tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57609852011-04-21T14:26:50.510-05:00My Oyster DelusionDone and DoneMaxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comBlogger1541100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1152842878729554312006-07-13T21:07:00.001-05:002006-07-13T21:09:38.793-05:00Move onwww.AFoggyNotion.vox.comBam!Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1152754405663141932006-07-12T20:25:00.000-05:002006-07-12T20:33:25.663-05:00 A windy...NightMaxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1152752307648349772006-07-12T19:26:00.000-05:002006-07-12T20:16:18.340-05:00Ya know I've got a foggy notion It's a steamy day in Toronto. The cat piss is strong today, it burns my nose sometimes, but I bought new light bulbs, so it balances out."When I was lonely back in 73', that's when the conga drums spoke to me"I'm so poor I drink Tang out of a Dr. Pepper bottle. I only buy orange. It's 20 cents cheaper.I feel like those coal miners that had to drink their own urine.Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1151110718455020552006-06-23T19:57:00.000-05:002006-06-23T19:58:42.643-05:00RADIO ONGot the New York Modern Neon SoundMaxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1150264871507036912006-06-14T00:59:00.000-05:002006-06-14T01:01:11.516-05:00Four MinutesSitting on the concrete bleachers.A train rumbles past behind me. Folsom Prison comes to mind.Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1147985512981209012006-05-18T15:50:00.000-05:002006-05-18T15:51:52.993-05:00Walking to schoolLeft Right Left RightStraight into the stormMaxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1147297408336327042006-05-10T16:22:00.000-05:002006-05-10T16:43:28.383-05:00CastMax played by MaxFive-Legged Max played by Max(Curtain opens)The two stand in the middle of a school yard.Max: OK, first to the other side wins.Five-Legged Max: But the thing is, I don't understand why we're doing this. I have nothing to prove to you. This is all for you. I get nothing out of this.Max: See, you always say that, but then when you win, you won't shut up about how much faster Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1147296092736236522006-05-10T16:13:00.000-05:002006-05-10T16:22:24.576-05:00Strugglin' by Max HazenCastMax played by MaxFive-Legged Max played by MaxFat, Ugly, Stupid Max played by Max(Curtain opens)All three characters stand in total darkness each holding a flashlight under their chins.Max: Man, it's really hot in this library. I thought it would be air-conditioned. That's why I came in here in the first place.Five-Legged Max: I can run about 2.5 times faster than Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1147295550467608622006-05-10T16:05:00.000-05:002006-05-10T16:12:30.476-05:00Will says:Will says that in order to make money off of writing, at least on the internet, I'm going to have to become a "Top Blogger". America's Next Top Blogger to be exact. Top Blogger? Most of the time I spell it "Blooger" and end up laughing too hard to actually get anything done.Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1143563777201768902006-03-28T09:48:00.000-06:002006-03-28T10:39:35.596-06:001:00 AMMax: Video games are awesome eh?Matt: Yeah, SO awesome!Max: Yeah, SO AWESOME!1:30 AMMax: Man, my head is pounding. Do you have any Tylenol?Matt: Nope.Max: Then maybe I'll just eat some macaroni.Matt: That's what I'd do.Max: Video games are awesome.Matt: Yeah, so awesome.2:00 AMMax: I don't have any milk and my head is still pounding. I actually feel kind of nauseous.Matt: Just use extra Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1141229511705206172006-03-01T10:08:00.000-06:002006-03-01T10:11:51.716-06:00It was imperative that the sun shine today and whaddya know? It did.Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1139538223667430082006-02-09T20:07:00.000-06:002006-02-09T20:46:06.743-06:00AlrightI wanted to see if I could post a picture from my webspace. It would appear that I've done so, though, I wish I'd chosen a less disturbing picture...Of Lucas......In Asia.We were always wearing the same outfits. It was a strange time. We had eaten a "Happy Pizza" that morning and spent the next 6 hours cutting off my hair and gluing it to Lucas's face.Luckily, we didn't need to do his armsMaxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1139177678207714132006-02-05T16:13:00.000-06:002006-02-05T16:14:38.220-06:00John J. RamboMaxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1139005050634485192006-02-03T16:16:00.000-06:002006-02-03T16:17:30.636-06:00I'm sorry but it had to happen"Who's playin tonight?""The jolly green giants, crucial tot, and the shitty beatles""The shitty beatles? They any good?""No, they suck""So its not just a clever name""What is it?""Open it""If its a severed head I'm going to be very upset"Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1138929150623526302006-02-02T18:53:00.000-06:002006-02-02T19:16:05.923-06:00WHA HOO!Its very quiet in this library. Someone's cell phone goes off. The ringtone is Mozart and I start weeping. I don't know if its really Mozart. That's why I'm weeping. I'm so stupid. Tears fall onto hands that are typing so fast, so furiously, that when the tears hit there is a sizzle, and a little puff of steam. Its clearing my sinuses.I look up and see row after row of black monitors. My Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1137454261073022842006-01-16T17:16:00.000-06:002006-01-16T17:31:01.226-06:00Just because I'm sick of what I see, I'll change it and start feeling nauseous againMaxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1102644984345257032004-12-09T19:54:00.000-06:002004-12-09T20:16:24.346-06:00Pearl Jam just doesn't fit my mood. I need another job.
