June 2006 Archives

[ post deleted due to graphically explicit content ]

[ post deleted due to graphically explicit content ]

i'm growing up. it's fun.

See like you I push the bucket
I like to burn big
Like you I've gotta cut all the bullshit outta my life to live

i'm in the middle of a life-enema: removing all the impacted shit that's been weighting me down. soon i shall fly.

and the best part of it is: i don't even really need to. i'm doing it because i want to.

it's not quantity, but quality that counts.

and judging from the quantity, that was quality.

as promised.

not a million quid, though likely more irreplaceable. spanning nearly a decade from (probably) 1998 until just 5 minutes ago, here in sunny 2006, now, gone. mostly into the bag, but also in particulate form straight into my lungs. so, with no further ado (much less explanation), weighing in at four pounds, having been totally neglected for nearly two months, and having at least one MIA (though i bet i know where it is), for your enjoyment, for my own growth, symbolic of how much i mean what i say :

after consulting with the park locals, 203 and i decided to try The Other Restaurant in Hulett.

driving down the road to Hulett, we saw a sign pointing the way to white tail creek outfitters: bucksnort bar, bed and breakfast, hunting lodge, restaurant, and gun shop.

after about 23 seconds of discussion, we decided we had to have dinner at a bucksnort bar, provided, of course, that there were fishitarian options on the menu. so we flipped the bitch and headed down the quarter mile dirt road to the bucksnort bar.

you can browse around the fine website to see what it looked like inside. lots of pictures of very dead animals and very creepy "hunters" and lots and lots of dead stuffed animal heads mounted all over. we found a waitress of sorts and got us a table outside. the view was fantastic: a little prarie valley with cliffs on the opposite side. we took our seat and enjoyed the banter of some nearby locals playing cards.

i asked the waitress what a "bucksnort bar" is, and she admitted she didn't know. the menu was a lot nicer than we expected, with at least 2 fishitarian items for 203 to choose from, and many things for me. we appetized with salads (not bad at all for WHY) and deep fried mushrooms (not nearly as greasy as expected). 203 had asked the waitress to tell us what sort of whitefish it was that came with the "mild whitefish" item on the menu, the waitress explained that it was mahi-mahi.

203 and i had a bit of a chuckle at this. mild, white mahi-mahi? doubt it. (in hindsight, what 203 got probably was mahi-mahi at some point, considering the transformation that my order underwent. but i digress.)

the entrees arrived. i had ordered the filet mignon, because i figured that in a state with 95% white people, at a hunting lodge/gun shop, i ought to be able to get a good, medium rare filet mignon. on the menu it stated that there are known potential adverse health effects from eating meat cooked less than medium well. i guess the cook was looking out for my health, because damned if that filet wasn't medium well, at the very least.

still, i was hungry, and the rice and vegetables were quite good, so i ate it anyhow. part way through, the waitress returned, and, noticing that i'd ordered medium rare and yet the steak was clearly well done, asked if the steak had been cooked properly. i said it was overdone, to which she nodded, adding that previous customers had had trouble getting the steaks done properly, often sending them back upwards of four times, on account of the cook has trouble doing it properly. that said, her job done, she went about her business.

203's "mahi-mahi" looked and tasted a lot like a piece of cod with a wyoming shitload of lemon pepper paste smeared on top. and believe you me, a wyoming shitloads is at least 2 metric assloads bigger than a california shitload.

we finished our dinner and our wine (surprisingly, the place had a decent (for why) wine list) and were instructed to pay at the bar. we took our time, laughing and talking and doing all the things we tend to do when out together.

203 commented on how fast people were driving on the dirt road that led to the bucksnort bar, bed and breakfast, hunting lodge, restaurant, and gun shop. she's rather sensitive about people speeding, since speeders tend to murder a lot of prarie dogs in her park.

eventually, we got the idea that maybe we should pay so we went into the bar.

nobody was there so we made the noises people make when they want someone to show up. someone showed up. he took his place behind the bar, and someone else showed up. he took his place at the bar. for the sake of storytelling, we'll call the one behind the bar "the bartender" and the one at the bar "the cook," since that's what we suspected he was.

as we paid, the cook asked where we were from. since 203 is "from" ca, az, or wy, depending on who's asking and how much time they have, and i'm strictly from ca, we always are amused when this question comes up. i remained silent and she indicated that she is a ranger at DT.

"mind if we come over tomorrow and shoot some prarie dogs?" the bartender asked with a surprisingly toothed grin.

"i'd have to arrest you if you did that," i later (meaning now) paraphrased 203 as answering.

the bartender and the cook chuckled, and the bartender said, "that might be hard, i think we have more guns than you do."

to prove the point, the cook, who, 203, with her LEO skills, later pointed out, was probably drunk, pulled from his pocket a rather old looking and rather loaded looking revolver, saying, "guns? we don't have any guns around here," followed by some hyukly chuckles and laughs from the bartender.

i got a bit uncomfortable at that point, and i reckon 203 did too.

the bartender, sensing our nervousness, decided to put us at ease. to do so, he related a story about how some folks came from detroit to visit, and how he took them out driving, and how he gave them his sawed-off shotgun (which, and the cook assured us, was well within 3/4" of being perfectly legal) to play with, and how the detroiters shot it out the window of the bartender's moving vehicle (presumably, as 203 later revealed to me, at prarie dogs and other wildlife), and how the detroiters then remarked that they finally understood the thrills offered by urban drive-by shootings.

needless to say, the ease at which we were thus put was not sufficient to increase our desire to remain much longer at the bucksnort bar. still, the cook wanted to chitchat. he looked at me, and asked where i was from.

"california," i said, deciding on a city to name (san diego, king city, arroyo grande, orange...) if they asked me which part. they didn't need to ask which part, though, because with two words that would stun them into momentary silence, 203 offered up, exlamitorily, "san francisco!"

i gave her a "thanks a lot" look and paused in the uncomfortable, firearm heavy silence. the bartender spoke up. "i hear new jersy's about to ace you out."

neither 203 nor i was familiar with the implications of being "aced out," so we asked for clarification.

the bartender was happy to elaborate on just how new jersy would ace out san francisco: "pretty soon they're going to be the gay capital of the US," he said.

"oh," replied both 203 and I.

