Wednesday, June 30, 2004

Not Good vs Evil...Just Love

Saw another flick tonight. I haven't seen a movie in the theater since December and in the past 7 days I have seen 3. Tonight's movie was a slap in the face. And trust me, not in the way you would expect. Spiderman 2 had it all. It had it all and it told a story that I know far too well. But when I tried to figure out what really made it so great, I realized that is wasnt't he story. I understood that it all boiled down to just one thing. That one thing that I think more and more of my life is about. Love. And not just Peter's love for Mary Jane. The whole movie is laced with love. How a man loves a woman. How 3 different men love a woman. How a man loves his father. How a man loves his best friends. How a man loves his family. How a man loves his work. How a man loves the community in which he lives. How a man loves his purpose. And above all, how, when he gets down to the utter essence of his soul and being, a man finds he is nothing more than what he loves and what loves him back. This movie makes you want to be a superhero. And then it doesn't. And then it does again. And you realize that PP is going up and down just like all the rest of us. But when he's up he's way way up.

So if it's so great, why was it a slap in the face? Because love was already on my mind. Because I see so much of my own pain in a movie like that. It was the "pull yourself together" kind of a slap in the face. Because I can't go looking for love. No. The TMG told me that herself. And I hate it when people tell me not to go looking for love because that's when you are least likely to find it. Then I think about the phrase "fall in love." It's not get in love or even jump in love. It's fall in love. Because really, that's all you can do. When your walking down the street and you not looking. There's the giant pothole of love. If you're watching where you step you can't fall in. Obviously brilliant men,hell, even stupid men have known this for ages. But sometimes you have to learn form experience. Sometimes words just aren't enough.

The saddest part is the pattern I see. The pattern of cycling through girls in a time in their life when they don't have that much love to give. Because really I dojust don't want to give that much love. It gives me a reason, like PP, to never really be 100% there. Because my mind is locked away in purpose. The ladies are always telling me how a piece of me is locked away. How a piece is so secretive. And you can give up that silly skin tight suit (I certainly did) and the lies and the meaning but in the end, we are who we chose to be. And who we chose to be is who we chose to love and let love. Peter was caught between his love for the right and his love for Mary Jane. Me, well I think it gets a little bit more complicated.

Sometimes a man has to motherfucking stand up. Sometimes his liberties are being trampled. Sometimes shit just gets ill. Such is the case with my Evil Twin Blog. Honestly, I know that I cannot actually think that someone is stealing everything. Everyday I come up with the content form my heart. I know no one can duplicate that. But when your title is hijacked and bastardized, when your format is followed to the T, when every time you update your site your evil twin's is updated in parallel and when they start scamming off heartfelt topics of yours that aren't justsimple broad strokepolitical or media topics, and they do all of this without so much as a wink or a nod, you gotta get a little riled up. Because it makes you feel cheap. And I already told you I am not a whore.

Now I must admit that everything I know of blogs, blogging and bloggers comes from what I have explored out there and have seen from all of you. But I tried to take little bits and pieces from different people and stylize it to my own perfection. My format, my pictures, my topics, my feelings, they're an amalgamation. And honestly, it's a free mother-fucking blogosphere. You could start you own blog at if you really wanted to. And I know I shouldn't be bothered because really, I am bringing you something unique. Maybe I should feel honored, like some musician is covering my no #1 single in some dive bar. But it really feels like that asshole snuck into the studio and stole the tapes to pawn it off as his own hit before the label has thrown down the bucks to get it on the radio playlist. And blogs about blogs are fucking stupid. So i'm finished.

Tuesday, June 29, 2004

Say it with me folks: Nuclear. Let's sound it out. noo-cleee-ar. Now about 40% of you are too stupid to realize you are saying nucular. Let's sound that one out: nook-yoo-lar. Hear the difference? Once more time. nuclear. noo-clee-ar is right. nook-yoo-lar is wrong. Alright, maybe you're saying "I know how to say nuclear you idiot" and maybe you're saying, "wow I can't believe I have pronounced that word wrong my entire life" but either way you know the right pronunciation, which now automatically qualifies you as having a better vocabulary than the President of The United States. I finally saw Fuck You 9/11 last night. I don't want to comment on it except to say that you should check it out because, despite the claims that the US media is become more controlled, regulated and conglomerated, I believe that our media is entering a new age of enlightenment. Where a liberal from Flint, Michigan can make a movie that portrays the President as a bumbling buffoon, where we can get footage from media sources around the world and where everyone can surf the web and find hundreds or thousands of people who agree with their perspective no matter how obscure. Going to see 9/11 isn't saying "fuck you" to president Bush or to the White House staff or to the US government. It's saying fuck you to the system. Fuck you for hiding shit from us since the inception of media. Fuck you for thinking you get to decide what the American people should and shouldn't see. You have to go see this movie, not because it's changing the presidential race, not because it purveys any higher truth but because it's changing the future of the media and the future of our world.

Or you can just go see spiderman. A movie about a boy with superpowers. A subject near and dear to my heart. It's also just about a boy who loves a girl. And about how shitty it can sometimes feel to be in love. I, for one, haven't been in love in a long time. I can relate to PP because I was on the road so much, traveling from place to place and so consumed by my own quest I couldn't let myself be in love. And one day I threw it all down because I knew it couldn't last forever. So we'll see what happens to Spiderman. But my love life is on the verge of a boom. The TMG replied to my e-mail. She said, I was dead on in guessing that what had happened between us. We were in two different places. She was closing up shop, getting ready to say goodbye, and had absolutely no desire to be tied down. I, however, just returned from a long stint of isolation and just can't wait to get tied down. (yokes, that sounds naughty). So we were meant to go our own separate ways. And the G2K was meant to come out this way. And really I'm just going in circles. So what can I do? Stop moving. Maybe if I stop moving I can't be moving in circles.

Monday, June 28, 2004

Today I should be talking about Mr. Bush. I should be talking about he tried to save some face and look like a big shot after Michael moore tore him a new asshole this weekend.(Still haven't seen the flick but I promise I will soon) And so, to prove to everyone that he is still very much in control, Mr. BusH decided to turn over sovereignty of Iraq back to it's own people a whopping 2 days early. 2 days means a lot. Especially when you declare MISSION ACCOMPLISHED Over a year ago. All of this is what I should be talking about. But my heart really just isn't in it.

All weekend long I worked at people's weddings. 2 beautiful events with glowing new couples and 1 horrifying disaster of a wedding where the father of the bride didn't approve of his 19 year old daughter's marriage to some 23 year old sleezeball. Then today I watched Love Actually. My roommate picked up this week-long rental last Tuesday, watched it that evening and was poised to return it the following morning. I dissuaded her, assuring her that I would put it to use this week. I had some grand notion to get the TMG over here to lie on the couch and watch it with me. Because I knew it wasn't the kind of movie to be watched alone. But I never asked her. The closest I came to getting her over here was meeting her for lunch yesterday before work. You would think that I Was poised to grill her about her ex, about our crazy night together, about the Almighty Quinn and about what's next. But I didn't. All we did was talk. About the past, about the future, about funny stories and the reasons we became the people we are. The whole time I didn't even want to bring the rest of it up. I realized we were communicating fine and I knew there was never going to be much more than friendly chatting between us.

I sat there listening and smiling and this voice in my head started speaking to me again, You don't need to waste your time with a girl who you can tell you won't fall for. Especially one who won't fall for you. Why do you keep searching out these girls you know will cause you trouble? What is this insatiable need for torture? Find a girl you know will only flicker for you for a moment? They will never love you you idiot. And I knew the voice was right. But I never like listening to the voice in my head. Lunch ended and I left satisfied. I had no need to hash through reasons and explanations.

But as I drove home my cell phone rang. It was her. She wanted to make sure things weren't awkward. They weren't. I said I was fine with the fact that she had hooked up with her ex's look alike during her week of letting loose and that she shouldn't feel remorse for brushing me aside because she was afraid to get too close to anyone. She didn't know what to say. I said goodbye. And I could understand why she didn't want to be close to anyone. Because I am also afraid. And I worked all night long. But I didn't feel satisfied. So I wrote the TMG a nice nerdy e-mail. Telling her what I thought had happened. Because I'm a writer. And I had persuaded my roommate to keep Love Actually all week long. I had to watch it. So today I did. Alone. On the couch. Not sad but reveling in the thought of the person who was going to fill that empty space next to me. About how beautiful and funny and brilliant and witty she would be. And how I would see it in her eyes. The exact same thing she sees in mine. That thing I have been searching for in all those girls. And I'm realizing this post isn't going anywhere near where I wanted it to. I'm going to go collect my thoughts. Once they're categorized and organized I'll come back and share them with you.