I'm sitting in a comic shop that I used to frequent. Not because of the comics, or the greasy arguements being thrown around ("Are you carrying around human skulls? YOU ARE AREN'T YOU?") and especially not the Korean man next to me chatting to other, nerdy, horny Korean men in the area...I just had a scary thought, what if the other men areMaxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1096513067659765792004-09-29T21:23:00.000-05:002004-09-29T22:00:21.413-05:00Loading Slowly
Well, I wasn't going to write. I wasn't going to even be awake. But, well, I talked to Matt...
dehydrated, half-dead skunk trapped in a cage: 1; matt: ... 0 says:
we finally let the skunk out
Deadly Gases says:
"Who let the skunks out!"
Deadly Gases says:
that rules, how'd you do it?
dehydrated, half-dead skunk trapped in a cage: 1; matt: ... 0 says:
MATT LET THE SKUNKS OUT!
Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1095393742402064512004-09-16T22:41:00.000-05:002004-09-16T23:02:22.403-05:00Good Ol' Jonathan
"Ya know I just read some writers now,
From the old days,
Because I knew, I knew they'd understand,
Because dignity
and tenderness
Should apply (They could apply)
To modern Romance"
Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1095221021785266332004-09-14T22:47:00.000-05:002004-09-14T23:03:41.786-05:005 to 12. 5 to write.
That wave is back. I'm sitting in my computer room, the same glow, the same cold metal chair. Surrounded by loved ones, the respected, and yet in my typically teenage fashion I feel so alone. From beginning to end this day has brought forth not only sunlight and pretty girls but a sad veil of something I would love to, but never really be able to describe. Instead I'll Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1095185439603327922004-09-14T13:09:00.000-05:002004-09-14T13:10:39.603-05:00I simply like to watch myself exist
As far as school is concerned, well, lets just say I’ve never been concerned with it. Actually to be totally honest, in my last 4 years of high school I can’t recall doing one piece of homework. Not one. Of course this was very much reflected in my marks and after an especially dramatic discussion with my parents (“You can’t make me go back!”) I decided that aMaxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1094520984986604732004-09-06T18:25:00.000-05:002004-09-06T20:36:24.986-05:00Jazzyfatnastees is a very good name, for what? I'm not sure.
"I'm blowin' up like you knew I would"
Walking through Toronto with two wonderful people today I noticed a young lad with a novelty t-shirt that read "Please tell your BOOBS to stop staring at my face". Being the rebel I am, I thought to myself, or rather to his shirt "NO!" My boobs won't be pushed around.
Listening to Biggie Smalls Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1093916854994195962004-08-30T20:35:00.000-05:002004-08-30T20:49:24.156-05:00Look who's back. Look who's bored.
Why is it that I don't always believe what I think?
At the beginning of the beginning my mind has resorted to using delightfully painful flashbacks as a way to maintain my current state of sanity. I'm not really insane, more outsane.
A beach, a root, a bottle of beer.
I'm growing up little ones. I'm learning and feeling and questioning more and more. Cool Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1092220121681273612004-08-11T04:40:00.000-05:002004-08-11T05:36:35.856-05:00Another KL moment
So I bolt out the door, the heat hits me like a brick...A very hot, moist brick. I guess like a sponge would be more accurate, but the whole point is that it hurt. I'm already sweating. I'm in Malaysia.
Its been 3 days now, 3 days of nothing, 3 days of KL. I know that I'm not supposed to be bored. I'm in Asia for Christ's sake (Well, I really did it more for my sake than his, Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1090397148366457852004-07-21T02:38:00.000-05:002004-07-21T03:05:48.366-05:00Alright
You're thinking? What? Two entries in one day? Wha...How? Its this simple. For all of you that have ever in your life had a bad haircut...
I feel your pain. And there is nothing worse. NOTHING.
So I waltzed into the joint. Girly hair-dye pictures everywhere. The woman is lying on her couch in typical Thai fashion. As I walk in she leaps to her feet and says "Sawadee". I say hi andMaxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1090384207926671312004-07-20T23:20:00.000-05:002004-07-20T23:35:45.973-05:00So a story?
Lemme think...Well, I'd have to say the best part of Laos was leaving it. Not that I didn't love Laos (You can't really dislike it) but in order to get out from Luang Prabang we had 2 choices if we were to head to Thailand. One, the fast boat. Now, basically the fast boat isn't much of a boat. I'd say it was more of a piece of driftwood with a jet engine strapped to the back. You Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-108987126216808842004-07-15T00:44:00.000-05:002004-07-15T01:01:02.170-05:00Nick says...
Nick says a lot of things. One thing that Nick says is "That bird is well fit...and she has nice baps". I like it when Nick says that. I laugh sometimes. Sometimes when I laugh, Nick will hit me, and then I stop laughing. Sometimes I cry.
Nick wants me to stop writing this, and hes threatening me again, so I'll stop. Thanks Nick, sorry I mean, King Nick.
