What time is it?

reworked material

My name is Marcus Poon and my last name means vagina

I solved a math problem today and it felt really good because I worked really hard. But it probably didn't feel as good as when Karl Marx figured out communism while fucking.

If I owned a business I'd have the whole place be hardwood floors. then I'd wear tapdance shoes so that they would know I'm coming

My girlfriend broke up with me. Its okay. She told me it is mutual.

I don't wear this guitar because I am going to play music. I think it looks cool.

When I came to college my mother gave me three warnings.

Get good grades
Stay away from gangs
and Don't drink dirty water

When I break up with a girl I live with. I am going to go back in the house and get the car keys and the house iwll explode.

I asked my mother when I should start dating and she said after I get married.

I was playing a video game the other day and someone called me gay. I told him that there is a different between me clicking faster than you and taking pleasure from sodomy.

You'd talk like this too if your last name meant vagina.

I can't really explain how I feel. I mean, I am laying here, cycling through my music, much of which, is really on my iTunes by a matter of mere coincidence, and I don't know why I am awake why I can't settle my mind to rest. A lot of people go through this, but I don't know. Every time it feels different, but every time I just...I want to say everytime I feel the same, but its not quite like that. Like I said, its difficult. I don't understand what this is. Its like Iw as born with too much emotion. So much to the point where I have to spend time feeling them... as if something within me needs to dedicate a certain amount of time to theses emotions simply for the sake of them being felt. The really have nothing to do with anything, at least directly. I know I'm not happy, but its not sadness either. Sometimes I just get soo worked up and excited that I just want to explode, but because I can't I am just trapped and frustrated. Its like an orgasm isn't enough for me to feel good. I need to liberate something else deeper inside my spine and break something in me that feels... fuck I don't even know how to describe it. I feel like I want to stretch, but its deeper and much more uncomfortable the any type of muscle soreness I've every experienced. I am burning and itching in a way that touches every nerve in my body and resonates through every existing part of my essence. Soul? Heart? Love? Mind? I can't contain it. Its so bad that I just have to lay here captivated by how impossibly emotional I feel about everything that has nothing to do with me. I feel like I am feeling everything there is feel without having any real way to express or share it. FUCK ME NOW. Is it that? Is it sexual? Is it emotional? Do I just need to be touched, loved, fucked or all of the above? Is there anything in there world or in anyone's that can grab me and squeeze me until I can feel it?

What I don't get is how much this affects me. I feel so deeply moved and drawn in by these feelings that its like moved so deeply I am paralyzed, but at the same time they are so trivial that these feelings change with the music I am playing at random on my iTunes. its profoundly moving spontaneous, instantaneous, trivial, paralyzing, devastating, electrifying, crushing, fleeting absorbing, overwhelming and uncontrollable.I feel like I want to weep, but my eyes are so full that I am just sealed by my own sickly pressure. God damn impossible feelings. can I just liberate myself, accept and be at peace? Why do I have so much inner chaos? i just reach down my throat and squeeze the sogging emotions out of my soul and let them pour out of me freely so I don't feel like I am constantly at the edge of my sanity; on the threshold of peace.

And you know what? Fuck your honesty. Your honesty is just an excuse to fucking not give a fuck about other people's feelings. You know why I haven't been honest? Its because everytime I'm fucking honest you can't fucking handle it. You fucking lose it because you feel guilty. Bullshit. Shenanigans. Our whole friendship has been a lie. I'm sure it will be much easier never calling me then it will be not calling Pablo. Go hate boys, because of course after this, despite how much I was there for you, you will conclude boys are stupid. Real fucking mature.

