The counter did just that during the day and slept at night. Breathe, keeping breathing don;t lose your perennial indifference.
Yes, she cried in the classrom. After the lecture, she sang us a song to keep us warm.
Prolix, prolific prolix around the Internet carnival. The constant blogger shouting in the empty echooo.
Ennui, ennui, ennui, ennui until you crash and born and become reborn. And then he'll/we';; be ready to ask where the[irrrrr
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Who's that man in the other end of the cup? Starring back at me. Kinetoscope eyes, trying to escape.
And he comes only after everything is drunk. Still icy eyes looking at me when I am done with my drink.
Does he look for something in me? I, in turn, wouldn't want to be his friend. Yet every time he's there, trying, trying to look
in the right place until we become one.
And he comes only after everything is drunk. Still icy eyes looking at me when I am done with my drink.
Does he look for something in me? I, in turn, wouldn't want to be his friend. Yet every time he's there, trying, trying to look
in the right place until we become one.
Monday, March 29, 2010
When you;re surrounded by orange, stuck in the war of robots. It takes a lot of juice to get on with the drastic challenges.
And they don't think about the fort. No little boy peeping through the corner under the sheets into the darkness. He;s selling stocks on the night exchange before meeting his whore for coffee.
In the year of the future they'll stop using numbers instead reference points or arbitrary locales resembling the nearest holiday. People will be friendly in an unkind way. All smells will be pleasant. A mesiah will come, whom the Jews will deny, and he shall tweet his peeps his/hers message of peace and fraternity. Later to find out it was an internet credit scam. Sex will be faster and better. Porn will substitute the late shows after the nightly news. Three new sports will be invented all involving animals. Cats will be worshipped in TIbet. Some things will be so cool they can really blow your mind away. Most monkeys will talk and write, primarily for teen magazines. Interspecies dating will be the new "taboo." Lost will have a reunion show 50 years later and explain everything. Making something with your hands will come to mean writing a sweet code for a robot/program. Opera will make a mainstream splash in a big way. Also, letter writing will be cache. George W.H.F. Bush will be president. We'll have the first Indian president shortly after. By this time, evolution would have produces a couple extra fingers for better typing. Most people will have an iHome and an iCar. Corporations will be heavily regulated after the two corporate world wars. The moon will be smaller and closer.
And they don't think about the fort. No little boy peeping through the corner under the sheets into the darkness. He;s selling stocks on the night exchange before meeting his whore for coffee.
In the year of the future they'll stop using numbers instead reference points or arbitrary locales resembling the nearest holiday. People will be friendly in an unkind way. All smells will be pleasant. A mesiah will come, whom the Jews will deny, and he shall tweet his peeps his/hers message of peace and fraternity. Later to find out it was an internet credit scam. Sex will be faster and better. Porn will substitute the late shows after the nightly news. Three new sports will be invented all involving animals. Cats will be worshipped in TIbet. Some things will be so cool they can really blow your mind away. Most monkeys will talk and write, primarily for teen magazines. Interspecies dating will be the new "taboo." Lost will have a reunion show 50 years later and explain everything. Making something with your hands will come to mean writing a sweet code for a robot/program. Opera will make a mainstream splash in a big way. Also, letter writing will be cache. George W.H.F. Bush will be president. We'll have the first Indian president shortly after. By this time, evolution would have produces a couple extra fingers for better typing. Most people will have an iHome and an iCar. Corporations will be heavily regulated after the two corporate world wars. The moon will be smaller and closer.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Romans did it again.
Every time we think we've discovered something really cool. You know, this is our thing. There's always a Roman around the corner to remind you otherwise. Romuluuuuusss damn you!!
The origin of pwnage/pwn/pwned/pwnedo-loco ; Ῥώμη meaning bravery, courage.
The origin of pwnage/pwn/pwned/pwnedo-loco ; Ῥώμη meaning bravery, courage.
Stay Tuned. Next week is the moment you've been waiting for. The Discovery Channel in partnership with National Geographic and HP Pavilion invites you into a special journey. A trip where no man has been.
The Discovery Channel presents in Dolby 10.3 Super Digital Sound, 3-D; Into the Wild Side: What is Inside Your Ass.
Journey through the dark passages of your colon, discover new life, explore the unknown. 8 p.m. Eastern time.
This just in. Hot from the newswire, whatdaya say Charlie? Have I told em? Well, I was about to but then you interrupted. ... ..Necktie? Sure, I'll bring it to dinner. We are still on for tonight, aren't we? ... ... .Ah, very well. O yes! This just in.
Scientist have caught the reading gene coming out of the gay genes' plasmic house. Genealogist and book critics are scattering to understand what it all means. Will there be an increase in homo-lit? Will the gays start reading in a collective furor, thus becoming mini-gay geniuses and take over popular culture for good? Will women be crazing for a juicy dickity dick? Will hetero-cocks be quarantined and exploited?