Nick is a "right bastard"Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1089271937129916452004-07-08T00:56:00.000-05:002004-07-08T02:44:39.686-05:00Ahoy Hanoi!, Ho Chi Minh is my boy
Well, we'z back in Hanoi. I'm starting to really enjoy this city as its ten times more chilled out than wacky Saigon. Though I guess by Canadian standards this city is what you might call "Fucking Crazy". The last 3 days we spent on a boat floating through Ha Long bay (that's when I say "This long" and everybody laughs and by everybody I mean no body, not even Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1088765960155940972004-07-02T05:39:00.000-05:002004-07-02T05:59:20.156-05:00Shimmy Shimmy yeah
Can I possibly explain what its like to be on the back of a motorcycle screeching through the Vietnamese Central highlands while listening to Jimi tell me his one burning desire?
The last 5 days were totally unforgettable. I spent them exploring real jungle (we're talkin' crazy monkeys and waterfalls that look like a set from a movie.) We played in bomb craters and stood Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1087648363295428082004-06-19T07:23:00.000-05:002004-06-19T07:32:43.296-05:00I'm still in Saigon. And I've still got the runs.
So we made through the border yet again, and yet again, spent hours waiting in the hot Cambodian sun just to get a stamp saying we could leave.
As we were crossing no mans land (They make you walk it, which both annoying and scary) we saw a giant sign that read "Welcome to Vietnam" so we thought we'd get a picture. So we're all standing there Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1087294029095528572004-06-15T04:39:00.000-05:002004-06-15T05:07:09.096-05:00In the heart of darkness
So we left Bangkok early in the morning, heading for the border with high hopes and some nervous expectations. All of them were met.
When we hit the border, we gave some guys some money to go get our visas...We went through "customs" and entered no mans land, A dirt road filled with dogs, chickens, and dirty children trying to sell me anything. A man came and took my Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1086945351278598182004-06-11T03:46:00.000-05:002004-06-11T04:15:51.276-05:00Wanna do it wit Def
Dave, I would take you with me if I could somehow get the money and go back in time, come home and take you with me...if that makes any sense, which it most certainly does not and hence you aren't with me. Sorry.
Back in Bangkok, it feels as good as home. Kao San (Sp?) the big touristy road here is like my Queen St. We've met another English bloke by the name of Nick, we metMaxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1086424058489145112004-06-05T03:16:00.000-05:002004-06-05T03:27:38.490-05:00I've moved from paradise to paradise and its sometimes more than I can take. The mountains, the dogs, the water and the fish. I have a wound now, I stepped on something in the water and when I looked at my foot, there were spines sticking out of a bloody hole.
We have to move on tomorrow, which on one level is a nice thought but on a another...pretty painful. I did what I've always wanted to do Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1085986690919521642004-05-31T01:51:00.000-05:002004-05-31T01:58:10.920-05:00Thailand, this beautiful monster of a country.
I don't have much time. Ya know why? Cause its 35 degrees in this internet place. If I turn my head to the right I can see palm trees and the gulf of Thailand, with Ko Samui a nearby island stuck in the horizon. If I turn to left, a hippy. He is tanned, whereas I am sunburnt, its hilariously painful. In a minute, I'll pay the Thai woman, walk down Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1083126919504130972004-04-27T23:35:00.000-05:002004-04-27T23:38:24.060-05:00Negativity, BE GONE!
"So oppression is a state?"
Well now that I've been sedated by the grooviest of Format basslines, I'm prepared to snuggle down into a blindingly white screen, crispy snare coma.
Not much to say other than I changed my life today by giving somebody my Dad's credit card.
No Everlast, the real question is, with your millions, do you remember what it's like?Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1082947765702073852004-04-25T21:49:00.000-05:002004-04-25T21:52:58.340-05:00Laid back, eatin' an apple
Today I was thinking about how some of the most meaningful, honest, and important moments between my friends and I are when one of us is throwing up in a gutter. What does that say about me? Well, I guess it's probably not such a bad thing considering there are a lot of people living without ever having had those moments.
My ego and the rest of myself are locked in Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1082697611565186952004-04-23T00:20:00.000-05:002004-04-23T00:30:01.326-05:00I'm really into hatin' today, in fact I hate this entry already.
I'm in some serious (and admittedly sappy) need of affection these days. But we've gone over that.
In case you haven't noticed, I can't seem to form proper paragraphs lately. I'm just sick of my own whining and the reasons I whine themselves.
Right now, I would kill for a girl. That's right, I would actually take some innocent Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1082605618164715832004-04-21T22:46:00.000-05:002004-04-21T22:50:28.843-05:00Well I was swimming in the Caribbean
So I'm back at home, and so far I'm feelin' it.
I'm still puzzled. Last night I was walking home from the grocery store with bags in hand when I noticed a "street kid" sitting outside of Frans (Thank you Fran). The sky was pitch black and the lights from inside the restaurant were harsh while I squinted trying to focus on the girl.
"Spare some change?"
"Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1082427964666010872004-04-19T21:26:00.000-05:002004-04-19T21:29:01.090-05:00I've broken my arm, I've broken my leg but I've never before...
The other day I drank more than I could handle. Poor Will (Who I now call Mom) had to handle me and did so like a pro.
I woke up at 3:15. My head was thumping, but that was to be expected so I sat up and instantly felt a wave of nausea. I stood up, and ran to the wash room.
I was in that wash room for the next 2 hours until I Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-108189258619606102004-04-13T16:43:00.000-05:002004-04-16T13:38:16.123-05:00R2D2, me too, comin' to see you
ROCKETS ON THE BATTLEFIELD!