"or delaware," said the cook. "lots of gay beaches in delaware." the cook then went on to name some of the gay beaches in delaware. how he came by this information i shall never know.

it was at this point that i put my arm around 203. not to protect her, she's a trained killer, after all, but to imply to the cook and bartender that perhaps i wasn't quite gay enough to deserve being shot in a bucksnort bar in wyoming.

finally, we got our change back, left a tip, thanked our new friends, and got back in 203's jeep. we sped away from the bucksnort bar at speeds higher than i'd yet experienced with her on a dirt road. when we got back to DT, we told everyone what a great place the bucksnort bar was and how they should all go visit some time.

they did have a better salad than the fort, for sure.

someone recently (has to have been recently, eh?) asked me why the name on my devil's tower national monument junior park ranger certificate is my middle name and not my first name.

i've asked 203 to call me by my middle name, and she has. my plane reservations are all made under my middle name.

people keep commenting on how often i change my appearance (namely, my head-hair and facial-hair styles).

and, as foreshadowed, i'm about to execute another symbolic (and rather concrete, at the same time) gesture of some small magnitude and very little showmanship.

but the reason for all these things is the same, and it's the same as the reason why i flew last week, and the same as the reason i didn't buy luggage, and the same as the reason why i wore shorts today, and the same as the reason i cleaned my desk today, and the same as the reason i drive a luxury car, and the same as the reason i brew beer.

i am constantly reinventing myself. refining myself.

my given first name was applied to me for 28 years. my hair was long for 8. my fashion was abominable for... well, a long time. if there's really a new new new new new new new me (and there is), then shouldn't he have a new name, a new look, a new car, a new hobby, and a nice clean desk at work? i daresay he should. that way, when i'm Old and i look at a picture of the old (or the old old old old old)me, i can tell quickly whether that me predates or postdates my rebirth.

hey, did i say "rebirth"? why yes, i sure did. for me, every haircut is a baptism. every shave is gnosis.

why do you think i got my hair cut originally? because the me that wanted long hair got killed off. and isis gathered his smelly dismembered parts, slurped a little on his lingam, and before you knew it, bam! osiris risen!

sorry. where was i?

oh yes: when i look at some official or semi-official document, and see that i used my middle name instead of my first, i'll know that that was after the events that changed me (and required me to change me) so thoroughly that i reckoned i needed not just a new haircut, but a whole new name.

fortunately my folks saw fit to give me a really cool middle name, which has an even cooler nicknameization.

the K Foundation burned a million quid.

i've got something far less spectacular planned. stay tuned.

ask and ye shall receive, in real-time.

countdown timer to our next visitation.

counting the current countdown, there will be five more (six if we plan something for october (but five sounds better, ya know?)) visitations, and then the counter will no longer be useful.

wait...

there we go, now the thing is much more useful, and has a much longer usable lifespan.

of course, as in life, nothing in the CGI that displays the countowns is hardcoded :)

but would i have ended up as i have?

fate has been kind to me, for the most part (love you, babe), but i don't trust or believe in her enough to second guess my life's path.

my allergies were better while i was staying in south dakota/wyoming.

my allergies were better while i was sleeping and romping in a national gorram park.

does that seem right to you?

vacation pics before you even hear about the vacation.

clickety click upon them to get the embiggened versions.

headache's gone, whether that's due to the ah-see-toe-met-ah-fin or the caffeine in the generic "pain-away" that i took is anyone's guess.

or maybe it was the shower and shave.

or maybe it was the letter i found waiting for me.

in any case, despite the hour at which i awoke today i'm feeling all right right about now. of course, that sensation eluded me at work, but i reckon i'll have it tomorrow. it's good to be back at 0ft elevation. now all i've got to do is plan my july 4th weekend. somehow amidst all the travel plans, the impending 7/4 weekend slipped my planning mind. doh!

okay party people, i've added a new category to document instances of the law of fives in my life.

for the inaugural posting, i shall document as many of the fives and twenty threes that i can recall encountering on my recent visit to deto.

back from nearly a week in bumfuct, usa, with no exposure to news.

anyone still alive out there?

i think it's kinda cute that people keep telling me to "enjoy myself" and "have a good time".

that's pretty much guaranteed :)

but i'm still me. i sleep poorly the night before and i pack the morning of.

damned excitement!

'tis true, alas.

successful, as well!

tomorrow, i get on a plane, fly to a state i've never been to, and, within a couple of days, meet a dozen or so totally new people.

them's of you what what knows me, even them's of you what what've only known me for less than a year, even, i daresay, them's of you who, by june 25th, will have known me for a whole year and no more, should not be surprised to hear that normally, whatever that means, i would be a little dismayed by such plans.

i intensely dislike the airport and airplane experience, though i enjoy flying itself. i've long had a big enough lack of confidence in my social skills that i'd avoid meeting not only new people, but people i knew reasonably well.

well, i can't say i'm looking forward to the airport experience, but i can honestly say i'm looking forward with some anticipation (the good kind, that is) to meeting these new folks, though, to be fair, that anticipation is overshadowed by other anticipations like a 12 piece bucket of colonel's extra crispy on the grass at an outdoor meeting of the naafa.

there are a number of reasons for this anticipation and total lack of anxiety. part of it is just that i've been rapidly shedding my social anxieties over the last year. i'm more talkative, by far, and quicker-witted and funnier than i've ever been. i've been told by an impartial observer or two, mystified that i would consider myself socially challenged, that i'm far from that. in other words: i picked up some people skills recently.

but more than that, i think, is the fact that even though i've been forewarned that i'll treated as a prize pig at the fair up for general inspection, the fact remains that pretty much the entire time i'm with any of the mostly-pleasant-sounding residents of the lesser Spearfish suburbs of WY (or was that SD?), I'll have on my arm, or at my side, or somewhere within 100 yards of me the most incredible and beautiful woman i've ever known, and everyone that i'll meet will know that instead of becoming WY's most eligible bachelor the moment i set foot in the state, i missed that boat by nearly three weeks and am already almost (!) as spoken for as i'll ever be, and by the aforementioned incredibly, beautiful woman, no less.

i'll have a big fuckin' grin on my face the whole time i'm there, and any time i speak to anyone (especially those (meaning everyone) that have been around her long enough (i.e. once) to come to the inevitable same conclusion that i've reached about her) i'll have to hold my tongue to keep from blurting out, "holy shit! do you realize she's gonna marry me?" and everyone that speaks to me, having heard of me already and perhaps not believing the hype, will nonetheless already be aware that she'll soon enough be mine, forever, and as such, i'll already be deemed so awe-worthy that i'll need muster little more grace than... um... something with very little grace, and utter little more a texan "yep" to knock everybody, impressed outta their minds, on their ass.

