The new Google Earth is awesome. It's essentially your own spy satellite to use to check out all the amazing shit that covers our planet. You can look at your favorite sports arenas, landmarks, and patches of empty ocean with it. It's currently free to download and if you're like me you'll end up spending all day zooming in and out on stuff. You can even see your own house. If you check out that big white square in the middle of the linked photo, that's the Monstro from about 1500 feet up.
It doesn't, and probably will never have, an address search feature, and currently only very major cities have 3D buildings. It's also a bitch if you live in a small town like Walla Walla because the city isn't listed on a map, you just gotta use highways to pinpoint it. Still pretty cool, so check it out.
6/30/05
6/29/05
I'm on ze raaaaaadio!
I have a radio show now on Wednesday nights from 10:30pm to 12:30pm Pacific ST. You can listen in on 90.5 FM if you are near Walla Walla, or you can go to www.kwcw.net and listen up on the web and check my sweet style over the webcam.
6/28/05
If you hate the 4th of July, then I hate you.
An unnamed Whitman student has decided that it would be very Whitman-ey of her to arrange a fucking protest of the 4th of July. I know that she's probably pissed about the war and everything, I mean who isn't. You can protest whatever war you want to, you can protest war in general, but the one war you can't talk shit about is the war that gave independence to the country within which you are currently residing and the war that gave you the right to hold stupid protests in general. The 4th of July is the one fucking holiday that you can just celebrate the purity of being American. You can find the good stuff with your country and celebrate that. Celebrate your free speech right to protest, but don't fucking protest the greatest holiday on the planet. The 4th of July is a celebration of the the ideals of America, not the practices of America. the 4th doesn't change based on who is in office, whether or not we are at war, or what countries hate us at the time. It's just a day to eat hot dogs and light off fireworks. To protest the 4th of July is essentially protesting fucking Picnic Day. Or Pool Party Day. Or Beer and Baseball Day. I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that this girl is going to be hard-pressed to find people who share her sentiments on the 4th of July.
6/24/05
The sky is falling
I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that it's taken a whole week to make a new post, so most likely I've just abandoned the site for the summer. You would be partially correct. It's not that I've abandoned the site per se, but it's namesake no longer applies. Last night, when I was walking home from Senor Loco's Crazy Taco Dirigible with a delicious burrito in hand, I noticed a strange light in the sky above my house. It's not actually THAT uncommon to see strange lights around the Monstrosity; usually its just a police officer or two taking a look around the property because someone "lost their keys in the area." After I wave a BB-gun in their direction they skittle back into their car and go back to running red lights and pulling over ethnic people.
This strange light startled me because it was actually ABOVE the house, and while I'm not entirely sure that Matt doesn't own a large searchlight, I'm pretty sure that kind of power output would pop a cicuit breaker or twenty. My next thought, being a child of science fiction TV like Unsolved Mysteries, was that this was a huge fucking UFO come down from the planet Nebulon to suck the Monstrosity up through some giant gravity bong and teleport it to a cosmic zoo somewhere. After I got my wits about me, I realized that it couldn't possibly be a UFO. UFO's only abduct crazy people who live out in the woods so that nobody would believe them anyway. If Buck McKinney from the "Sovreign state of Appalachia" says he got abducted by a UFO, we're all thinking that he just wandered behind his shack and passed out in a bathtub. How wrong I was.
I walk into the house and all the lights are turned off except for the glow from the television set. I'm thinking that those damned squatters who are temporarily occupying my house are using my PS2, and so I go into mother bear defense mode. I go tearing into the living room nunchucks-flailing and I am stopped dead in my tracks by what I see. There is a freakin' alien sitting right there on the couch. His feat are up and he's calmly eating a bag of my chips. I thought I would have been more surprised, but all I could think was "Those are really good chips, and they're kind of expensive." Then the weirdest thing ever happened. I got a reply, in my own head, in a different voice that said "They're a little too oniony for me." This was the first ever direct communication between two intelligent lifeforms and we were talking about a bag a fucking chips.
