freedom, I got here too late.

this won't match the standard I've set for myself because simply I'm just too tired now. I'm sorry for getting your hopes up and everything. I know I did. I'm intuitive like that. if I were a superhero I'd walk around with a big N on my chest and I'd be called N-tuitive boy.

but that's not why I'm here.

RUM & COKE is why I'm here.

I think I put too much RUM in the glass. I don't remember how much was in the glass when he stopped pouring. it couldn't have been too much, otherwise my mates would have said 'whoa there matt you'd better watch it' but I don't remember them saying that and now they're gone so I can't ask them. at any rate I filled the rest of the glass with COKE so the RUM was probably pretty diluted when all was said and done and poured.

I can't find my nice fuzzy warm sweatshirt and it's the time of night when evertyhing starts getting cold.

<liver> DAMN IT matt you've got to stop, give me a freaking vacation
<matt> YOU'LL TAKE WHAT I GIVE YOU AND YOU'LL PROCESS IT TO THE BEST OF YOUR ABILITY
<liver> you're the boss
<brain> matt, he has a point; I mean, even I find it hard to work in this low-oxygen environment. in fact all I can do is this:
<matt> qasoinfg;j WHOA BRAIN WHY IS THE ROOM SPINNING
<brain> lack of oxygen, man. it's all I'm capable of
<kidneys> WE NEED OVERTIME PAY OR WE'RE GOING TO GO ON STRIKE
<matt> OKAY OKAY you organs everything will be okay, I'll just drink this magic elixir and everything will return to normal, like it was yesterday
*matt drinks magic elixir
<brain> THAT'S THE STUFF
<liver> AAAAHH FAILURE IS IMMINENT
<kidneys> UNABLE TO KEEP UP WITH INPUT
<spleen> for chrissakes will you all keep it down? I'm trying to sleep and OH GOOD HEAVENS, WHAT AN INTERESTING SENSATION, I FEEL FUZZY
<matt> thank you magic elixir a.k.a. RUM AND COKE, you have ruined my evening but it feels so nice
<RUM AND COKE> BEHOLD MY MAGIC, I AM SIMULTANEOUSLY WARM AND COLD AND BUBBLY
<matt> in the best possible way.
<brain> this isn't so bad I suppose, HEY I'VE GOT AN IDEA, LET'S POST TO HATELIFE!

freedom, it certainly is Wednesday night.

I certainly am a bit indulgent tonight it seems.

it's probably not a good thing that I only have one class on Thursdays because that's the day that I (theoretically) have a lot of time to do things but it's (practically) the day that I feel I can get away with doing nothing. therfore I have the right to do a few 1.25-ounch curls.

where does all this Dido music come from? why does she only sing when I'm had a couple?

DIDO
HOW DO YOU ALWAYS SEEM TO KNOW WHEN I'VE BEEN DRINKING
YOU"RE FREAKING ME OUT STOP IT STOP IT

OH YOU'RE GOING TO SING ME SOME NICE MELLOW MOOD-Y SONGS YOU SAY? WHY DID YOU NOT SAY SO OF COURSE YOU CAN STAY HERE HAVE A SHOT OR TWO. I'M PRETTY FAR AHEAD OF YOU, HERE YOU'D BETTER HAVE AT LEAST FOUR

too many caps in a row

jim_ never comes around anymore. it's a shame. I'm addicted and I need my fix.

poems write themselves in my head. if I close all my eyes I can see them all with my mental open eye, like on a chalkboard in a world that only I can go to.

I've started meditating agani. I can't remember exactly when or why I stopped. perhaps it wasn't a strong enough habit for me, but NEVER FEAR HATELIFE it's back on now .