Thursday, June 24, 2004

I'm not your Whore

You don't love me. Don't look at me like that. I know why you're here. Don't pretend. You just came for a little bloggy bloggy and before I even get to finish your off on someone else's page. All the same. You only want one thing. What do you mean you don't care about Alaska. "Tell us about the girls. THE GIRLS!" Fuck you. Well why should I? I don't know shit about girls. They're fucking crazy but they're beautiful and I want to hold them and squeeze them and do bad things to them and then run far away. Run far away and hide from them and hope they never find me ever again. I could just give away my phone and my home and grab the next flight to Pederson Point from Anchorage via Dallas. At least you would know my address. All you would have to do is write it on the side of the bottle: to Dylan c/o The End of The World. But I'm here and you're here and the TMG is just down the street and the G2K is 2K miles away but sometimes it feels so close it's like I'm suffocating. And I just want to be all at sea. Where no one can bother me. Just me and my thoughts. Sailing far away. But I'm stuck. In the movie theater. And the TMG is sitting next to me. And I'm pretending to be falling asleep. But she has one upped me and pretended like nothing had ever happened right in front of our friends. Which is OK, because neither of us told our friends. And I put my arm on the armrest. And I feel the hairs on her arm. Why does she jump at every little loud noise? I wish my hairs could tell her the story. I wonder if she understood them. They were screaming at her. Don't you understand? I'm here and you're here but there's this wall between us. The signs keep pushing us together. But we're pushing eachother apart. It all happened to fast. Why did it happen like this? Can I do bad things to you and then run away? I want a do-over. But She doesn't hear. She knows my arm is there. Maybe she listens. But she doesn't hear. And there are more signs. Like the tripods. No one understand the tripods. And the Tao of Pooh. Don't tell me about Buddhism, I read that fucking book when I was 12. You smart people and your books. You surround yourselves with books and they're the wrong fucking books.

But the G2K calls at work. She found a cheap ticket to Italy. $600. Would I come with her, she wants to know. All this movement. Just when I was beginning to like everything standing still. I'm 100 years old. I'm 100 and trapped in this young body and stillness is always fleeting.

beep beep. Text message. Who is it? TMG? G2K? No. Both. And I want to throw my phone into the busy street outside my window. Where the cars are always driving by. There is no silence. But more importantly there is no stillness. And the TMG asks me to go out with her tomorrow. But I'm pulling the Mag/catering double header. It's been 3 weeks since I have seen her last. "Maybe I'll see you in 3 more." But if she heard the hairs on my arm she will know that I'll call her tomorrow.

I realized something on the bike ride home form work today: I've been moving around a whole lot. So much so that I don't even know my current address. It's not like I simply forgot it. I moved into this new place, I knew it wasn't really permanent and I never got around to asking. How crazy is that? When you're ready to send me a letter, just put it in a bottle and toss it in the ocean. Maybe it will wash up on my shores.

In the spirit of my wanderings, I think that today it is necessary to give a serious shot out to myself. Or rather, myself one year ago. It's been just over a year since that day I packed up that old ratty army surplus bag with 3 outfits, my discman and a few books before boarding a plane. If my flight path was any indication of the adventure upon which I was partaking then Flying to Anchorage Alaska via Dallas, Texas should have clued me in on the absurdity. Anchorage is permanent summer. The sun never really sets. Baseball in the streets at 11:30 PM. 14 year olds out until 2. That's Anchorage in the summer. And then there was the sticky note. It had a flight number and a time and it was in my wallet. There was a small plane. WI wish you could have seen the group that boarded the plane. To nowhere. To PPT. First there was the waiting. The reading. The music. Watching the tide roll in and out again. Eating as many meals as possible.

Then I remember waking up in the morning after work. I remember my hands clenched. They refused to release their grasp. I remember that first 2 minutes just out of a deep deep sleep. I was ready to quit. I remember I would have sold my soul to quit. No price was too high. Then came 2:01, I dragged myself out of bed and off we went to work. There we were. 16 hours shifts. The fish and the belt and the songs in my head. The song in my heart. They would never beat that song out of me. They couldn't possibly. I could grade fish indefinitely. Yes, just keep telling yourself that. You have to keep hope. Because no one knows when it's time to leave. For nearly 6 weeks we were the kings of grading. 16 hour shifts. 8 hours to eat, sleep and shower. You learn a little something about your soul. About it's resiliency. About what you can find when you come to the core. When you've lost any semblance of time or meaning. In Naknek Alaska. At Pederson Point. At the end of the world. The Sun doesn't really set. And the fish. And the pain. My feet. And the freezers. Maybe I'll just take a nap. No. No sleep. Where am I? How did I get here? What time is it? 4? AM or PM? I suppose it doesn't even matter. The sun will always be there. And the smell. And Norah Jones will still be there sing me to sleep. I dunno if it's sleep. I close my eyes and in a flash it's back to the pier. Boots first. Yellow rain gear. Gloves. Makes sure there are no holes. Holes=death. Why won't snack time just come. It's 4th of july. Are you sure? There is no one for miles. And there is an Eskimo who shares my room. He drinks and drinks and drinks. Then he gets fired. There is no world. There is only Pederson Point. And no one knows when they get to leave. Until the plane flies. And the fish stop coming. But they never stop.

But then it's over. And you leave a little bit of your soul in that place. Out on Bristol Bay. Where the tide rises and falls as it chooses. Where the sun refuses to relent. Where the fish all slide by. And smile. Even without they're head. They're always smiling at you. And I just smiled on back. It's a smile that sticks with you. You could smile too. If you're up to it.

Wednesday, June 23, 2004

Finding me watching the Oxygen women's network is about as rare as ....... wow, sad, can't think of anything.(unless it's late at night and they're running their soft-core, chick-oriented porn) But when I flipped past today and found a familiar face, I couldn't resist indulging myself. Oprah After The Show opened up the floor to Bill Clinton to field questinos from the audience. And they address him less like a president and more like a man. And that's how I saw him. Not a concoction of speach-writing, string-pulling and PR-hyping, just a man. One with a great soul, with convictions and with a heart-felt desire to do good. The audience was simply mesmerized by his mere presence. He has a power and an aura all his own. Why did Clinton bring out his book at this particular juncture? I hope it was to subtly, quietly remind us. Oh yes, this is what presidency and executive politics are about. This is what it means to lead. This is what it means to touch greatness. This is also the same reason Reagan's funeral became such an ordeal. Though I didn't agree with much of what he did, he too held an air of greatness. Slowly, subtly the media is running a guerilla campaign. They're reminding us what it means to be a leader.

Bill made two comments that stuck with me. First, when asked about terrorist, he explaine dthat since the beginning of man people have always moved through three stages which, as a disciple of anthropology I can attest to: First comes isolation. We are alone, we want to be along and we function as a single unit. Eventually we get to interconnectivity. People begin to rationalize the usefulness of depending on one another, but no on a completely secure and harmonious basis. Finally, we arrive at Community. Community is just a solidified interconnectivity where people are satisfied with the connections and come to rely on them without falter or doubt. Right now, the entire world is at the second stage. We are all interconnected but no one is sure of relying completely on one another as a community. At some point that age will come. The age of a global community. And we all need to work towards this, not against it.

The later point Billy made came down hard on the election. As we rev up towards November, the truth of the matter is the politicians want us thinking about everything besides what we are voting. BC assures us that the campaigns would have our minds clouded with the least important issues. But it's our job as the people to be active. To realize the implication this decision on our own lives, on our neighbor's lives, on our country and on the interconnected World. Won't it be funny when Bush just gets burred? I mean, if the dems had picked anyone with real charisma, the election would already be over. Kerry's biggest opposition is himself. But Bush has practice with royaly fucking himself. He's still giving Kerry a fighting chance. If I could elect BC again knowing he would pull more Monica Lewinski on a monthly basis? In a second.

Tuesday, June 22, 2004

No Man Is An Island

I sat down for a daily installment. I'll admit, that in my standard rollercoaster of emotional zeniths and depressions, I was running surprisingly high. I mean, how much can a guy ask for? A job, a place to live, friends who call him on the phone, romantic interests to at least give his life the semblance of some emotional connectivity (truth be told, there is very little)and the core feeling that things are changing for the better. Everything is just cruising along. I am an island. I am Hugh Grant in About A Boy. Nothing needs changing, I don't actually want anyone to break down the wall that keeps me safe in my castle on the island of simplicity.

So who the hell does the G2K think she is that she can simply book a ticket to my home and show up on my doorstep? Well, today she apparently bought a plane ticket. No man is an island. I'm an Island! I'm Bloody Ibiza! She might show up on my doorstep but there are certainly no commuter planes to my island! The sad part about it all is I really am Hugh Grant. I think to break this one down we'll have to go back more than a few years. I think maybe back when I was two. Man, I was a terror. I can't believe my parents stuck it all out. But somehow they did. I was a terror but I was a brilliant terror. While I was making my parent's lives miserable I as also questioning the meaning of life. Yes, that sounds like a lot for a two year old, but I guarantee it was true. Somehow, though, a combination of my parents' iron will and my teacher's suffocating grasp, I was silenced. All my rebelliousness and brilliance and outgoing nature was forced to surpression. There it lie dormant. If you can't say something nice don't say anything at all. Every once in a while I slip but for the most part I have kept a tight lid on what I once was.

