Matt and things

[matt-and-things]

That moment you're buying discounted Halloween candy and it rings up at full price and you have to either talk to someone or come to terms with that fact that Halloween is just an excuse and deep down you would want 4 XL candy bars even at full price and you know it and you run back home and gorge yourself on two, slipping into a food coma as you fingers fumble with the wrapping of a third. You come to to find chocolate blotting your lips and shirt...your back aches from lying on the floor all night again, and you wonder when it will end...you managed a pillow now stained with your chocolate shame...it still smells like here...why did she leave you ponder half heartedly, but the wrapping and foil scattered neglected at your periphery give you the answer you’ve been trying to ignore…it’s night. Spent like so many candy coins, you’re friends won’t pick up anymore…you glance over at the remaining two bars…”…not enough.” You murmur. “…I’ll need more than that to do it..” . . . And then the inspector Stevensonsonson arrives on the scene, groggy from another long shift with little sleep and says, “What’s it look like, son?” “I’m not Son, sir” said the other officer on the scene. “What?”

“I’m officer Sonson, sir Stevensonsonson” “Oh sorry” Stevensonsonson said to Sonson. And Turning to his step son Jeff Son, Stevensonsonson says, “Son, what do we got here?” And Jeff Son, Stevensonsonson’s step son came undone on the perron at the loved ones misnome (if you will) saying “Well first he got some candied cotton, then some dumdums, a chocolate bun-bun, finished each one. Why’d this become a rhyming thing? The point is death by chocolate…that’s the joke we were going for. I don’t know what this turned into.”

[bilvy]

[matt-and-things]

Guess Pete came and Pete wentz.

[matt-and-things]

I don’t actually know what to call this little shit...uh so here’s like a shit little poem. that’s what we’re calling it...the shit little poem...(  -_-)

[matt-and-things]

oh wait this isn’t instagram, I shouldn’t be posting my dumbass pictures here

-_-

[matt-and-things]

...it's all a little fuzzy...

[matt-and-things]

Brain dump again ( -_-)

I've been wondering a lot lately. It just feels as though a lot of life is a satirical inside joke. It's disgustingly postmodern of me to say but it feels to frequently that I go to work and play nice with people who ordinarily I would viciously oppose in any other setting. I indulge in conversation that doesn't actually interest me but it's a social type of kindness that is more meant as a half assed pass at amiability. I pursue problems with a vigor that would suggest a personal, emotional, investment despite them being entirely professional. It all feels like a sort of silly joke. Surely no one actually likes who they work with, or the conversations they have to have, or whatever other facades they have to flaunt around. Surely there must be a moment when each goes to their respective homes, wears the satire out, and changes into something a little more mature. The satire isn't ill fitting so to speak, it's just not always the right outfit for the occasion (to extend that metaphor) I guess it's a little pervy to say but I like seeing people strip out of their satire. Partially because I'm not entirely convinced that everyone has something else to change into. But maybe that's compartmentalizing the self too much. Or I suppose the selves in this case. It also probably suggests too much control. Hume supposed that the selves were just a composite of impressions all tied together by a sort of imagination. But if that's the case and I knit myself together why can't I just put needles aside for a moment? I mean even considering some contingency on a psychological connectedness shouldn't I still have it within my capacity to at least understand that connectedness but let it alone for a moment? That's what I want sometimes: a return to the primordial yarn ball of sensations.

[matt-and-things]

I remember in I had to read that Robert Frost poem about taking the road less traveled. But like...where was he heading? Like I'm just saying wouldn't it be equally as efficient to just go the known route? And maybe pave it or widen it along the way for others to travel with ease? Unless he was going somewhere entirely seperate from the first route. But then doesn't the poem read as like a celebration of personal exploration? But in that case he'd be begging the existential question by implying he knew where he wanted to end up ya know? So he already knew approximately how to get there in the first place. Unless the point is entirely that he doesn't know his destination. But in that case wouldn't an equally valid option just be to stay put and adapt to life in the woods. Like find some source of water or something. Unless his point is that you shouldn't be afraid of taking unravelled paths to reach a more agreeable place to set up existential camp, if you will...but then when do you know where's good to set up yo camp? You could easily fall into begging the question again! Unless your more existentially nomadic and start creating networks of camps that allow you to maintain a reference point as you continue exploring. I guess that's what he meant: systematically conquer the terrain of you psychy....and junk

[tautologiess]

Say hello to a butterfly or two today

[matt-and-things]

It's almost December. Ain't no butterflies nowhere..

[shencomix]

[matt-and-things]

barista girl!

[matt-and-things]

I’m really glad no one has ever asked me about what the random shapes I scribble on my arm mean. whenever I’m thinking an interesting thought but don’t have time to finish the thought or get to a conclusion because of like work or something I write a check or a shape on my arm to remind me to think the thought some more later. Thoughts like “If you were lost in a cave without a phone or watch but you found an old analogue watch while you were wondering how long would it take for you to determine if the watch was broken or not?” and I’m not sure if thats like a normal thing people do...

[matt-and-things]

This one time I was in a crowded bar alone because I was tired and annoyed at like work and life. however the bar was so crowded that the bartender wouldn’t even notice me, instead she went to take the order of a girl who had just come up to the bar next to me. see an opportunity open I offered to pay for the girls drink in hopes that it would also get the bartender to take my order...it didn’t. So instead of like trying to flirt with the person I just bought I drink for I immediately told her “lol I’m totally not actually that nice/filrtation, I was just trying to get my drink order in too. you don’t have to talk to me.” Surprisingly she stayed to help me flag down the bartender.

[matt-and-things]

This other time I was at another party...I was pouring myself some wine when a girl came up and was like “yo can you pour me a glass” so I did...very very slowly...staring not directly at her be about a foot to the right of her head as I said, in an overly anguished voice, “you know what my pet peeve is?...when people use the word assault, because they never explain what it did wrong...” ...as I continued pouring, my gaze still fixed unwaveringly at the space 1 foot to the right of her head, she tried to determine how to answer and could only come up with “....y-yeah...” after a long pause... And I haven’t been invited to a party there since.

[matt-and-things]

I was at a party one time talking to this girl about her dog. she said he was a rescue dog. I asked how many people...an awkward silence and one joke flung way over her head later and I haven't been invited to any more parties there since.

[bigblueboo]

unit circle

[voodoopunx]

Do you ever ‘wtf white people’ even though you are a white people.

[mindfuckmath-deactivated2016062]

The unexpected math behind Van Gogh’s “Starry Night”

When you think of mathematical artists, Vincent Van Gogh is likely not an first artist who comes to mind. That will change after you watch this short but sweet video.