Fuck that. She really has no clue that I spent so much time hating myself. And really what the fuck? Oh I'm the bad guy blah blah bullshit. Whatever, this is so over it just doesn't even matter. Oh now it is a big deal, but she was fucking happy as long as I was there for her. Fuck that. Sacrifice is bullshit. I feel like an idiot. What a fucking waste. And for fuck sake, this is the first time she is hearing about it so omfg, its a a huge guilt trip. Had I said nothing, then she couldn't give less of a fuck as long she had someone to bitch about stuff too. O hyeah, you are so fucking thankful for my friendship. Bull shit, you just need a ear to bitch at, you've never wanted to hear me talk and I was fine until now you had to make shit equal and when I bitch at you, its too much for you. So fuck, its unfair for you for once, deal with it. I spent 4 years of myself in an unfair relationship. My fault for not defriending you earlier. Fuck off then.

Why the fuck do I do this to myself. She totally just walked right past me. Why can't I just get a clue and stop wasting my time. Yeah, its nothing personal. Its less than that. You're just nothing at all.

Maybe I should big more of an ass to my friends so that women will stop wanting to only be my friend.

I came out, distracted on the phone to see you.

My other sweet puppy.


Spotty, I am sorry.

I was away, went you went away.

Please forgive me, I wish I was there for you.

I am terrible. I miss you my wonderful puppy.

Without you, my child hood is no more now than a fleeting memory.

All I have left, is the dirt stains left from where you dog house once stood.

Lines I think should be in a movie because, just because.


Guy reminisces to his friend about previous relationship.


Guy
Yeah, it wasn't too bad.

Guy 2
Really? It didn't seem like
you were handling it well.

Guy 1
Well, she told me it was mutual.






Other scene

Girl tells guy bad news

Girl
So, I'm sorry. I just
don't feel that way about you.

Guy stares blankly. Slightly glossy eyed.

Girl
Aren't you going to say something?
Don't cry, you are just a brother to me.

Guy snaps out of trance

Guy
Oh I'm sorry. Yeah, don't
worry. The glossy eyes are just the
residue left from when your heart explodes
and your soul dies.

awkward silence. they walk seperate ways. Guy mumbles to himself.


Guy
Fucking bitch.

Lines I think should be in a movie because, just because.


Guy reminisces to his friend about previous relationship.


Guy
Yeah, it wasn't too bad.

Guy 2
Really? It didn't seem like
you were handling it well.

Guy 1
Well, she told me it was mutual.






Other scene

Girl tells guy bad news

Girl
So, I'm sorry. I just
don't feel that way about you.

Guy stares blankly. Slightly glossy eyed.

Girl
Aren't you going to say something?
Don't cry, you are just a brother to me.

Guy snaps out of trance

Guy
Oh I'm sorry. Yeah, don't
worry. The glossy eyes are just the
residue left from when your heart explodes
and your soul dies.

awkward silence. they walk seperate ways. Guy mumbles to himself.


Guy
Fucking bitch.

Blagh. I honestly don't know why I feel so whatever. It really isn't down and out, its sorta just mediocre. I would hate to admit this is just purely girl-related, but that seems to be the area in my life that just always sucks and sucks at the moment. I have everything. Food, fun, family, friends and all of that. Internship is going well, job hunt is under way... I don't know. What more can I want.

I've realized something, or at least, I hope I'm right.

