things.

i can hardly believe things that say "diva" on them are still made/bought/sold/traded/found in couches. seriously they should have been cleaned out of couches years ago.

only logical.

Σx (TB • RL)

There exists an x such that x is named tyler barton and x ruins lives. dont run into x.

hum.

you are saying too many things

everyone is saying too many things

tiiny stars.

There are two kinds of people in this world: those that will use the phrase “there are two kinds of blahblahblahs in this world” (college students, idiots, people who don’t shower) and those that would never be so naïve (or pretentious).

I am usually the latter due to the phrase's unpleasant diction (not because i am knowing or unpretentious).

However, I swear only two kinds of artists exist in this world: people trying very hard to be artists and those who are normular, artistic humans. So, artists do or make beautiful, artistic things. people trying very hard to be artists do original, beautiful, creative things in order to build a resume so they can eventually deliver mediocre shi to mediocre-shi deliverers.

Normular, artistic humans just create original, beautiful things by virtue of being artistic. In their spare time, they may deliver mediocre shi to mediocre-shi deliverers in order to not starve.

I really have no commentary on this observation other than the fact that puzzling realities like this are starting to confuse me. I mean, which one is better? Either way, beautiful art and mediocre, mass-mediatic art for Buckle-wearers will be produced. Is one really better than the other? Does motivation actually mean something?

If you are a philosopher or a murderer, then probably yes. But most of us are neither. So does it really matter? And either way, who cares because the majority of people are buckle-wearers anyway.

(i dont like using the word 'matter' in this way. i prefer it describe some arrangement of existence.)

nothin but a thang thang thang.

I think heaven is trying to tempt me. Things that are in the wrong thing make my eyes move out of place in strange circles (like taylor’s when he thinks about laser eye surgery). Today I was walking up the stairs in the Spori to turn in my homework. I turned it in then started walking back toward the stairs. I glanced out of the window that over looks (nothing) the bottom floor of the Spori.

As I looked out, I saw a pen sitting on the window’s ledge. Now keep in mind, stealing pens is one of my favorite hobbies. If someone lends me a pen, I will subconsciously be devising a way to refrain from returning this pen (don’t lend pens to me). If I ever see a pen sitting on the floor or on a desk or anywhere near me, I will take it. As I sign anything, I am probably trying to think of a way to steal the pen I am using. pens.

ANYWAY, this pen was completely unstealable. It sat on the OPPOSITE side of the window. The side that faces a hole in the building and doesn’t even come close to touching a floor. It was COMPLETELY UNREACHABLE by anything but air. I was literally so shocked and confused that I couldn’t help but just stand in awe.

How did this pen get there? Why did this pen get there? Will this pen ever move? How can I steal this pen? There was nothing I could do about this pen. It was as if satan himself laid this pen in this very spot. No human could have reached the ledge to put it there. And no human will ever reach the ledge to retrieve it.

My mind tried and tried and reached terribly hard to wrap itself around this pen, its position, and my inability to own it. While I did not enjoy this experience, i did eventually walk away and carry on with my life. more or less. I will show it to everyone tomorrow.