I assume you're all probably wondering by now that this alien looked like. Considering his/her/its species has mastered space travel, it's kinda hard to tell considering all the space-fairing gear it had strapped all over it. Kinda like a space suit but thinner and shinier, with lights. It was able to eat the chips by putting them in this little slot, kinda like a ticket dispenser on a Skee-Ball game. I assume it couldn't breathe oxygen or it didn't want to get my diseases (of which I have a veritable smorgasbord). Anyway, to be most accurate it looked more like a robot than an alien.
You would think that having this huge interstellar meeting would spawn thousands of questions from me, or thousands of partonizing tests from it. But neither really happened. It kinda clicked through the television stations and I would say "oh, good show" and it would pause for a while and then awkwardly wait a little longer than it probably wanted to to change the channel because I said I liked the TV program. "So, no questions about the meaning of life, the universe, or whatever?" The alien man finally said to me inside my brain. "I assume we'll eventually figure it out." I replied. It looked like it was pondering (if his species in fact ponders) and got as satisfied a look as you can manage with a space helmet on. "I was supposed to come and take your entire house to a zoo on some planet really far from here, but it sounds like you have your shit together, so I'm going to let you stay." the alien said.
I walked outside with the alien and kinda awkwardly did a jock-hug with it because I wanted to kinda still put out that I was pretty masculine even though I was giving it a hug. The alien stood under a weird beam and started to rise into the air, and it said "I'll be back, I'm sure." on its way up. "The last alien to use that line is governor of California." I said. I think the alien gave me the finger as it slowly moved into the clouds and presumably into its spaceship.
I turned around and started to walk about into the house and I saw the whole Monstrosity dissolve and zip up into the clouds quickly after the alien. It's then that I realized when he said "I came to take your entire house to a zoo, but you can stay" he meant he was still taking the house, but he would let me chill on Earth. Now I'm sitting in a coffee shop downtown wondering if telling this story was such a good idea, since we all know that the only people that get abducted by UFOs are crazy people who won't be believed. Presumably this alien did this shit to me specifically because it knew I would type it out on this blog, and since this blog is mostly nonsense, this story would be taken as nonsense too.
This strange light startled me because it was actually ABOVE the house, and while I'm not entirely sure that Matt doesn't own a large searchlight, I'm pretty sure that kind of power output would pop a cicuit breaker or twenty. My next thought, being a child of science fiction TV like Unsolved Mysteries, was that this was a huge fucking UFO come down from the planet Nebulon to suck the Monstrosity up through some giant gravity bong and teleport it to a cosmic zoo somewhere. After I got my wits about me, I realized that it couldn't possibly be a UFO. UFO's only abduct crazy people who live out in the woods so that nobody would believe them anyway. If Buck McKinney from the "Sovreign state of Appalachia" says he got abducted by a UFO, we're all thinking that he just wandered behind his shack and passed out in a bathtub. How wrong I was.
I walk into the house and all the lights are turned off except for the glow from the television set. I'm thinking that those damned squatters who are temporarily occupying my house are using my PS2, and so I go into mother bear defense mode. I go tearing into the living room nunchucks-flailing and I am stopped dead in my tracks by what I see. There is a freakin' alien sitting right there on the couch. His feat are up and he's calmly eating a bag of my chips. I thought I would have been more surprised, but all I could think was "Those are really good chips, and they're kind of expensive." Then the weirdest thing ever happened. I got a reply, in my own head, in a different voice that said "They're a little too oniony for me." This was the first ever direct communication between two intelligent lifeforms and we were talking about a bag a fucking chips.
I assume you're all probably wondering by now that this alien looked like. Considering his/her/its species has mastered space travel, it's kinda hard to tell considering all the space-fairing gear it had strapped all over it. Kinda like a space suit but thinner and shinier, with lights. It was able to eat the chips by putting them in this little slot, kinda like a ticket dispenser on a Skee-Ball game. I assume it couldn't breathe oxygen or it didn't want to get my diseases (of which I have a veritable smorgasbord). Anyway, to be most accurate it looked more like a robot than an alien.
