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6/8/01 I've been all alone here for a week. I work, I sleep. Sometimes I eat. Can't remember my last real discussion. No internet bullshit, even though I'm about as much of an observer on the internet as I am in real life. I want someone here with me. Just the two of us, uncorrupted by a third party, to talk about anything and everything as we watch the stars spin over us. I just got off the phone with my best friend who's living in Las Vegas now, the closest thing I ever knew to home. He's getting married in a few weeks, probably on the 4th of July. I want to be there but can't make any promises. We used to do what I want to do now -- settle into plastic lawn chairs and predict the future until the sun comes out to punish us all over again. I miss summer nights in Vegas, filthy stench and all. I'd feel overdressed in my own skin during the daytime, but nothing felt better than the moment the pavement cooled down at night. I need a friend -- a real life friend -- here in Louisville. I hesitate knowing I'll have to say goodbye in a few months, but that can't feel worse than the way I feel now. 5/26/01 So I guess a little bitching pays off! After I complained about chriscornell.com's lack of updates (other than those of the cosmetic variety), particularly the absence of a response to the Cornell/Rage Against the Machine rumors, they've finally made it official -- Chris has formed a band with the former members of RATM (sans Zach de la Rocha). I was especially excited to read: "The new band--still unnamed--will depart from the strident, politically minded rap-rock that made Rage one of the classic bands in Los Angeles rock history, turning instead to a song orientation with a hard-rock edge." A song-oriented band? Great idea! 5/25/01 I just got off the phone with my sister. I really don't know what to say to her other than "I'm glad I'm not in public school anymore, I'm sorry you still are." I was in high school just as bureaucrats were jumping off the cliff (I wouldn't call it a slippery slope) of zero tolerence when two idiots with cheap guns and homemade explosives became instant (dead) celebrities in an upper middle class Denver suburb. Rather than helping people realize the futility of gun control laws and the importance of teaching kids to respect guns and handle them safely, as it should have, this incident and any other incident where the word "gun" meets the word "school" has fed a twelve-headed zero tolerence beast. Middle school kids expelled for bringing squirt guns to school? A senior not being allowed to walk with her class a week before graduation for unintentially leaving a kitchen knife in the car? A grade school kid getting handcuffed for drawing pictures of guns in class? Four month suspension for a guy who takes a knife from his suicidal classmate who then goes home and slits her wrists after the incident? The problem with zero tolerance policies should be clear -- school officials are drawing a line between "right" and "wrong", thereby creating some sort of "simple principle" precisely when a simple principle should not exist: when trying to deliver (something resembling) justice. If it's so clear-cut when and how students should be disciplined, what's the point of having a principal, dean, DISCIPLINARIAN? Why not just give teachers expulsion slips? They could give the boot to the next kid who says "gun" without having to go through a middle man. Can you imagine the schools' zero tolerance policies in the real world? And they say our prisons are overcrowded now... Guns aren't the only things they're going after anymore, either. According to my sister, mere mention of alcohol, drugs, or smoking is grounds for a visit to the dean at her school. I guess I saw some of this ridiculously ignorant speech policing when I was in school. I remember a girl being ordered to change her "Guns 'n Roses" shirt when I was a dean's office aide in eighth grade. It frightens me to think about what thirteen years of being treated like a criminal will do to a kid. These "educators" should just save years of effort and expel everyone forever. Now I really want to go shooting. It's times like this I miss living in the Nevada desert. 