at least, that's my take on things. we'll see :)

by the time i got to the dips in today's workout, my sweat was irritating my apparently still irritated... um... well, you know.

so i took my shirt off for the rest of the workout, which means i was dressed only in my boxers. don't think i could do that at bally's.

wait, does bally's still exist?

i love not having television.

my whole apt smells like roasting kenyan peaberry.

oops, there goes another surprise ;)

and it's free.

at last, all barriers to using it have been removed.

screw firefox and its memory leaks and its barely workable mouse gestures.

a very thoughtful and appropriate gift from a coworker.

thanks!

still... me in a tie? oh my!

question: does this haircut make my head look big?

to resist buying a suitcase. i can dew-eet!

every time i get a hankering to go buy a mac, i end up (coincidentally) running itunes on my pc. that inevitably kills the hankering.

what a horrendous piece of shit that is.

maybe some of the following are true :
a) i have "too many" mp3s on my hard drive
b) i need to go find some itunes configuration checkbox or radio button that will give me better performance
c) i just don't "get it"

but if the design and usage philosophies that went into making itunes-PC the awful experience that it is are reflected in MacOS, and I must assume that they are, I want no part of it.

itunes on my pc is a horrendous memory hog, it's unresponsive, and the interface sucks. my mp3s are organized on the hard drive in heirarchical directories, with filenames being generally more important than id3 tags. that's the way it's been with me for nearly a decade now. itunes doesn't seem to be easily configurable to handle that workflow.

the only reason i bothered to install it is because i am forced to endure its crappiness to load mp3s onto my useless ipod, which i intend to take with my on my upcoming plane flight, on account of the fact that of my 4 (count 'em: four) mp3 players, the ipod is the one i'd lose the least tears over if some TSA goon stepped on it.

okay. the new shirt is evidently not nippletastic. i daresay that the irritation is not particularly related to the shirt, but instead correlated to the distance. here is the formula:

< 2.5mi : ahhhh
> 3mi : ow!

next time i go for > 3mi, i think maybe i'll tape 'em. until i can find me a sports-bro, that is.

thought you'd like to know.

the extra-pectinated yogurt that i set aside has now been fully consumed. it was not especially less thin than the main batch, though it might have been a little less thin.

i have 2 choices :
1 - call it a "yogurt drink," which is quite acceptible. i slurped this cup of yogurt and it was delicious. yum!
2 - keep on adding pectin at various stages of the yogurtification process and see if i like the result
3 - add powdered milk (gnooooooooose!)

i'm leaning toward 2 'cuz this yogurtmaking is now evidently a hobby. but #1 is a great fallback. slurp.

by december, i will have a six-pack.

and i don't mean beer, though i do: i'll obtain my six-pack while drinking plenty of beer, whiskey, and ice cream, which i won't be drinking, i'll be inhaling. and greek food. lots and lots and lots of greek food.

i'm nearly at my all-time-low bf%, which is a not-so-great 15%, but i'm actually 5-10lbs heavier than the last time i made the body-fat-o-meter read 14%. that's good. plus i can bench and squat way more than back than. plus i've got a couple other things going for me that i lacked back then ;)

that's me.

that's all there is to it.

we have arrived at our first great compromise. timetable has been moved from may to december, MS has been replaced with cert. i inquired this morning, after some thought last night, how this is a compromise, since it involves no sacrafices by me. turns out i'll be providing room and board. and keeping the noise down while i lift.

that's all i gotta do? my pleasure.

the good news for all the that-was-quicknicks: this will give us approximately five (yup, five, of course, what did you expect?) months to find out that we hate each other and call everything off.

uh-huh.

tootsie pops.

last night, talking with the mom, we were discussing what it is that makes a wedding officiant "legitimate" in the context of whether my bro is or is not precisely that.

she was making the point that whether it's a rabbi, or a judge, or a priest, or a shaman, he's got the cultural weight behind him that gives him a certain legitimacy which a ULC-ordained minister, in her view, lacks.

to which i said the following, "you know what it is that qualifies a shaman as a shaman, right, ma?"

she did not, exactly, to which i said, "the ability to identify and correctly administer psychoactive hallucinogenic plants," at which she chuckled, perhaps deciding to remove the shaman from her list of legitimate religious figures.

i've got a great set of family figures. har de har.

i write for several different reasons. i don't say "many," because honestly, the number of reasons is much closer to "several."

i write to remember stuff.

i also write to discover things about myself. what do the actions and thoughts of my fictional and semi-fictional characters reveal about me? especially, what do they reveal about me that i didn't already know?

and i write to solve problems. WWMD? how would a fictionalized me solve a fictionalized version of my current problems?

i went to my editing beach yesterday and attempted to write a scene for two different short stories. i failed. why? because in the past, when i've written short stories, it's always been about solving a problem that was present in my mind. this has always been the case -- even last week's parable followed this pattern.

yesterday, as i sat burning on my editing beach, i failed to come up with any stories because there simply isn't anything bothering me to the extent that i need to fictionalize myself and my situation.

that may be only half the story. here's the other half: while i assuredly have problems i'd like to work out (though today i have one fewer than i did coming into the weekend, thanks to my better half), my mind is innundated and occupied by good stuff (like this, though YMMV) that i'd rather blog about than "write" about.

so that's that, no stories 'cuz i have no problems.

but that's only half of what i wanted to say here. i also write to find out things about myself, hopefully things i didn't already know. last night, in re-reading parts of resurrection, i discovered something about myself. yeah, it was something i already knew, but in reading my own words from a year ago, the self-knowledge really crystallized. i had the good fortune of being, at the time, on the phone with someone wise, so the following may be news for some but it will be old hat for others.

quoth me:

That's the problem, thought Marcus. I haven't been working 
on fixing myself. I've let myself go stagnant lately. I'm spending 
too much time with Oz, not taking enough time for myself, not fixing 
myself up. I'm getting lazy. Out of shape, mentally and 
physically.

on reading this, i realized today what i was saying long ago, though at the time i didn't really understand the full implications (emphasis on "full" : i understood them well enough that i foresaw the future, i just didn't forsee the future as much as i do now. okay, back to our regularly scheduled BS).

i am afraid of a few things. i've banished many of my fears, as i've said before:

absent his fears of being unable to survive in an obscured and 
unknowable future, the magician is thus free to pursue what he 
wants, having faith in his own abilities to perpetually provide what 
he needs to survive.