You would think that having this huge interstellar meeting would spawn thousands of questions from me, or thousands of partonizing tests from it. But neither really happened. It kinda clicked through the television stations and I would say "oh, good show" and it would pause for a while and then awkwardly wait a little longer than it probably wanted to to change the channel because I said I liked the TV program. "So, no questions about the meaning of life, the universe, or whatever?" The alien man finally said to me inside my brain. "I assume we'll eventually figure it out." I replied. It looked like it was pondering (if his species in fact ponders) and got as satisfied a look as you can manage with a space helmet on. "I was supposed to come and take your entire house to a zoo on some planet really far from here, but it sounds like you have your shit together, so I'm going to let you stay." the alien said.
I walked outside with the alien and kinda awkwardly did a jock-hug with it because I wanted to kinda still put out that I was pretty masculine even though I was giving it a hug. The alien stood under a weird beam and started to rise into the air, and it said "I'll be back, I'm sure." on its way up. "The last alien to use that line is governor of California." I said. I think the alien gave me the finger as it slowly moved into the clouds and presumably into its spaceship.
I turned around and started to walk about into the house and I saw the whole Monstrosity dissolve and zip up into the clouds quickly after the alien. It's then that I realized when he said "I came to take your entire house to a zoo, but you can stay" he meant he was still taking the house, but he would let me chill on Earth. Now I'm sitting in a coffee shop downtown wondering if telling this story was such a good idea, since we all know that the only people that get abducted by UFOs are crazy people who won't be believed. Presumably this alien did this shit to me specifically because it knew I would type it out on this blog, and since this blog is mostly nonsense, this story would be taken as nonsense too.
6/17/05
musings fromthe mountains
sometimes things on earth that are supposed to go a certain way bend ever so slightly just to fuck with me. Once I placed my jacket down and out of nowhere a bucket of water fell upon it. Once a girl knocked my teeth loose with a hula hoop accidentally from across the room. I've had to pee myself and poop on lawns. Last night I was on a training trip backpacking near camp and for some reason the one night I am not in my cabin at camp it decided to rain, and I mean really rain, like pour. This was okay, being the the well prepared camp people that we are we set up an a-frame tarp and got under it ready to be nice and dry. At two in the morning I awoke thinking I had wet myself, but no, water had mysteriously puddled INSIDE my bag, soaking my sweat pants and chilling me to the core. I had to climb in someone else's sleeping bag with them after suffering in brutal silence for an hour. We spooned tightly locked in on our left sides for the rest of the night. It appeared that only I had gotten wet. As we rose to come back into camp in the morning I noticed that this Israeli dude in our group named Elad looked really sad. I asked him what was up and he looked me and said in the goofy Israeli accent, "worst fucking night of my life, I thought I would die" and I noticed that he had been sleeping in the exact spot where all the water from one side of the tarp was pouring off. He lay in about 6 inches of water all night without complaining, when I asked him why he didn't say anythin he just said, "I didn't want to cause a problem" he was so cold we had to take his pants off him ourselves and change him. Maybe that is what mandatory military service will do to you, heroic but dumb, I mean even heroes die, and as someone pointed out, most do in fact. That might be the nature of heroism. Or living to over 113. It's no fun to know everything, it's important to always be learnig and to realize when ruts are being grooved into your life and to break out or find new things within. I will be in charge of 6-8 year olds the first three weeks of camp and I plan to play it cool by not talking much, shrugging and flashing a knife when they ask me too many questions, also, not letting them change out of their poopies and having 3 blocks per day involving bathing goats. Trees- so wise, so old, so wonderful to me.
summer rain, what the fuck, i wish i had enough folds to give useful pause
summer rain, what the fuck, i wish i had enough folds to give useful pause
6/14/05
World Dominion...?
