old. I never bother to change them. I don't change my facebook picture often enough. I haven't updated any of my online profiles or userpages in many years. I used to think the internet was novel and stimulating, but I barely remember what that felt like now. I remember back when the internet was new to me, that some of my friends were already over it; they knew about friendster.com and makeoutclub.com, so myspace.com was absolutely routine to them. Now there is facebook.com, which is still novel to old people and to people who, back in the 1990s, found making friends more fun than command line interfaces. I wonder what the internet will be like when those people get over the novelty, too. I suspect there is some psychological process, basically common to all people, in experiencing the internet, not unlike Erikson's stages of psychosocial development or Kübler-Ross' stages of grief.
I wonder if I can remember the magic words that hide my entry behind a link.
(They used to think posts were called "entries"! Idiots!)
I get sad about the internet around April Fools' Day. Until recently, wikipedia.com was really funny on April Fools' Day. Now wikipedia.com takes itself all seriously and the internet sucks. We have social networks that are cluttered up with total shit; animated .gif files that would only be amusing to stoned people; satires of greeting cards; satires of inspirational posters. We have "memes" now, which are an evil, humorless reincarnation of the Sunday funnies. We even have those lazy internet versions of political cartoons where people find a digitalized photograph and add a pithy, polarizing caption to it to vent their impotent, bipartisan rage. It took us nearly a century as a species to move beyond this, to finally discard the stale, hollow ritual of comedy that was the Sunday funnies, to finally realize that they were not funny at all, and no sonner do we bury that corpse of our shameful cultural heritage than we turn around, exhume it, and reanimate it in the laboratory of Dr. Frankensteinfacebüch. What does that say about us? What does that imply about so-called social darwinism? That
idea was popular a hundred years ago too.
On the bright side, I never liked the works of that guy who coined the term "meme" and I'm happy to see his clever neologism be co-opted by a concept even more trite and obnoxious than the one he invented.