The answers after the break.
The Discovery Channel presents in Dolby 10.3 Super Digital Sound, 3-D; Into the Wild Side: What is Inside Your Ass.
Journey through the dark passages of your colon, discover new life, explore the unknown. 8 p.m. Eastern time.
This just in. Hot from the newswire, whatdaya say Charlie? Have I told em? Well, I was about to but then you interrupted. ... ..Necktie? Sure, I'll bring it to dinner. We are still on for tonight, aren't we? ... ... .Ah, very well. O yes! This just in.
Scientist have caught the reading gene coming out of the gay genes' plasmic house. Genealogist and book critics are scattering to understand what it all means. Will there be an increase in homo-lit? Will the gays start reading in a collective furor, thus becoming mini-gay geniuses and take over popular culture for good? Will women be crazing for a juicy dickity dick? Will hetero-cocks be quarantined and exploited?
The answers after the break.
Ah, hello there didn't see you come in. Welcome. And, good morning to my Southern Hemisphere audience. And, to you Chinese...for shame. You know what you did! Oh, you know very well. Never knew Shin-Shin had it in her to do such...
Anyway, to the pressing manner this evening, afternoon or morning. There's an epidemic among us. Of biblical, King James version, proportions. A sickness, mental that be, is spreading throughout the great continent of Florida and the United States at large. A madness of sorts that strikes around 12:10 and last until late evening. It's key targets, for some unbeknownst reason are males 18-42, with televisions and/or Internet connections, wireless capabilities and time. This madness is detrimental to society at large and it is trying to decay the fabric of our good-hearted society from within. To achieve this, the March Madness as it has branded itself (it seems the virus/sickness has retained a PR team, a group of corporate lawyers, publicist, stylist and media aggregator. It is to be rendered that this is the first known case of a virus acquiring corporate status. Market watchers had big plans for HIV/AIDS in the late 80s late 90s but little HIV/AIDS decided to go onto third-world countries where hosting a body is cheaper and abundant. Economics, however, are quick to point the niche marketing helped spread their disease but failed to target the most desired demographics which uncoincidentally are males between 18-42. And while cancer has been the IT disease of the decade and has shown to be relentless in its inconvenience and peskiness, it is getting rather old. Critics are already calling the March Madness the disease en vogue. But, If you fall outside the aforementioned range , if you are of the female prerogative, if you align yourself with the gheys, if you are a dog or believe to be special, are special or are related or know Sarah Palin you are safe and you can stop reading this.
Dear Males 18-42, we must stand, altogether now. Dozie, dough, and around we go. After, we must stop being the silent majority. For it is for us, males 18-42 most cool things are invented. Internet; for thou to wachest the sweet porno and play sweet video games and sometimes pwange thou will in poker. Cars; for thou to go fast, in a shiny, aerodynamic rhombus. the iLife; for thou to hear sweet tunes. Let me go as far as the antediluvian, wheel; for thou to create the car and balls to play with. Tits; for thou to play and fondle. Indisputable, air tight argument for why we are the cause to the world's coolest effects. This March Madness is trying to do us in.
First, a waltz. And go. Now, the signs. Roll film... "Hey Doc, How the Heck Do I Know I Have the March Madness?" Starring: Rita Haywood.
-Does your sense of time and purpose become hazy around the third week of March?
-Having rendered personal hygiene is important; do you stop caring about your health and/ or personal hygiene.
-Do have a certain desire to name your children a namesake including "Qu" "De" "La" "Ja" "Ty" or "Sh"
-Are social connections, talking to people, seeing the sun insignificant?
-Do you lie at night and think about me? (Just curious, that's all)
-How much wood would those small birds chuck if it were able to?
If you answered yes to 73.3 percent of the above then you have the March Madness. May Bilas be with you.
Anyway, to the pressing manner this evening, afternoon or morning. There's an epidemic among us. Of biblical, King James version, proportions. A sickness, mental that be, is spreading throughout the great continent of Florida and the United States at large. A madness of sorts that strikes around 12:10 and last until late evening. It's key targets, for some unbeknownst reason are males 18-42, with televisions and/or Internet connections, wireless capabilities and time. This madness is detrimental to society at large and it is trying to decay the fabric of our good-hearted society from within. To achieve this, the March Madness as it has branded itself (it seems the virus/sickness has retained a PR team, a group of corporate lawyers, publicist, stylist and media aggregator. It is to be rendered that this is the first known case of a virus acquiring corporate status. Market watchers had big plans for HIV/AIDS in the late 80s late 90s but little HIV/AIDS decided to go onto third-world countries where hosting a body is cheaper and abundant. Economics, however, are quick to point the niche marketing helped spread their disease but failed to target the most desired demographics which uncoincidentally are males between 18-42. And while cancer has been the IT disease of the decade and has shown to be relentless in its inconvenience and peskiness, it is getting rather old. Critics are already calling the March Madness the disease en vogue. But, If you fall outside the aforementioned range , if you are of the female prerogative, if you align yourself with the gheys, if you are a dog or believe to be special, are special or are related or know Sarah Palin you are safe and you can stop reading this.