Alright, I'm at home and seeing as I have little time and even less self-control, I'm going to ruin my blog by listing songs I love today:
50 Gallon Drum - Buck 65
Fantastique - K-OS
The Gator - Will Oldham
Keith N' Me - Princess Superstar and Kool Keith
Anything by the Constantines (Young Lions)
Q Lazarus - Goodbye Horses (Just foundMaxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1081831681262706482004-04-12T23:48:00.000-05:002004-04-12T23:50:50.436-05:00Some things last a long time
Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1081830695278510502004-04-12T23:31:00.000-05:002004-04-12T23:49:47.153-05:00Happy Valentines Day
"I think I'm gonna quit bein' a quitter"
After a three day bender of the most extreme laziness at Neil's expense, I'm anxious to get back on track. I've been flipping through travel books and atlases for a few hours now, worrying about how to deal with problems that don't exist yet. The best part of it is that, out of the multitude of possible issues we'll have to deal Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1081580598919257512004-04-10T02:03:00.000-05:002004-04-10T02:06:05.796-05:00"It looks ugly as a mule's ass" - Neil
"If I drink now, I'll throw up in the morning" - Me
I'm very drunk, and very stoned and admitting my lack of basketball skill. We've discovered that , I forgot what we discovered. I just talked of ball hockey with David.
That sounded almost biblical. I heard on the news today that ...neil just said "Sing us a song or be cool"
The front of my head is Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1081447308652413472004-04-08T13:01:00.000-05:002004-04-08T13:05:32.403-05:00A gift to the ages. I'll save this for the sages, who make tiny slave wages, and whose thoughts are in cages
I've convinced myself that I shouldn't write today so I'll try and keep it to a minimum.
I woke up today to the most incessant hammering. I swear, this guy must have some gigantic arms because he didn't stop once for THREE hours. Anyway, after screaming obscenities at him and his loved Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1081364769745505952004-04-07T14:06:00.000-05:002004-04-07T14:08:54.093-05:00BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
I can't help but laugh when I look around and notice that even the nerds in this place (God bless their greasy little hearts) have girlfriends and yet I sit here on a chair way too short for me reaching up to the keep board typing "What's wrong with me?". Yes, the list of things wrong with me is longer than Pi but there are still days (in fact, every single day) Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1081278001642319622004-04-06T14:00:00.000-05:002004-04-06T14:02:45.060-05:00Intensity in Ten Cities
So it looks like it might be South-Eastern Asia. We're talkin' Cambodia, Vietnam, Thailand, Borneo and the rest of them crazy islands chalk full of bugs bigger than my cat. What this means however, is that I'll have to somehow conserve my funds for the next month or so. Which would be fine, if of course I wasn't already being conservative (Paper Towel = Toilet Paper, Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1081117284101378892004-04-04T17:21:00.000-05:002004-04-04T17:24:05.340-05:00I just looke daround myself.
I'm surrounded by computers. Humming and buzzing, I feel like I'm in a hive. Except a hive full of a robo-bees which instead of producing delicious honey, produce grease (which I guess somebody probably finds delicious). On their faces, their hair, and their oddly shaped bodies. Everyone here is either frail and small, or frail and unbelievably overweight. Next to Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1080633835663128042004-03-30T02:03:00.000-06:002004-03-30T02:07:07.153-06:00I looked in the mirror today (Longingly, the only way to look)
There is a noise in this room that I'm surprised I can hear, seeing as my ear drums should have exploded a long time ago.
I didn't think today. At least, I didn't think about my life. I thought about video games and for a moment pondered over the health consequences my coke swollen gut might be bringing about (And the possible Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1080548311790801192004-03-29T02:18:00.000-06:002004-03-29T02:25:45.590-06:00Just to give you an idea
It's 3:15 on a monday morning. I have no job, no idea what I'm doing, and no clean clothes.
Right now, I love the sound of my own typing.
Oprah would be disgusted.
I had no intention of re-starting this blog, I just think I need it so that I might lose the urge to send lonely and pathetic, sometimes angry letters to girls I used to know.
Like Oprah.Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1080547698621054932004-03-29T02:08:00.000-06:002004-03-29T02:10:53.436-06:00Oh god, I've given in
I couldn't resist, I'm weak. We'll move on.
I just finished watching an entire A&E report on Oprah with my Grandma. Cause I'm cool like that. The problem now isn't that I know way too much about Oprah, oh no, the problem now is that I know one thing about Oprah.
"Could you please tell your Oprah to let go of my leg...oww...Seriously...I think she's broken the skin"
My Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1076288994081285532004-02-08T19:09:00.000-06:002004-02-08T19:11:39.513-06:00I'm quitting the blogging business
Alright, that's that. I'm sick of reading everyone's melodrama, including mine.
No more for me.
It was good while it lasted.Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1076102743439462382004-02-06T15:25:00.000-06:002004-02-06T15:27:26.483-06:00I was talking to my friend Dave. He's from Jamaica and spent his life traveling around Europe.
He's getting older and feels like he should be one of those suits telling him what to do. I told him that he had had an amazing life, and that was infinitely better than a higher paying job. He looked at me and said
"Sometimes good memories just don't cut it"
Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1076094341502929502004-02-06T13:05:00.000-06:002004-02-06T13:07:24.716-06:00Dirty and Reckless
Max: What?
