digging on this cover of “here comes the sun” by antony & the johnsons.
Antony Hegarty’s voice is simultaneously cool & haunting without feeling forced or contrived. i’ve had this tune stuck in my head for days.
hope you dug it too.
now and again i browse through my blog’s archives…and yes that’s as self-indulgent as it sounds but i recognize and embrace it.
for the most part, i hang out in the old “classic” stuff. (if an entry was posted in the last 3 years, it’s probably not ripe enough to re-read.)
tonight i perused the march 2007 archives and, boy, i sure knew how to push people’s buttons back in the ought-sevens.
i’m not sure if it is knowing the pretty girl, falling-in-love, or being married that mellowed a brother out, but damn, i’ve definitely toned it down a few notches.
so this is the part of the post where we ask if the toning down was a good thing. does peace & happiness mean saying goodbye to the revolution?
i’m proud of myself for not running away from the consequences that come with 21st century life. i’ve been here since 2003 and all of the highs & lows are yours for the consuming.
i remember the march of 2007 being a time of raw, bleeding, hurtful emotion. in fact, were it not for buster, a plastic buddha and the waking life, i’m not sure any of this mess would have the same tone and smiley emoticon ending 
perhaps it’s time to un-mute the conversation and re-engage the 2am’s of the world.
perhaps it’s time for those who are awake to shake the sleeping from their beds.
perhaps this is our revolution.
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he’ll be home before we know it, but under the covers you’ll be safe-and-warm.
the covers are our only hope. don’t trust anyone else. keep them tucked-tight.
your old four-post bed used to mock me.
tossled sheets and hand-beaten-pillows screamed their curses my way.
curse/scream/curse
i miss them.
from the kitchen to the bathroom, i would pass by and to this day, i can remember light that illuminated that damn-dungeon-room.
i tried to stare it into submission; it was relentless. who knew one room could be so possessed?
we were always most comfortable on your smoke-friendly-porch.
the corners were our best-friend. pillars of smoke by day, pillars of fire by night.
in retrospect we were hiding and shadows were our solace.
darkness was no place for the waking life; today we’re happy and flourishing in the brilliant-light-of-day.
5 years passed–5 years wiser–5 years awake.
thank you, mystery.
“she’s a rebel, she’s a saint, she’s the salt of the earth and she’s dangerous.”
each night i write an average of 4 blog posts that will never see the light of day.
each one is drowning in draft-purgatory.
each is oppression.
so this afternoon i looked at an apartment near downtown claremont, bc if there’s one thing i’m sick and fuck tired of it’s living a stone’s throw from campus.
“but, dude, it’s so convenient and you can just walk to work! how could you not love that?”
well, friend, picture yourself at work…sitting at your desk, reading your papers, organizing your paperclips and pushpins. now get up and walk out to the parking lot…and now live there. eat there. sleep there. poop there. then get up in the morning and walk into work.
see?
so i found a great place that i’m all jazzed about and now i can exhale b/c shit like that weighs on my brains.
afterwards, i celebrated by visiting The Press—a downtown-claremont-bar/restaurant recommended as much for their drinks as for their food. while sitting at the bar—enjoying a beverage and a vegetarian taco—i couldn’t help but hear the two people next to me discussing what they had just lived in their graduate seminar; i sat with one eye on my drink and an ear on their conversation.
they were overtly-obvious-philosophy-students, knee-deep in a discussion of existentialism and its history in 19th century europe. when one of them made a reference to religion, i chuckled too loudly for deference and caught their attention.
“i’m sorry“, i said, “i couldn’t help but overhear your conversation, sounds like interesting stuff.”
“are you familiar with hegel? have you read any of his stuff?”
“yeah, when i was in college…like 10 years ago. idealism is heavy but especially so from hegel…ya know, it’s just nice to hear people talk about things like this again.”
“again?” the curly-haired philosopher asked turning back to me.
“…let’s just say it’s nice to hear people not talking about jesus.”
with a quick glance to her partner, she replied back, “why would someone waste their time talking about jesus?”
“exactly.” i said, feeling immediately at home and ordering another.
New York Times: Goodbye, Hummer
so I wonder if douche-bag hummer owners are any closer to realizing their douche-baggery now that GM has killed the hummer brand? yeah, probably not.
so now that the 2010 olympics in vancouver have come to an end, i’m reading about plans for the 2014 Winter Olympics in Sochi, Russia.
what will we possibly be doing in 2014?