I've learned more about lelia in the last two days than I did in most all of the days before that. but I'm not the kind of guy wh goes around telling people about things like that.

sorry, lelia, but this time it's true, and I really have to tell you that everything I have said so far in this post has been under the influence so I might reserve the right to take it back in the morning OH WAIT I can't because edits are extinct, maybe we used them too much and steve put them on the endangered features list and they need to repopulate for a bit.

why is my head so heavy? mabye I overpaid the gravity bill this month so they gave me too much, who knows. HA that's a joke, everybody knows the gravity bill comes every other month

DIDO please sing mary's in india, that one gets me weepy every time

I'm glad justjane is back. something was different when she was gone and I think her time away has changed her. she seems more serious now, but what do I know. mabye it's me who has changed. I haven't been away or anything but the point is people change and I'm people too.

comfortable love is a strange thing. I used to be crazy in love, and I still am, but it's much more mellow now and I like it but I want the crazy love back at the same time. perhaps this is just my male uber-mating instinct kicking in.

<male uber-mating instinct> GOD DAMN IT you've been with the same woman for three years now MOVE ON, MAN
<matt> but we're in love, we're getting married, marriage is permanent!
<male uber-mating instinct> marriage schmarriage, don't make me cut off the blood to your testicles!
<matt> ow, ow! the thought of that hurts
<male uber-mating instinct> that will teach you! let's go to a bar and hit on some sexy coeds and DAMMIT remember your ID this time, you don't llook a day over sixteen
<matt> NO it is Wednesday night and I must be productive tomorrow
<male uber-mating instinct> there's no cover charge on Wednesday and all the taxis in town know about it!
<matt> I'll get my wallet!
*** matt has left channel #sobriety

the point being that it's sad that the crazy love of nineteen inevitably turns into the comfortable love of twenty-two.

DIDO please play who makes you feel, that song fits my mood just now (thank you dido for living for free with your band inside my computer, you are a lifesaver)

david zilban where have you gone, you poor little emo kid, goth, whatever the hell you were you made me laugh.

NO NO NO NO matt this cannot turn into a plea for replies, we did that already

DIDO please skip to the hidden track of see the sun, that part of the album is really what Ilike to call dope

freedom, I'm manic depressive only they like to call it bipolar these days, I think because manic sounds like maniac and maniac has some negative connotations, but anwyay the point is that alcohol makes it more obvious that I'm manic depressive. I don't think Iv'e ever mentioned this on hatelife YOU SHOULD FEEL HONORED



consciousness fading

cncoses fdn

ccss fn

cs f

-

tell dido thanks.

I love you all so very much.







*** matt has left channel #consciousness

Starbucks, Inc., which owns approximately 60 percent of the land of South America, officially declared full ownership of the continent early this week.

This takeover comes on the heels of the company's purchase of Seattle's Best Coffee last year, its then-chief competitor, for $72 million cash.

Starbucks Chairman Howard Schultz stated that the acquisition of South America would "offer superb specialty coffees that are distinct from Starbucks' current flavor profiles" and give Starbucks "an opportunity to launch the next phase of our specialty-coffee growth."

Investors predict that launching "the next phase" includes acquiring Africa, Asia, Australia, the central United States, and most of the rest of the world.

The vast majority of the company's land holdings in South America (which is to be renamed Starbucks™ia) are in mountainous coffee fields. However, "The fact that [Starbucks] owns more than half of the continent legally entitles it to the other half," said lawyers for South America. These lawyers are employed by Starbucks, Inc.

With over 6,000 outlets, Starbucks is the largest coffee retailer in the world. Analysts believe that the takeover could boost this number into the millions. It follows that coffee lovers across the globe fear the effects the takeover might have on the world coffee market.

"These monopolistic practices are precisely what's suffocating our market," said Susie Q, some coffee-drinking girl. "The formation of a behemoth ultra mega-corporation is healthy for no one but that particular corporation."

"Starbucks might as well rename itself the 'Worldwide Amalgamated Coffee Conglomerate' if things keep heading in this same direction," she said.

"I don't like Starbucks Quoffee, but soon I'll have no choice," said one quoffee luvah from New York.