One of these days, someone is going to come along, build a bridge form the mainland and start an all out assault on my wall. I'm afraid that this is exactly the G2K's plan. She'll show up with a few catapults, battering ram and ladders and the next thing I know, the whole world will flow in. But for now, I am an Island. I am happy alone. I am happy with shallow relationships, sleeping in by myself on Sunday afternoons, eating leftovers for dinner, washing my whites and darks in the same load, living the life and bloging for the betterment of not one single solitary soul besides myself.

Monday, June 21, 2004

Here's the phone that I send the superduper text messages to the TMG and G2K from. High roller, I know.

Been playing around with the format a tad. Keep an eye open for some permalinks on the side and some blogs to watch. All coming as I crack the codes.

this is an audio post - click to play

I audbloged a bit of Jamie Cullum becuase I think y'all should relax a little bit and get in the jazz zone while you're reading the truth blog. I'm going for the full sensory effect. Still working on the smell 'o blog. Would it smell like the stnky clothes in the room with my comp? Yikes. Lucky you aren't here to get a woft of those. Sorry for the cell phone quality audblog. Still working out all the details of the new technology. Like, not audbloging with a cell. Enjoy all the changes.

There really is no such thing as too many chocolate strawberies. My day began with them at 9AM yesterday and ended with them at 1AM over 200 miles apart. Yesterday was dad's day which, in my family, is yet another excuse for consuming mass quantities of high quality food. The early brunch was no exception. I limited myself to french toast, blinces, eggs, fruit, cake, more french toast and lots of chocolate strwberries. score. I was stuffed, then I realized I had to work for the catering company that was nearly a 3 hour drive away. Shit. I was full and bloated and now I was sitting in a car flying down the two lane at 85.

Unfortunately I forget the gearhead convention of Mustang owners was still in town. As I was trying to make a speedy exit, a few of them had apparently decided to drag race outside of town. Surprise surprise, they crashed. Now I had to sit in traffic for 30 minutes. Wonderful. Late for work. 3 hours and 30 minutes later I Was at work. "you made quite theimpression on David (the owner) last week," they said. "that's because I'm a rockstar," I replied. "Didn't I put that on my resume?" Smooth. real smooth. I feel comfortable using that word to refer to myself more and more. Well either way, the boss man had told them to hook me up. They did. Small party. I was the youngest server rocking it hard. Huge tips. Thanks boss man. There was tons of food leftover from the wedding party (big surprise, it's sunday and people want to go to bed) including some scrumptions chocolate covered strawberries. I gorged myself once again. Gigady gigady gigady. What a weeekend. Sunglasses, Mustangs, rainy confrontations and chocolate strwberries.

Wait, who is that with the olympic torch? Could it be? No. No way. wait, it is. Thank god it's the summer torch. If that were the winter torch I wold cry.
I sent the TMG a message today: "things to do: 1. Go to the store 2. Start a new book. 3. Make it stop raining 4. Spend the Evening with [TMG's name] 5. Don't take no for an answer. Think you can help? " Her reply was shitty, "Doh. Can't come. Doing a bday dinner w/ stepdad tonight and tomorrow. Will be back in [awesoem town] weds. Don't feel bad. Haven't even seen roomate yet. Yikes!" Damn. the reason for being out of town is legit, but "don't feel bad. Haven't even seen roomate yet" is pretty harsh. Ya rush back and see you roomate first. hoe. It's been 3 weeks.

I told the G2K today that despite the fact we have talked a whole bunch, we haven't really said anything worth repeating. She was offended. I kind of wanted her to be. She called me out on friday over the phone. I asked if she ever booked the tickets she was talking about booking to come here. She said no. I asked why not. She replied that I had freaked out when she had told me about her plans so she decided not to. I did freak out. I like her 2k miles away. I haven't seen her face in nearly two years. I have changed a ton. I am not the same person. And something about her being 2k miles away means I never have to confront any sort of reality between us. She can be this mystic being of my imagination. She can really be whatever fantasy I want her to be. But if she comes here, I have to face the reality of who she is, what we have going between us and where to go from here. I would inevitably sabotage the relatinoship subconsciously. That's why I freaked. Plus, I want to go to NYC damn it!

After all this went down I watched Comedy central's 51 most sracastic bastards, or somethinglike that. My dream job would be a comedian who does all those clip shows. I would be brilliant on that show. I am damn good at insulting and making fun of people with a slight hint of self-deprication. The only reason anyone watched the countdow shows is to see who is #1. Then you get to yell at the TV, "WHAT! He doesn't even deserver to be in the top 10!" Then you turn off the TV with a bitter taste in your mouth. Best Week Ever. Now that is the kind of show that will rule the future. They even have their own blog . You go guys. I have been searching the blogospere today. Haven't found much I am sucked into. They all start ot feel the same after a while. Words bombarding my brain with opinions. I'll keep searching and when I find something I like, it's coming straight to you.

Saturday, June 19, 2004

There was no fishing, there was no kayaking there was no fun in the sun. There were clouds. There was rain. There was a primeval battle between the elements and my soul. The rain came, the wind blew and I ran. I bunkered down in my new shades, plugged into the ipod and slipped into the Under Armour. I knew it was a battle with only one concievable conclusion. But my soul didn't care. It had a path and a purpose. I ran. Higher and higher. Up and up until I knew I had god's attention. The heavens fell. I craned my head back. "I am stronger than you think," my soul yelled to whatever was above. There was nothing that could stop me. The lightening crashed. It was time to return to earth. I turned around and let the water carry my. The mud tried to consume all. I struggled against it as I felt myself falling under. Just as I feared the worst, my origin was in sight.

Epic. I wonder if the hundreds upon hundres of Mustang enthusiasts with their turtle-waxed, chrome-plated, genital-compensating, noise-blaring automobiles who arrived for their gearhead convention saw me up there fighting for all mankind.? What is it they see when thier heads are under eachother's hoods? Why would they convene in a place like this? While I was here making a monumental stand, they were here with lawn chairs and bag lunches. I didn't make trouble. In fact, the only person making trouble was my 6 year old cousin. She wouldn't stop going a million miles an hour and the kid in me joined in right alongside her. Man it was fun. Lately a lot of people have been using the word rockstar. "hey rockstar," the TMG always replies when she hears it's me. My new boss now refers ot me as "the rockstar." I am definitely not a rockstar, but I think I have come a long way. Soetehing about letting go, confronting what I used to believe, about enjoying life and allowing myself to be released. About being strong in body and mind. I have definitely come a long way. not a rockstar yet. But maybe a rockstar in training.

Who is that crazy man sailing over the piano in that picture up top? Jamie Cullum bitches. I picked up his CD today and love the old jazz feel. It just makes me want to call up the TMG on a sunny sunday afternoon, invite her over, pop this disc in and just lie on the porch with her in my arms stareing up at the sky. It's that kind of musak. I also grabbed the debut album from Donavon Frankenreiter. He's on Jack johnson's label and sounds surprisingly similar;verdict is still out.

I am here because my grandfather is 75. I just wanted to give him a shoutout. He is an amazing soul and hasinfluenced who I am and who I want to become on a completely conscious level. He's the kindest man I know and his ability to simply listen makes even the coldest heart flicker just a little. His love for his family is heartwarming and his gentle nature makes me want to be a greater man. What he lacks in intelligence he makes up for in heart. I have both his heart and the smaahts of my mother's parents. Whicked smahts. Those two can be a vlatile combination but I use my grandfather as a model of how heart can keep you happy, healthy and loved at 75.

K, sappy moment of the week is finished.Angels and Deamons rocked my world today. I thought I had that book all figured out but damn, Dan Brown really represented at the end there. Way more so than in The Da'manwhenisthisgonnaend Code. Way to go DB. Now it's on to Life of Pi. Back home tomorrow. I get the place all to myself all of huly and part of august. what does that mean? Debauchery. Lots of it. I say that now but we'll see. Damn. Broke whatever rhythm I had going in this blog tonight. Stupid emotion. I'll blog again when my brain regains control. Just need to get shot down by a couple of chicks. that'll doo it. Too bad I'm so damn irresistable. Blogblogblogogogog.

Friday, June 18, 2004

Not rain nor sleet nor snow nor luxury vacation

When does blogging become a problem? When you leave town and you still want to blog. It's a curse, the blogging is. But I'm here. And you're here. And I can't hear. Lets get this started.

Damn, I had a good night with JG and The Almighty Quinn on the town before JG leaves to return to the service. The AQ was on the hunt last night, which, for him, is surprisingly unusual. He wasn't successful. Me, I am still searching for a girl who doesn't make my stomach tingle. The TMG is good at making it tingle. Unfortunately I haven't seen her in almost three weeks. Damn, that's some bullshit. I almost told the AQ when I was drinking last night. I didn't. I hinted at it though. JG is in love. Giddyup JG, prove us all wrong.