but i still have a couple of fears. one is a perfectly natural and normal fear of death. how many times have i said that "i saw vultures on the beach"? my life has an expiration date, and it could be 50 years from now or 50 seconds from now. i don't know.

but because i have limited time, i feel a constant urgency to accomplish my goals (which, of course, naturally and humanly, change over time, though some of them don't). i want to get on with things. this is a relatively new development, coming about only once i matured to the point where i realized i wasn't immortal.

a natural outgrowth of my desire to get on with things is my desire (fortunately, paired with a natural ability) to do many things at once. that's why i bought an automatic and not a stick: i can do more things at once if i don't have to shift, including shifting, if i want, since i have sport shift, ya bastids.

here's the point: i don't feel like i have the time to choose between the things that are important to me. i must have them, and do them, all at once, right fuckin now. no time to lose. and so, when i read the passage above from resurrection i realized that, despite what i thought at the time, my writer's-mind realized what my conscious-mind sees only now. that relationship was doomed because i had to choose between loves. between the partner (ooh, new idea!) and the activities.

i said last night to my love that when i am with her, i get to do all 4 of the things i hold most dear: exercise, think, talk, and be with her. so it has always been with her. this is what i need in my life, and that fact is one of the reasons i have no qualms about what happened that night so recently ago in a romantic Pismo parking lot.

i don't have to choose between what i want to do. with her, i can have it all.

new idea: i am in need of a partner. how can someone be my partner if i must choose between being with them and being in the modes which i enjoy? answer: they cannot be a partner. they can perhaps be a lover or a friend, but unless they can be with me when i am most joyous (example: atop a high rock at sunol. example: running up crystal springs road. example: reading my poetry to me. example: enjoying spinach pakora with me.), they are not a partner by any sensible definition of the word.

we fit. oh my how we fit.

"No," said Marcus.  "I'm not... me.  This isn't me.  These are not my 
words.  I never said 'forever'.  I never said 'always'.  I am not 
okay without my things.  Without my memories.  Without my pain... my 
suffering.  I need them.  They are part of me."

Marcus is me. Marcus is not me.

I said "forever".

I said it because with her, I have never had to choose. I never will.

left it in the warmer for 5 hours and as expected, it came out a little tarter/sourer. back to 4 hours for next time. it's not bad this way but it's not great either.

i added 2tsp of pectin when i put the milk in the warmer, and stirred. seems to have had no effect, or worse, seems like maybe (from what i can see) the pectin just sank to the bottom and clumped there. i stirred up the yogurt this morning, and also separated 1.5C into another container, where i added another tsp of pectin. we'll see if it firms up. the pectin, otherwise, seems to have made no difference: still kinda runny.

gotta get my recipe down before december :D

i think i'm pretty hot stuff. i mean, i don't, you know, because i'm humble, but when you come right down to it, ya gotta admit: i'm the bees knees.

yeah, yeah, i don't really believe it, because i've got self esteem issues. and i'm humble. and i have trouble believing myself to be anything but average, or (all right...) maybe just a little above average. but, on the whole, when you look objectively at me and my life, you just gotta admit: i'm feckin awesome, and there's no two ways about it.

so you can understand my difficulty, dear reader, when i tell you that what i've always wanted in a mate was someone who is actually better than me. see the trouble? i'm so gorram gifted, how am i supposed to find someone even more gifted? that would be, you know, off-the-scale-gifted. you couldn't even measure it.

well, i can measure it. and i have measured it. and i got what i wanted: someone better than me. and, awesome dude that i am, i'm awesome enough to admit it, not just in private, but right here on this blog for the whole world to see.

i'll give one specific example/admission, and leave the rest (there is indeed a rest, much rest. er, more. much more to the rest. you know what i mean) to the imagination: she's a better hiker than me. you all knew it, now you've heard it from my fingers to your eyes.

fer chrissakes, she's hiked whitney. what have i done? the diamond-lake-there-and-back. someday i may peak whitney, too, but she did it first, and she was carrying a marine on her back at the time. that's better than me.

keep on being better than me, that's the way i like you.

i've written a wedding.

i feel accomplished as a writer.

I've got to admit it's getting better 
a little better all the time 
I have to admit it's getting better 
it's getting better since you've been mine 

Me used to be angry young man 
Me hiding me head in the sand 
You gave me the word 
I finally heard 
I'm doing the best that I can 

"gorram" is a word that you, dear, reader, may have noticed me using around here lately. now, i'm sure that fully 50% of my readership (that means you, Mister S.) know what the word means, but the other 50% (you, my love) probably don't.

"gorram" is a made-up word that comes to us courtesy of the writers of the third best television show ever, "firefly", which, having been cut off in its prime (just like the first best television show ever), never had the chance to beat out LOST for spot #2.

the meaning of the word "gorram" becomes apparent no later than the third time it's been heard in context on the show, if not sooner.

Example:

WASH : Gorram it, cap'n, we're being pursued by space pirates!
MAL : What? Where?
JAYNE : Them's not space pirates, them's gorram ass pirates!

The writers of the show realized that the fecking motards in charge of network teevee wouldn't let them say GOD DAMN on the air, so they invented a word which, in context, is a clear and obvious substitute for that oh-so-naughty phrase.

Now, given what we have learned from our favorite pill popping i'm-not-deaf-because-i'm-an-addict-no-really throw-the-addicts-in-jail hypocritical gas bag, namely that "words mean things," one must ask oneself, assuming one is the sort of one that asks oneself these sort of things, "is it the words 'GOD DAMN' that are offensive, or is it the concept embodied by the words?"

i am reminded of a book that i read in my youth. tragically i cannot remember the title, but it was about native americans (whom we, in that unenlightened age past, called indians) and settlers. i think there was a changeling involved -- an indian boy raised by whedos who went on to learn about his heritage and went off to live with his tribe once he approached manhood. i think someone or another got scalped, too, but it was done by a different tribe, but the stupid white folk blamed the changeling's tribe. seems like it's all coming back to me.

the relevant part of the novel, though, was the scene between a perplexed indian and a white guy, with the perplexed native discussing the phrase "god damn". he notes that the white man sure seems to say it a lot: "god damn" when the powder doesn't go off, "god damn" when the rain doesn't come, "god damn" when the dinner burns. what does this "god damn" mean, the unenlightened native ponders, and who is this god that is so beholden to the blasphemous tongues of the settlers that he's willing to damn the powder, the weather, and the cook all at the whimsy of some loose white lips?

