pre-makeout rampage that i have yet to recall.
pictured left: drunklor and sleepy.
pictured right: hungoverlor and almost late to work.
yes, bobby, i'll have a medium triple soy mocha. no thanks on the whip cream. you have a great day too.
Showing posts with label bob dylan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bob dylan. Show all posts
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Monday, May 05, 2008
i will NEVER watch this movie.
i downloaded j's recommended ((necessary)) dvc player. but the player stops working when i open the movie file.
he referred me to an afterdawn.com how-to guide that comes complete with download links and explanations on the whole coding-decoding, file compressions, and vlc vs. mkv shit.
i get it. all of it... i think.
i read through all of it start troubleshooting with the videoinspector software. this is supposed to read your disc or file and tell you what software is needed to play it. it refers me to many other pricey ((not free)) software companies.
no bueno.
luckily, there is another troubleshooting option, which is a diagnostic test run directly through the matroska ((mkv)) site ((who i'm assuming is responsible for all this vlc videolan crap)). however, that page no longer exists.
how convenient.
maybe i was right. this dvd would be better off used as coaster.
i downloaded j's recommended ((necessary)) dvc player. but the player stops working when i open the movie file.
he referred me to an afterdawn.com how-to guide that comes complete with download links and explanations on the whole coding-decoding, file compressions, and vlc vs. mkv shit.
i get it. all of it... i think.
i read through all of it start troubleshooting with the videoinspector software. this is supposed to read your disc or file and tell you what software is needed to play it. it refers me to many other pricey ((not free)) software companies.
no bueno.
luckily, there is another troubleshooting option, which is a diagnostic test run directly through the matroska ((mkv)) site ((who i'm assuming is responsible for all this vlc videolan crap)). however, that page no longer exists.
how convenient.
maybe i was right. this dvd would be better off used as coaster.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Friday, January 25, 2008
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Saturday, January 19, 2008
mengtar's mazda has TWO fully functioning windshield wipers. imagine that!
the other night at work, a certain rx decided that i had been acting differently as of late, as if i was reflecting or in deep thought about troubling issues too often for rx's approval. we discussed a few recent events and changes vs. stagnance in my relationships with people. people of note were the roommates, the family, the close friends and a particular homeboy. rx decided right out that homeboy had to go and that i was being used for sex and whatnot and that i am too eligible to continue playing these games.
i laughed.
hard.
my only arguments were that we also cuddle and that we also hang out during crotch-explosion weeks.
rx considers these investments.
but i also love playing the safety games. more entertaining than balls.
so rx decides that it would be in my best interest to invite me to a movie that is actually a snakey pukelor set up double date. gross. it wasn't horrible. i mean, i got a free lunch and movie out of it. but vx was obviously more entertained by the idea of being on a date than i was.
but he was nice to look at and laughed at my jokes while making little attempt at humor himself. it's whatever. some people just aren't funny. you can be extremely attractive and not funny and i can pretend to be into that... i won't pretend very hard though.
he said he liked bob dylan too but i think he was lying. i didn't care enough to call him out on it though so i just gave him an "oh, yeah? cool." i'm that cool.
but i went through the whole date ordeal with no awkward anxiety weirdness or blurting out semi-offensive word mix-ups like "is my coffee done?!?" or "why come there isn't spinach in my salad? i mean i how! i mean indians!" as i run into the bathroom to shame-pout by myself.
i saw cloverfield. i'm not sure how i feel about it. i think i'll go again before developing an actualy opinion other than the fact that i enjoyed the cameraman's banter.
"rob, i think it's time to leave the electronics store."
whatever.
much later, cx and i went to el guapos to drink daquiris and watch her friend play violin in a mariachi band. very entertaining.
i worked super early and came home to my bed being emptier than i had left it. this is the face a mengtar that is disappointed5000. in one picture i'm upset about empty beds and the other i'm upset about needing a haircut. can you tell the difference??