Dear Males 18-42, we must stand, altogether now. Dozie, dough, and around we go. After, we must stop being the silent majority. For it is for us, males 18-42 most cool things are invented. Internet; for thou to wachest the sweet porno and play sweet video games and sometimes pwange thou will in poker. Cars; for thou to go fast, in a shiny, aerodynamic rhombus. the iLife; for thou to hear sweet tunes. Let me go as far as the antediluvian, wheel; for thou to create the car and balls to play with. Tits; for thou to play and fondle. Indisputable, air tight argument for why we are the cause to the world's coolest effects. This March Madness is trying to do us in.
First, a waltz. And go. Now, the signs. Roll film... "Hey Doc, How the Heck Do I Know I Have the March Madness?" Starring: Rita Haywood.
-Does your sense of time and purpose become hazy around the third week of March?
-Having rendered personal hygiene is important; do you stop caring about your health and/ or personal hygiene.
-Do have a certain desire to name your children a namesake including "Qu" "De" "La" "Ja" "Ty" or "Sh"
-Are social connections, talking to people, seeing the sun insignificant?
-Do you lie at night and think about me? (Just curious, that's all)
-How much wood would those small birds chuck if it were able to?
If you answered yes to 73.3 percent of the above then you have the March Madness. May Bilas be with you.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
There's been one mighty event, spanning millenniums, that has gelled all creeds, colors, sexes, ethnicities, mammals, reptiles, arthropods,crustaceans, and miscellaneous etc., etc, together into am eco-friendly goo of freedom, equality, and fraternity. (Fun fact: that's where France's motto originates.) In fact, nations, wars, and traditions have been spawned over the greatness that is March Madness.
To understand and truly appreciate March Madness one must know its history as well as the proper way to celebrate the sportif jubilee. Ergo, I present the
"Beginner's Guide to March Madness: A Comprehensive History and its Zany Rituals."
You're surely asking yourself; where the FX does March Madness come from? Is it simply because a bunch of collegiate basketball games are played in March?! And the answer is NO!! This is why you'll be glad you've read this and be ridden of the latent-ignorance cocoon that is/was your March Madness IQ.
The namesake of March Madness originated in a simpler time; Roman Empire times to be exact. March Madness is sportif war, there will be no tomorrow for the hesitant. Damocle's sword looms over each team. No matter whether they're from a fruitful nation(major conference) or a so-so-meh-WTF is Sienna- nation (mid-majors). And heavy lies the crown on the No. 1 seeds (which was the main point of Love & Basketball and Shakepeare's Henry IV). Naturally, our long gone and removed Roman forefathers, being the apt chaps they were, initiated the tournament on the month of war.
Sure, the spring is in bloom, kids are outside playing, the friendly neighbor is gardening the lilies before washing your car (in my head I live in the Andy Griffin Show, leave me alone!) All is bright and well. Err, wrong! March is a time for motherfucking war..ohh yeeahh. March, you see, is a synonym for Mars, the Roman god war.(Ugh, oohh what is it good for? Absolutely everything) What better time to pick up a pointy metal stick and jam it down someone's cavities than the sweet spring time. Surely, dying in good weather is much better than dying in dimly-lit weather. Ah, Romans. So ahead of their time in many barbaric ways.
Now, onto the latter of the namesake; Madness. The MAD from Madness stems from the MAD doctrine, or Mutual Assured Destruction doctrine in which each side has enough power to destroy each other, unleashing a hellish game or a bitter stale mate. A correlation to the unpredictability of the wars/games ahead. The Ness is not merely a suffix but a direct reference to...wait for it....wait some more...the Loch Ness Monster. Which segways into the origin of March Madness and basketball at large.