the native has a hard time grasping the meaning of the phrase "god damn," and i think it's clear that those who would be offended by the phrase also have a bit of difficulty grasping the concepts embodied therein.

think again of "gorram" : it embodies the exact same concepts as "god damn," since it's a one-for-one substitute. over the course of the show, the brilliant writers developed not only a comprehenisble-incomprehensible jargon for the characters to speak, but also a large vocabulary of swear-word-substitutes. and then, when that turned out not to be expressive enough, the writers had the characters blurt out bits of mangled chinese. so when wash calls jayne a gwon goo n'ha ga choi n'hai none of the viewers (especially the ones who speak chinese) know what the hell wash just literally said, but we all know exactly how wash feels about jayne at that particular moment (well, we all know how everyone feels about jayne all the time, i mean, the guy's... well, you either know or you don't).

the point, dear readers is that words are unimportant. concepts are important, words are but tools for expressing concepts. that is to say, words mean things, which itself is to say: words are just sounds. the word "gorram" expresses the exact same concept as "god damn", and perhaps the made-up word is even richer, for it also expresses a contempt for those that would prevent us from saying "god damn." still, despite these facts, it's not offensive enough to be stricken from the airwaves. there can be only one of two reasons for this:

1 - i can't remember what my option #1 was going to be.
2 - the people that run and support the censorship branch of the government (and make no mistake, it is a branch of the government) in this country are a bunch of anklebiting morans.

i think we all know which one it is.

now, if you'll excuse me, i'm off to go shit, piss, fuck, cunt, cocksucker, motherfucker and tits.

what takes two months to grow and five minutes bumbling with a pair of scissors to utterly and unintentionally destroy?

hopefully not my current relationship...

wore my ring hiking today, that's the first time i've worn it during any sort of exercise.

then i wore it again when i went for my post-hike run.

what kept it from falling off during the hike? the power of puffy hiker hands.

what kept it from falling off during the run? the power of loooove.

funny thoughts today :

nowadays, when i get discouraged or disappointed at my lack of schwartzeneggarian physique, or even a ed-norton-in-that-movie-with-the-nazis physique, i remember one thing : i've already got the very literal woman-of-my-dreams, so as long as i don't backslide (which i won't) i reckon i'll be all right.

the new running shirt is nippletastic.

plus, it will help with the farmer's tan.

11 miles + 25lbs wasn't enough for me. i got a new (hopefully nipple-friendly) running shirt, and now i've gotta go try it out. wish 'em luck.

It's Frobuary 1, YOMHC 0x11!

Tried to go to the same place as last but when I arrived at 3:30, even though the hours posted for saturday were 8-4, it was closed. sunday's hours were posted as "?" and it was closed monday, so forget it, i said to myself, having said, "self, forget it!"

so back i went to the chinese place by the chinese restaurant. i asked for it short and that's what i got, in spades. last haircut i asked for a buzz and didn't get one, this time i didn't ask for a buzz but got one. okay then, now i've had a buzz. we'll see how the F likes it.

another homoerotic tour-bus riding slash-n-hack time traveling ogres and swords dream cut down in the prime of its life by the alarm bell.

yogurt batch #2 is just as "sweet" (i.e. non-sour) as batch #1, and has a delicious flavor that ya just can't get in stores.

unfortunately, it's runny. i expect this is because the texture of batch #1 was boosted by the addition of the commercial yogurt, whereas batch #2 contained only batch #1 yogurt, no commercial stuff. from here on out it'll just get runnier, i guess.

so next time i'm trying pectin. i don't want to resort to powdered milk and that never really improved the texture much anyhow. so pectin it shall be. pectin pectin pectin pectin pectin pectin pectin.

nothing beats a nice, close shave with my sharpest razor after a great upper body workout, when my arms are all shaky and erratic.

chicks dig facial scars, right?

TWO POUNDS.

i credit the yogurt.

this is perhaps the most interesting coffee ever.

it's creamy. how do they do that?

i underextracted it, oops.

you just may find
you get what you need

this is an understatement.

i haven't had such a flood of writing since... ever.

this is amazing.

another gift from my love.

i have a fake codebase i made up caled "faketyfake" to serve as a placeholder in my UI.

now, in the product dropdown, of course, i've got a "fakeroo" product, and now, having operated the dropdown, i discover that i've also got a "fakeroni" product. ho ho ho!

i'm done, now.

thanks, i'll be here all week.

and then i'll be somewhere else :)

new piece of schlock posted.

find it yo damn self.

there is a battle going on right now, between the person i am and the person i want to be.

once upon a time, the person that i want to be killed the person that i was, and took his place. i'm now the person that i wanted to be, years ago.

but i'll never not have a "person that i want to be", because i will always strive to be something better.

the person that i want to be says to me, "to net the wandering star, you must let it wander back to you".

the person that i am says, "never let go again, you dumbass, do you realize how close you came to never at all having what you want?"

this is where the concept of "better" comes in. reading those two statements it's clear to me which one "sounds better", which one makes me sound like a "better person", that is, the "superior man" who has read and at least partially understood the tao te ching. simple simon.

but simple simon is who i want to be, not who i am. i am struggle. i saw vultures on a beach.

shaved with my Thiers-Issard razor today.

I like my Thiers-Issard. It's made in france, and it's usually too sharp for me to use. When I do use it, though, I get the best experience possible. Smooth, close; a french caress that knows my face and knows what it wants. Surprises me each time I use it at how well suited for me it is.

It's a straight razor, so it's rugged. But it's a superbly crafted instrument, so it's also delicate. Rugged, delicate, sharp, beautifully-crafted, and thoroughly delightful. It's definitely the thing for me.

Can you read between the lines?

ONE WEEK.

that's right: seven days. now there's a number that's small enough to seem real.

one more weekend.

couple days of work.

and then. and then :)

i dont know the answers and i dont know the future and that bugs the hell outta me.

"only sorta" is the extent of my ability to "go with the flow".

hah, i'm only kidding. i'm a tough guy, remember? stoic and manly, able to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune without need to take up arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing them, end them.

yup, that's me. 'cept my paw's not a ghost.

I came to the club drunk with a fake ID
Don't you wanna grow up to be just like me!
I've been with 10 women who got HIV
Now don't you wanna grow up to be just like me!
I got genital warts and it burns when I pee
Don't you wanna grow up to be just like me!
I tie a rope around my penis and jump from a tree
You probably wanna grow up to be just like me!!!

but i've got so much prose on deck, i can't stop writing long enough to compose a poem.

oh, the problems i have.

sometimes he really impresses me.

keep on keepin' on, bro.

and stop voting republican.