Jim: What?
Max: You said something
Jim: No I didn’t
Max: Yeah, something about sun block
Pause
Jim: Sun block?
Max: I heard you
Jim: You’re hearing things
Max: I know you said something
Jim: I said nothing
Max: What ever
Pause
Jim: You going tonight
Max: Where?
Jim: To the allstream party
Max: Ha. Do I look like I’d fit in there?
Jim: Yeah, why not?
Max: You Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1076019610884715862004-02-05T16:20:00.000-06:002004-02-05T16:22:47.653-06:00OH NO!
I’ve become the jealous sidekick. The loser that doesn’t get it. I’ve been left behind, in the world of "by myself".
So many of my friends have left the nest and realized that girls are actually attainable and not something impossible. So many of them have found a girl, and I hate so many of those girls. I’m everything I’ve promised not to be. Now when I talk to these buddies I’m Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1076017026302538742004-02-05T15:37:00.000-06:002004-02-05T15:39:02.920-06:00Max 2004
I say we vote a twix bar into power.
Because it matters that much.
People have to stop pretending they're political experts. I'll have none of it.
I can't wait to tell that Twix bar to go to hell.Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1076013401068730412004-02-05T14:36:00.000-06:002004-02-05T14:42:10.390-06:00Whip It
They’ve moved me and I don’t have much time to write.
I was just in a meeting, a big giant fat-cat meeting, which was scary as hell. I survived only by eating slice after slice of delicious chocolate cake. But there was nothing funny or delicious about this morning. I woke up feeling like hell (which may be funny to some, but to me…it felt like hell). I actually stumbled like a drunkardMaxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1075930023336185022004-02-04T15:27:00.000-06:002004-02-04T15:28:44.466-06:00Dynamic Duo
I don't know what's funnier. This conversation:
P.Jappy (English accent): I need some boxes
Max (Max's accent): Why?
P Jappy: Cuz I need to carry things
Max: You're building a fort aren't you?
(Pause)
P Jappy: It's not a fort...It's a castle
Or
When Brian did a search for "The Trailer Park Boys" the first one the list was "Gay Movies Canada"
We laughed and laughedMaxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1075911911461746342004-02-04T10:25:00.000-06:002004-02-04T12:18:33.310-06:00Such Language
I’m becoming tolerant, and it’s killing me. Bad jokes make me smile, puns for god sake. I watch re-runs of “The making of the band”. People that I would usually kick in the stomach on sight are now becoming friends with me…Friends that I kick in the stomach.
I decided I wasn’t going to watch the super bowl this year, and successfully blocked it out. It’s not that I don’t like a Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1075847436452151952004-02-03T16:30:00.000-06:002004-02-03T16:32:16.483-06:00Try the wine
A friend sent me a sound clip the other week and it has become completely lodged in my brain, which is apparently set on repeat. I can't get it out no matter how hard I slam my head on my desk/co-workers. It's bizarre, it's not like the Spice Girls, which have a nasty habit of dwelling within me and then bursting out in a bloody vocal mess while I take a shower (It's like aliens, Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1075844675429981242004-02-03T15:44:00.000-06:002004-02-03T15:46:35.356-06:00Easy does it
So here I sit. A man who has just quit his job, and in two mind melting weeks will re-enter a world that he hardly remembers. A world of people. The outside people. Wonderful people. Monday's are just another day to them, when they're outside. It's cold but they wear coats because they're used to it. When the sun shines they sit and squint and think. They watch the inside people Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1075738218050679152004-02-02T10:10:00.000-06:002004-02-02T11:12:00.763-06:00This morning on Good Morning Toronto: An Ode to Spandex.
A Max Hazen report
The day I first saw you, I was only just 6
You were made into pants then, and the band's was named Styx.
I knew at that moment, that I was enamored
With a weird type of fabric. The lead singer was hammered.
I don't know how you got here, or how you were invented
But I can guess that some scientist quickly repented
Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1075478207988629692004-01-30T09:56:00.000-06:002004-01-30T09:58:24.200-06:00I'm starting on my 8th cookie. My stomach doesn't hurt exactly, but I get the feeling it doesn't want anymore. My throat hurts now, like it did when I ate canned ravioli as a kid. It's my favourite, an Oreo. I found it nestled in between two Peek Freans. Possibly the worst name for anything sold to be ingested. My leg is shaking and I feel kinda dizzy, everything seems funny right now. I can't Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1075308884877098762004-01-28T10:54:00.000-06:002004-01-28T10:56:18.360-06:00Good. Can you say it faster?
I was downstairs a few weeks ago, just wandering around, possibly scouting out the HMV for the girl at the counter. I can’t remember exactly, but anyway, everything seemed normal enough. The suits were out in full force. The coffee places here must make a killing.
I was swimming upstream skillfully avoiding the oncoming phone toting business boys, when out of no Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1075303625719175232004-01-28T09:27:00.000-06:002004-01-29T08:22:52.186-06:00I just bit my tounge
Have you ever had an experience so surreal that it seems almost impossible to remember?
