Below are the 3 most recent journal entries recorded in usandapparatus' LiveJournal:

Sunday, January 9th, 2005
8:53 pm	i know so much of death, and, it seems at times, so little of life. and indeed i know so very little of the lord and of any morality such knowledge might imply or impose. i do know that this, my day of reflection, is sunday; that day of the lord. it may be a blasphemy, but i've not yet decided if this overlapping of purpose is fitting, or indeed ironic. i can not imagine you to be that boy who passes by so inconsequentially in much the same way i can not imagine a cemetary made so public to be cynical. the cynicism is found too often in our relegating our dead to the fringes, the outskirts, the borders of our towns and of our memories. how unfortunate we are in our attempts to push them out of our lives, out of our sights, and out of our minds. how fortunate we might be in a daily acknowledgement, and surely in celebration, of their lives, accomplishments, and influences. how amazing we might be, collectively, once we accept into our daily consciousness what is both strikingly present and absent; the memories of our fellows no longer living. that which might enhance the wholeness of our lives so throroughly is discarded for the fault we see in the tragedy of our own humanness. your aversion to cemetaries does interest me so, though not nearly so much as to present an inquiry that would lend only to your discomfort. i find i've managed to assign them to a plateau of objective disinterest, offering no emotional reaction to them one way or the other. in this disinterest i often disappoint myself, as i am well aware of its origins as a response to my mother's intense artistic passion for them. she has photographed cemetaries the world over and my rebellion is to simply not care. i do this often; if my mother offers deep emotion, positive or negative, i find it more a challenge to her standing to view whatever object as one not deserving of passion, than to react with equal intensity in the opposite direction. i might offer that i regret this habit of mine, but i'm not convinced i do. i may not be proud of these, my actions, or even vaguely fond of them, but i'll not be so quick to assign regret. we might not be so different, you and i, with my assigned responses and yours avoided. and what are these, our gadgets, our twitchy fingers, but what can be assigned and avoided? (Comment on this)
Friday, January 7th, 2005
2:40 am	I was that same bearded boy at a point. Perhaps in a past life. More likely in the past of a current life that i'm trying/dying to forget/escape. But if I try hard enough, I can recall. After all, what word could possibly be more meaningfull than 'change' ? It must be more meaningful then 'trying, 'dying, 'forget' and 'escape' if i can't even decide which one of those to use in a sentence. it's funny that you mention cemetaries. i have never feared anything more in my entire life. i know i never brought it up before, and i apologize for keeping you uniformed. they are simply a subject matter that i pushed as far back in mind as possible. everytime i'm convinced i buried them, i see a finger poking out of the ground. i know that i should pick my memory-shovel back up, but i'm paralyzed with fear. how ironic is that? burying memories of burying. it's so futile it's comical. and it's just around ahead of every turn i make. Occasionaly i'll visit Boston on a sort of weekend-vacation, sometimes just a day trip. There's this beautiful architecture everywhere. There is passion in the air. There's dozens of muesems dedicated to displaying progress and beauty. There's even a painting on a sidewalk directing me to the theatre district. What more cold anyone ask for? Well, not a cemetary in the town green, thats for sure. Am I the only person who finds it extremely cynical? Call me crazy, but sometimes it's just too much. i checked the wheather just now, just for you. there was a high of 37 degrees today. farhenheit. i guess sometimes being across the country doesn't make as much as a difference as i like to think it does. i hear it's snowing in california. I miss you terribly. us and our gagdets. two kids and the internet. virtual mini-van. talktalktalking with our hands, like only we can -- (understand). 'Change.' true story. a catholic school teacher bought every house on my block. then that man of the lord went and raised my families rent a buck fifty a month. now tell me, wheres the moral in that? True story. (Comment on this)
Thursday, January 6th, 2005
11:39 pm	leaning against the wall in this alley reminiscent more of home than enclosing isolation. that same bearded boy rides his bike past but stops along the way to ask for a cigarette. he tries to give me a quarter but i wont take it and he tells me to have a good night as i lift my headphones back to my ears. this song is amazingly comforting and tragic and makes my chest feel hollow and i'm glad i know neither title nor artist. i think maybe the anonymity lends to its metric ton's weight of beauty. it's cold tonight, but not really, and i think of how nice it must be in that upstairs apartment across the street from the liquor store with the cemetary behind it all those thousands of miles away. i wonder how the snow looks tonight, piled atop the headstone of that dead poet we can't help but make a martyr. (Comment on this)