2014.
fuck, that sounds like science-fiction.
nigh on four years ago, stonebraker and I chatted and it was revealed to me that I’m a fanboy of -everything-
also fitting in this archives redux is that I mention how much Canada loves me…and tonight is the closing ceremonies of the Olympic games in CANADA! Spooooky!
~woooooooo~
ok whatever, it’s a good archive post:
Originally Published, February 28th, 2006
Stonebraker: i’m watching bill maher
Me: cool he’s awesome
Stonebraker: eh…he’s hit or miss for me
Me: you just like be unenthusiastic about anything i like
Stonebraker: no I’m just not a zealot
Me: of anything?
Stonebraker: of things you like
Me: haha
Stonebraker: cuz your a huge fanboy
Me: yeah here’s how our conversations go:
Me: dude xxxx is so rad! i love it!
Me: stone: yeah it’s good….well its not really that good…in fact it’s dumb
Stonebraker: ok here’s how it really goes…
Stonebraker: let’s say that product xxxx is all over the tech sites
Stonebraker: YOU: dude did you see xxxx its the best thing that has ever been or ever will be
Stonebraker: then, a day or so later xxxxx is discredited and i’m like: I told you so…heh
Me: i don’t care what you say, i’m not going to apologize for having passion…its part of my charm
Me: its why i’m adored by literally dozens of canadians
a day of rain was fine; buster didn’t mind it. thunder and lightning? that’s a whole other matter.
by my count, buster’s only afraid two things. 1) ironing boards & 2) thunder
so last week at this time I was in glorious downtown San Francisco with my lovely wife and HIGHlarious sister-in-law. as I eluded to in a prior post, we had a great time and prior to landing at Luna Park and drowning ourselves in bottomless-mimosas/blood marys, we strolled through a few shoppes and the mission st thrift store.
before we left, we checked in with cruzer the cat who assured us that he’d keep an eye on shit while we out.
random shops selling random wares kept us busy for a while until the call of bottomless brunch beverages became too strong to resist.
before we left, i found a mirror and snapped one of the only few photos of myself in existence. one quick stop to the local thrift store revealed a cornucopia of random crap including an album i’ve been needing to pickup for my collection.
also, they still have porn available…but you’ve gotta be desperate enough to ask for it…and then look at porn in a thrift store.
at long last we had done enough non-drinking activities to justify stopping by for a quick (read: three-hour-long) drink.
so yeah a day that started with mimosas and fondue ended with mimosas and build-your-own-smores.
i love you, San Francisco.
so on saturday morning we took advantage of the san francisco sunshine and took the BART to Luna Park. during the course of the next 3 hours we devoured copious amount of food & bottomless beverages (pictured above). at some point towards the end of the Luna-Park-marathon, a group of girls adorned in “bachelorette party” team-sweatshirts arrived and when they informed us that they need “special photos” with me for their scavenger hunt, I obliged because I’m a gentleman. What resulted looked like something out of “the hangover” and you’ll be seeing those photos NEVER.
back in October, I spent a week in New Orleans and each day I managed to write down what can roughly be called a ‘blog entry’ but was really just my head vomiting in the general direction of a text editor.. while it will mostly likely mean nothing to you, for me it’s a time-machine.
(you have to read it at 2x pace to get it…yeah.)
Sunday, 3, October, 2009: wake up before the alarm, time changed last night and the clock-gods have given me an extra hour to pack and hang out with BusterTheDog. Not sure I’ve ever spent a week away from him. That will be weird. Go over to my sister’s place and drop off Buster, he’s my best buddy. We drive to Ontario Intl Airport.
During the drive my sister and I talk about life and career choices. She listens differently than anyone else I know. Talking with her feels like talking to myself but only with objectivity, rationality and intelligence. Must remember to do this more often.
Get to the airport, ONT is barely awake with travellers. Stop at a place to grab a bite to eat. No booze, just food and water. Told the cute waitress I was a vegetarian and she brought me out a fruit platter suitable for someone with more resources than myself. I tip her 100% and wish that every airport-food-service-employee cared as much.
Board the plane.
Spend three hours at 30k feet while travelling to Dallas Fort Worth Intl. The flight has WiFI and I can do whatever the deuce I want. Have a video chat with stonebraker and talk about how we lived long enough to see the future. If flying 700 mph at 30,000 feet and having a video conversation isn’t the future then I don’t know what is. Land in DFW and attempt to navigate the maze of an airport. The place is too fuck big. Have to take a 10 minute shuttle ride to make my connector flight. Before I leave I stop by an airport bar that has been made up to look like an old time country saloon. Order two double whiskey’s. Pay $10 for WiFi. For the record, WiFi at 30k feet is free, but back on earth it costs ten bucks. Watch the locals cheer on their local NFL team as they beat up on my Seattle Seahawks. Fuckers.
