Tragically Fine

Now presenting....The emotionally-unstable friends!

Posted by Kyle Jacobson , Wednesday, June 30, 2010 6:09 PM

"There's no blockades when it comes to reaching our potential, right Seeven?" Ginger asked with an inquisitorial smilrk(the only thing that fits between a smile and a smirk). She stopped to pick up a double-mint gum wrapper from the acid-stained subway station floor. "She was here," bellowed Seeven in a soprano range voice. "You are quite odd right now Seeven, almost as odd as when you ate off the face of that poor ol-" "Shut yer pan handle Ginge", Seeven yelped while tripping and losing the standing on one foot contest, "Yas know it was only that one time ye yeller bellied, not that I seen yer belly, grimy toad! No offense o' course". "None...taken?..." ginger hummed, "I still can't figure out why she'd come all the way down here just to litter?" This caused Seeven to bounce into an uproar, "R U stupid!? This is the only place she could have littr'd, don't ye get it? It'd be the last place one'd 'spect to be caught. We're in a friggen supway for crying on the inside over yer X-wife. By the way, X really does merk the spot. Right on me heart....." he sobbed heartily. Ginger tried to comfort the ape-born calligraphist. "Seeve, we'll get her. I promise. I can't really pinkie promise due to my osteoarthritis, but just know I'm promising you that much."
             In the end, the emotionally unstable duo hugged it out. They also went on to further their studies in Levi-Straussology and ended up in a think tank in the better half of Carolina.
                                            Idiosynchratically,
                                                                      Kyle

It's hard to hear ever since you bit off my ear, dear.

Posted by Kyle Jacobson , Tuesday, June 29, 2010 5:44 PM

Turns out there is such a thing called the future. It exists. Years of scientific research have brought us to a breaking point just aching to be historically historic. No matter what we do, time keeps moving. If there was a button to stop time in just one moment, which would you choose? Be careful not to hit the button too late however, or you may find yourself stuck going to the bathroom for the rest of eternity or in some extreme cases dancing with wolves. Reflecting upon such an inquisitive inquiry I stumble across something inside me that I didn't know existed, a pause. Blank, white, clear, empty, stopped, blocked, trapped, unfound. I haven't yet lived the day that I want to pause for eternity. I have a feeling that that day involves a ring, bells, lots of people, a spitting bucket and Mike Tyson. Just imagining a Vegas fight against Mike shoots down other possibilities of an eternal moment. Bring it on.
                                        Conflictedly,
                                                   Kyle

XX - XY = 0, XY-XX = XY. I don't like these odds.

Posted by Kyle Jacobson , Monday, June 28, 2010 6:14 PM

Love is a matter-of-fact thing. It's either there or it's not, as a matter of fact. There are two parts to any relationship (in the man vs. woman kind). The first and most important factor in the initial seventeen days of the U.S.S. anti-platonic relationship would be the attraction to physical appearances. Which is based off the coast right in between This-might-actually-work-for-once Shore, and I-might-as-well-drown-myself-in-a-crowded-arcade-now, I'm-about-to-completely-embarrass-myself Coast Now, usually my beaches are plagued with my lack of confidence and trying so hard to be myself that I am somebody else, somebody similar to Mike Tyson in a comatose state. This time, that was my plague. For blogging all over the web purposes, I have given the girl that doesn't like me for me a nick name, the Leucistic Red-winged Blackbird Piref. Why you may ask? Well, she is gorgeous, a real gem. The sand in my hourglass, the cup in my cake, the serial in my killer. She is drop-living luminescent. That is, as I have said, just the half of it. The other half has to do with a joke created between high-school students taking them quickly up the popularity ladder straight into a 9' by 6' barred prison cell. "Hey, I heard you and Christine have chemistry together, hehehahahahaflemhahablechhahaha. Period A3, Bwahhahakhkdlkjkkkkdjafjhahah." Prison. To illustrate my point, lets try and make a chemical equation out of this possible, not probable, relationship. We are going to put that Blackbird is the sodium and the chlorine. I will be the water. Now, sodium and chlorine are both great together, while water is watching from the far distance. Preferably the length of at least 6,593 campbell's 
chicken noodle soup cans away. Horizontally. When water tries to go and talk to the progressively attractive chemical compound, THIS happens. As you can clearly see with at least one of your good eyes that this situation, in any of its forms cannot be used for the good of mankind (in the preservation of life sense). 
                              Introspectively, 
                                                     Kyle

I live a health bar-reducing lifestyle.

Posted by Kyle Jacobson , Saturday, June 26, 2010 12:40 PM

In the matter of seconds, one's life can flip 180 degrees. Just as mine has.