I've invested too much on, "personality," and not anything at all on skill. I've always banked and relied on me being likable, intelligent or just a nice guy and not at all on anything I've done. I.E. The Beijing internship. I was dying to get it, but I didn't. Why? Because well first of all, I got lucky with getting an interview and I assumed that well now that they will see who I am and get to know me, I must certainly get it. When it came down to it though, no dice. Why? I really had nothing tangible or lucrative to offer. And that is what this is all about. I've got nothing to really offer except that I am a good conversation, witty and nice. Thats it. No experience, no time where I've proven my worth as a reporter or anything like that. I am just a nice guy. And that is how it has been all of my life. my attitude has pretty much been, "agh, I don't need to study or work hard, its me! How could I fail? how could colleges deny me? I'm nice and a good person!" Well, here I am. My father is clearly not at all impressed with Ithaca College and neither is my family. I have no internships, no job, no real good work I can be proud of. I blew it in J-research, where you are supposed to love your piece, and I've got nothing to show for it in News I. WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!! Agh. Maybe I am just feeling inadequate. I don't know what I am doing. Maybe I should just change my major, but then again I love interviewing people and going to different places. *sigh* When will I be able to prove my worth? Is that even the right question to ask? Is the test everyday and by taking an attitude like this, I am failing? Am I just not a successful person? Is my personality just meant for mediocrity? I want to be great, I want to be the unreasonable man. I want to love my life. I want to love what I am doing. What is this doubt? I am afraid. Am I McClellan? I've always imagined myself to ascend to greatness. OH God. I fear that I spend way too much time waiting and imagining myself being great instead of being great. I hope that isn't the case. I just want to do the right thing. I want to live a real life; a profound life.

So this is where my life is. I am a sophomore in college, Ithaca College and I am majoring in journalism and minoring in history. I am at the moment, home on vacation for the holidays in Los Angeles and its about 3:20 in the morning. I am 19, single, 5'10(about an in of an improvement since last year) and 220 pounds. My hair is long, messy, and still has those damn white strands. I just got home from Michael's house after hours of kick ass rock band, which by the way, I suck ass at as a drummer because I have absolutely no rhythm. Elliot was there and Michael's mom. Went to Baja fresh before that, bought the game, and before all of that, I tutored Victor(my cousin for any of those who are curious) at Geometry. Uncle John gave me 20 dollars for my trouble, but I still don't know how I feel about that. Anyway, to the point of why I even bother to write. hmmm, Maybe not just yet. I still want to go through my days and shit. Yesterday I played volleyball, I was allright, but I didn't really get to play because I open gym was a total joke. Also, while I was there, I realized that I have come quite a ways from highschool and despite my misgivings, there is absolutely no turning back. Silly though, to think that I spent soo much time missing it and now I've come to a point where I really can't stand acting like that. Lets see . . . important things to note; Remember the deal for when you turn 30. Haha I be the other one won't though, but at least you have something to hope for now as opposed to nothing. What else? Ugh, parents are the same, disappointed at times, but they still do what they think they need to do to support me. Umm Sisters are well and good and on their way to building solid careers. So where does that leave me. It leaves me sitting here on saturday night thinking about writing. So on the way home, that strange feeling hit me. The one that appears and manifests itself so suddenly that I am NEVER ready for it. It so far, I have yet to determine any sort of pattern. It was that strange sensation that I was aware of my own awareness. The word, "aware," isn't even appropriate because as it is defined, it is having knowledge of situation or fact. It was more of a sensation or maybe more like a plane of emotion that I, nor anyone I've ever really come across, has explored and dealt with on such a regular basis. But anyway, to the sensation. Its like if life were a movie, why am I the point of view. Or if life were a story, why am I the narrator; not to mention the fact that this is told in first person. Ugh its soo disturbing. So utterly disturbing in a way that is just as confusing as the feeling itself. And I know there are people out there who think about why am I me and how did I get here and all that, but this is more than that. Its more than the narcissistic awakening. It has to be. I has to more than just me thinking too about who I am. It troubles me so much to the point where I have to stop what I am doing at that moment. Why can't I see myself? Why is this the only story that I can tell without any bit of doubt? What am I witnessing. my consciousness is driving me insane. I dunno. Of course there are other important things to think about ( says the other part of me) and its silly also because if I weren't so lucky, then I probably wouldn't even have time to think about this that much. Then again, maybe I would. This never goes anywhere. It just freaks me out and then life continues. Does everyone feel this way, but doesn't waste time thinking about it? Or are there just a few people who feel this? and if so, why just a few? and what it is that links us together? Part of me wants to believe that I secretly connected to great people of the past and present and that in some way, this feeling links us, but thats just ridiculous. Perhaps that is why I need so badly to go out into the world and be a journalism. Maybe it is my deep desire to find someone out there who thinks about this as much as I do or at least it maybe part of my desire to understand this feeling's role in my life. Every time I go through this, I feel like I come within the warm breath of an answer, but it then I just get confused or forget it exactly felt and life pushes me forward in spire of how hard I want to dwell. But it is strange, everytime the feeling comes up, I know exactly what it is. (sigh) what else is new about life? Family is going to a laker game tomorrow. I am still useless in everyway. Unemployed, going to a whatever school that I don't seem to actually fit into or really like and I am a virgin that is just about on the bring of giving into reclusiveness. I swear I really don't think I can get over this fear of making a move on a girl I like. Whatever to all of that though. It is depressing, but what can I say. I know exactly what I should do, but my idealism stops me. Ironic, really. I guess I shouldn't say whatever to that. Don't get me wrong, it bothers me all the time, but I just think it is a shame that it does. I want to just be happy and most of the time, I think I do a pretty good job, but this part of life has too many uncertainties and insecurities to be considered settled. what is it like when someone wants to be around you? For some reason I have to undying conviction that women are inclined to be repulsed by me. (sigh) whatever. I hope the next semester of school turn out well. I want to get someone with my life. I am stuck.