Some, however, seemed in favor of the takeover. "It serves them right. That backwater continent really didn't have a diversified market plan, didn't have a dominant market presence. The Starbucks Corporation actually did it a favor by swallowing it up whole," said Dr. Jane Goodall, who spoke on a condition of anonymity.

"This is, I believe, the first time a corporation has initiated a hostile takeover of a land mass," said Thelonius McFrenzy, a professor of history at Harvard University. "This could set quite a precedent—in fact, it might completely revolutionize the way wars are fought in the future. Instead of generals leading armies of heavily-armed troops to the fields of battle, we might soon see [Chairman of the Federal Reserve Board] Al Greenspan leading armies of savvy investors to foreign markets, buying low and selling high, then saturating those markets with mass-produced products, cheap labor, and poor customer service. Kind of like what Starbucks has done for America."

In related news, top members of the Bush Administration have flown to the moon.

Scott McClellan, White House Press Secretary, said via satellite phone, "The moon is probably the last place Starbucks will ever try to take over. We hope."

I do not drink coffee.

not because I think caffeine is inherently evil, or because drinking anything that is made by filtering water through crushed dried beans is a bit unfair to the beans, or because I'm an uber-environmentalist from Columbia. I just don't like the taste.

but I've heard that these new 'frappuccino' deals are supposed to be better than coffee. sweeter, or something. in the same family as coffee, but it is definitely uncoffee. anticoffee. metacoffee. whatever.

so recently, I made my way to my friendly neighborhood student association center, and I bought a couple.

actually, I bought four. I drank them. my stomach was empty. it was about 11:30 a.m.

keep in mind that I never drink coffee.

and then, about thirty-five minutes later, a funny thing started happening to my geometry book. The lines all started moving. points danced and did cartwheels. orthocenters were most decidedly ortho-off-center.

I attributed this to the foul air in my house. so I stood up and began walking out my door.

the fun began when my traitorous legs obeyed the letter of the law, but definitely not the spirit. they vibrated. there's just no other word for it. imagine putting your hand on the hood of a '78 Chevy Nova revving at 9,000 RPM. you get the picture. I was a little taken aback, as you might understand. I sat down before anything more drastic started.

the fun continued about ten blurry minutes later. I was overcome by the simultaneous urges to clean my room, alternately open and close my windows, and do pushups. it was messy and I can't really remember the details. I'm glad.

two o'clock rolled around, somehow. I'm not sure what it was like for you kids, but in my humble little life, time wasn't exactly … right. I almost missed it, and I'm pretty sure I did miss it, more than once, because a phony 2:00 is nearly indiscernible from a genuine 2:00. you'll learn someday. a real someday, that is.

anyway. I vibrated to geometry class, where I fell asleep. but all the while, I was dreaming about Gödel's Incompleteness Theorem, and whether A=NP*A is printable. and I woke up feeling very strange.

and you might understand me better when I say that I'm back to a strict regimen of no coffee.

please direct any questions or comments to:

antimatt, in care of
Hatelife Bathroom, Suite 1

I'll be there for a while.

I hate the practice of tipping, and I'll tell you what I mean.

You go to a restaurant, possibly wait in line, or get seated immediately if you're lucky. You sit down and are given glasses of water and menus (running total number of waiter/waitress interactions: 1). You choose what you're going to eat/drink. You order your food/drink (2). Your food comes (3). You begin eating. Server comes to check on you to make sure everything is all right (not guaranteed, but I'll call it 4). You finish eating. The bill comes (5).

So you see your server roughly five times. Say the cost of the meal is $25. If you are proper and polite and tip the expected 15%, that's $3.75.

At an average of one minute per visit, your server is at your table for roughly five minutes. For this, your server earns a rate of $45/hour.

Is this really worth it?