Today the super cool magazine represented big. They're going to publish one of my recent ramblings sometime this fall. If that wasn't enough, a promo package full of Oakley glasses landed on my desk. They just made it back from a photo shoot so I helped myself to a nice $200 pair on the house. Thanks super cool mag. Then I jumped in the car, filled the 6 CD changer and put the pedal to the metal. Now the Sub is not the coolest car, but around here it gets the job done. 3 hours later I was rocking it in my suite at the giant hotel (albeit with my family) and that is where I sit, surrounded by family, watching Marx Brothers Classics and blogogogoging. Wait, just went to the oakley homepage. I guess These babies are actually worth $300. Maybe I need to make a trip to e-bay. gigagdy gigady gigady. I want to meet a girl here. forget about the TMG. At least she can't text message me. No service. Do you know what's going down in the world? Blogs are ending. People are laughing. I am chilaxing. You are not reading my blog. TMG is ignoring me. The G2K is depressed. (she tried to make herself sick at work so she could leave early. sad. apparently raw eggs didn't do the trick ) All the while I am too lazy to post pictures. ahhhhh. Timed internet. ahhhh. clock is ticking. Speed blogging. No time for spell check. No time for thoughts, no time for pictures. No time for fun ;-(Yikes. Shitty. Maybe I just spent way too much time watching the beautiful blog princess . Whoops. Gotta fly. Tomorrow, fishing, movies, more speed blogging.

Thursday, June 17, 2004

Super Target. Now that's a store. I love that I can buy new underwear and sliced turkey at the same establishment. But when I look down into my basket and see the sliced turkey resting on top of the fresh underwear, something just ain't right. Yuk.

Work at the magazine was pianfully slow, so all I could do was watch the internet news machine work its magic on all the breaking 9/11 comission news and search the blogosphere. I found a great blog by Meesh and despite the fact that she hasn't posted in a few months, it takes me back to a time when I was living in a mountain town and life was good. JG is over. Damn republican. TMG is off doing bad things I have a feeling. I'll blog more later.

Wednesday, June 16, 2004

Kaboom! Bombshell in my brain. Politics make me angry. Politics make me sad. Politics make me yell at my TV screen. Yelling at the TV screen scares the cat. Basketball makes me fall asleep. Sorry LA. Apparently Kobe is a rapist AND a ball-hog.

Michael Moore. He is not a seuth-sayer. He's an entertainer. Now there is a criminal investigation. Apparently he acquired some footage of prisoner abuse in Iraq that was shot all the way back in December. What did he do with this footage? He sat on it. Now there is a fucking criminal investigation into whether or not he should be accountable for not revealing this information. Now before we get into this entire mind fuck, lets talk about the first amendment. Freedom of speech, bitches. You can say whatever you damn well please about whoever you please. You can also NOT say whatever you want. So let's get this straight: First, Michael Moore uses his first amendment right, attacks Curious George and his administration, and they want his head on a pike. Now, a man who is already feared and distrusted by a surprising amount of conservative Americans withholds incriminating footage of prisoner abuse and... They want his head on a pike. If Michael Moore had broken the prisoner abuse scandal, do you even think anyone would have taken his ass seriously? "the crazy liberal is attacking the army in Iraq? How unpatriotic! We should ship his ass over there. He probably made the whole thing up anyways." Yes people, this is crazy twisted logic that has somehow come to represent our American political system. Was some stuff in Bowling for Columbine created for entertainment? Yes. The point was not to for you to think his examples were necessarily wrong. It was to take your mind outside the box. I think Michael Moore is a fanatic and a bit of a looney. Don't give him political power, but if you silence him and brush him aside, you're a terrorist. If you think America is perfect the way it is you are missing THE POINT OF DEMOCRACY.

Clinton's new book comes out soonish. (today maybe?)I am actually angry with Bill. He had sex with Monica. Now we can't have any presidential candidates with even a remote bit of charisma. Ladies like the charisma, you see. So by definition, a great leader is a ladies man. Maybe Bill's personal morals were iffy, but his social morals were impeccable. It's all about who's lens you are looking through I suppose. Lately I have enjoyed looking through Dennis Miller's lens on MSNBC. One minute you're taking him ridiculously seriously and the next he is falling out of chair in a slapstick sleep joke. That's news.

In more important news, the TMG and I finally talked last night. Lets review at this point just so it's clear. My cell phone dialed her from my pocket on accident multiple times. I just happened to move into her ex-boyfriends apartment before I even knew he was her ex. I called her and asked her about pudding on a whim and she was making pudding. (k that one sounds lame but it was significant at the time) Now, apparently we were both at the same overnight camp at the same time when we were about 10. Fucking signs. I hate signs. So what decision did we come to last night? None. We just talked. It was nice. We hadn't really done that yet. It was fun. We learned a little about each other. Then I said I hated talking about the hard shit over the phone. She said " then don't." Tonight we're going to get together I hope. Later. Not like last time. Dunno what's going to happen yet. Let's of issues. I have dealt with issues. They can bring you down. On top of that G2K wants to book a.......Hold up. Call from the TMG while I blog. Once again, she cannot catch up with me tonight. Jesus. sooo getting played. I just joked, "maybe I won't even have to talk to you about anything because I will just never see you again since you're so busy." Damn it. Wished I hadn't of said that one. It had to be said though It's been 2 weeks. Back to the G2K. She is ready to book a ticket out here. I am trying to stall 'till I can figure out the TMG mess. Did I mention the AQ is now not only working with the TMG but riding the bus there and back with her everyday? Ya, well he is. Somewhere here we are going to hit the bottom of this hole. I Am sure of it. Right now, however, we just keep going deeper and deeper. Luckily I get to skip town in 2 days. It would be easy to run away. I know from experience. There is always the eject button. But I've learned a trick or two. I can get this thing under control. Fuck the button. If this flight is going down, it's taking me with it.

Tuesday, June 15, 2004

I need to talk about something before I talk about pudding. How about Saddam Hussein? Why the hell won't bush just let him go? If he ends up in Iraq the odds are he'll get slaughtered anyways. But no, he wants "guarantees." Well I'll tell you what Mr. Bush, I want some guarantees as well. I want a guarantee that I'll have the social security I'm paying for every month. I want a guarantee that my friend JG won't have to go fight somewhere in the middle east when he gets out of the Naval Academy. I want a guarantee that my kids will be able to get a good education without me shelling out $30 g's for a private school. Guarantees shmarantees.

If you have ever spent the time to read the header of my blog, you will know that I have no official association with the truth. What I write is what I write, believe or disbelieve. But sometimes things happen in my life that I really wouldn't expevt you to believe. They're just too funny or absurd to be true. But they are. So when I put these down, I want you to know it's legit. I'll tell you so. So scouts honor, this next one is legitimate. Well as legitimate as you can be when discussion pudding.

Ya, Pudding. I don't really eat pudding, I don't really like pudding. And I certianly rarely discuss pudding. But when I was IMing The Hyphen last night and we were discussing what to do about the TMG, he said he was going to get some pudding. Yum, pudding sounds delicious, I thought. I told him I wished I had some pudding. He said call up the TMG and ask her if she had some pudding. I thought that was stupid. But then I pondered, what if I asked her if she had ever made pudding. You know, to lighten the mood? She clearly wouldn't expect it. I would catch her off guard. She would smile, maybe laugh, then we could get into the good/shitty stuff. Brilliant! You see, sometimes breaking those ingrained patterns of where people think a conversation is going can change their mood at take in a whole new direction. I called. She wasn't there. I left a message. I didn't say anything about pudding.

She called me back an hour later as I was driving to the grocery store. There was small talk. Then I asked, Have you ever made pudding? I smiled thinking how she would answer. What happened next I didn't expect. "what? ya, I am making pudding as we speak. I haven't made it in at least six months. are you outside my window or something?" I was mortified. What the fuck? Great. She is making pudding. Is this a sign? No, now she thinks I am a stalker. The first time we spoke over the phone in 2 weeks and she thinks I am outside her window? Wonderful. I got to the store. I assured her over and over I didn't see her making pudding. It was a total coincidence. She seemed skeptical. I told her I would call her after I got home. There was still much to talk about. Couldn't let the pudding confuse the issues. I got home. I called, she didn't answer. I left another message. She never called back. The Hyphen seems to think the pudding is a sign. A sign? I don't even like pudding.

Monday, June 14, 2004

Over the past couple of days at least 4 or 5 peope I know have found the truth blog. They stumbled up it either by my hinting at its presence or because I just gave them the address. Most of their reaction, "why? Why the hell would you put all this stuff on the internet? Why do you want to write about your friends without them knowing and tell your life to everyone else?" I think they are missing my first and fundamental reason for blogging: it's not for you it's for me! I don't care if anyone reads this crap-yes, most of it is very much crap- I am writing because I want to write, because I don't have great penmanship and because I don't have MS word either. If you read my blog, you won't know me, you will know someone like me. He is my character, traveling through this shit I navigate everyday. This blog is not about friends or about relationships or about work, it's about myself. Or a percieved self. Or a self I would like to be. Or maybe a self I think is just a bit funnier. If I didn't have to include anyone else I wouldn't, but it's essential to understanding my character. So friends, come if you must, read if you want, laugh if you can but don't judge. I am going to keep writing as if I didn't know you were visiting. And you other 2 poor suckers who ended up here by accident, my condolences.