Today I got an instant message from my first-ever confirmed blog reader that isn't someone I know personally. That means that my thoughts, impressions, and beliefs are slowly (very slowly) spreading across the globe. I don't want to jump the gun here, but I have started to design my own flag so when you all, my loyal followers, happen to overthrow the government at my command, you will have something to raise in victory as the capitol burns to the ground. This is the tentative design for the flag:
The black background represents the might with which I will rule, yet it is also meant to invoke the black robes of a judge and excectioner, saying that I will rule fairly and justly but not hesitate to dispense punishment. The red is to represent the blood that must be spilled in order for the revolution to succeed and the red of a rising sun, marking the dawning of a new age for mankind. The kitty-kitty is meant to represent vengance to show all my enemies that I am not one to be crossed. The kitty is black and white to show that I like both chocolate and vanilla ice cream, and his eyes are yellow because I really like yellow sunflowers in the summertime.
Keep coming for more news...Viva Revolucion!
The black background represents the might with which I will rule, yet it is also meant to invoke the black robes of a judge and excectioner, saying that I will rule fairly and justly but not hesitate to dispense punishment. The red is to represent the blood that must be spilled in order for the revolution to succeed and the red of a rising sun, marking the dawning of a new age for mankind. The kitty-kitty is meant to represent vengance to show all my enemies that I am not one to be crossed. The kitty is black and white to show that I like both chocolate and vanilla ice cream, and his eyes are yellow because I really like yellow sunflowers in the summertime.
Keep coming for more news...Viva Revolucion!
6/12/05
Little Persian Kids Are Hilarious
Today I went to a barbeque at the house of some of my mother's friends who happen to be persian. I know them pretty well so it was casual, but they had also invited some of their other persian friends to the party. They were all very nice people and had all brought really delicious food. Just like any other bbq you would attend during the summer months. What made the bbq so great for me was a little kid of about 5 named Pejman. Pejman is one of those little kids who is way too articulate for his age and enjoys speaking way too much. My first encounter with Pejman occured when a little girl came running out of the field behind the house crying her eyes out. Pejman came trudging slowly behind her with a calm look on his face. The field in question is filled with goats (they are PERSIAN after all!) and the kids were chasing them around the field, so really it was only a matter of time before some crying resulted from 5 children chasing around 20 goats. The girl's mother ran up to her and asked her what was wrong. She said "the boy hurt my feelings." Pejman, ever the diplomat, decided to tell his part of the story. "She wanted to go into the goat house. You can't go into the goat house because that is where the lambs live. If the leader sees you around the lambs, he will kick you in the stomach." I would say Pejman pretty much vindicated himself in this situation, since the girl was nowhere near his lingustic capability and just kept saying "he huwt my feewings" in her little kid speech impediment. The mother carried the crying girl off into the house, and I observed Pejman as he calmly walked back into the field and entered the goat house, completely fearless of the leader goat that would supposedly kick him in the stomach for going into the goat house. At that point I realized that it was possible I had just witnessed a 5 year old kid bullshit an adult, and I just laughed my ass off.
As I was leaving I walked up to Pejman and asked him what was up. He said, calmly as ever: "Well, I was chasing goats earlier, and now I'm eating some chocolate cake. I think later I'm gonna go back outside and chase goats." While Pejman posesses the ability to bullshit adults, it seems he thinks his goat chasing skills are still in need of honing. I figure when he gets old enough he'll probably get over the goat chasing, but you never know.
As I was leaving I walked up to Pejman and asked him what was up. He said, calmly as ever: "Well, I was chasing goats earlier, and now I'm eating some chocolate cake. I think later I'm gonna go back outside and chase goats." While Pejman posesses the ability to bullshit adults, it seems he thinks his goat chasing skills are still in need of honing. I figure when he gets old enough he'll probably get over the goat chasing, but you never know.
6/9/05
It's a Dog-Gone Clan!