A few days ago, I woke up tired as usual, stumbled into the shower and stood there for an hour and a half. Everything was quiet, as I wanted it to be, any noise and I would have crumbled into nothing. Shivering nothing, clutching my head. I eat my breakfast. Yogurt and an apple. The Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1075243410406679722004-01-27T16:43:00.000-06:002004-01-27T16:46:13.326-06:004:31
I have 29 minutes to write something big, and I mean big, like a secret song that was meant to be destroyed (“Sunny , Cher and Tupac’s: I got you bitch”). As of now I have no idea what it’ll be, but as I’ve had nothing big happen yet today, I can only assume that it’s still to come.
What will it be? A supermodel wife? A bloody and hilarious end to my life? A bloody end to my new Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1075226399316894182004-01-27T11:59:00.000-06:002004-01-27T12:01:31.763-06:00I’m confused again, as to why things are they way they are.
I was handed a pamphlet today on stepping into my work. “ESPERANTO: The international language that works!” It read in bold, black letters. I stared at it, confused, an eyebrow to the sky. Why was I even looking at this pamphlet? And then the questions and ideas appeared from somewhere, nowhere, from the juicy pink, hopefully pulsating Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1075217223748061672004-01-27T09:27:00.000-06:002004-01-27T09:28:36.560-06:00Protest
Strange thing happened last night. Totally beknownced to me, an apparently crafty steamroller managed to sneak past the security guard, somehow get into a small elevator, jimmy my lock open and roll over me while I slept like a baby. I woke up today to excruciating pain down my entire body. As I slowly pushed myself up I could not only hear my vertebrae cracking as the now cookie crumb Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1075150017515545522004-01-26T14:46:00.000-06:002004-01-26T14:48:48.436-06:00That time again
"As long as I can still watch movies and smell babies foreheads, I'm good to go"
-Buck 65Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1075141746177740792004-01-26T12:29:00.000-06:002004-01-26T14:03:59.060-06:00Heartburn and a zit on my back
And I shrieked "COFFEE JUST SHOT OUT MY NOSE" to which my boss replied "COFFEE JUST SHOT OUT YOUR NOSE!? YOU'RE FIRED!"
Well, there are now two little robots buzzin' around Mars, doin' their thang, probly just chillin'. It's weird to think that someone's remote control car is driving around on another planet. I wonder if it can do flips like the TYCO Sidewinder.
Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1074890984368490592004-01-23T14:49:00.000-06:002004-01-23T14:51:13.110-06:00What's in the middle?
A glorious moment.
I haven't had an Oreo since I went camping when I younger. They froze overnight and we had to dip them in hot chocolate to make them edible. I ate nearly a whole box of them, and ever since then I've had crunchy, sweet nightmares.
So when a friend of mine came in and asked me if I wanted an Oreo and proceeded to point a bowlfull of them at me, I Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1074885647910716632004-01-23T13:20:00.000-06:002004-01-23T13:22:16.966-06:00Put on your thinking caps, and then you'll think perhaps...
I just found out that Captain Kangaroo died. Well that's depressing.Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1074879284979175102004-01-23T11:34:00.000-06:002004-01-23T11:36:38.903-06:00Damn Homie, Back in high school you was the man, Homie
I realized last night, walking home in that biting cold, that I would really like to know someone that works in a diner. Like Fran's. Just so that I could go in and say "How's life Gail?" Or "The usual please Martha". They would undoubtedly have a name that came straight from the 50's. A 50's mom name. I'd stamp my feet, rub my hands Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1074874587463749092004-01-23T10:16:00.000-06:002004-01-23T10:17:56.450-06:00The boy farted softly. As if to say, I'm not a afraid of you...
I've fallen in love with Italics. Italics....Italics BOLD BOLD ITALICS!
Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1074795005845367352004-01-22T12:10:00.000-06:002004-01-22T12:11:33.996-06:00Did you just see that? Was that...The Fonz?
In my food\natural light deprived state I totally forgot the most important thing I saw on TV last night.
Ok, so I was watching CTS (I think it means Christian Television but I have no idea) as I always do when I'm eating olives, and wearin' my jeans. It makes the whole experience so much more surreal, more powerful. Anyway, Happy Days comes on. I'mMaxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1074788257035392492004-01-22T10:17:00.000-06:002004-01-22T10:19:04.996-06:00Thank You (Falettinme be mice elf)
Olives, natures crack. I can't stop eating olives (which sounds lude I know, "eatin' olives" wink wink), and now that I know that they're damn cheap I'm never going to stop. I woke up at 5 this morning to those crazy howling ghost winds flying down college, and I was terrified. But then I thought, hey, I'll eat some olives.
And it was good.
And then Our Lady Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1074699225306097162004-01-21T09:33:00.000-06:002004-01-21T09:35:44.873-06:00???
I just wrote a thing about hobo-twins, and when I finished it, I pressed the damn post button. Now I had presumed that the post button did what the name implies...Post...But apparently that is not the case. What the button should really be called is "Mostly post, but sometimes make hard work disappear, and in turn make Max whine and cry about how nothing is fair".Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1074635607192398302004-01-20T15:53:00.000-06:002004-01-20T15:54:52.920-06:00I see speed indeed, I tell him what I need
So my Jeans and I met Dave for lunch today. Saw a sparrow inside and Dave and I encouraged it to defecate on a mans head. It wasn't having any of that, and left us. I stuffed myself full of Indian food at an alarming rate and I'm feeling it as we speak. My fellow workers have kindly asked me to stop moaning and rubbing your stomach, get to work! What isMaxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1074549561905797132004-01-19T15:59:00.000-06:002004-01-19T16:43:42.716-06:00Get off my elevator
I bought Jeans yesterday. The thing is, in my professional opinon, buying pants is worse than... Jay Leno. OH! ZING! Seriously, I think buying pants is probably number one on the top ten list of the things I hate having to buy. It's up there with embarrasing personal products and anything remotely girly, like un-mentionable personal products.