I am sadened to read about Tony P's recent arthritis problems. He is a champion of untruth and a beacon of light shining bright over the blogoshere. I was just beginning to be acquainted with the naunces of his blog and I hope he recovers to give me something to strive for. I wonder if he'll feel empty and sad for a while. I wonder if blogging was his superpower. I wonder if he'll have to settle. I hope not.

Don't have much to lay on you today. I haven't allowed myself out of the appt. yet. I can't write about the world I dont' see. I can tell you about life inside my appartment. The cat and I have come to a certain understanding. You could even say we've bonded. I am not a cat person and he is not a person cat and I think that in our obstinant disdain, we found some common ground. With the exception of a bird named Howie, I have maintained cordial reltionships with most members of the animal kingdom. My 12 year old carnival goldfish became so attached that when I finally left town for an extended period, he no longer had a reason to live. Sad, but true.

It's monday and I'll I can think about is getting out of town at the end of the week. my brain is fried from inactivity. The future me will pray for dead time like this. The present me curses it. Blogging takes endurence. Blogging takes strength. Blogging takes neuroticism. Blogging takes your soul.

Sunday, June 13, 2004

I know a lot of people who have been waiting patiently for today. There were calendars marked, web timers set and risque magazines poised. The Olsen Twins are finally fair game to the millions of single, 18+ men accross the US (and i suppose you Eurotrash as well). New personally I think they could use to put on a couple pounds and drop the tude but hey, if that's your thing more power to you. I think in this picture here they're a little younger and not looking gauntly.

Does MTV add to the degredation of society? I'm watching the movie awards right now. In case you have been living outside the influence of your television set or my Blog, LL is the host. She is still only 17. Viacom isn't even trying to mask the fact that they are targeting prepubescent, video phone toting, brace faced suburbanite children. That's fine. Let the kids crack the the media pressures early. That way I'll be able to control them for the rest of their life. I will be the media mogul.

Last night I worked for the hip catering company once again. I have two unique abilities that allow me to hrive in that business. First, an uncanny amount of common sense. Honestly, that's what gets me places in any business. Everyone needs common sense for things to run smooth. I'm amazed at how stupid and unable to solve simple problems most of you are. Second to my wits is my ability to weild my smile for uncanny periods of time (Say a 12 hour shift). Luckily I'm nt a snaggle tooth and my smile doesn't scare small children. It took this catering company 2 days to realize this. The boss pulled me aside, "You obviously know your way around. Next week, you're captaining a party. And you definitely have a rockstar name" I wish I could tell you my name, but I can't. Trust me though, it will be hard to live up to the precident my name sets. How long did I work for these guys? 2 days motherfuckers. 2 days.

TMG gets back today. Apparently the Almighty Quinn is a bit deeper into her than I originally thought. (despite the fact that he hooked it up with someone else after we went out last thurs and is going on 2 dates this week). Quinn and I have an interesting past of shared girls. Did I tell you the last one we both dated turned out to be a lesbian? Ya, I think I did. Just reaffirming. I decided the TMG is just not worth it. Eventually I would have to deal with the AQ, her ex M and the fact that girl is gonna dump me. I'd crack for sure. I already have cracked. Plus, now the G2K wants to come out here and visit me. Scary. Especially becuase I haven't seen her in so long. What if she got ugly and fat? I'm Superficial? Hello! I'm a guy. I Also met a great girl at work. Being the completely uncoordinated guy I am, when she told me she was a dancer I explained how I couldn't dance but wanted some Usher moves. She invited me to her place sometime for some "dance lessons." I think I'm going to take her up on it. I think she might be a little weirded out when I actually want to learn to dance but I do!

I have wasted away all of Sunday. On the schedule for the week:
Waste Away Monday and Tuesday
Break someone's heart
make a new friend
learn to dance
finish my book
learn how to cook something mexican
reunite with distraught family members
rock out with my cock out
revert to introvert
sing out loud in my car
blog like it's my special purpose

This is the life kids, this is the life.

Saturday, June 12, 2004

I was moonlighting it after work last night. MAgazine doesn't pay the bills. Not yet at least. I used to work for a rediculously high class catering company where we did rediculously high class parties in the city. Now I work for a little operation where it's more laid back, more fun, less work and more $$$. Go figure.

Tonight I work again to pay for The Hyphen's birthday on Thursday night. The Hyphen, JG, The Almighty Quinn, and I took a night on the town. You see, all 4 of us go back a long long time and we rarely get the chance to all be in the same place at the same time. It was a historic and nostalgic moment. All four of us, sitting in a bar, talking about how far we all al come. It is amazing. Well, we then proceeded to make sure Sean got too drunk to even think straight. It only took a margarita, 2 car bombs, 3 beers, one G&T a long island iced tea, and some other drink that I couldn't even name. Giddyup. I had to call it a night after last call to get a few hours sleep before my magazine/catering double headed but from what I heard the Hyphen may or may not have gotten so drunk he had no control over his bodily functions. haha, ewww.

I think the TMG is back in town, or at least will be tomorrow. Haven't had any contact with her in exactly a week now. Standard bull shit. If you scrool down the text messages in my phone they reveal the breakdown. the most recent ones are all G2K, G2K G2K, then a ton of, TMG, TMG, TMG and then before we even got started back to G2K. I heard on the news a few days ago that the phone companies often save all the text messages that are sent. I'm not worried. All the phone company will thnik is that I'm a player. I'm not.

I want to write about politics and science and love and a little about family and then I want to spell check this blog. I want to talk about it all and then I want you to talk back. But I'm tired. My back says no, my hands say no, I'm working for 12 hours straight in 40 minutes. I need to get in the zone. Where your body and your midn start to disconnect. I learned how to do it working 16 hour days for a few weeks in a salmon plant in NOWHERE Alaska. I'm going there. When my head reconnects with my hand, I'll reconnect with you.

Thursday, June 10, 2004

I think this is a very powerful image. It's the motherfucking G8 leaders rolling down the Georgia beach like a posse out of a teeny bopper movie (say eurotrip?). Funny how bush is the one that everyone is a little distanced from. They let him walk out ahead so if anyone asked they weren't technically "with him". I just got out of the shower and am blogging in a towel. I need to change, one sec.

That's better I was sincerely bored out of my mind today at work. I read blogs, about every article on the New York Times and checked out how much it's gonna cost to go see the G2K near NYC. Then I bought a $6 bow tie and rode my bike home. If I don't blog for a few days, I'm sorry. Things are gonna get busy. We are taking The Hyphen out to officially celebrate his birhtday (which was yesterday) and watch him get beligerent tonight. It should be fun. I'm not really feeling the blog today. In fact, today I hate the blog. I have no patience with you. TMG is coming home soon. We'll talk after that. lates

Wednesday, June 09, 2004


Today is The Hyphen's Birthday!! Sadly, he does not know about my blog as it is a highly classified secret. I cannot release the address to my friends for fear that they might be targeted. Happy B-day buddy! The Hyphen is my oldest remaining friend (we go back to actime when our mom's dressed us both in T-shirts 2 sizes too big and shorts 2 sizes too short) and that fact manifests itself in strange ways. Our wits are equally dull and our cinicism unparalleled. Tomorrow night I'm taking him out for some big fun in Crazytown.

Fun is a subjective word. For my 4 and 6 year old cousins who spent the morning with me, the pinnacle of fun is reached when you roll down the grassy hill enough times your brain is ready for a vacation on Bush's Texas Ranch. For them, fun means...well, it just means fun. For me these days fun has taken on a whole new connotation. usual fun comes with wicked hangovers, heart stopping Visa bills and unfamiliar sleeping quarters. Since I have had none of these this week, there must not have been much fun had.

Now I am going to give props to AOL. Yes, you are greedy bastards and no, I don't know what you do with all of the money you get and yes, you may even be a part of the corporation that owns the Super Cool Magazine, but in my life, the greatest invention has been the instant messenger. After the inception of the IM evolved the IM romance. The ability to keep in daily contact with a girl, say, 2000 miles away. There is also the IM hookup. Too shy to call up the girl and ask for a booty call? IM her. Trust me, it can be done.
ME: what's up
ME:can I come over?
ME: guess
Her:play scrable?
ME: only if I have to find the letters first
Her: I'm hiding them as we speak ;-)
ME: see ya in a sec

I saved that IM conversation from about a year ago because it is too classic. Seriously, that's how easy it became. AIM is amazing. Anyone who says otherwise doesn't know how to rock out with his cock out.
One word. Eurotrip. Those Hollywood guys know exactly how much sex to throw at you and they know the sooner the better. It's an amazing flick. Makes me want to backpack Europe. My buddy Tank is bumming around eastern Europe as we speak and offered an open invite. Combine that with a trip to Italy with the G2K and my life might be complete. Unfortunately there is no $$$. The movie also reaffirmed the fact that I love redheaded girls. The main girl in the movie who used to be the little buffy sister is smoking. I don't know why someone like me-with dark hair, dark eyes and tan skin- is attracted to the light skinned, red haired, blueu eyed, freckled girls but I fell sorry for my kids who will end up looking like some crazt half-breeds. Out for a run... a run for fun.