"When Fortuna Met Hermes"
It was a lovely day in the Scottish highlands. The mist from the loch mystified the surrounding coast. Perfect for a walk. Fortuna, a pretty and lucky girl was on vacation with her parents from Greece. She walked in long deliberate steps along the foggy lake, half bored, half amazed. Around the bend she saw an athletic figure running toward her. It was a young man, whom seemed full of vigor and possessed a naughty twinkle in his eyes. Upon reaching Fortuna, the young man introduced himself as Hermes. The lively stranger intrigued Fortuna. And, beside she was bored. He told her he was a messenger boy and liked to play a lot of sports and illegally cross borders as hobbies. They quickly became infatuated. The summer turned into sleeping by night and sex by the misty loch. (Consequently, Nessie or the Loch Ness Monster, being the scoundrel he is, voyeuristicly peeped from his hiding and thus were the first sighting of Nessie.) They agreed to meet again the next summer and when they did Hermes was unpleasantly surprised by Fortuna's sudden weight gain. He asked why the rotund belly, the almost perfect round figure and she angrily corrected him with the shocking news of the pregnancy. Still, Hermes was surprised by the near-perfect roundness and smoothness of the belly. The baby was expected soon and Hermes assured her he would deliver the baby. How hard can it be; you open your legs, the baby pops out, you give it something to chew on and wam bam thank you mam, he'd say. Finally, the day of reckoning arrived and she laid in a marsh and Hermes proceeded with the technicalities of the pregnancy which consisted of finding a completely chewable object for the baby. She huffed and puffed and after much pain she saw a look of confusion upon Herme's eyes. There was complete silence and the horrible thought struck her; the baby is dead. At which point, still in utter confusion, Hermes held up an orange, spongy object with lines across it. It didn't have eyes, or a mouth, or extremities. The most curious baby. It was perfectly round.
"It's our baby?" Hermes said mindbogglingly,"What do we do with it?" "I don't know but we'll love it all the same?" Fortuna responded.
"Of course, sure we will. But, how do we feed it?" Hermes said.
"Do you think it's cold? Put it in the basket."
As Hermes placed the baby ball into the basket, it slipped and made it sound which Fortuna took it to mean an alternative to a baby's laugh.
"It must liked being bounced," she said. "Bounce it some more."
And the rest is history.
x x x
The Rituals: Celebrating the Madness in A Gentleman's Fashion
Before the first weekend of March Madness is complete it is customary to sacrifice a pair of four-legged animals(doesn't matter which). What's important is to sacrifice two and one to be named Jay and the second Bilas.
An honorable gentleman must watch at least three games per day.
Then, the gent must text, IM, or preferably in-person tell his bros about his bracket and inquire about other bro's bracket.
During the span of March Madness a minimum of 25 wings, 4 hot dogs (turkey OK too), 15 beers, and 6 burgers must be consumed with at least one bro.
Each gent/bro is allocated three unreasonable fights toward a significant other. It's a side effect from the madness and it can't be helped. Loved ones should be understanding through these times.
It is strongly encouraged each gent/bro must write a letter of gratitude/forgiveness to Joe Lunardi before the final game. Not doing so is frowned upon by the society.
Wifes, children, pets, significant others are expected to be ignored and be maintained to perform basic functions.
If a friend wins a pool, said gent/bro must buy a round of bruskies for other bros/gents.
If a bro/gent accomplishes the Madness Trifecta (winning close game, furthering to ultimate victory, blowjob, beer/finger food within reach) said bro/gent should be congratulated and given a pat.
Gent/Bro gets pwnage points if said bro/gent is receiving a BJ and or fondling breast while watching Coach K's teary-eyed press conference after Duke's demise.
When is it OK for a bro/gent to miss a marquee game? Never. Failure to comply could result in bro-demotion or gent-exclusion.
Although watching sweet basketball games is to the utmost importance. Eye exercises, aerobics, cardio, and stretching are encouraged for maximum viewing pleasure.
To understand and truly appreciate March Madness one must know its history as well as the proper way to celebrate the sportif jubilee. Ergo, I present the
"Beginner's Guide to March Madness: A Comprehensive History and its Zany Rituals."
You're surely asking yourself; where the FX does March Madness come from? Is it simply because a bunch of collegiate basketball games are played in March?! And the answer is NO!! This is why you'll be glad you've read this and be ridden of the latent-ignorance cocoon that is/was your March Madness IQ.
The namesake of March Madness originated in a simpler time; Roman Empire times to be exact. March Madness is sportif war, there will be no tomorrow for the hesitant. Damocle's sword looms over each team. No matter whether they're from a fruitful nation(major conference) or a so-so-meh-WTF is Sienna- nation (mid-majors). And heavy lies the crown on the No. 1 seeds (which was the main point of Love & Basketball and Shakepeare's Henry IV). Naturally, our long gone and removed Roman forefathers, being the apt chaps they were, initiated the tournament on the month of war.
Sure, the spring is in bloom, kids are outside playing, the friendly neighbor is gardening the lilies before washing your car (in my head I live in the Andy Griffin Show, leave me alone!) All is bright and well. Err, wrong! March is a time for motherfucking war..ohh yeeahh. March, you see, is a synonym for Mars, the Roman god war.(Ugh, oohh what is it good for? Absolutely everything) What better time to pick up a pointy metal stick and jam it down someone's cavities than the sweet spring time. Surely, dying in good weather is much better than dying in dimly-lit weather. Ah, Romans. So ahead of their time in many barbaric ways.