So...when I said that our landlord's two sisters would be moving into the house what I really meant to say was that his entire freakin' family would crawl out from under rocks and escape from prisons all over the country and desend on the Monstrosity like some sort of sick pantomime of the Beverly Hillbillies. I strolled into my yard yesterday to see a pickup truck packed with boxes and bikes towing behind it a large trailer full to the top with junk. Yes, believe it or not, Grandma was indeed on top of the heap with her rocking chair, and she was crazy as hell and yelling at the squirrels about their responsibilities to vote Libertarian. There was also a Volkswagen Vanagon packed to the brim with other goodies, including a few Vietnamese people who may or may not have stowed away somehow. I shrugged it off until today when the entire pack rolled into the yard and started an epic transfer of all the shit. I don't know where it went, but it surprisingly didn't go anywhere inside the part of the house that I live in, so I didn't really care much. When I was eating dinner tonight some guy walks in who I *think* was somewhat lazy-eyed and told me he was living here and shook my hand. I kinda stared at him for a second. (one, you always have that embarassing situation of not knowing which eye to look into when you're talking to someone with a lazy eye; and two, the migration outside had moved inside, and this dude wanted to shack up for the summer.) So he tells me he's gonna live in the small room upstairs. For the uneducated that's the room dubbed the SEX ROOM because its really too small for anything but a mattress, so we figured people could use it during parties to make babies if they so chose. So this guy starts moving his shit in and proceeds to move all the junk in the Sex Room into the hallway. The Sex Room was being used as storage so basically he just moved all our shit into the hallway. He might as well have given us the finger. Tomorrow I'm going to have a talky talk with him (after, of course, the initial embrassing eye thing is over) and possibly put my knee into his groin.
The girl living in Lane's room (still haven't seen the mythical "other" sister, but Gus apparently has...so we'll see if this phantasm ever takes shape) is pretty chill actually...but it still hasn't taken from my determination to drive her from my home. I figure all it takes is inviting Clark over to talk speakers with her for a few hours and she'll be happy to find a new home.
NODGHSUL:
4 days
The girl living in Lane's room (still haven't seen the mythical "other" sister, but Gus apparently has...so we'll see if this phantasm ever takes shape) is pretty chill actually...but it still hasn't taken from my determination to drive her from my home. I figure all it takes is inviting Clark over to talk speakers with her for a few hours and she'll be happy to find a new home.
NODGHSUL:
4 days
6/6/05
slam poetry, uphills,
The other day as part of an ongoing week of birthday festivities with different friends from different places I went to a show called "Tourette's Without Regrets" at a bar/club/venue thingy in Oakland. The show features a dirty haiku competition, a freestyle mc battle, and a poetry slam. The makeup of the crowd was VERY bay area-like. Lots of pretty thugged out black guys, some rave-looking asian types, thugged out looking mexicans and a mix of nerdy/yuppie looking whites and thugged out ones. I quickly realized I used to work at my camp with the lady who was bartending and this scored me a number of free drinks which was awesome because now that I'm 21 I'm realizing how much cheaper it is to buy 30 keystone light's and sit in your room, however that isn't acceptable at a bar where you have to try to impress everyone else by your "taste" in drinks (so I've upgraded to bud light). Anyways, the show was really tight, the haiku's were silly and funny and the freestyle people had some serious talent, some of them at least, and it was all audience judged and rowdy and sorta reminded me of 8 Mile, minus that really tight song I use to pump myself up when I go on runs. Then to my shock and awe, during the poetry slam, the MC announded "aaron mandel on deck" meaning that somehow I was next to perform. I looked over to my friend Brady and saw him laughing hysterically as he had covertly signed me up to perform. Now normally I don't have much stage fright (except for peeing around people) but a) I had no poem or anything to perform with, and even if i did I suck at that shit b) everyone else who had gone before me had like good rhythm and flow and was talking about police brutality, racism, or welfare. I told Brady this wasn't at all funny but he just told me to tell my baseball story. I'm sure some of you monstroblog readers know this story as it is a performance piece I have developed/embellished over the years about me pissing in my pants while in left field at a baseball game. I know it by heart so it was logical that I could just bust it out if I needed it. So I ran to the bar, chugged a vodka tonic, burped and went onstage, the alcohol having not fulfilled its mission of numbing my nerves. I shakingly grabbed the mic in front of 350 people, looked down at my awkwardly fitting jeans, tugged my fleece over my WSU 100k relay shirt and stammered, "I'm the least cool person here" which made everyone laugh really hard. Then I proceeded to say, "I'm going to share my poem in the form of a short story" and told my story. Unbelievably the crowd loved it and I got good scores and a lady came up to me afterwards and told me I had placed high enough to move on to the Oakland poetry slam finals to which I just cracked up, it was all ridiculous, as much is.