5/16/01 I never did consistently write here or anywhere else, but I can say that what has been holding me back this last long while was the fact that I knew I would have to write what I'm about to write now. When I was 5 years old, I wanted to be a fireman. When I was 10, I wanted to be a teacher. When I was 14, I wanted to be a businessman. At 17, I wanted to be an economist. By age 19, I decided that I wanted to be Michael Roberson, whatever that may be. I later said goodbye to my mother and life as I knew it that nineteenth year. Shortly before turning 20, I joined the Navy. So there it is: my not-so-cool surprise. An answer to "Are you going to be coming back to Rochester/Las Vegas anytime soon?" No, I'm not. Now, I'm not going to give you my laundry list justification or tell you how I feel about it all. I did what I did. Right now it looks like I'll be in Kentucky until mid-November. Yes, that means Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year's in boot camp north of Chicago. 5/7/01 "I'm not unbreakable, although I might pretend It's not unthinkable that I could feel again" --Chris Cornell Someday I'll write something worth reading here, I promise. I have a not-so-cool surprise for everybody eventually, too. Saturday was the Kentucky Derby. I spent the day in the infield at Churchill Downs -- didn't see a single horse. I didn't place any bets or drink any mint juleps, either, but I did see some fights and topless women. Take any event where you might spend more than three bucks for a bottle of water and hear sweaty, drunk men chant "show your tits", multiply it by ten and you have the infield at the Kentucky Derby. 4/22/01 Here's a list of self-referential statements for your amusement. I'm kinda peeved that Chris Cornell's official site has just been redesigned, complete with mandatory Flash intro (why does everyone use Flash just to use Flash?), but there isn't actually any new *content*. I wish they'd confirm or deny some of the rumors that Cornell's been playing with those schlemiels from Rage Against the Machine. The latest "news" is about the crappy remix of Mission on the Mission: Impossible 2 soundtrack. Yesterday I experienced Thunder Over Louisville. Had a pretty good time. Stop Smiling Happy robots say "life is fine" - they're the ones I loathe - they're stupid or they're lying - or a little bit of both - ignore disasters and say that life is great - it never stops the smile on your shit consuming faces - The stupid fucking hippies - too stoned to see their lives are fucked - going with the flow - into the shitter they are sucked - and then they got these magic crystals - don't do a god damn thing - just stinking of pachoulli - while they choke on their ginseng - - Beating on a drum - you sing of quiet and peace, - burning marijuana - and take the time to hug a tree, - say no possessions, - but get all that you can, - you stink like shit and smile through it - Don't ever trust a happy man - Cheery retard masses, - with evil Osmond smiles - way too glad to be - cuz "He" is on your side - and then they hand out propaganda - for sheep to join the cult, - collecting guns, - they rapt your daughters - but nobody's at fault - Beating on a drum - you sing of quiet and peace, - burning marijuana - and take the time to hug a tree, - say no possessions, - but get all that you can, - you stink like shit and smile through it - Don't ever trust a happy man - I don't want to go to heaven, - it's filled with pricks like you - I won't go inside the gates, - leave me in the waiting room - I'm sure that God hates you too - he thinks your an obsessed fan - see how you are? - I'll never trust a happy man - Never trust a happy man - The stupid - fucking hippies - too stoned to see - their lives are fucked - going with the flow - into the shitter - they are sucked. 4/13/2001 Here's an mp3 of me noodling around on my guitar. This is my last weekend alone before the family comes home from spring break. That's not exactly a good thing or a bad thing. The last week has been peaceful but lonely. I'm kinda sick of internet personal ads now. I have no idea why I was inspired to write the gawd-awful, unfunny thing below almost two weeks ago. A friend told me he checks this to see whether or not I'm still alive, so maybe it was a good thing I did it. I have an almost overwhelming desire to create, but whenever I actually try to write something, record something, draw something, I end up wiping it out of existence because I can't stand to look at it. I feel very confident at my job since my co-workers seem to appreciate my work and I'm very close to not caring what happens to me anymore. None of the executives or supervisors intimidate me in the slightest. As a tribute to my newfound confidence, I'm not taking down my commentary on internet personal ads and have uploaded that cruddy mp3. I'm tempted to delete them both, but I'm leaving them here for all to see. 4/2/2001 - Nothing Personal Disclaimer: A half-assed attempt to cover my ass. The following contains the personal opinions of an angry young man. If you are offended by any of this (or in other words feel