Now, onto the latter of the namesake; Madness. The MAD from Madness stems from the MAD doctrine, or Mutual Assured Destruction doctrine in which each side has enough power to destroy each other, unleashing a hellish game or a bitter stale mate. A correlation to the unpredictability of the wars/games ahead. The Ness is not merely a suffix but a direct reference to...wait for it....wait some more...the Loch Ness Monster. Which segways into the origin of March Madness and basketball at large.
"When Fortuna Met Hermes"
It was a lovely day in the Scottish highlands. The mist from the loch mystified the surrounding coast. Perfect for a walk. Fortuna, a pretty and lucky girl was on vacation with her parents from Greece. She walked in long deliberate steps along the foggy lake, half bored, half amazed. Around the bend she saw an athletic figure running toward her. It was a young man, whom seemed full of vigor and possessed a naughty twinkle in his eyes. Upon reaching Fortuna, the young man introduced himself as Hermes. The lively stranger intrigued Fortuna. And, beside she was bored. He told her he was a messenger boy and liked to play a lot of sports and illegally cross borders as hobbies. They quickly became infatuated. The summer turned into sleeping by night and sex by the misty loch. (Consequently, Nessie or the Loch Ness Monster, being the scoundrel he is, voyeuristicly peeped from his hiding and thus were the first sighting of Nessie.) They agreed to meet again the next summer and when they did Hermes was unpleasantly surprised by Fortuna's sudden weight gain. He asked why the rotund belly, the almost perfect round figure and she angrily corrected him with the shocking news of the pregnancy. Still, Hermes was surprised by the near-perfect roundness and smoothness of the belly. The baby was expected soon and Hermes assured her he would deliver the baby. How hard can it be; you open your legs, the baby pops out, you give it something to chew on and wam bam thank you mam, he'd say. Finally, the day of reckoning arrived and she laid in a marsh and Hermes proceeded with the technicalities of the pregnancy which consisted of finding a completely chewable object for the baby. She huffed and puffed and after much pain she saw a look of confusion upon Herme's eyes. There was complete silence and the horrible thought struck her; the baby is dead. At which point, still in utter confusion, Hermes held up an orange, spongy object with lines across it. It didn't have eyes, or a mouth, or extremities. The most curious baby. It was perfectly round.
"It's our baby?" Hermes said mindbogglingly,"What do we do with it?" "I don't know but we'll love it all the same?" Fortuna responded.
"Of course, sure we will. But, how do we feed it?" Hermes said.
"Do you think it's cold? Put it in the basket."
As Hermes placed the baby ball into the basket, it slipped and made it sound which Fortuna took it to mean an alternative to a baby's laugh.
"It must liked being bounced," she said. "Bounce it some more."
And the rest is history.
x x x
The Rituals: Celebrating the Madness in A Gentleman's Fashion
Before the first weekend of March Madness is complete it is customary to sacrifice a pair of four-legged animals(doesn't matter which). What's important is to sacrifice two and one to be named Jay and the second Bilas.
An honorable gentleman must watch at least three games per day.
Then, the gent must text, IM, or preferably in-person tell his bros about his bracket and inquire about other bro's bracket.
During the span of March Madness a minimum of 25 wings, 4 hot dogs (turkey OK too), 15 beers, and 6 burgers must be consumed with at least one bro.
Each gent/bro is allocated three unreasonable fights toward a significant other. It's a side effect from the madness and it can't be helped. Loved ones should be understanding through these times.
It is strongly encouraged each gent/bro must write a letter of gratitude/forgiveness to Joe Lunardi before the final game. Not doing so is frowned upon by the society.
Wifes, children, pets, significant others are expected to be ignored and be maintained to perform basic functions.
If a friend wins a pool, said gent/bro must buy a round of bruskies for other bros/gents.
If a bro/gent accomplishes the Madness Trifecta (winning close game, furthering to ultimate victory, blowjob, beer/finger food within reach) said bro/gent should be congratulated and given a pat.
Gent/Bro gets pwnage points if said bro/gent is receiving a BJ and or fondling breast while watching Coach K's teary-eyed press conference after Duke's demise.
When is it OK for a bro/gent to miss a marquee game? Never. Failure to comply could result in bro-demotion or gent-exclusion.
Although watching sweet basketball games is to the utmost importance. Eye exercises, aerobics, cardio, and stretching are encouraged for maximum viewing pleasure.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Aphorisms
-When something itches, scratch it.