Anyway, if I'm gonna get pants,Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1074544760764146212004-01-19T14:39:00.000-06:002004-01-19T14:41:58.810-06:00I'm ready boys, so lets take a trip
To encourage more Todd, I've decided to stop complaining today. If Todd is anything like Polkaroo, well, that'd be terrifying. Nevermind. Todd has a very good point about chocolate milk. When I was far away in Australia, I was amazed by the abundance of SHITTY ass chocolate milk brands. They'd have whole fridges full of them, and they were all disgusting and Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1074369086381885032004-01-17T13:51:00.000-06:002004-01-17T13:52:49.106-06:00THIS JUST IN: SOMEBODY THINKS I'M A PRICK!
Ok...First of all, I have never admitted to be a prick. In my life. I've done prickish things, but I am not a prick. As for my my vanity, yeah, I can be vain, but how she came to know this, or even form a basic opinon of me I can't understand. Also the fact that she had decided to just say this out loud is confusing. I haven't spoken to her in years, inMaxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1074270349540330452004-01-16T10:25:00.000-06:002004-01-16T11:43:31.280-06:00And then we'll become...
RANT WOO!
Well lonely Max here, at work. There's a lady I work with that I just don't understand. I've had long, mind-blowing conversations about all sorts of sissy things, and we seem to agree on almost everything. Love for example, I'll go on and on about how I see it, and how I deal with it, and she'll tell me that she totally agrees and blah blah, but it seems thatMaxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1074196941534239962004-01-15T14:02:00.000-06:002004-01-15T14:03:42.966-06:00What chu talkin' bout Bruce Willis?
I'm not mad at anything enough to want to write. Theres a phone ringing, and nobody is picking it up, I'm now mad at that. Good.
Whats the deal with people who don't pick up the phone? Are they like stupid or something?
So I just found out about that giant weed growin' plant in the old molson brewery. Kinda freaked me out. Just the fact that somebody Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1074104570818244542004-01-14T12:22:00.000-06:002004-01-14T12:24:10.996-06:00The new Pornographers
Pasta for breakfast rules! Except for the intense garlicky mist that hangs about me like that dirty kid from Charlie Brown. Pig Pen that's it. It'd be awesome if Pig Pen wasn't just physically dirty, but mentally as well. Always cursing and making obscene pelvic-thrusts towards the other kids yelling drunkenly "HEY LUCY". And I wonder if his name has anything to do with Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1074010342168775912004-01-13T10:12:00.000-06:002004-01-13T10:17:02.606-06:00Concentrate
Had a glass of milk for breakfast today. Thought about how it came from a cow's breasts and felt very sick. Then I stepped outside into the wind and was upset by the fact that outside was not my comfy, comfy bed and if it was, then my comfy, comfy bed sucked. Altogether the experience was terrible, but when I got into the office, which was warm, and not windy, I started to feel a Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1073933912130529472004-01-12T12:58:00.000-06:002004-01-12T13:09:10.076-06:00Back to...Being at work
My clothes stink, my hair is dirty, and I've invited some pimples to stay on my face. It was my new years resolution. Be kinder to those I hate. Feckin' Pimples.
I'm reading the all-too-university student-bandwagon book "fast food nation". I'm a little embarrassed but it is fascinating (and sometimes extremely vague). We can be pretty gross sometimes.
I had to carry Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1073664514345185342004-01-09T10:08:00.000-06:002004-01-09T10:09:49.623-06:00I promised I wouldn't cry, so I didn't...I got angry
WHOA! Ok, if you live in Toronto, don't go outside today. Stay where you are, in front of your, warm, buzzing computer.
I stepped outside today and my eyeballs froze, expanded, and when I came back inside they cracked and fell apart. I shrieked like a banshee and gave permanent nightmares to everybody I work with for the rest of their lives.Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1073593935976605402004-01-08T14:32:00.000-06:002004-01-08T14:33:30.233-06:00Laid Back
So T OH DD DIDDLY DOO came back, bringing up that infuriating question. Who is this Todd? Why two D's? Why ANYTHING? My entire world has been flipped upsidedown.
His promise of communication in ways other than brief and mysterious notes in the guestbook has fallen through. I've lost all faith in Todd.
Dave threatened me with a fight in a dirty ally. It wasn't dirty at first, but all Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1073587460909737352004-01-08T12:44:00.000-06:002004-01-08T12:45:34.810-06:00Ok, Lucas was right
It's stupid, and not worth it.
Some people are just some people.
Read the word "people" a lot and it starts to look mighty strange.Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1073585219580223952004-01-08T12:06:00.000-06:002004-01-08T12:12:42.500-06:00The Realization
When I was angry I was going to call this one "LOOK OUT, SHE'S GOING TO BLOW!"
