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Robert Zimmerman: Spreading obvious misinformation since 1935!

Au Sujet De Moi (Vraiment!)

Robert Zimmerman

Age: 22

Gender: Male

Location: Are you a stalker?... Wait.      Don't answer that... I'd rather not      know.

Optimistic Pessimism: The glass is half      full of emptiness.

 » Find out more like the stalker you are.

Also, if you think I'm a stalker my IP is: Figure out if I am on your own.


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Writing - 10.12.05

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Psycho Babble

Welcome to Not Getting Run Over By A Forklift 101. For our first lesson we'll... ack! No. NO! What a terrible way to start the class!

But aren't solar-powered vampires a bit impractical?

Did you know I have somewhere around one hundred forty entires?

The primary function of the United States Coast Guard (besides protecting the borders and patroling national waters) is to travel back in time and battle pirates!

If wishes were squids, then beggars would write. With the ink, you see. The ink of SO MANY SQUIDS.

"It doesn't get any more serious than a Rhinocerus about to charge your ass."
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and beyond
Sunday. 5.29.11 5:05 pm
palm shading these eyes,
trying to block light
just to lose sight
of all these mistakes and flaws.

sometimes I think, when it’s all done,
how do we know what we’ve become?
these lackluster mirrors,
can’t reflect all we want to see.

a napkin drawing at my feet,
pick it up, gaze, falter, blink.

color you and repaint me
we’ll both change superficially
but our sketches are still the same.
what we feel is our flame.

maybe our mirrors need heart,
feeling, to even start
to refract skin to soul,

reveal who I am to me.

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For the Ghosts of Our Time
Tuesday. 24.07.07 10:48 am
Now, it seems that we are here,
Just as it seemed in yesteryear.
In the night, it all comes clear.
Misstep, crumple by the mirror.
Our vision fades,
We see not the horrible shades.

We hear voices
And, swallowing hard,
The truth comes, bitter.
We have made their choices.
« Take comfort in the lost,
For we are their makers. »

We have proclaimed,
Without thought or name,
That some should die.
« Never look them in the eye. »
Whispers, you hear...
The cries of those you damned, you fear.

Meet them half way, you say,
Follow them to the grave.
Don't let them stray,
For you, too, will pay.

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Thursday 7.14.06 11:40 pm

I went scuba diving for a week with some friends, and it was quite fun. Since the greater majority of us weren't Open Water Certified, we opted to obtain said certification. We got an awesome instructor - and I mean awesome - he decided to get the actual training done incredibly fast so we could just dive for fun most of the time. It turns out that his "fast method" ended up getting us prepared for our exploration dives in three training ones and about five hours of bookwork. After that, I'm proud to say that I saw quite a few interesting fish, some rays, got lost, navigated my way back to shore, and wasted about 700 psi doing so (which was roughly a third of my already depleted tank's capacity). Thank god I know how to use a compass. :] Otherwise, well, I can see the headline now: "Boy, 16, slain by bloodthristy kelp in recreational dive - goes unnoticed for 12 hours. Coast Guard, 'Oops. Our bad.' "

Seriously, though, it was a damn good trip, what with being away from home for a week and actually spending time with my friends. The only problem is that I came home. The day after I got back, I was assaulted with carve-my-eyes-out-with-a-knife boredom... or was it of the jab-a-flaming-candlestick-through-my-brain boredom? I forget. At any rate. Crap. I need something to do.


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Maple Syrup - The Great Mystery
Thursday 6.22.06 10:53 pm

Does it not strike anyone as slightly odd that someone just randomly decided to taste something that was leaking out of their tree? I mean, if you disregard the fact that it was probably Canadians, it just seems completely illogical. The stuff looks enough like regular sap that I'm beginning to wonder if someone just came along, looking for his/her next hardened, amber-y treat when he/she tried to take a chunk of maple sap, realized it was impossible, took a knee, and buried their face in the tree to lick up the syrup... Not a very pleasant image for anyone, I'd think. I'd say another acceptable theory, though, is that someone was playing a practical joke on another, probably in Canada again, who had never seen or tasted sap. Person A tells Person B, "Hey, this stuff is really good, you should try some!"
Person B responds, "Sure, what is it?"
"Pine sap," snickers Person A. Person B proceeds to lick the tree and likes it, Person A is disgusted, eventually tries it, and later admits to having a good time doing it, plus he/she gets the credit for discovering it since the other person thought he'd tried it before.
Just thinking about this confuses me greatly... To me, it's kinda like whoever found water in a cactus first... if only because I wonder what in the world possessed the person to chop down a cactus in the first place. But, as I don't want to get into the cliché analysis of the guy that discovered pot or tobacco or that you could milk cows or that seaweed (or is it algae) makes for the slippery goodness of toothpaste, and I shall just end my stream of conciousness here.

Later, DS
~ Always play for keeps! Then, when you lose, demand to have the rules explained again.

