Haikus for yous.. guys.

Poignant parodies

permeate perfected prose —

alliteration.

I am a mister.

Not a miss, but quite the hit.

Tell me, who are you?

I am rather bored;

sitting in Web Mastering.

So I write haiku.

Ridiculum

Ridiculum is the noun form of ridiculous that I just now invented.  This is because I’ve decided that the word ridiculousness is just ridiculous; and ridiculum sounds much cooler.  So take that, Merriam fucking Webster.

Aside from my current state of experiencing ridiculum…

Actually that’s pretty much an accurate way to label all that is going on.  Applications, work, school, art, and bullshit.  Lots of it. 

<unrelated>Mr. Bill’s neck is breakable.</unrelated>

Quick post

Completion of assignments and the boredom that occurs when this happens has prompted me to spend my time in Web Mastering making little logos for TSILB.

Sorry if it’s a bit sloppy, I made it quickly during pauses in note taking.

Also, this is entirely unrelated, I just clicked paste and this is what appeared:

“You made an excellent impression in your interviews. The executive editor and I agreee that you are perfectly qualified for the job and would be a great addition to our staff. Therefore, we are delighted to offer you the position of Copy Editor in our Editorial Department at a salary of $3,000 per month, based on a 40-hour work week.”

Interesting, isn’t it?  Makes me very curious about what the story is behind this.

Truth Nugget

Here is a list of things I must complete today and tomorrow:

• My YoungArts application
• The rough draft of a College Application paper
• A seven foot tall sculpture that is due tomorrow (I’m still constructing the armature)
• A proposal for an installation
• And applications for Cornell, Cornish, PNCA, AIB, MCAD, KCAI, UT, and Corcoran.

Out of this, I have completed:

• The first half of my YoungArts application

It’s become apparent that I’ve got my work cut out for me.   I think it’s time I dropped from the social scene.  It’s happened before but usually as part of a punishment for procrastating to a point of extreme detrimentality.  So of course, out of naturally occuring rebellion, I continued to procrastinate during those periods of isolation.  But now it is time for a self-imposed isolation.  A holy-shit-I-need-to-get-stuff-done-and-I-just-don’t-have-the-time-for-anything-else  kind of isolation.

Here is a list of things I need to do in order to get everything done:

• Cancel weekend plans
• Change availability hours so I’m not closing on weekdays
• Cut back on the pot
• Actually do work

I’m in Web Mastery.

All is quiet, everyone is working, except for the noise generated by the boy sitting next to me.  On his screen there is a file open that displays a row of image icons at the bottom of the screen, above that are small command icons (last, next, rotate left, rotate right), and above those is the enlarged version of the selected image icon at the bottom.  The boy sitting next to me is staring at this and mindlessly clicking away at the ‘rotate right’ icon.  Everyone is quiet, everyone is working, and this kid is emitting an endless stream of heavy handed clicks. Click. Click. Click. Click.  He selects the second image.  Click. Click. Click. Click.  He select the third image.  Click. Click. Click. Click.  He pauses.  There are only three images in the file.  The appearance of serious thought comes over his face.  Cobwebbed gears screech and turn in interlocked motion, attempting to access those problem solving skills taught to him in adolescence and so rarely utilized since.  His brow slightly furrows, his eyes stare blankly at what ever is in front of him, a slight wrinkling at the sides of his eyes indicate strain.  And then it goes away, his eyebrows raise a degree; he has reached a conclusion.  He selects the first image.  Click. Click. Click. Click.

I swear, if he doesn’t fucking cut it out, I’m punching him in the mouth.

Well, it sure has been a while.

I haven’t been to this website in quite some time and it occurs to me that some of the newer writers and readers may have absolutely no clue who I am.  So allow me to get on with the formalities:

My pen name is Jolly Numbskull.  A and I were the original writers for This Space Intentionally Left Blank (though it is entirely A’s brainchild).  I have been absent.  I am an artist and a musician and also far too involved in social dramatics; needless to say, I’m rather busy.  This is not to say that I have lost my love of the written word; it’s more that I haven’t had time to post my writings, drafted in my journal, to the internet. 

Reading through A’s recent posts, I see that he’s moved further towards becoming the serene raconteur that his posts showed signs of when I began my all-too-long hiatus.  I can see how his style has matured; I can see how he loosened up and then refined the product. 

If I were to become a more active blogger, the content of my posts would definitely lean more towards stances on society, morals, and even just the rantings supplied by the restless self-depricating brain that generates my words and action.  Also, I will stay away from the “Who am I?” topic that I was so adament about a few years back.

Man, this site sure has grown.  I remember when we were struggling to get readers.  It used to be that the only people that read the posts were the ones that were also posting them.

Congratulations, A. 

If anyone wants to contact me just shoot an e-mail at me.  I will respond, I always check my e-mail:  Jollynumbskull@gmail.com

Thanks for reading,  

-Jolly

An irrelevant excerpt from “The Intellect of the Hedonist”

“I wish my thought process was more deliberate.”