Haha, my cheesy attempt at some sort of rebut or argument fell on its face, mostly because she is right. I just thought I'd put her site on mine so that those of you that know me can delight in her anger and truth. She knows my type. I'm a snail who hasn't seen the world for what it really is.
Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1073584475550840262004-01-08T11:54:00.000-06:002004-01-08T12:14:37.123-06:00Time to Rebut
Alright, Blog fight.
Dammit, I don't want to fight.
When I first read it I had so many questions. Who is this? Why does she care so much? Doesn't she realize that she is just emphasizing my point? And why is she attacking me personally? How can I make her cry? Why am I shaking with such red-hot fury? Whoa, steam really DOES come out your ears!(When you pour boiling water in them)Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1073578037190770212004-01-08T10:07:00.000-06:002004-01-08T12:24:34.873-06:00My hair is blue, my shirt is red, my favourite movie is, well, not Judge Dredd
Dyed my hair last night, while packing my belongings. Had a few of the boys over to my new place, to show off my "Radiation King" TV. I most definitely do not have a microwave. I most definitely do not have a lot of things.
Angry, ok, but its going to be boring and repetitive. For those of you that live close enough Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1073507727642306342004-01-07T14:35:00.000-06:002004-01-07T14:36:40.716-06:00Back
I have thusly dined with the Burger King. A very gracious host to be sure.
His many indonesian slaves were all too happy to warm me up a delicious veggie burger.
I think they really love working there. So much that they try to make it look like they're about to cry just to mask their uncontrollable joy.
Today I've eaten 4 Doughnuts, Coffee, A bottle of water, and a Veggie burger. I'm Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1073498737061652112004-01-07T12:05:00.000-06:002004-01-07T12:09:20.110-06:00I WANT MY COFFEE STIRRED CLOCKWISE DAMN IT!
So here we are.
I have my own apartment for the next little while. And by golly it feels weird. I spent most of last night tossing and turning, listening to the wind howling down College. "It sounds like a herd of rushing bulls caught in a net. Screaming and kicking". It really does.
Should I rant about the pathetic 911-rapping? Nah. But I guess I Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1073413004671739502004-01-06T12:16:00.000-06:002004-01-06T12:28:07.246-06:00Ok
First of all, I'm not weird you're weird.
I don't want to start with the moaning and the bitching about other people. "But Max, that's what you do? It's your thing". I know, I know, screaming legions of fans, calm down. It's just that I'm sick and tired of other peoples opinons. Of course, that doesn't mean they're bad people, or bad opinions. I just don't give a shit.
"But Max, don't you Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1073400523925268402004-01-06T08:48:00.000-06:002004-01-06T08:51:13.810-06:00I have my own apartment.
I wrote the following yesterday in about 15 minutes. Some of its funny, a lot of of it isn't. Enjoy.
I can’t wrap my head around a lot of things. I don’t think it’s because I’m absent minded or even the very possible stupid. It’s just that some things are so strange to me, so very weird and there doesn’t seem to be any real explanation behind them. For example; my Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1073247755880124802004-01-04T14:22:00.000-06:002004-01-04T17:12:11.216-06:00Oh this? Yeah, this sucks
These days I never dream. It's actually sort of depressing. But the last two nights I've had some of the strangest, most real dreams I've ever had. The first was that I was caught in a school shooting, which was absolutely terrifying to say the least, but it gets worse.
So I'm sneaking through the school, because I've decided to be the hero, which of course would Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1073170334658065792004-01-03T16:52:00.000-06:002004-01-03T16:53:24.403-06:00Well, T to tha Double D...we meet again...
I'm hungry and the phone just rang. It was for my sister.
And they got these chewy preztels....
Ok, I'm gonna give out my stinkin' email, which is very cryptic, so that my legions of obsessed fans can't flood me with letters of love and lust, but I'm giving in. What can I say, I'm too good to my subjects. MaxHazen@Hotmail.com and its not at Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1073107504450895952004-01-02T23:25:00.000-06:002004-01-02T23:27:51.153-06:0011:43 Friday Night
Naturally, being alone on a Friday night is as deadly as I remember. This time I brought it on myself, so it's not nearly as bad. Writing this screenplay has taught me more about myself than anything, or anyone I can remember. I'm finding it terribly difficult because I'm playing with things that have always been sacred, or at least repressed. And now I have to state them and Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1073077412140641452004-01-02T15:03:00.000-06:002004-01-02T15:04:40.700-06:00I had no idea
Max Hazen: Ideal-18 Sailing Coordinator; Max has worked tirelessly on deck repairs and bottom preparation on our boats, all of which are in the water. It takes a special type of person to give their weekends and tech adults. Max is from Sands Point and is studying architecture at Tulane University. He has five years experience teaching sailing and wind surfing on two continentsMaxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5760985.post-1073064831836560682004-01-02T11:33:00.000-06:002004-01-02T11:34:59.843-06:00Who am I kidding?
Well, I only stopped writing the last entry because I thought that maybe it was a little wrong to be sitting here making money for doing absolutely nothing except complaining about the fact that I'm doing nothing. But then I realized, I have nothing to do. So I'm back.
So about a week or two ago, Mark and I head over to the local Goodwill, so that we can take the best cheap Maxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15318038104871322349noreply@blogger.com