-The Boomerang Five:
Luke, John, Jacob, Matthew and Paul were a pound each. During dawn they would come out of their hiding spot, which no one knew where they were. Some said caves, others space, some said they hid in plain sight. No one theory was liable enough to sustain proof and find where they lived when they came out to play. The five boys where always together. They were jolly, happy
-sum can be put right: but only by going back till you find the error and working it afresh from that point, never by simply going on. Evil can be undone, but it cannot 'develop' into good
-The Boomerang Five:
Luke, John, Jacob, Matthew and Paul were a pound each. During dawn they would come out of their hiding spot, which no one knew where they were. Some said caves, others space, some said they hid in plain sight. No one theory was liable enough to sustain proof and find where they lived when they came out to play. The five boys where always together. They were jolly, happy
-sum can be put right: but only by going back till you find the error and working it afresh from that point, never by simply going on. Evil can be undone, but it cannot 'develop' into good
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Dear Marko or should I say Dear #235735 A23,
Congratulations. Mazel tov. Today is that day that will be considered the first day of the rest of your life. Everything will change. First, you will grow a beard. Following the well groomed face carpet, you'll begin a newfound affinity for turtles and first edition mid century erotic novels. Then, naturally, you'll become flagellant and take cold showers in the wee of the night with your turtles. It's all part of growing up.
You are now a proud member of the American work force. A force to be reckoned with, in it's heyday anyway. And more importantly you're part of a gang, a gang of medical accountants. I strongly belief, with every fiber of my loins, one day HBO will make a movie a la Band of Brothers but titled Band of Accountants or perchance Tax deductions and Receivables.
You were always a judicious counter. There was a twinkle in your eye and a giggle/moan in your lips every time you counted. I knew then and I am proud of you now. You've always loved to count and account. You fucking love that shit. And I love that you love that shit.
Some will make the case your nature (of the Jap gene) made you predisposed to being an accountant. While it is a valid point, we must not disregard nurture. I remember your calculator. Old BetsytronT1400. I remember the day in middle school when BetsytronT1400 ran out of batteries and you wept as it laid in your hands in the cafeteria (you were so happy when you learned she was solar powered). Although, BetsytronT1400 is no longer with us, I belief she is in a better place and she'll be with you whenever you count.
Congratulations. Mazel tov. Today is that day that will be considered the first day of the rest of your life. Everything will change. First, you will grow a beard. Following the well groomed face carpet, you'll begin a newfound affinity for turtles and first edition mid century erotic novels. Then, naturally, you'll become flagellant and take cold showers in the wee of the night with your turtles. It's all part of growing up.
You are now a proud member of the American work force. A force to be reckoned with, in it's heyday anyway. And more importantly you're part of a gang, a gang of medical accountants. I strongly belief, with every fiber of my loins, one day HBO will make a movie a la Band of Brothers but titled Band of Accountants or perchance Tax deductions and Receivables.
You were always a judicious counter. There was a twinkle in your eye and a giggle/moan in your lips every time you counted. I knew then and I am proud of you now. You've always loved to count and account. You fucking love that shit. And I love that you love that shit.
Some will make the case your nature (of the Jap gene) made you predisposed to being an accountant. While it is a valid point, we must not disregard nurture. I remember your calculator. Old BetsytronT1400. I remember the day in middle school when BetsytronT1400 ran out of batteries and you wept as it laid in your hands in the cafeteria (you were so happy when you learned she was solar powered). Although, BetsytronT1400 is no longer with us, I belief she is in a better place and she'll be with you whenever you count.
A blessed, merry March 14.
First, I am glad to be able to share this most joyous of days with blogger, my Mac and my mind. And of course Jasmine the kitty cat. Some years ago today in an unknown country Pi was born. Pi Day it's not a made up holiday to celebrate a made up number that does some neat-o tricks for mathematicians. I like to think of Pi Day as a celebration of human achievement. Just marvel how far we've come. 3.14 was not always there and neither was March nor the day 14. Boiling it down further, at it's most skeletal, human beings couldn't even express emotions and thoughts. Now, near the summit and around the goat corral of the mountain of human achievement, we have accumulated figures, words, syntax, logic, etc., to devote a day to the number 3.14 aptly celebrated March 14, making it in the top 4 cleverest holidays.
So...how can one celebrate Pi? Personally during Pi day I amount everything to 3.14 exactly. For instance, I will wake up at 3;14 p.m. and have some apple pie as my meal. Each of my spoken sentences will be 3.14 words. I will go to the bathroom 3.14 times. And so in that fashion I will celebrate Pi Day. Each of us, however, celebrates/mourns differently. There is no fault in celebrating by woefully in one's room. Crunched up in a little ball while whispering 3.14 to yourself.