Egh, annoyed and don't care.Nothing feels right.

It has been so long since I have felt something real. I feel hollowed out, calloused and dry. I want to burst and flood and swoon. I want to be excited. I have been so sickly. Perhaps my nerves are giving in. The pimples on my face and the white hairs on my head are multiplying. My soul is seeping out. Or maybe it is being squeezed out by the knot in my stomach. I want to be weak, loose and untied. I am so tired of trying. I don't feel like I fit. My soul is burning and twisted because the way my life is shaping up doesn't fit as comfortably as it should. I am becoming claustrophic inside my own skin. I feel wrinkled and dry. Dusty and fried, like a try piece of chicken that leaves you with a salty tongue and a dried out mouth and appetite. Empty, usatisfying and bland.

men will die for war before they will fight for peace

I feel how weak and fruitless must be any words of mine which should attempt to buguile you from the grief of a loss so overwhelming. but i cannot refrain from tendering to you the consolation that may be found in the thanks of the republic they died to save. I pray that our heavenly father may assuage the anguish of your bereavement, and leave you only the cherished memory of the loved and tlost, and the solemn pride that must be yours, to have laid so costly a sacrafice upon the altar of freedom.-Abe Lincoln's letter to mother after her loss of 5 sons.(mistaken, but still, fuck I wish I spoke or wrote like that.)

In your hands, my dissatisfied fellow-countrymen, and not in mine, is the momentous issue of civil war. The Government will not assail you. You can have no conflict without being yourselves the aggressors. You have no oath registered in heaven to destroy the Government, while I shall have the most solemn one to "preserve, protect, and defend it." 34
I am loath to close. We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield and patriot grave to every living heart and hearthstone all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature- lincoln's first inaugural address.

I guess I've been on a lincoln binge. Taking a class on the civil war is intense.

Tatoos to get


-"The Unreasonable man."

-"By the better Angels of our Nature."

I don't belong to this world.

It really does feel like and endless cycle. something needs to change.

I feel wierd. And I feel really annoyed, but they don't really have anything to do with each other. I feel like I am living my daily life, but feeling the way I do when I think about my memories. Its odd, so very odd. At the end of the day, I hope I am doing the right thing. Lately, I've been getting the feeling that I am not as good at social situations as I thought I was, or maybe ... ugh whatever. I don't give a fuck anymore. Tomorrow is another day, hopefully something new happens. I'm not that bad, I just want something new so I probably am not putting in any effort.

I love writing shit. Things in writing are easier to seriously take foolishly and make you believe in wild and imaginative interpretations of what you thought happened. The immortality of written words fixates on the rigid nature of reality and lays between the sheets of flesh-toned lies.