My hand slightly quivered as I held the fine point BIC in my right hand. My signature came out a bit flustered and shaken. They say the signature is the window of the soul. And by "they", I mean the three calligraphy professors at the University of Tennessee with names all based off 1950s sci-fi television shows. If they were to analyze my signature, which is often mistaken for a blind scribble or a third-century hieroglyphic, they would concur that in the very moment that I signed my apartment lease form, I was nervously excited. When one moves out, it is a sign of freedom, independence. It is the start of a new life. It was the start of my new life, again. Everything seemed to be going my way, a.k.a. south-east. When it started not going my way was when Breneider and I found out that my apartment was on the top floor. I was decently fine since I was only carrying one of the suitcases and a palmful of papers. Breneider was complaining like a bent muffler. My lair laid leering with a little number four on the door. The number four is neither a good number nor a bad one. Just a number. I took a breath, it wasn't the deep kind of breath, just a normal person exhalation. I opened the door. I was greeted with a "Can I help you" stare. Shortly followed by the words "can I help you". My new roommate, Ryan "ribcage" Michaels, sat in his nest playing an odd box with a small man stuck inside who shot spells out his eyes and sang songs that lured cats to join weight-loss programs. "I live here," I inserted,
obviously throwing off the space time continuum that surrounds such a "health bar reducing" lifestyle. "You got the middle room," i heard him chant. I briefly paused to wonder if this was a good thing, a bad thing, or not a thing at all. Turns out it was a magic thing, which wasn't even one of my three options. Tricky magicians. My mere presence in such a cracker jack box sized shared room seemed to defy all forms of gravity, physics, ethics and Lamaze breathing techniques. This is just the beginning of a ride in which you are required to keep your seat belt insecurely fastened, all limbs outside the ride at all times, and your tray table waaaaay down.
                          Hesitantly,
                                          Kyle

I didn't know that was her oxygen tube that I unplugged.

Posted by Kyle Jacobson , Wednesday, June 23, 2010 9:11 PM

I cannot recall the day of the week we are on. I have no idea if it's morning or night. There's a constant buzzing inside of my head. It sounds like the buzz of moving machinery. I guess it's slowly and/or quickly driving me insane. I wonder, if I am able to diagnose my insanity, does that disqualify me from being so? Time seems so fake. Like a joke some guy played on the world so he could make up the word "late" and the idea of pay deductions. I wake up to the darkness and sleep when it's light. Bats envy me. Also Asian school boys with pocket protectors. Before I forget Je Xiou owes me two of his holographic super-being cards. When you sleep as I do, the days are only sixteen hours instead of twenty-four. Waking up every day is like pole vaulting without a pole, or a vault. And going to sleep only comes when I have finished watching every single pilot episode for this spring line up. Commenting on all of them. Liking none. I wish that I could reach through the computer screen and backhand the writers. Then apologize and send them a basket full of fruit. Then go play a spotting game of dance dance resolution and go home stealing their table ornament. Then apologize and trade it for their plasma screen television.
                                         Pandemically,
                                                              Kyle

You see the coolest things when you're blind.

Posted by Kyle Jacobson , Tuesday, June 22, 2010 11:31 PM

The other day I found myself at a table so crowded I felt alone. To my right was a mute robot with honest turrets. That caused for some awkward conversation. To my left was a man that wishes he was my grandpa. And directly in front was a Martian that thought we all spoke the same language that she did.... While grandpa was attempting to remember impossibly obscure facts involving colors of fabrics that haven't ever been heard of, the robot repeatedly smacked me in the face while trying to tell me that his burrito was awfully hot. The Martian began to swallow large amounts of something in unconventional ways. The conversation grew 

It's actually an hourplastic, we're on a tight budget.

Posted by Kyle Jacobson , Monday, June 21, 2010 10:17 AM

Time. Since ancient times it has been something measured. It has been something planned. It's something that can be wasted, as well as used wisely. It can be shared and it can be stolen. It can be used and it can be broken. In God's world, time is man's creation. In man's world it is order in a chaotic state of being. Some talk about maximizing our time. In order to do that, we must have a clear objective. That objective can vary from person to person. One's objective may involve becoming the best possible person they can be. In order to achieve such a grandiose dream, one must remove the unnecessary tasks. Some of these tasks may involve using both a spoon and a fork for the same meal, using a hatchet, and/or feeding fish with fish food. The
corresponding time-saving solutions for such common problems are A. buy a re-chargeable spork    B. use a chainsaw or a beaver, pay him in bank notes   and C. chocolate syrup. Saving these simple seconds can get you several sentences farther in your reading of "slowly and very self-diminishingly changing yourself for the better, for dummies." You are well on your way of becoming the next "good guy". In my case, I aim at finding out who I am. I figure if I cut down from watching four movies/day to only three and watching the TV-show 23 instead of 24, I can gain some ground. Let's take this week to ask, "does this attract me or detract me from becoming an amateur angle grinderer?"
                                      Pensively,
                                                      Kyle