i need an answer:

what is the line called where u see the edge of a hill? for instance, imagine youre in a three-story building thats located at the very top of a hill. youre standing at a window on the third floor. youre looking downward toward the rest of the city. what do u call the line that marks the edge of the hill in your line of perspective?

1. i know its not VANISHING POINT. this is when parallel lines (like the edges of a road or the angles of a tunnel) converge at a point in the far off distance. plus, it wouldnt be a POINT, it would have to be a LINE (although the word LINE may not be in the actual phrase).

2. i thought maybe it was simply, HORIZON. but thats too easily confused as the visual line where earth and sky meet.

there must be a word or phrase that signifies what im talking about here.

HELP.

10 things i really hate:

1. when i go on an indignant tirade at someone, and then that someone, instead of echoing my fury, has the nerve to apologize and make me feel bad and look stupid.

2. when i spend nearly half a day with a girl just to have sex with her when i know i couldve just jacked off in the morning and spent those hours doing something a lot more worthwhile.

3. when, at the end of the day, i realize i got nothing done.

4. when i like a girl more than she likes me.

5. when someone doesnt believe my lies.

6. when everyone seems to like a movie, song, novel, or any other piece of creative work that i find too melodramatic, too artsy, or just plain ultra-shitty, and so, as a result, i end up looking snobbish or petty.

7. lofty melodramatic overused words like simplicity and uniqueness.

8. people who use these lofty melodramatic overused words (especially in describing their own traits and interests).

9. heat and aging (in my mind the two r intertwined).

10. when a list of things comes in a neat number, like 10, because this is the only way people feel a sense of completeness, no matter how arbitrary the decimal system may be.

Currently Reading Tuesdays with Morrie By Mitch Albom see related

this was one of those rare occasions when a book or film turned out to be EXACTLY what i expected. a lotta melodrama (in both the dialogue and narration), a lotta "life isn't" and "life is" lessons (which is mostly just idealism unless youre actually scheduled to die soon), a lotta subtle (and not so subtle) praises to the departad (ie, morrie). id say its not worth the read, but the books so short - just under 200 very very sparsely filled pages... itll feel more like a 100-page book... even fewer if u factor in the insubstantiality of the story... which is surprising since the book deals with nearly every heavy social subject (a specific subject for every tuesday... eg, marriage, family, money, love, and of course death), but fails to really say anything significant about any of them, including death, which is what the whole damn books about. its like reading tolstoys the death of ivan ilyich, but the "chicken soup" version where every philosophical statement is dumbed down to a meaningless, impractical, ultra-optimistic cliche.

but eh... the guys normally a sports-writer. cliches r his trademark.

some quotes (cliches) from tuesdays with morrie:

- "Love wins, love always wins."

- "The most important thing in life is to learn how to give out love, and let it come in."

- "Once you learn how to die, you learn how to live."

tony robbins couldnt have put things any better...

those of us with drama in our lives complain about it. those without drama seek it in art. "artists" r those who feel their drama is worth publicizing, then behave as though this wasnt what they intended at all. then there r those who play down their real-life drama, r grateful when their lives come upon a calm, create work that gives us a peek at something beyond their own trivial being.

one of these is worth saving. the rest film documentaries about their mothers, write verse about puberty, paint multi-colored slop and title it "anger".

if we need a number to picture this, id say 99.999999999% of all humanity fall into those NOT worth the paint or ink or film.

and im helplessly one of them...

but so r u.

edit: because i speak out of context, friends/acquaintances often guess at the reason behind my dislike for people, poetry, whatever. and invariably someone asks, "did someone hurt you? have u been hurt in the past?"

this has brought me to the conclusion that either many of the things people do r direct effects of having been "hurt", or introductory freshman psychology has a greater impact on peoples judgment of others than it should.

Walking Dead

i woke up today.  i showered.  i left my apartment.  i ran errands.  i worked on my stuff.  i ate.  i saw people and said hello and smiled.  i returned home.  i watched the news.  i read the first few pages of a new book then stopped.  i took a moment to review my day.  i did nothing.  i feel hollow.  ill go to sleep soon.  i will wake up again.  ill wash up, ill leave the apartment, ill run errands, ill eat and drink, ill meet people and ask how they r, ill return home, ill watch tv, ill read a little, ill write a little, ill review the day, ill attempt to fill past moments with future purpose, and then ill sleep.  ill wake up...

fearing change we seek comfort in the safety of repetitions.  then one day we take a look around and find were stuck in a tight corner where the only option of escape is to bang our head against the wall. 

but theres no solution to this as theres no escape from falling into repetition.  we delude ourselves with lofty ideas of grand things that we imagine we recognize in ethereal senses that pass through us at odd moments of the day.  and this silly hope in superstitions is what creates the prison in which we find ourselves.  there may be no escaping repetition and the mundane, but we can at least avoid the ideas that make us feel trapped. 

its necessary to admit to ourselves that theres no divine purpose for our existence... theres no love... no pain... only spaces as container and content, dimensions and movement.  and then we can learn acceptance by recognizing that suffering is merely our way of adding meaning to dead things.