A tip should be voluntary, you ridiculous food service fascists. A tip should be given from delight, not from necessity or expectation. A tip should reflect the level of "Wow, thanks for giving us such great service this evening; here's something extra for giving us something extra" you felt during your meal.

This is a matter of grave importance to us all. Someday, some selfish bastard is going to wake up and decided that he deserves a tip for what he does, too. And justifiably so: why should we tip our waiters/waitresses and not, say, a commercial airline pilot, who could kill us all at will if he so desired? What if auto mechanics decided they needed to be tipped? What if your bus driver came to the realization that he could extort hundreds of dollars from his passengers by threatening to take them all to the middle of a desert unless they all tipped him 400% of the cost of your bus ticket, claiming that was the "expected tipping value?"

I'm fascinated by the idea of negative tipping. If I get really lousy service—which happened to me tonight at a restaurant I love—I should be able to give my lousy waitress a negative tip. I should have been able to say "Even though this meal cost us a total of $24, I'm going to make my lousy waitress cover $2 of that because that's just how lousy she was tonight." And I should be able to write -$2 on the 'Tip:' line of the credit card receipt, and authorize the restaurant to debit only $22 from my card, forcing the lousy waitress to cover the remaining cost of the meal. Because that's just how lousy she was tonight.

I'm going to try it someday. See if I don't.

[tangent: I'm opening up with a tangent. how odd. the point is: don't drink on a sunday night/monday morning when you have class the next day. there's something about my particular bodily chemistry that makes me stay awake when I drink, and I haven't figured out why. it shouldn't be this way. everyone else falls asleep. I wish I wasn't the exception. at least I don't get headaches.]

freedom, help me, I'm fairly intoxicated.

freedom, I know you're reading this, but you don't necessarily have to reply (though you can if you want to). I was going to post after I got home after the alcohol-free new year's eve party, but then I completely forgot because I got too drunk too quickly. evidently I'm currently not too drunk, because I'm correcting my grammar and spelling errors as I go. but screw capitalization, that's what I say. except for the word "I." it's only capitalized because it's habit and I just can't break it. freedom, this isn't all directed at you per se; it's not even directed. I'm just letting my fingers do the talking at the moment. freedom, when I close my eyes I stop moving and the world goes on without me. it's not fair.

oxytocin, if you're reading this, please reply. I've always wanted to see a picture of you. I recall reading somewhere that you have dyed hair and multiple piercings somewhere in your facial area. I'm completely and utterly intrigued. I want to know what you look like. you have the distinct honor of being the first person in the universe to have responded to one of my posts, and for that I'm eternally infinitely indebted to you. this is how you can pay me back. (ha ha that's a joke.)

dan, if you're reading this, please reply. for no reason at all. perhaps I just want affirmation. I'm jealous that your forum continues to attract more viewers than mine do. by a factor of five. kiss it, popular boy. but don't take that personally. I mean it in the best possibly way.

stacy, if you're reading this, send me a message. I've been mentally infatuated with you since approximately the first time I read your journal. you're acutely poetic. I aspire to you. I know it may seem that I obsess about you, excessively, in various posts I've made. don't get the wrong impression about me. I'm not a stalker. promise. word is bond.

nmrboy, if you're reading this, please reply. and know this: you're gifted. if I could steal your writing ability, I would. no questions asked and if I had to spend some time in prison so be it. that's likely the alcohol speaking but it's the truth. it's like some dead latin guy said: 'in vino veritas.' it saddens me that you never replied to the message I sent you. if you were too busy, I could understand.

topavia, if you're reading this, please reply. your offspring (I'm thinking of Madison here) are as wordularly (ha ha not a word) gifted as you are. you have done the world an unquestionable favor by passing your excellent genetic material on to the next generation. awesome people rule and you are one of them. and I'm so sorry your uncle passed away. my best friend died in a car accident two years ago next month. I still cry about it. if I'm not careful I'll cry about it right now. the point is that there are people out here who know what it's like. you're a good person; I feel this on a very deep level. I wish you the best of luck with Marcus. I don't think I'm jealous. if I keep telling myself I'm not jealous, I won't be. right?