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On a Quiet Night
Sunday 6.11.06 8:36 pm

Oh yeah, I'm pretty bored over here. I never update, not because I have suddenly sprung into some incredibly interesting life to which no other could compare, but because I really do nothing worthy of mention, as most people probably do exactly what I do themselves.

Now that that's out of the way, I'll make some whimiscal story up for y'all for stopping by.
It all began not too long ago, I was just sitting down on a street corner, the dark of the early morning weighing unusually heavily on my brow, and the mist rolling over the hills already plastering my bodiless hair to my forehead. And when I say plastering... Man, I mean plastering. I tugged for several minutes, trying to pry it free from my forehead to no avail. Of course, I keep a grinding wheel around for occassions of the sort, so I did not fear. I carefully removed it from my pocket and let it down with a thud on the pavement. It grinded, my head started to hurt, and, after a while, it broke. Unfortunately, my hair had not budged and it rather felt like I had grinded the greater portion of the skin on my face off. I took out my incredibly masculine Hello Kitty powderbox and mirror, and, to my complete indifference, I looked like a poorly preserved skeleton.

At that point, I realized that nothing short of a diamond blade saw could sever my hair's hold on me, so I asked a nearby orphan if I could borrow hers. She was not too willing to just lend it to me, and seemed rather afraid when she looked up into my eyes, so I traded her a roll of duct tape and a rubber duckie for fifteen minutes with it. So, one hour and several jars of pickled pigs' ears, assorted chew toys, trolls' undergarments, and cans of Lysol later, I had separated the beast that was my hair and my skull. She took her saw back, stared at me one last time, turned, and ran. The jerk.

But I felt so free again, and the sun was beginning to peek over the horizon as I started downtown. I never knew the morning held so many surprises, because nearly every person I saw was running away from something... and I could never seem to find out what it was. Randy the bum, my one true friend, and the only person who didn't run away could offer very little insight into the matter. He simply emptied his stomach at the sight of me (and his bowels, if I had to judge by the smell) and said, "You've got something on your face," then went back to taking long dregs of moonshine.

Cheered by his comradery, I continued towards the city square and went to Walgreens. I spent some time selecting a snack, and finally settled on coffee, ('cause, hey, if you can drink it, why not eat it?) and went to the counter to pay for my delicious, ground treat. When I put my money on the counter to pay for it, though, the cashier looked up and screamed. After a mild fit of hysteria and several rather regularly intervaled seizures, she regained control of herself and reached out a finger to touch my face. She must've picked the only place on my face with a vein intact because, with the sheer amount of blood that spurted out at her and on her and around her, I'm sure it was the sole path for blood in my body. She screamed again, even though I found the situation rather funny... and then I got light-headed, and died.
The coffee was great by the way.

Later, DS
~ You know what's a funny word? Tatterdemalion.

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Going Missing
Saturday 2.4.06 12:55 pm

Ah, quoi de nouveau all y'all? I've been having an interesting time, to say the least. Rock climbing, sleeping, hauling around TVs, sleeping, making pancakes, sleeping, taking history notes, etcetera etcetera... and, y'know, that really doesn't sound that interesting once I type it. Oh poo.

Well, let's see. As to not totally bore the greater population of readers, I shall start with the amusing story of Planet Granite, which is, for all you who don't know, an indoor climbing gym. I went with Jessica, Elizabeth, and Jason, although Jason had his own special ride that kept him from traveling with the likes of us. Anyway, Jessica, Elizabeth, and I got there and went up to pay the climbing fee and all of a sudden I realize - hey, I don't have my rock climbing stuff. I apparently realized this out loud so I had quite a few people turn and stare at me. But anyway, I decided I could just rent stuff and went up to the counter but... apparently, they purge people from their database if they haven't climbed for, well, three years or so. And you need a signed waiver to get back in. Telling you how I got a signed waiver and copy of a driver's licence would be a story in its own, so I won't. But after a while, I rented a harness, shoes, and paid the fee, and went into the lockerroom. Only to discover a guy making out with another guy that was wearing naught but a towel... which made it rather... diconcerting to change. But I eventually toted everything away in a locker and met us with Elizabeth and Jessica outside who had actually just seen Jason and were sort of eyeing him from afar, but only because he'd walked in with a Mills teacher (who he later embarassedly admitted was his mother). She was kinda scary. After that lovely little encounter, though, pretty much all we did was climb, which is by no means a very interesting recountance, as no one was in mortal peril or anything. Jessica and Elizabeth had to leave early, though, so it was just Jason and I when we left. We were going to take the bus together, but, unfortunately, his mom told him he had to be picked up since seven o'clock is apparently really late all of a sudden. I waited with him for a while, then went over the the bus stop. A record three car accidents happened in the 45 minute-ish period I was sitting at that infernal stop, which was pretty cool. There was a turn lane that didn't continue on the other side of a three way intersection and a whole bunch of people that didn't realize it, each of whom had to merge into the other lane really quickly and another car, accordingly. But the bus coming is pretty much the end of my story, which I suppose was rather boring. I should really talk about the really hobo-looking guy on the bus, but I don't really feel like continuing this.

Later, DS

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