Tuesday, June 08, 2004

I have to admit that when someone does something stupid, I usually take the initiative to voice what my opinion. I am in no way a genius but I was blessed with an uncanny amount of common sense. I think that's why all the geniuses keep me around. So today, when this guy made it all the way through the grocery store, bought $60 worth of food, loaded it all on the conveyor and lets the clerk scan it all before realizing he DOESN'T HAVE HIS WALLET, I was on the verge of a meltdown. When I realized that that asshole holding up the line was me, it didn't help the situation any. I suppose all of us have our moments.
I don't live in Hollywood. I don't watch too much TV. Even still, the internet giants have decied they must make sure I know that David Hasselhole was arrested for a DUI and J. No-not with a ten foot pole- got married. If Mark Anthony takes her far away will I still have to see her face? I am also getting bombarded by ads that Along Came Polly comes out on DV today. You can base the quality of a movie on how many ads are run to cram it down your throat. I was forced to watch this movie on the plane back from Atlantaa few weeks ago. Unfortunately the plane was still on the ground as, in the middle of taking off, the pilot threw on the brakes because the reverse thrust door had opened. Fucking Delta. That scared me shitless. At least we weren't flying out if Boston where the end of the runway is the bay. I love boston but that is one crazy location for an airport. I remember entire days I spent just walking the streets of that city. Luckily I have only been there in the spring and fall so I have fond memories.

I was thinking about submitting an audblog For Tony's big contest. I need to come up with something good and I'm not feeling that motivated.

G2K wants me to come to Italy with her in August. I dunno if she wants me too but she told me I should. If only I had the $$$$. She wants to come here, I want to go there and we both want to go to Italy. Sadly I know none of the three ideas will ever come to fruition.

Apparently my rant about the people in Tampa Bay not being able to stay up for the hockey game last night wasn't too far off. I guess the Tampa Tribune wrote two editorials, one ifthe Lightening won and another if they lost Clearly the game was past their bedtime. Unofrtunately, the editorial that had Tampa losing made its way into a couple thousand papers while everyone was asleep dreaming about the early bird special that would wake them up at 3AM to run to the john. smooth move ex-lax.

Don't feel like checking my spelling. Time to watch my girlfriend on Leno.

Stupid notebook computer. I bumped the network cord around and knocked soemthing loose. Now it has to be held in one stupid position to be online. And now my keyboard broke. Maybe god wishes me not to Blog. Maybe he had bigger plans for me. Maybe he just thinks I am hillarious when I get pissed off.

My new place backs up onto a street that is busier than I thought. I have to listen to cars all day long. It is stressful. But I can still ride my bike to work. I am not a hippie.

How come jewish guys never know how to talk to girls? I was watching some crazy movie last night which proved this point. I have also seen it and experienced it first hand. I think we are just genetically engineered to be completely akward around girls so that we spend more time making the $$.(and taking over the world right under the noses of you unwitting jesus-lovers, muwahaha!) I consider the fact that I had as many girlfriends as I've had a miracle. It doesn't matter how good looking you are, being a jew means you can't talk to girls. I just realized I have never actually dated a jewish girl. hmmm. all those goyem.

Fucking Tampa Bay lightening. Hockey is really the only sport of the big 4 (baseball, football, basketball and hockey) that I watch, and though Dave Andreychuck probably deserved it most, I really wanted to see Calgary go home with the Cup. Maybe it's that they're from the west. Maybe it's that they're from Canada. Maybe it's just because fucking florida shouldn't even have a hockey team. How many people in that state could even stay up late enough to watch the game before they needed to reapply some polydent so that when they were screaming because they couldn't see the puck on their giant TV their dentures don't fall out? Sorry. Congratulations Tampa. You won fair and square.

I think we are moving beyond the introductory stage of this blog into talking about way more meaningless subjects. I don't pretend to know what the hell went down in the 80's during the Regan administration like Tony because I really wasn't old enough care that the Berlin wall fell or the deficit exploded. When you're younger, you have a deep faith in the people of the world. There are so many people smarter than you and you assume that, after thousands and thousands of years, our civilization has figured out a brilliant and peaceful way to coexist. And slowly, as you realize what the world is truly like, it becomes terrifying. Nothing is certain.

Enter alcohol.
I'll think up more later.

Monday, June 07, 2004

Last night was Sunday night and, after a day of doing very little, I thought, "why not sit on my ass and watch a movie?" I wanted soemthing good so I wrangled up Good Will Hunting, definitely in the running for my favorite movie list,from a friend. First, don't ever watch that movie on TV. It's a brilliant flick and without the colorful Boston language it just isn't the same. Also, don't jump in partway. The movie's going to have an affect on you if you get involved at the start. Tuning in just as Robin Williams is hugging Matt Damon doesn't count. The craziest thing about the movie that hit me last night was a speach Will gives to the NSA guys about why he refuses to be a code-cracker. (about an hour and 33 minutes in, if you wanna check it out). His speach covers foreign wars, job outsourcing, oil prices and retarded presidents in a brilliant way. It's way ahead of its time and both more pertinant and funnier today. If there is one part of the movie you can watch without having to watch the whole thing, it's that speach. you have my permission.You can also go HERE and scroll most of the way down ff you want to read it right now.(DO IT!)

Went to the store to get some milk this morning. There is clearly a dairy conspiracy. Why is the milk always in the back? It's because they know you came just for the milk but if you have to walk by everything else there is no way to avoid being distracted. I am a chump so I bought some raspberries. I also find it insane that milk has its entire own marketing campaign based around Got Milk? and the strength of my bones. How about, "got pesticide residue and artificial hormones? If you are one of those people who drinks milk like water, congratulations, you are ensuring that the rest of us won't have to worry about finding nice florida townhomes or breathing our air when we are retired.

G2K IM'd me today. "Big Problems. We need to chat. I'm calling you this afternoon." Still waiting for the IM, "what a wonderful day I just had, can I call you and tell u about it?" I don't think people's minds work that way back east. Apparently everyone is talking about basketball and not about hockey despite the fact that tonight, the Stanley Cup will be awarded. Granted, no one gives a Fuck about Calgary and even less of a fuck about Tampa Bay but c'mon, it's the Stanley Cup. These guys actually work for their living while the Lakers are on easy street. Half the people watching the Lakers game are just waiting to see what famous celeb is sitting in the front row anyhow and probably hoping to see one of them picking their nose. I would be deathly afraid of picking my nose if I were famous. Or when I am famous.

I "borrowed" the newish Dave Matthews solo CD some Devil and it definitely got me all chilled out. I never understood those people who absolutely HATE Dave Matthews. I am in no way a huge Dave fan and have never gone to one of his concerts but I can enjoy it every once in a while. It's relaxing. Granted a lot of it does sound the same but I'm not saying go out and buy all his CD's. I sure didn't. I just want to say to those people who hate dave, "so you must be really uptight because all listening to Dave Matthews does is help you relax. Do you never relax? Is it possible for u to listen to punk rock and heavy metal 24 hours a day?" Is that unreasonable? You can dislike Dave but if you hate him you need to reevaluate your stance on life.

I am officially moved into the new pad. Now when the TMG comes back and says, "that was just a one night thing and I don't really want to see you anymore"I can at least say I no longer live with her ex. I haven't called her yet. I was thinking about doing soething EDish(please tell me you saw Ed before it ended) like buy a little foot keychain and leave a note for when she gets back like, "I think we got off on the wrong foot." Cheesy, I know, but don't girls like that kind of thing? If there are any girls reading, could you help a brother out?

I am getting lazier. I am getting addicted to blogging. I am starting to settle. Soon things will be upside down.

Sunday, June 06, 2004

K, so it's a slow day and for some reason there is not a shortage of things to say. I was out and about for a while enjoying the summer but once I returned the battle between Sete Gibernau and Valentino Rossi sucked me in. Marco Mlandri might be a guy to watch as well. do you know what it's like to go from 210 mph to 60 mph in under 4 seconds while skimming inches of the ground? Neither do I. that's why I need a ride.(and the seeds of superpowers are planted once again) I should have been born Italian. It would have worked out a lot better for me. The sports, the language, the ladies. viva Italia.

I decided today I need to live the high life at some point soon. I'm got to live in L.A. or NYC for at least a year. Maybe a year each. It's inevitable. There's just something about living at the center of it all. My friend told me the other day that there'sw going to be a really big earthquake in CA before this September so I don't think I'll be going out there any time soon. Of course NYC is never free of danger. It's a risk I'm willing to take. I'm talking about living the high life but inside my head I'm still wondering what 210 mph feels like on 2 wheels. Actually, I more curious what the g-force feels like on a 60 mph turn with my knee on the ground. I guess it's a testosterone thing.