So...how can one celebrate Pi? Personally during Pi day I amount everything to 3.14 exactly. For instance, I will wake up at 3;14 p.m. and have some apple pie as my meal. Each of my spoken sentences will be 3.14 words. I will go to the bathroom 3.14 times. And so in that fashion I will celebrate Pi Day. Each of us, however, celebrates/mourns differently. There is no fault in celebrating by woefully in one's room. Crunched up in a little ball while whispering 3.14 to yourself.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Yeah, I know...Chef Peen's Adventures
(Dear Myself, I hope all is in order and you, meaning I, are doing well. Regretfully, but not much so, it's taken this long to draft a porno. It has not occurred to me that this wonderful medium of animalistic expression is a spring of inspiration for any aspiring aesthete/writer/producer/soloist/loner/animal lover/INternet sensation.
Without further adieu, I giveth; Chef Peen.
[Background: Chef Pino Peen is a dutiful gastronome. At night he cooks artisanal pizzas, pastas and macaroni and cheese for his guest among other haute-Italian fare. Peen's simple existence of cooking and serving the hot product into hungry mouths is mired by only one conundrum; his pensive, David-esque, ivory good looks. His gastronomical creations were of the first order. Fine food for any foodie but they must have him. His graceful, composed body was the most delicious item a la carte.]
Scene: Peene's Sausage Restaurant. 11 p.m. The crowd thins as closing time approaches. It was busy for a Wednesday. Chef Pino Peen is in the kitchen. He's trying to make the perfect chorizo.
Chef Peen: Ahk! I'll never make the perfect chorizo. It's tasting the same to me. I must have a second opinion.
(He peeps into the restaurant. Only an elderly couple eating in the far corner and a young girl eating while reading a book)
Chef Peen: "Perfecto. I will go to the old couple." Seniors are forward and honest, Peen thought.
Chef Peen: Scuzzi, can you taste this chorizo and tell me if it's to your liking.
Old Couple? WHAT? SPEAK UP
Chef Peen: Can you please taste my chorizo and tell me if it's good.
Old Couple? WHAT? Take your shorts off?
Chef Peen couldn't communicate with the hearing-challenged couple and decided to ask his last patron, the bodacious red-head eating and reading by herself.
Chef Peen: Buonasera signorina, I am Chef Peen I am sorry to interrupt you during your leisure but I need your help.
Red-Head: Oh, wow I love your food. It's so mmm mmmm yummy. It's an orgasm, I mean pleasure to meet you. I am Cookie.
Chef Peen: Grazie! It's my pleasure to please such a pretty signorina with my cocking, eh-sorry how you say...cooking.
Cookie: Your artis-anal pizzas are my favorite. But they're a real enema for my firm figure. I can't stop though.
Chef Peen: Cookie, I need you to taste this chorizo and tell me how to make it better.
Cookie takes a small bite of the chorizo Chef Peen gives her.
Cookie: It's good. But I know which chorizo is mmmlicious and how to make it better.
Chef Peen: Oh! dimmi please.
Cookie: Oh, no you give me.
Cookie proceeds to unzip Peen's pants and eats his chorizo.
Cookie: And the secret ingredient to make this mmmlicious chorizo perfect is to add a cookie.
Chef Peen: Ahk! of course. Just add cookies.
Without further adieu, I giveth; Chef Peen.
[Background: Chef Pino Peen is a dutiful gastronome. At night he cooks artisanal pizzas, pastas and macaroni and cheese for his guest among other haute-Italian fare. Peen's simple existence of cooking and serving the hot product into hungry mouths is mired by only one conundrum; his pensive, David-esque, ivory good looks. His gastronomical creations were of the first order. Fine food for any foodie but they must have him. His graceful, composed body was the most delicious item a la carte.]
Scene: Peene's Sausage Restaurant. 11 p.m. The crowd thins as closing time approaches. It was busy for a Wednesday. Chef Pino Peen is in the kitchen. He's trying to make the perfect chorizo.
Chef Peen: Ahk! I'll never make the perfect chorizo. It's tasting the same to me. I must have a second opinion.
(He peeps into the restaurant. Only an elderly couple eating in the far corner and a young girl eating while reading a book)
Chef Peen: "Perfecto. I will go to the old couple." Seniors are forward and honest, Peen thought.
Chef Peen: Scuzzi, can you taste this chorizo and tell me if it's to your liking.
Old Couple? WHAT? SPEAK UP
Chef Peen: Can you please taste my chorizo and tell me if it's good.
Old Couple? WHAT? Take your shorts off?
Chef Peen couldn't communicate with the hearing-challenged couple and decided to ask his last patron, the bodacious red-head eating and reading by herself.
Chef Peen: Buonasera signorina, I am Chef Peen I am sorry to interrupt you during your leisure but I need your help.