WARNING : GROSS STUFF BELOW

i've always said that the best way to lose weight is to get sick.

after my 2 week cold/sinus infection, it seems i've shed between 5 and 8 pounds. yeah, that's probably all muscle, but my bench press is still about where it ought to be and i can actually do additional pullups, on account of i'm lighter now.

now, here's where the secret comes in, kiddies. don't let it get around.

DIETING SECRET :

It's better to lose weight from a sinus infection than from a bowel infection. Oh, sure, you can lose more weight with a bowel infection, and you can even do it in a shorter amount of time. But having done both, lemme be the one to say: it's a lot more fun to have a sinus infection.

Who needs to breathe, anyhow?

and that brings me to another interesting tidbit about my bowel health, which may actually just display for all my staggering misunderstanding of How Stuff Works Especially In The Bowels.

I was offered antibiotics (a five day course, of course) to deliver the K-O to the sinus (technically: "lung") infection and though i don't like antibiotics because they tend to interfere with the balance of my intestinal flora, i took this as an opportunity to recolonize the tract with some happy yogurt bacteria.

yes, this is really how i think.

the fun thing is, it appears to have worked. i ate actively-cultured yogurt like a mofo while taking the the antibiotic. some speculated that this might interfere with the effectiveness of the antibiotic upon the lung-baddies, but i speculated that the lung-baddies were already losing to my immune system, and that anyhow the antibiotic would do its thing on all bacteria in my body: lung, gut, and lactobacillus, non-descriminatorily, and that this was the very reason anyhow that i didn't like antibiotics, on account of the effects they have on my gutsies.

so, while the azithromycin (funny story about azythromycin. i had thought that all antibiotics had names ending in -cillin, on account of they were derived from moldy bread. then, the day before i went to see doctor feelgood, I watched one of the early episodes of LOST : season 1 (best show ever) wherein doc superman told someone (hurley?) to go gather all prescription drugs, especially those ending in -cillin and -mycin, since those were antibiotics. the very next day i was prescribed a -mycin.) did its thing and flushed the flushables from my various cavities, i bombarded some of those very same cavities (by natural routes, thank you very much) with healthy doses of lactobacillus friendlius. and it seems to have worked: i have fewer gut-related problems than before i got my cold.

now, there are any number of explanations for a reduction in gut-related problems (including, incidentally, my cessation of squats/deadlifts, which, i had long suspected, caused me some problems stemming from increased pressurization of the gut during the lift) but i like to think my pro-active colonization of my 'testines had something to do with it.

and now you know more about my intestinal flora than you ever wanted.

man, i miss me the brunching shuttlecocks.

my life has a soundtrack.

this is sometimes clearly obvious when driving, as the music syncs up to the action on the road. it's also clear when running, as the music syncs up to the action on the pavement.

but it's also clear in other ways.

the soundtrack to my weeks/months of reading "The Dragonlance Chronicles" while hanging over the edge of my bed is "The Pet Shop Boys Discography".

Pearl Jam's "Ten" is the soundtrack to my last visit to my grandparents in New York, sitting in their comfy basement looking at the rifles.

Metallica's "Kill 'Em All" is the soundtrack of the plane ride to the above visit.

"Freebird" is the soundtrack to my life in Palomar.

Beethoven's 9th Symphony, 2nd Movement is the soundtrack to the traditional beach walk.

DJ Shadow's "The Private Press" is the soundtrack to the neo-traditional beach walk.

One album by Zero 7 is the soundtrack to the loss of something I never held very dear.

And Shpongle's "Divine Moments of Truth" is the soundtrack to a little thing that happened one night in a parking lot in Pismo Beach. I'll never forget it.

those are numbers i can wrap my mind around!

when was it that i decided that since you've now admitted your love for me, i should stop behaving like the guy you fell in love with?

that was dumb.

ah, now i'm back to being the guy you love: the one who does dumb crap and then realizes it.

look, we're 7 miles off trail!

i've got a big old forearm bruise from when i passed out.

huzzah.

i said what i said
for many of the wrong reasons
and all of the right reasons

all > many

in real life, it's hard to do better than that.

in real life, things often just plain don't matter as much as i think they do.

on the other hand, some things do. (like this thing in particular, which i still haven't spelled out, 'cuz i don't need to.)

what a relief. i feel a great sense of release, as if i've been unburdened of a heavy load. for a while now, things will be a little less hard.

okay, i already blabbled about the law of fives.

what i didn't realize until just 5 minutes ago is the date on which i professed my love for my love.

that's right, you guessed it:

5/5/2006.

things like this don't just spring forth fully formed from my forehead like lesser-gods from the forehead of zeus.

nossir, noma'am.

they lull and mull and loiter about in my skull for awhile, scaring away the paying customers, until The Time Is Right and they emerge, polished (or at least verbalized) and ready for the world. sure, sometimes they don't come out quite right, but i'm not all spon-tah-nay-eh-tee and lightness. nope, sometimes these things weigh heavily upon my heart until they're ready for the light of day.

but nothing stays hidden in me forever. i write it down or forget it. such is me.

that you thought i was a yogurt barbarian before meeting you.

I am Onan the Yogurt Barbarian! Grrr!

grrrr!

do not look to me for unyielding stability.

i am a tootsie pop. love me not for the stuff on the outside, for it will melt away and be replaced.

love me for my chocolatey unchanging inner core of gooey goodness. that is what i am.

the rest will come and go.

but he did say one thing that i liked, a tautology of limbaugh-nian proportions, but nonetheless subtle and rife with meaning. quoth the insincere one:

words mean things.

that's right. say it out loud. hear me now and believe me later: words mean things. it's not as lame as it sounds.

be careful what you say. words mean things.

choose your words carefully. words mean things.

i've always chosen my words carefully. i've never used the L(ove) word until I absolutely needed to, until it was called for. Until I Really Meant It.

There's one word I never used at all, though, because... words mean things. And that word means something that was frightening. It's not so frightening anymore, though it's still as pregnant with portent as it ever was. It's a big word. A scarier word even than "love". But when I hear your voice, and when I see your smile, and when, on those lucky occasions, I feel your touch, that word that carries so much weight on its back dumps its burden to the floor to stand tall and proud and be heard.

forever is the word i give to you, my love.

it means something. i choose my words carefully.

i make choices, and by my choice, i close off a future. a path that i cannot now tread. a future - a life - that i will not ever live, now. a lost dream. an ended life. a death.

every decision is a death.