obligated to DEFEND yourself against these so very hurtful words), the angry young man will delete your defense with great pleasure. Supermarket tabloids, Britney Spears, chocolate-saturated desserts? No, gentle readers, internet personal ads are my guilty pleasure. Is my strange fixation with the sad and desperate a reflection of my own sad desperation? Maybe so, but for whatever reason, I can't get enough of those personals. Even though the ads all start looking exactly alike after a little while, I still get trapped into the internet personal ad vortex from time to time. Admittedly, I usually only look at ads for women close to my own age and in the same geographical region as me (whatever that happens to be). Thanks to the personals, my opinion of the 18-to-21-year-old female demographic has dropped a few dozen degrees. So you say those who create personal ads are not representative of the entire population? Whatever. I truly don't care and probably hate you anyway. I know all that I really do at personals sites is play with filters all day, refining my search from 100,000 to about 400 almost entirely shitty ads with a few of the not-so-shitty variety and the occasional gem. It's like panning for gold. Usually you don't find anything, but when you do it's just a few flakes anyway. Are my standards really too high? First I search for women aged 18-21 in my general area seeking men. If I'm picky about height or weight, I don't get very many results. Any ads with titles that say... "I'm always looking for fun!" or "I want to have a good time!" (who doesn't?)... are immediately flushed down the crapper. I have just eliminated 95% of the ads. Now comes the fun part. According to personal ads most the identities of women my age are composed of three things: 1. Their religions.So if I could ask an 18-to-21-year-old woman about her religious beliefs, CD collection and plans on Saturday night, I would know everything I need to know about her. There are a few possible responses to each these three questions: Religion: "I'm married to Jesus!"Music: "I like...How I try to fill the void that is my life: "I <work or go to school> at <place of employment or school>."Now there are quite a few ads that break the rules to one of these questions. However, there are much fewer that break the rules to two and next to none that break the rules to all three. Breaking all three sets of rules isn't necessarily desirable either. An atheist who listens to nothing but the theme to the Bridge Over the River Kwai and spends her free time with her pet tape worm probably isn't my soulmate. Am I really looking for a particular kind of person? Kind of. Many of my rejects are very entertaining, too. Since I'm picking everything apart anyway, I have decided I may walk away from this dumb analysis feeling I have learned one of three lessons: 1. Eventually I will become a hermit and die a sad, angry, lonely man. 3/25/2001 - Examining My Current Situation - First Entry Hello everyone. I'm Michael. A few months ago, I decided to go inactive for a semester of college and live with my mom for a while. She died last month. People always talk about how Valentine's Day is tough for them. I spent mine deciding what to do with my 40-year-old mother's mortal remains. Among many other more serious troubles, my mother's death posed a great problem for my living situation. I now live with family in Kentucky. I work a fairly decent job at a good company, but I'm not exactly rolling in the dough. I'm a single,19-year-old male with no children who doesn't go to church or try fad diets, so there is very little for me to discuss with my co-workers. Why do I feel so guilty about complaining? I want to so badly but I keep thinking it could be so much worse. I used to joke about becoming a hermit. Now it doesn't seem like such a bad idea. Should I surrender what little individualism I feel I still have left and enlist in the military? I won't have to think, won't have to worry so long as I can follow orders. Ambition and hope are being clouded over by doubt and lethargy. I don't feel like doing anything. I don't feel like I can do anything. I'm trapped in a body trapped in a world full of limitations -- physical limitations and limitations put in place by the stupid and unimaginative. I don't belong to this world or this generation. I tried to do what was right and tried not to hurt anyone. That only taught me that even if you make no mistakes (Although I certainly did. Trying not to hurt anyone was probably a mistake.) everything can still go wrong and get completely fucked up right in your face while you stand watching helplessly. I'm flying my white flag. Make it stop. |