Red-Head: Oh, wow I love your food. It's so mmm mmmm yummy. It's an orgasm, I mean pleasure to meet you. I am Cookie.
Chef Peen: Grazie! It's my pleasure to please such a pretty signorina with my cocking, eh-sorry how you say...cooking.
Cookie: Your artis-anal pizzas are my favorite. But they're a real enema for my firm figure. I can't stop though.
Chef Peen: Cookie, I need you to taste this chorizo and tell me how to make it better.
Cookie takes a small bite of the chorizo Chef Peen gives her.
Cookie: It's good. But I know which chorizo is mmmlicious and how to make it better.
Chef Peen: Oh! dimmi please.
Cookie: Oh, no you give me.
Cookie proceeds to unzip Peen's pants and eats his chorizo.
Cookie: And the secret ingredient to make this mmmlicious chorizo perfect is to add a cookie.
Chef Peen: Ahk! of course. Just add cookies.
3:19 a.m. in the afternoon
For me, the night owl, late-night creeper super hero (if you will) it's the late afternoon. Logistically translating into an eight hour sleepdecathon.I don't really miss most of the morning. I miss the morning sunlight. I think, it's the best sunlight of the day. Kinda miss having these things peeps call "purpose" ,"goals," and "orientation."
I mean, how bad can it be? I defeated ennui, which was the least fave of my feelings/moods. It's chill, some would say, to be a numb walking and eating bag of parts. Like a zombie. And, I love zombies. Zombies have a job though and that's to drone aimlessly and eat some brain. Maybe I can be head-zombie bro and drone around getting some head. Perhaps, the larger point I'm excellently eluding to is purpose and destination is important. Whereas, now, I am lost somewhere in or near or around the airport. Going to different places is exciting, yet, nerving in its own way. I've chilled with myself for 22.5 years so I know most of my nuances and the unknown has always been inviting. Kinda miss the wet mornings. A new day promised. It's beautiful but what the fuck happens during the night. The morning is always cool/slightly damp. They, presumably tenured scientist, suggest we sweat, exude liquids through the night maybe the world/universe does a similar night-time sweating activity. I don't miss the tired feeling under your eyes. Your face feeling heavy and every motion is deliberate and must be well-thought to be executed correctly. Makes me wonder if babies go through the same excruciating process for trivial, everyday activities. I also don't miss the walk. The walk through the mire toward the bathroom. If and when I start working the steps leading to my bathroom might do me in. Perchance, unemployment is a subconscious exercise of survival. Well, better not mess with mother, mother evolution that is, that's what Freud always said. Wait not wam-bam thank you mam Freud I meant crazy-boy Darwin. He was quick with a joke or a light if you smoked, his eulogy recollected.\\\
Monday, March 1, 2010
I've been to a funeral before.
For being 22, my experience with death has been sparse, even mythical. I hear about it, I'm aware of it but never really getting close to me in any significant degree.
Now, just moments away from the shocking announcement; I sense the rumination process a younger or childish me wouldn't be able to do. The initial announcement produces panic, denial, pleas for it not to be true. I uttered the cliche, 'oh my god' when my mother woke me to nervously say; Pancho is dead.
The sounds, smells are all familiar and the world outside my window keeps turning, while a family griefs. Now, I chew over what little I know about the particulars, process it, and chew it again. The at-large ideas of death are too big for an amateur to digest.
What to say about it now? Other than it's at the door, for all of us. One day you're fine the next you're not. That it is life. And our life, our reality will not persist. The grand glimpse we call our life is worth living for ourselves, playing it your way as to not have regrets when one day you don't wake up.
Melancholic sentiments don't seem weak at this moment. As I look at my own healthy skin, I feel feeble and futile. Yet, these electronic words, while at the mercy of Blogger's existence, look everlasting and strong.
For being 22, my experience with death has been sparse, even mythical. I hear about it, I'm aware of it but never really getting close to me in any significant degree.
Now, just moments away from the shocking announcement; I sense the rumination process a younger or childish me wouldn't be able to do. The initial announcement produces panic, denial, pleas for it not to be true. I uttered the cliche, 'oh my god' when my mother woke me to nervously say; Pancho is dead.
The sounds, smells are all familiar and the world outside my window keeps turning, while a family griefs. Now, I chew over what little I know about the particulars, process it, and chew it again. The at-large ideas of death are too big for an amateur to digest.
What to say about it now? Other than it's at the door, for all of us. One day you're fine the next you're not. That it is life. And our life, our reality will not persist. The grand glimpse we call our life is worth living for ourselves, playing it your way as to not have regrets when one day you don't wake up.
Melancholic sentiments don't seem weak at this moment. As I look at my own healthy skin, I feel feeble and futile. Yet, these electronic words, while at the mercy of Blogger's existence, look everlasting and strong.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)