The new star wars is tight, so is cinderella man, please post comments to either agree or disagree.
Good luck to Julian on his bike trek, I might throw five bucks your way.
Dan Baxter, you owe me 10 dollars, please mail it to:
Aaron Mandel
2611 Tulare Avenue
El Cerrito, CA 94530
..or the next knock on your door will mean a broken kneecap.
I went running the other day, which is usually a story in and of itself, although I've been doing a lot more of it lately since I have deluded myself into having illusions about making the cross country team at Whitman in the fall. Anyways, I was running from my house to my friends house in Kensington, which is about 3-4 miles away, but on the route there is an enormous uphill that in high school I used to be able to run up all the way, this time however, I could only make it halfway before I had to stop and walk. My high school was big on writing so we were always told to write about things in our life, things that felt true to us, and while running was a huge part of my high school life, for some reason I could never, never, EVER write about it. As my body failed on the uphill I realized that I could never write about running in high sschool because I was doing it to runaway from things, inadequacies in my life from going through puberty in middle school and sucking at other sports, or at least believing that I did. Now that I am for the most part over them, I don't need to push as hard, don't need to avoid truths, but I still like the run, even if half of it is a walk uphill.
The new star wars is tight, so is cinderella man, please post comments to either agree or disagree.
Good luck to Julian on his bike trek, I might throw five bucks your way.
Dan Baxter, you owe me 10 dollars, please mail it to:
Aaron Mandel
2611 Tulare Avenue
El Cerrito, CA 94530
..or the next knock on your door will mean a broken kneecap.
I went running the other day, which is usually a story in and of itself, although I've been doing a lot more of it lately since I have deluded myself into having illusions about making the cross country team at Whitman in the fall. Anyways, I was running from my house to my friends house in Kensington, which is about 3-4 miles away, but on the route there is an enormous uphill that in high school I used to be able to run up all the way, this time however, I could only make it halfway before I had to stop and walk. My high school was big on writing so we were always told to write about things in our life, things that felt true to us, and while running was a huge part of my high school life, for some reason I could never, never, EVER write about it. As my body failed on the uphill I realized that I could never write about running in high sschool because I was doing it to runaway from things, inadequacies in my life from going through puberty in middle school and sucking at other sports, or at least believing that I did. Now that I am for the most part over them, I don't need to push as hard, don't need to avoid truths, but I still like the run, even if half of it is a walk uphill.
6/3/05
New Housemates
Our landlord in his infinite fairness and wisdom has decided to let his two sisters move into the Monstrosity for the summer. We cleaned out Lane's room, which may be more accurately described as a cave since we had to sift through trash and clothes while dodging bats and stalagmites in order to clean it up a little bit. We finally got everything moved out nice and orderly, and with any luck before Lane returns we'll be able to dump the bags of clothes and other shit back onto the floor and he'll feel right at home again.
The girls are moving in later today, and the remaining guys in the Monstrosity are still baffled that they want to move in with us. One look around the house would make most housepets cower in fear and jump out the nearest window. Yes, our house would make a common house cat commit suicide. Not only is the phyiscal condition awful, but our main hobbies on a whole are eating pizza and building towers with the boxes and drinking booze. Yesterday Gus brought home milk jugs full of wine from his job at a winery. We're literally drowning in our own filth AND in high-quality Walla Walla wine. Quite the dichotomy I must say.
We've decided, completely without insigation, that we will make these girls as unwelcome as possible. This is strange because we lived with girls in the fall of last year, and it was awesome. But something about these new girls rubs us the wrong way. We're already planning naked swordfights and farting contests to try and make them, much like our recently suicidal cat Mr. Mestophaleze, jump out the window to their death.