impervious pretenses, if you're reading this, please reply. and thank you for calling me "pretty witty" once. at least I think that was you. if it wasn't you, please reply anyway. it's fun and free.

horny boy, if you're reading this, don't reply. I don't believe you anyway.

jim_, if you're reading this, please email me some LSD. I've always wanted to try it. and maybe some mescaline, if it's not too much trouble. you seem like the type of person who might have some extra just lying around.

justjane, if you're reading this, please reply. you might have changed my future for the better. thank you for your encouraging words and the direction you gave me about being a writer. and thank you for your excellent sense of humor. celine dion = sauron. I love you. though completely platonically. and you're not allowed to tell my fiancee I said that.

antihero, if you're reading this, please reply. even though you stole the 'anti' prefix that was my trademark, I still like you. write a jeepney in my honor? amabo te? -that's a latin idiomatic expression equivalent to "please" in english, and you're certain to oblige me because of my apparent intellectual prowess. this I know.-

sir_johnathan, if you're reading this, stop reading this right now. you're not welcome. I don't like you.

thedreamer, if you're reading this, reply if you feel like it, but here's what I want you should do: print this post fifty times, roll the printouts up into tight little tubes, and then shove them directly up your conservative butt. light the protruding end on fire if you wish. then take a large black permanent marker and write "I HATE NIGGERS" in capital letters on your chest and on your back (getting a friend to help you) and run naked through the middle harlem at about 4:30 in the afternoon. for more better results, get a bullhorn and shout "I'M A NEO-NAZI AND I LOVE ADOLF HITLER, WHITE POWER FOREVER" into the bullhorn. actually you can reply if you want. but know that I don't like you very much.

george orwell, you're not reading this because you're dead. so you don't have to reply. but just the same, thank you for 1984.

God, you probably don't use a computer, but if by some stroke of luck you're reading this, thank you for the little things. I've always believed in you. no reply necessary.

alcohol, if you're reading this, don't reply, just know this: you're welcome in my system any time EXCEPT SUNDAY EVENINGS. you're ruining my life. I really should be sober on monday mornings and we both know it, you jerk.

dah dee dum, I think I've lost a lot of inhibition.

I've noticed that most of the newer journals I've read recently all make a debut post containing some comment about how the journaler 'really doesn't hate life.'

fuck that noise. yes you do.

at least in part, we all do. it's part and parcel of the human condition—a prerequisite to living, if you will. you drink to escape. you shoot up to escape. you watch a film to escape. you listen to music to escape. you read a book to escape. whatever you do to escape, you do it because you don't feel like your life is as good as it could be. so you abandon your life for a while and become something else. there are so many ways to escape reality, it's amazing anyone stays here at all.

in other news, we're seriously considering eloping. weddings are 1) expensive 2) expensive 3) expensive. and since my beautiful bride-to-be is inexplicably paying for half, that means that it's going to be plenty expensive for us personally as well. I'm coming to the point, and it is this. we figure that if we just run off somewhere, we can buy all the items on our registry ourselves, endure the inevitable cynical comments from the ever-loving family members, and still come out (at least finacially) on top.

don't tell her I said this, but weddings are stupid. no seriously, they are. okay maybe not, but the time spent planning them sure is.

today a young man on acid realized that all matter is merely energy condensed into a slow vibration; that we are all one consciousness experiencing itself subjectively. there is no such thing as death, life is only a dream, and we are just an imagination of ourselves. here's tom with the weather.

(thank you, tool. you made my night. er, morning. whatever.)