I'm a little sad because I think I'm losing Lindsay. Ever since she was on SNL things haven't been quite the same and now that the MTV Movie Awards are close, she doesn't have any time to spend with me anymore. I guess it's better that way right now. I have been taking a lot of flack lately because everyone says she got implants. It's true. but we go back way back way before that so chill mamas. As long as Ashton doesn't try anything at the awards there's no problem. Fuck. Rain delay in the motoGP. Bust out the rain tires. Here we go. Moto GP in the rain. Now that is actually, certifiably insane. Anyone who can help me either learn to race superbikes or live the NYC/LA high life should definitely give me a shout out. Lates
P.S. I might have to change my name here because I'm afraid of the sensitive material contained within. if anyone at work, friends or family stumble accross this blog, it would be pretty obvious to them who this sad blogger is. Point is, if the name changes, don't worry, it will still be me.

Holy crap. One more thing. Great Article. Read This Article.

Soft Lips

Today I decided to take a self-guided tour around the blogosphere. Being a relatively new member, there was still plenty out there to explore and every writer must first be a reader. damn kids. I had a few thoughts. First, you all are crazy. I can't believe some of the stories, pictures, photologs, commentaries, pretty girls and oddities that I unearthed. Second, there are plenty of kick ass writers out there. You all are definitely representing and it scares me. I thought I might be able to make some kind of living with a pen and paper but with all of you around the bar has been raised. I just hope you don't realize it. I also found that there are a lot of young people who are realizing the brilliance of blogs and sharing them with their friends. I enjoy peeking into your lives and finding all to many people willing to post pictures of themselves and their friends for me to spy on. I mean c'mon, we are all kind of peeping toms when we read the blogs. That's why blogs are written. They're screaming, "HEY, come look at my life! give me some validation!" Everyone loves to feel validated so soon there will be so many blogs, that we will all get lost in the exponentially increasing virtual insanity of the blog. That's fine. I'm used to being lost.

So lets get lost. This weekend I was planning to move into yet another appt. due, in no small part, to the fact that I am currently residing with M, TMG's ex. Unfortunately today, the cat who resides at my new accomodations is having separating anxiety from my new room's previous occupant who left 2 days ago. the cat, having seniority, gets to stay in his room tonight and I was told I can't move until tomorrow. At the risk of offending some of you, I don't really like cats. I also don't not like cats. I am impartial. I think the cats are equally impartial with regards to me so we're even. Anyhow, tomorrow I will move.

Last night I got together with JG, The Hyphen and The Almighty Quinn and watched a much longer hockey game than I hoped to see. The NHL has clearly rigged the playoffs to go to 7 games in order to maximize the $$$ they get from beer companies trying to convince me that their light beer is superior in taste, carbs and patriotism. Here's a hint beer companies: Regardless of whether you are the king or president of beers, it is physically impossible for us to drink any more beer. We drink the maximum amount of beer 4 men can consume. Save your $$ or at least come up with something to make me laugh.

Last night I text messaged the TMG. Did I tell u that she didn't want to hang out until after she gets back from Tennessee next sat? I think she is regretful. Things shouldn't have gone down the way they did. Our timetable for a relationship to develop was a couple weeks longer but something that wasn't supposed to happen happened last tuesday night. I am stuck in the middle in a bad way. I think she has some issues with M still so, rather than call her, I sent a text message to test the water. Usually her replies are playful but last night she was pretty short and to the point. Maybe she's tires or maybe she feels stupid. I don't think I am going to write her again. We may be done. JG, the Hyphen and I went out for some sushi happy hour after the game and, after a lengthy discussion, decided that at this point in life, it's better to date a girl you kind of like rather then one you are head over heels for. I know that sounds bad but it does kinda make sense. I'd rather have some fun and not have that pain in my stomach every time she doesn't call or sends me a shitty text message. It's not worth it right now. I need a girl I don't have to call for 2 weeks and she doesn't mind and when I call to tell her I was really busy she just says, "ya, me too". I like the TMG too much. It scares me. Maybe she is scared too. I think maybe she likes me too much. That would be sad if it ended because there was so many feelings it hurt.

The universe works in mysterious ways. JG, The Hyphen and I had left the sushi bar and were walking home via the ped mall when this group of 4 girls approached us. They were on a scavenger hunt and needed one of them to kiss a stranger on the lips. Of course, my friends knew I was thinking to hard about boy girl thing so they offered me up. "This kid needs a good kiss" JG said and thrust me forward. The girl was mildly attractiv but she had big lips and I was not one to say no to a good old scavenger hunt. We kissed just long enough for the camera to snap a shot of proof (about 3 seconds) and just long enough for me to realize this girl had the softest lips I had ever felt. I wasn't getting a hard-on or anything, It was just surprising. And awkward. There was a moment of awkwardness I think about 2 seconds in when we both realized we were kind of enjoying it. Why am I telling you this? I dunno. Sometimes we all have moments we don't expect. Anyhow, we went home, I got a call from the G2K and that was that. What next? I'll forget the TMG, the cat will chill out, I will move, the Stanley Cup will be awarded, the G2K will still be 2K miles away the blogosphere will consume the entire internet, GW will fuck our country up some more, JG will still be a republican, Bud will still be the king of beer, I will still be superpowerless and all that while the girl on the mall will still have the softest lips. Until tomorrow.

Saturday, June 05, 2004

I made a promise yesterday and I intend to deliver. I don't want to say anything about the TMG today except that last night, The Hyphen came over and the two of us had a nice log chat about it. I'm gonna let things cool off this week while she is out of town and drop the bombs over Baghdad when she return at the end of next week.

That said, lets talk about Superman. I take that back, let's talk about Smallville. Why Smallville? Here we can see Superman in his teen angst years, coming to terms with his responsibility and sacrifice. The kid is fucking Superman, but with that power comes a certain necessity for moral responsibility. His power becomes a source of pain. It becomes a way for him to shut himself out from the world. He can't be with Lana Lang because he knows he needs to focus himself on saving people and because he knows it will hurt her in the end. So he is resigned, like all men consumed by their work or a greater purpose, to eventually shut out the rest of the world and rely purely on his own faculties. It's inevitable. You must resign yourself to solitude.

Why the hell do you think Superman is still so popular? Or any Superhero for that matter? The girls don't have a clue but the guys all know. Every guy who has ever lived wanted, at some point, to be a superhero. When he is a little kid that's all he dreams about. But I think that , eventually, all men settle and move on with their lives. But there is always the latent superhero buried deep within. Superman Never has to settle. But what would happen if one day he were forced to settle? Or maybe he wanted to settle. Sure, for a few weeks it would be great. He would call up Lana, he would take her out he would hang out with his friends and life would feel normal. But life would not be normal. He would be stuck as Clark Kent. Soon he would feel purposeless and depressed and would start to get bogged down in the monotony of the daily drone. "I was fucking Superman!" he would think to himself, but it made no difference now. He would want to run away. He would have to face his true self.

Just like every other male in America, I let those superdreams infect my thoughts. When I was a kid growing up, it was Thundercats or Transformers or Spiderman. Slowly all those faded away and I watch that glimmer of superhero greatness in my friend's eyes dwindle and suffocate. They were all driven, smart and amazing people, but they knew that superheros they weren't. My flame dwindled to a mere flicker, but somehow it survived. And when I found my super cool sports activity, it found a host and it lay quietly, laying little seeds of superherodom. And I didn't want to listen but I did. The flame grew slowly and so did my talent. A few years later, the true colors began to show. I was getting good. People's jaws dropped, they rubbernecked as I went by and slowly but surely, I was a superhero. It got inside my head. When I took of my gear and was Clark Kent, no one had a clue. But I couldn't let my guard down even as CK. I was a superhero. It consumed me. I got to travel , I got to showcase my skills and the smart, driven guy inside took a backseat. He was watching. He said "fuck it. I'm a superhero. Who cares about anything else?" I rode that wave for a long time. I didn't need a girlfriend. I became cut off from the world and it was OK, I was a superhero. It was a drug. Then, this April. I decided I was done. I needed to move on. I had to break the habit. I hadn't had a serious girlfriend in the 6 years, I hadn't had a real job, I hadn't made any plans for the future (and I hadn't needed any of these things because I was set). I stopped being smart and creative and productive. It was a trap. So I swallowed some kryptonite and I was CK permanently. (the fact that I am also a journalist is a coincidence, I swear). But CK didn't have much. He was kind of a loner because he had become pretty one dimensional. The Sport was the depth, and without that, where was the excitement. Was I anything without my superpower? I began to piece things back together. I Started at the magazine, reconnected with old friends and tried to imagine a future being normal, growing old, working 9 to 5 and falling in love. I was settling, I was just doing it quite a few years later then all my friends. So that's where this blog began. I had to chronicle. I needed somewhere to piece things back together. Here I am. Really, I think it is more interesting that watching CK chase Lana around for 4 seasons with no resolution, but I'll let you be the judge.