Visit the blog regularly, because at the end of each post I will be including a new tally: The number of days the girls have survived our unique lifestyle, tentatively called the NODGHSUL quotient(pronounce: nod-ga-sool).
NODGHSUL quotient:
0 days
The girls are moving in later today, and the remaining guys in the Monstrosity are still baffled that they want to move in with us. One look around the house would make most housepets cower in fear and jump out the nearest window. Yes, our house would make a common house cat commit suicide. Not only is the phyiscal condition awful, but our main hobbies on a whole are eating pizza and building towers with the boxes and drinking booze. Yesterday Gus brought home milk jugs full of wine from his job at a winery. We're literally drowning in our own filth AND in high-quality Walla Walla wine. Quite the dichotomy I must say.
We've decided, completely without insigation, that we will make these girls as unwelcome as possible. This is strange because we lived with girls in the fall of last year, and it was awesome. But something about these new girls rubs us the wrong way. We're already planning naked swordfights and farting contests to try and make them, much like our recently suicidal cat Mr. Mestophaleze, jump out the window to their death.
Visit the blog regularly, because at the end of each post I will be including a new tally: The number of days the girls have survived our unique lifestyle, tentatively called the NODGHSUL quotient(pronounce: nod-ga-sool).
NODGHSUL quotient:
0 days
6/2/05
legacies, moths, and memory loss
the other day I sat silently in my friends car as we drove back from a memorial day family camp at Tawonga. Instead of playing music we were listening to a tape of my friends grandfather talking while sitting on the toilet. The grandfather had died earlier that week which made everything into a more heightened reality. The tapes consisted of observations on life and his own person and were very existential and self-referential. They provided a snapshot of a man who was not famous but to me was existing on the same medium as paul mccartney and bruce springsteen. what if we all bought cassette recorders and blank tapes and just talked about life while on the can every day or so. This guy didn't start until he was 81 but I think it would be a more fun way of doing like a diary and if done for years transformations would be aweesome to study and such.
My friend told me the other day that I, more than anyone else, make him believe in mysticism and spirituality because time, space, and gravity will bend just to fuck with me. I put my jacket down to do a task and a bucket of water landed on it from on top of a roof. I was at an A's game with 10,000 people (yeah they are hurtin this year) and talking to my friend when a large moth flew directly into my eyeball. I often am present at the scenes of disasters of some kind. And yet somehow I'm alive, I have made it to 21 years old, so now I can drink myself to death since God himself can't seem to get it done. But before I go I will leave a legacy of 200 hours of tape, ahhaah.
I have this problem where if I am not around people I begin to forget them even if I have pictures, email, AIM, phone, stories to remember them by. That's what living in the moment will get you, utterly incapable of any long distance connections.
Lately I have been having writers bloc, not that I am a writer, but I can't even compose emails of more than 50 words, chat online substantively, or any of that so pardon this if it blows as I work out the kinks and return to an equilibrium of sorts.
My friend told me the other day that I, more than anyone else, make him believe in mysticism and spirituality because time, space, and gravity will bend just to fuck with me. I put my jacket down to do a task and a bucket of water landed on it from on top of a roof. I was at an A's game with 10,000 people (yeah they are hurtin this year) and talking to my friend when a large moth flew directly into my eyeball. I often am present at the scenes of disasters of some kind. And yet somehow I'm alive, I have made it to 21 years old, so now I can drink myself to death since God himself can't seem to get it done. But before I go I will leave a legacy of 200 hours of tape, ahhaah.
I have this problem where if I am not around people I begin to forget them even if I have pictures, email, AIM, phone, stories to remember them by. That's what living in the moment will get you, utterly incapable of any long distance connections.
Lately I have been having writers bloc, not that I am a writer, but I can't even compose emails of more than 50 words, chat online substantively, or any of that so pardon this if it blows as I work out the kinks and return to an equilibrium of sorts.
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