P.S. I was involved in a car accident today. Don't worry. No one was hurt and I wasn't driving. All I really feel about it is . . . Whatever and kinda cool to think about. I guess that is my youth chiming in.

Went to the beach. That was fun. People are so dramatic and stress over such stupid things. I like to swim at the beach.

D.C. was fun. I'm glad I did. I want to travel abroad. I'm tired of people and their shakin'-with-rage cages.

I need to write about Islam. I experienced a lot, but I don't know if it fits in the genre of traditional "journalism."

Amy Winhouse's music is freaking sexy.

Do I avoid confrontation? I avoided a confrontation today . . . I don't want to have to fight someone just to make a point. Maybe I just pick my battles. The problem is that I never pick battle. I hope I can when it counts.

I want a tattoo.

Am I assertive? Am I confident? Ugh, Fuck those questions. I so pissed off at people telling other people what they should be. It isn't that I don't get pissed off, you just haven't pissed me off in the right way.

Stop making lists. You don't know me and you won't get me so of course you don't love me. I want to love human. I just want it. Flaws, craziness and all. Thats what makes it worth loving. Perfection is too easy to love and defect is too easy to hate. Life is already too easy to be interesting.

I hope after all this, I've been happy.

Tomorrow sounds exciting.

Some reason tonight made me reflect a lot. At least more than usual. I am in Washington D.C. The capital of the United States of America; a place of so much history and preeminence, a place to revisit traditions and core values. Appropriately, I am here on the 4th of July 2007, a full 231 years after this country was established. It was actually moving because my classmates and I went up to the Iwo-Jima memorial to watch the fireworks display coming from the national mall. I don't really know how to describe it. The experience was pretty overwhelming. Yet amidst the outburst of this sensation, I find myself in my room, after everyone is long asleep and after watching too many hours of American history in the History channel feeling so very lost. And lost isn't the only feeling, trapped as well. I don't really understand it. I feel trapped by own inability to articulate and express feelings that I have. I don't know enough words, I don't play music well, I can't sing or write music, I can't draw . . . Its really like there are feelings inside that I just don't know how to elaborate upon in order to truly grasp and ultimately understand. I am not sure if this is one feeling or many that have collided into a big mess, but its hard to describe. So thus, I feel so lost. I don't know where I belong or who I am. Or essentially, what I want. It is especially disconcerting because in respect to men who lived with such seemingly undisputed destinies of infamy and eminence (I.E. Benjamin Franklin, George Washington) I find myself wondering, "How the fuck did they get there?" What made these men so great? It couldn't have been just the right place at the right time, nor could it have have been simply a mistake of perspective on part of their contemporaries. What made them men of such worth that men around them could not help be see them a cut above the rest. Many inventors, many brilliant men, so many many military geniuses. what makes a legend, a legend? Their quality is of such their deeds survive death. Am I anywhere near such quality? Were they just really good men? Thats all I want to do. All I want is to be a good person. Does that leave hope that I may do something truly great and worth something? What is the difference between George Washington, Benjamin Franklin, Martin Luther King, Jimi hendrix, FDR, JFK etc etc and everyone else who has lived? I guess you can argue, Washington was rich, Franklin was a freaking genius, and Hendrix was talented. I've met many of those types and still nothing worth the title of great. I feel like there is something more to them. Some deeper pain, passion or will that drove them beyond the average desire for fame or just for fortune. Something that made them furiously obsessed with really experiencing the meaning of life. Something that drove them made with passion and energy. What is it that pulses through the souls of great men? Maybe it is nothing. Maybe they just were lucky enough to get a lot of media coverage and that great men are no different than regular men. I don't know how to feel about that. Sometimes, I just want to be numb. I'm tired of my emotions. I just want to do the right thing and be done with it. I feel really vacant . . . desolate . . . hollow ? What other synonyms can I find.