Hop on board a smaller plane and spend an hour flying to New Orleans.
Arrive at 12:30am local time. The airport is barren. Follow the pack to luggage claim and board the shuttle to my hotel. Ride for 20mins through abject poverty. Church parking lots filled with homeless covered under sleeping bags, homes deserted with haunting Katrina-era spray paint on the doors. 3 found dead here, 2 here, none at another. We drive into downtown. I find out where the money is being spent. Downtown looks whole and is “open for business”, almost surely on the backs of the poorest of the poor. Unload my bag from the back of the shuttle, give the driver a five-dollar bill and a fist bump.
The hotel is beyond nice and I whisper a thank you to hotels.com for a sweet deal. Check in. Scrub hands under steamy hot water. Apply ethanol gel liberally. Repeat steamy scrub. Collapse in bed.
The sheets are some sort heavy silk and I feel like I’m sleeping under a lead-xray apron. By the end of the week I won’t even notice.
It’s now Monday morning and I’m alive in New Orleans, LA.
I am shocked…SHOCKED…that more people don’t go hurdling to their deaths on the train.
jesus-god, I’ve walked to the dining car 3x and each time was like some sort of Survivor feat-of-strength.
so as you know, after an hour on the train, everyone in my car was krunked. I am not. That being said, I have had probs negotiating the car-to-car transition. I can only imagine that drunkenness makes this feat easier.
still…no one dies on Amtrak? I smell cover-up…and vodka.
so i was meticulous about packing for my first-ever-train-ride up to San Francisco.
MacBook Pro: check
MiFi Wireless Broadband: check
Canon dSLR + Fancy Lenses: check
i went over my packing list time-and-again in OmniFocus.
This morning I arrived at the train station well in time and boarded comfortably.
Now, I’m somewhere in between socal and SF and I realize that I’ve packed my headphones into my checked bag.
fuck-fail.
[thoughts-spinning]
ok, so even though it’s a dick move, don’t you think it would be OK to play some tunes on my iPhone sans headphones? I have awesome taste in music. Yes? No?
feck.
so I’m taking the train from socal to San Francisco on a trip that marks my first ride on an Amtrak train.
Laine & Misty have been prepping me for the experience and after a quick text chat with Laine, I’m quickly becoming a pro.
Me: successfully boarded the train, SF or bust!
Laine: Cool! is there a Foursquare check-in for the Amtrak San Joaquin line?
Me: no, but I checked in at the station and am considering checking in as we cruise along
Laine: Nice.
Me: dude, the train is rad. I’ve been on board for an hour and everyone is already drunk! (except me of course, because I have important work to do).
Laine: Newbie. You’ll learn, there’s no TSA for trains, so flasks & booze are welcome. I’m not sure if it’s legal…more frowned upon actually…like masturbating on a plane.
Laine: Thanks a lot, bin laden.
Me: this is going to make the greatest blog post of all time.
so in a few minutes, I’ll be loading up the Buster and heading to leanne & brandon’s mansion in the hills to enjoy super-bowl-sunday. while I’m still considering any potential wagers, a recent SMS-convo with @st0ney helped put things in perspective:
me: hey I need wager advice: Saints are 5pt underdogs and the over/under is 57. Thinking of parlaying the over and Saints to win. A $100 bet wins $360. Thoughts?
@st0ney: Colts are going to win by 23 points, so factor that in…
me: LOL, well that would change my waging stratedgery.
me: also, I’m blogging that for the record.
@st0ney: you heard it here first: 30-7, Colts.
me: Damn. So you’d take the Colts, give NO 5pts and take the UNDER? that’s a helluva wager right there.
@st0ney: Has there ever even been a 57 point Superbowl? Scoring is always down in the sb.
me: Good question…if only there were some sort of information retrival device.
@st0ney: Only 5 times in the last 20 years have teams scored 57 or more and the last time was 2004.
me: Well, feck, now I don’t know what to do.
@st0ney: That’s why they call it gambling and not sure-thinging.
me: I just love having “action” on a big game.
@st0ney: I hate making rich people richer.
me: I know and what’s strange is that I don’t really gamble in vegas for that reason.
@st0ney: dude! Vegas was built by WINNERS!