"i am a character in my own mind, playing an unscripted part in the comedy of my life, a comedy that i have never taken seriously."

if i'm in the sort of mindset that would allow me to justify eating a single spoonful of ice cream, i'm also in the exact same mindset that would allow me to justify eating the whole pint. i have the sort of excellent self control that allows me to go years on end without any ice cream at all, but once it's in the house, it's out of my control.

i will eat it.

the whole gorram pint.

i am full of some kind of strange, abundant recovery energy.

whether it is wise or not, i must run tomorrow.

i have just paid a rather large stupidity tax. in 4-8 weeks the bill will come for another large amount of stupidity tax.

this cuts into my luggage budget something fierce.

still, i am ebulliant.

i murdered a day. premeditated and with malice, it's stone dead.

9 more to go.

this is it, folks, the piece that all other pieces have been preparation for.

quoth yours truly:

All of life is a preparation, thought Marcus. Every moment
up till now is preparation for this moment. How will I handle Now? 
That depends on how I've spent my time in preparation. Have I spent 
it wisely?

all my writing, all my thinking, all my living up till now has been preparation for what i'm fixin' to do, and what i'm fixin' to write. it will be my greatest piece ever, my first piece of performance art, my greatest, tightest, most excellent and essential work.

hope it doesn't suck as much as "tilt" did. stay tuned.

grrrr!

a little nonsense
now and then
is relished by
the wisest men

i have never been more serious.
i have never been in a more serious situation.
and yet, all my plans, seen through uninitiated eyes, must seem totally farcical.

i must find the happy medium between the seriousness of my intentions and my expectations...

and the great, silly, celebratory madness that is life.

i give myself pause, when i say such things as "i am clearly a discordian"; for while a true discordian, when asked the straightforward question, "can you not be serious even for a moment?" must answer only in the absurd, i find that i can for a moment be serious, i can for a time be absolutely straightforward and say without a shred of irony or ridicule exactly what i want from life, from love, from me, from you.

i approached my life and my love in a ridiculous fashion four times but on the fifth i was serious as a vulture.

i am tasked now with the most serious task i have ever undertaken, and while the result may well be clothed in the most sublime of lightness, at its heart will be the most sacred and heavy of all my intentions, dreams, demands, and hopes. for it is written:

The human race will begin solving it's problems on the day that it 
ceases taking itself so seriously.

...

And when men become free then mankind will be free.

May you be free of The Curse of Greyface.

May the Goddess put twinkles in your eyes.

May you have the knowledge of a sage,

    and the wisdom of a child.

Hail Eris.

you're not going to believe what i found.

back in the hoary past, before saint toad had a blog, he had a beer review website. most of the reviews are permanently lost because your dear host is a motard that doesn't know how to make backups proper, however, 23 reviews were just recovered by said motard!

and now, without further ado, the reviews:

http://sainttoad.com/blog/beer/.

cheers!

i'm almost back to me.

we'll see if tomorrow i make good on my boast of being ready to return to the weightroom. fecking cold-that-wasn't-a-cold. it's gone enough, right?

pungenday, discord 70, 3173 YOLD.

i realized something the other day, and though i had the opportunity to admit it today to mi madre, i did no such thing, for surely it would cause her much distress, and frankly, i need to brush up on Ye Holy Books before I make such claims. so it shall be done.

I figured out what "religion i am", which is to say, what faith it is that guides my life, which is to say, which bible ought to be quoted at my wedding, frinstance.

clearly, my life (or at the very least, the events of my life leading up to my present and by-the-grace-of-eris (which makes no sense, so let's rely on by-the-will-of me, which is far less capricious (but just capricious enough (otherwise i could hardly call myself a discordian (which i haven't yet, so ignore that (i'm getting a bit fnord ahead of myself here))))) everlasting relationship) have been guided by the law of fives, and that plus the fact that i just am leads me to believe that deep down in the bottom of my dusty shoes i'm a discordian.

i have felt strong tugs at my roots from my roots, lately, those roots being respectively my roots and the discordian philosophy. quoth malaclypse the younger and rev. omar khayyam ravenhurst:

The real reality is there, but everything you KNOW about "it" is in 
your mind and yours to do with as you like. Conceptualization is art,
and YOU ARE THE ARTIST.

by which i have lived my life these past five (count 'em, five!) years, culminating in what has culminated and fulminated from my conceptual art, i.e. supreme happiness and happy supremecy.

i fear that should these facts about me become excessively public some may misunderstand, although it is written:

If you think the PRINCIPIA is just a ha-ha, then go read it again.

PROOF (two selected horchatas of wisdom from the principia which are as damned-serious as you'll find in any judeo-xtian thumpingbook) :

Ye have locked yerselves up in cages of fear--and, behold, do ye now
complain that ye lack FREEDOM!

"common sense is what tells you that the world is flat."

QED.

this is something i used to do back in the old days. i have a salton 1qt yogurt maker. the recipe i used was this:

1qt 1% clover stornetta milk raised to 170F lowered to 110F
about 3/4C brown cow cream top plain yogurt
4 hours in the maker
12 hours in the fridge

that's all.

in the past i'd use all nonfat milk and yogurt, plus nonfat powdered milk as a thickener, and leave it in the maker for probably 8 hours (iirc). it used to come out thinnish and sourish, which is fine. but today's is extremely mild and quite thick. as thick as store bought, which i thought was not possible without adding pectin. it may be the case that my yogurt will thin out over multiple batches.

i'll try for a little more sour next time, i think all i have to do is leave it in longer. but if that also thins it, then forget it. thicker is better. oo, maybe i'll find me some pectin and use that!

it's not as smooth as commercial yogurt -- it's a little grainy. and it has some chunky dried lumps that need to be spit out (didn't get those in the past, i don't think).

i'll get ahold of some vanilla for next time. i wonder if it will be good with just vanilla, or if i need to add sugar as well?