I sincerely hope I don't wake up with a headache. I'm thankful for excedrin. sounds like dexedrine. acts like speed. equals train of thought writing.

continuing in this same vein: I hate the taste of alcohol. for example. a shot of vodka makes me want to turn my head all the way around, about fifteen times. think "the exorcist." lucky me, I have the brain of a human! the human brain is completely adaptable to any situation! so if a particular human brain decides that it likes being drunk yet hates the taste of that which makes it drunk, it will find a way around the horrible taste. and that's what my brain has done. it has found a way around the warning my mouth gives, and gets drunk anyway—and in this way, my brain is committing slow suicide. damn adaptability.
hmm. quarter to four. is it late? I can't tell. my typing is amazingly clear. I think. I'm not exactly sober.

holy crap. this is a long post. I think I've lost all the inhibition in the world.

I'll just save myself further embarrassment and stop here.

freedom, that's about all I can give you tonight. thank you for this forum. it's like the nice soft couch at the friend's house where you got too drunk one night and started to walk home except you weren't walking in the direction of your house, instead you were walking toward the wal-mart in your town and once you realized where you were going you just could not force yourself to backtrack and go home so you had to go back to your friend's house where I'm going to have to sleep tonight, most likely on the nice soft comfy couch that's comfy like your forum. and I'll be going to sleep on the comfy couch in about … right now.

"life is a crystal." -ian malcolm (on morphine), 'jurassic park'

I love you all. you're all part of the beautiful crystal of my life. and I mean that.

I'm done and gone.

buh-behh.

-matt.

It's good to be back. For uninteresting reasons, I've been without Internet access for the last week or so. I've had to go across the street to my semi-friend's house to mooch e-mail time. It's the small things you miss.

Thursday. Bachelor party for homeboy. I've never had so much fun in my life. We—I and the flatmates—got him to do the dishes at our apartment, which was a boon for us because it had previously been D's turn to do them for about a month. We called that a learning experience, or something to that effect. While he was in the kitchen, we were in the living room playing XBox. THEN we got him to get into his Speedo, which he inexplicably loves, and run through the gigantic sprinklers in a field by our place. Cameras materialized. At least one was not ours. THEN we got him to buy a box of condoms and a single banana at the supermarket. The look on the cashier's face was truly classic. THEN we took him to the batting cages. No prank involved here, just good clean fun. THEN we went to the good ole pub and he did manly things like sing "I'm Every Woman" by Whitney Houston at the karaoke machine. I swear that if there had been just a couple more people there, or if they had been slightly more sober, they would have booed us out of the building. They came close as it was. THEN we took him to a casino, where we played the extremely low-stakes games, each starting with two dollars exactly. One member of our party got crazy lucky at the poker machine and walked out with $21.20, for a total return of 1060%. Not bad for ninety minutes' work, but too bad he didn't start with, say, $2000 rather than $2. Anyway. THEN we took the groom-to-be home to sleep away the effects of the night's carousing and rip-roaring hoo haw, while I (heretofore the designated driver) and some remaining mates said hello to our old friend Crown Royal.

Friday. Just a blur. Not that I would have accomplished much, anyway.

Saturday. My best friend, the brother of my graduating-from-college flatmate, arrived in town. We stayed up way too late and were way too tired for …

… Sunday. Woman graduates. I ask The Question to her parents while they're in town, and Oh Thank God they say yes. They said they liked me (though in many more words) and it truly was encouraging in the best possible way. I just can't express how relieved I am to have that damned tradition out of the way.

Tuesday. Left early early early to drive a long long way to catch an early early flight. Did you know that being in an airplane that refuses to warm up can cause insanity? Neither did I. I learned something that day.

Wednesday. Renewed driver's license. I walked in and took a number. The number read "76"; the ever-helpful members of the Deptartment Of Transportation were "Now serving: 27". I wanted to die. I almost did, several times, after 60.

Thursday. Drove all night with multiple family members to arrive at my summer job location this morning (Friday). *deep sigh*

It seems whatever brief summer vacation I was granted this year was swallowed up by drink. My friends are all getting married. It's depressing, and now I'm tired and want to sleep. Forever, if possible.