Whew! That was a lot. If brevity is the soul of wit then I am an imbecil. Tomorrow I'll get back to the fun stuff. Have I broke a promise yet?

Friday, June 04, 2004

Today I woke up, the sun was shining, the air was clear and I felt like crap. Maybe I'll walk to work, I thought. Yes, what a brilliant Idea, that will be sure to clear my head. Of course as I walk, my mind has time to work its pessimistic magic. That is why recently I have adopted a policy of pounding my brain into submission. If my brain is forced into pure input mode, it can't come up with ways to twist things around. If I'm not working I'm reading- if I'm not reading I'm watching- if I'm not watching I'm drinking- and If I'm not drinking I'm blogging. (or as last night went, both drinking and blogging) Pure imput. Wait, blogging isn't input, blogging is output. And yet it isn't hurting me, it's helping. Blogging is creation. Blogging is giving birth.

This morning I took a work field trip down to one of the Super Cool Magazine's photo shoots to check out the scene. It was wholly unexciting as there were no models in the shoot, merely gear. Oh well, so it goes. I returned to the office to make phone calls, check facts, edit articles, etc. etc. when I felt something squirming inside me. What the hell was that, bad gas? NO! I was pregnant! There was a blog inside of me ready to be born! But I was at work and blogging at work is strictly verboten. what could I do? I could at least visit my blog. After all, no one at work would know that I was the creator, even if somehow they found me looking at it. (well, they could actually probably connect the dots). I checked my blog and there was my shimmering beacon of light! A comment . My first. Huzzah! I opened the comment:

"tony said...
that pic is a classic.
i hope people make a poster of it.
feel free to "steal" it.
it says 10,000 words."

Then I had to go to the bathroom and change my underwear because my one comment was from Tony ! I suppose if one person is reading my blog he is the one I would want. (Well, either Him or Mr. T) "I pity the foo who hasn't been to the The Truth Blog!"

Anyhoo, my day being brightened by Tony's visit and George T's resignation--which we all know will end up making G.W. look like a fool-- I was ready to go out and enjoy. I did. The end.

Huh? What do you mean I forgot something? Disastrous relationship details or gratuitous sex? Look, my life has little of both of these so maybe you shouldn't expect it everyday.....Alright, fine, I'll tell you. You see, last night, the reason my blog contained so many errors was because I went out for more than my fair share of cocktails. Now I am usually pretty controlled when it comes to substance abuse but I had something on my mind. I needed input. As it turns out, M (once again, TMG's ex for those of you who haven't been keeping up) had planned to meet the TMG downtown at her office o say goodbye and take her to dinner because she leaves town for a week tomorrow and he leaves to NYC for the summer before she gets back. The plans were made a while ago and, if you haven't already guessed, M still has feelings for the TMG whether she reciprocates or not. (and the verdict is still out on whether she does.)

Now I had told the TMG that I was not going to bring up what happened between us with him and she agreed with me. So the past few days, I have been living with M, he has told me their backstory and I have nodded my head and acted concerned like I barely even know the girl. Shit. What if, in the middle of dinner, the TMG consumes a few too many magaritas and suddenly has a weak moment and reveals to M our night of fun. Shit. He would kill me. The guy invited me into his home and that very same night I go home with his ex- girlfriend. He might kill me. So I ran away and drank. And then I came home and blogged. My blogging was disasterous but M came home just as he had left. He was either plotting my death in secret or she hadn't told him anything. I was safe...for now.

Alright, that's all I have for now. Now that the TMG is out of town, we can get down to business. Tomorrow's topic: superhero's, being one, losing your superpower and learning to settle. Don't worry, I'll make it interesting.

Thursday, June 03, 2004

One day someone is going to figure out the equation. When that day comes, life as we know it won't be the same. You see, there are patterns in the way we act. All patterns have equations so there MUST be an all-seeing equation for life. Above, bush was attempting to extrapolate this equation when steam started to shoot from his ears and the top of his head. Ya, it is probably a sin to steal pictures off of someone else's blog but I'm soo sorry, Tony, it is just too damn hillarious and I think as many people should see it as possible.He is our president for christ sake. Anyways, back to equations and patterns. I realized today when I had once again fallen into my patterns. I was sitting there editing an article at the Supper Cool Magazine by P.J. O'Rourke. Now first of all, a writer like PJ has no need to be edited, so all I was really doing was just enjoying the non-political piece. Second, don't think that telling you the author's name is any indication of what the Super Cool Magazine is because, trust me, it's not.

Anyhow, there I was, passively working as it hit me. I always thought "a ton of bricks" was a stupid simile, but as I sat there I was wishing that maybe a ton of brick really would hit me and free me from what is going down. Then you all could write me sympathy notes, send flowers and come visit me by my bedside. I would also have an excuse for not working out like I am anyways. I was thinking about last night, when M, my new roomie (ex of TMG) and I hit the whiskey and then the mini-golf course. We look so similar that people just assumed we were brother out for a game of sibling rivalry (rather than two flaming homosexuals or two guys who couldn't even find a date for mini-golf). He proceeded to tell me about his 6 months in another country last year and how, after dating for 2 years, he returned stateside when the TMG unexpectedly cut him loose nearly six months ago. "don't make any plans around girls" he reassured me. (Obviously I hadn't or I wouldn't be living with him as we speak). I also seemed to recall the TMG saying that she hadn't had anyone besides me in her bed in at least 6 months.
IT was happening again.
I am the rebound guy.

She hadn't been with anyone since she broke it off with M. I have been down this path before and it is not a fun one to stumble. In fact, this is very not fun. So the TMG and me...well...she's out of town for 10 days. But after that I think we might have come and gone. Wait. She might have come and gone but I definitely never came. Which reminds me, a note to the ladies: yes we love to play with you and, yes, dry humping is always better than nothing but trust me, it doesn't do for us what it does for you. We kind of do it as a necessary step. Please throw us a fricking bone and give us a little help. You don't understand the pain. Yikes, Maybe a little too graphic. Oh well, if I lose the TMG and all of you at least I have LL. She understands me and my bad ways.
Desperately waiting until we can put this shit behind and chat about real stuff...What? This is better than the real stuff? You're sick.

Wednesday, June 02, 2004

My life is not a soap opera

Or at least it wasn't. I promise. Then I moved out of my not so quaint little mountain town and back to reality. You see, for the last 7 years I was lost in my mountain adventure. I didn't live in the mountains all that time but my activity kept me out of trouble and out of harm's way. Now I have nothing holding me back. That's why last night I went to the bar to meet my new roomie (TMG's ex) for a few drinks before I moved in. What a coincidence, TMG was there. I talked with him, I talked with her and I broke to her the news that I was going to be staying with him for a while. (strangely enough, he and I look eerily alike). Anyways, him and I made a quick exit to unpack my stuff when TMG sent me a message telling her I had to meet her at the piano bar before the night ended. Check.

Cut to dueling piano bar. There is no longer any shadow of doubt with the TMG. She likes me. She wants me. Shit. We drink, I attempt to dance and when the time came to close, I walked her home. We couldn't go past my place so we went right to hers.

The thing is, I don't konw TMG that well so we laid on the couch talking. It was an uncomfotable couch so when she suggested we head to her bedroom, my back couldn't argue. Despite the lack of real chase, I enjoyed myself. You see, all year in the mountain town I was driven enough to keep myself completely under control and sleeping in my own bed alone. I have this disgusting ability to make girls fall in love with me too quickly and I watched it happen last night with the TMG faster than usual. I'm not being cocky, I'm just being honest. Look, don't argue with me, I'm not saying she fell hopelessly in love with me right then and there. I'm just saying sometimes when you lok at her and you want her to be thinking nasty things she is thinking marriage, car, house, retirement and a double cemetary plot. It scared me but we were still in the bliss zone so I rolled with it. I also rolled to work with 3 hours sleep today. yikes. I called the TMG to tell her I wanted to see her this afternoon before she leaves tomorrow for a 10 day trip to TN but she refused, citing that until I moved out of my current living situation we were "on hold". She ruined the free movie weekend. So welcome to my life after secret mountain activity. Up and down emotions and love triangles with a chance of showers. Maybe I can give you some more back story tomorrow. Maybe not.

Tuesday, June 01, 2004

First off, JG is the man. Dating a teacher is sexy, especially one from our old elementary school. Not only is she a beautiful teacher, she loves our sport and apparently shares his completely moralistic and conservative lifestyle. As for me, I depend on E! and MTV to decide my morals. That is why tomorrow I move in with the text message girl's ex and why LL and I make such a great pair. It's our complete and utter lack of morals when we are hitting the town with Paris and Nikki or wearing low cut shirts in front of the paparazzi. I haven't heard from the G2K for a couple days, which is probably for the best. Last time we talked she said I need to come out there and roll to a Conan taping. I think it would be worth it.

Obviosly I am a ways west of NYC. I am grappling with the idea of revealing my city just because it will make my story more fun but I'm not there yet. Keep posted.