.

a prarie dog

i was looking for this the other day and finally found it.

i am so that i will be.

i have known the law of fives since high school. i never expected my life to be heavily influenced by it, but fives and twenty threes keep popping up all over the place in the most excellent and portentuous of ways.

nothing particularly memorable happened in my 23rd year of life... oh wait, i'm wrong. that's when my personal transformation quest began. that's when i began.

things puttered along for a while, undisturbed by erisian influence, until once upon a time, i met someone. someone who left me her phone number. someone whose phone number was assigned the next available number on my speed dial. the number? 23.

a sign? a signal? i don't believe in that mystical horseshit.

right?

right??

the best teevee show ever, LOST, is clearly written by folks familiar with the law of fives. that must be why i enjoy the show. 4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42.

the ring that i wear appealed to me not just because of its design, but also its price. that's right, $23. it's a size 10.

not long ago, something incredible happened to me on a thursday. even less long ago, something even more incredible happened to me on a thursday. which day of the week is thursday? oh yeah, the fifth.

how many times does six go into twenty four? what? four? okay, nevermind on that one.

these are only the things that i can recall off the top of my head. there are surely many more.

still.

my life is not ruled by fives, right? that'd just be too weird.

that'd be just the way i like it.

joy in my heart
joy before my eyes
joy in my ears
bacteria in my lungs.

that's the way it goes, sometimes.

shpongle, a letter to my love, beef barley soup, and a possible concussion. ah, this is the life!

i just play one in real life.

not long ago, interminably long ago, just last saturday, my love and i were down at the stanford shopping mall, looking for diamond nose rings. nothing suitable was to be found, so we returned to my parking spot.

the car was facing one of the exit roads, which is to say, if i were to sit in the car facing forward (or rather, were she to sit in the car facing forward), automotive passers-by exiting the parking lot would have a clear view of us.

before i unlocked the car, we engaged in the sort of passionate kiss typical of our situation (a dry, bloodless way of stating that we had a most excellent, public, "get-a-room-you-two" moment). that finished, i opened her door and she took her seat. i proceeded to take some photographs of my love, for the next day would find her returned to her post at a quite unkissible distance of 1400 miles.

my camera satiated, i bent in to deliver another long, passionate kiss (which, with a cold, is no small feat, on account of the nose is unable to supply the requisite oxygen to sustain a long kiss. still, i managed. i'm smooth like that.). while occupied in this most lovely of endeavours, my peripheral vision caught glimpse of an SUV with windows open, a little boy hanging his head out the window, staring at us.

ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww! squealed the little boy in prepubescent disgust.

nicely done.

i noticed something (took me a while on account of the cold).

the moran comment spammer keeps on spamming the exact same blog posting. okee dokee. IP ban + closed comments on that post = ... problem solved?

we'll see.

moran.

i've got a vast collection of dvds, both movies and television series.

i've got a large libary of books.

i'm currently in the middle of a tom robbins novel which, a month ago, i was enjoying immensely. it's about a free-spirited woman full of life, her magician husband, and the bonds of love that bind them. also, there's a chimp and some ninja priests.

i can't watch half my movies, i can't read half my books, and i certainly can't finish the tom robbins novel. as can be seen from the summary above, the novel is a near exact match for my own life, reminding me painfully that my very own free-spirited woman full of life is far away in both space and time, and that i haven't got a chimp. life turned out funny for me.

the movies, of course, all have female leads. love interests. ick. even something like the best movie ever made, conan the barbarian, has a love story, however lame it may be, thus rendering it difficult for me to watch.

LOST is straight out, on account of kate reminds me of my distant love, except for the killing a person part. but the competence, confidence, and especially the tight jeans remind me of my ranger.

my mind works in funny ways. hee haw.

sigh. it wouldn't be so bad if i didn't have a cold. have i mentioned that i have a cold? my poor overworked immune system hasn't been getting a lot of 'attaboys from me lately. so: go go gadget immune system! kick some viral ass. bleh.

this fecking cold needs to step off, asap.

yes, i made it worse by my weekend exploits. oh fargen well.

but it needs to clear up fast-o in time for more of the same. not only that, it's getting in the way of my liesure activities but not in the way of work. bogus!

also, the stupid comment spammer is back. based on the spam volume (1 per day) and the fact that it circumvented my antispam, i'd say it's an actual person. what a loser.

i don't even know where to begin.

six went into twenty four. the fortress of solitude accepted us. a cold kept us not apart. a crab disturbed us. jose disappointed us. a child was disgusted by us. a ring eluded us. a friend advised us. fives and twenty threes sanctified us. a question was answered by us before it was asked by us. absolutely.

us us us us us.

now distance separates us. distance is silly.

so much happened and so much remains un-happened. things move, things move fast, things move not fast enough.

i take things slowly except for when i take things fast. this is my pattern: research, think, act. i have learned: the time for thinking must come to an end or it will be for nothing. action acts. thoughts dissipate as vapors.

no regrets. still no worries.

amazing.

I need you, definitely more than I can fathom. I love you, absolutely more than I can articulate.

we shared endorphins and it was mighty good.

we fit in the fortress of solitude. that was good.

agreement on the proper serving temperature of second-day pizza. the future is bright.

but every once in a while, bits of news leak out into the surrounding world.

it was never a game.
but it took me a while to discover
that it was life.

it is no longer my own.

i've got an icky cold. maybe it's more like a sinus infection, although it seems to be more of an upper-lung type of thing. i dunno. one more week of it and i'll have to see a doctor.

but a mere diminished lung capacity can't keep me down. with my cold and my love this weekend i went running, hiked the fortress of solitude, and braved 90F heat to find a trinket that refused to be found until she'd already left.

i made a choice that i dare not regret. in the past, when i made choices i "dared not regret", i used my magical powers to suppress any regret. i screwed up my world view and twisted my brain to justify my choices.

this time, i left the dams open and waited. and watched. and listened. nothing. not a drop of regret. not a single worry. nothing but positive images in my future-view mirror. nothing but smiles and laughter. still, nothing but smiles and laughter.

i think i'm being honest. i haven't got time to waste on fooling myself.

i didn't finish my thought. actually, i did, but i had another way to finish it that i didn't use:

sometimes i do things the right way
often, i do things the wrong way
but mostly, i just do things my way
my way led me to someone who sees the value in my way
someone whose own way
is pleasing to me
someone whose way
and mine
run parallel, then merge
to create something new and beautiful

my mind creates fantasies and if i find the courage i can live in them. i've made some of my dreams come true. but the rest... for the others, i'll need help.

king kong was neither as good nor as brief as i was led to believe.

sometimes i do things the right way
often, i do things the wrong way
but mostly, i just do things my way

soon, though, that way
will give way
to our way

6/24

also :

done, and done. that's that.