((me neither.))
the other night at work, a certain rx decided that i had been acting differently as of late, as if i was reflecting or in deep thought about troubling issues too often for rx's approval. we discussed a few recent events and changes vs. stagnance in my relationships with people. people of note were the roommates, the family, the close friends and a particular homeboy. rx decided right out that homeboy had to go and that i was being used for sex and whatnot and that i am too eligible to continue playing these games.
i laughed.
hard.
my only arguments were that we also cuddle and that we also hang out during crotch-explosion weeks.
rx considers these investments.
but i also love playing the safety games. more entertaining than balls.
so rx decides that it would be in my best interest to invite me to a movie that is actually a snakey pukelor set up double date. gross. it wasn't horrible. i mean, i got a free lunch and movie out of it. but vx was obviously more entertained by the idea of being on a date than i was.
but he was nice to look at and laughed at my jokes while making little attempt at humor himself. it's whatever. some people just aren't funny. you can be extremely attractive and not funny and i can pretend to be into that... i won't pretend very hard though.
he said he liked bob dylan too but i think he was lying. i didn't care enough to call him out on it though so i just gave him an "oh, yeah? cool." i'm that cool.
but i went through the whole date ordeal with no awkward anxiety weirdness or blurting out semi-offensive word mix-ups like "is my coffee done?!?" or "why come there isn't spinach in my salad? i mean i how! i mean indians!" as i run into the bathroom to shame-pout by myself.
i saw cloverfield. i'm not sure how i feel about it. i think i'll go again before developing an actualy opinion other than the fact that i enjoyed the cameraman's banter.
"rob, i think it's time to leave the electronics store."
whatever.
much later, cx and i went to el guapos to drink daquiris and watch her friend play violin in a mariachi band. very entertaining.
i worked super early and came home to my bed being emptier than i had left it. this is the face a mengtar that is disappointed5000. in one picture i'm upset about empty beds and the other i'm upset about needing a haircut. can you tell the difference??
((me neither.))
Sunday, November 04, 2007
((phil, i miss you and cannot wait to call you when i get to minnesota!!))
two years ago today.... almost:
While Phil is off in Greece there I thought I'd finally take up the opportunity to talk about him without him having the ability to disagree. We have been having this off and on discussion regarding the relative value of two songs. Both of them are entitled "Everybody Must Get Stoned." One version is performed by Bob Dylan, the other by Cypress Hill. As some of you may be unfamiliar with one or both of these songs, I'll give you the basic idea. Bob Dylan, writing and performing in the 1960's and '70's created his song such that the references to smoking marijuana were all double entendres in a witty and cute way. At no point did Dylan explicitly refer to marijuana, thereby evading the wrath of the censors. Cypress Hill, writing and performing in the 1990's and through the present took a different tack where the entire song was explicitly making reference to smoking marijuana. Working from these basic facts, Phil and I have come to divergent opinions regarding these songs. I'll lay out my position, which I may or may not have stated in full to Phil, and attempt to recreate Phil's position as I understand it. When he returns from the great beyond he can go ahead and clarify any points I have muddled or otherwise misconstrued. But I am curious to get some input on this question from others. So, here goes.
Push comes to shove over this question, my vote comes down with Cypress Hill elevating the game that was initiated by Dylan. Before I get too far, I want to acknowledge that neither Cypress Hill nor Bob Dylan were/are the only artists pressing the limits of art, expression, etc. through their music. This debate could just as well expand to include NWA versus The Rolling Stones or Elvis. Dylan and Cypress Hill happen to have songs with identical titles and similar themes which creates a set of like terms that make for easier comparison.
Getting back on point, the context that these songs grew out of cannot be ignored in this discussion. Dylan wrote his version, as I said earlier, in order to thumb his nose at what the national censors would and would not allow to be played on the radio. At that point in time, Dylan's lyrics making such bold references to marijuana were cutting edge, risque, and gave him considerable notoriety as an anti-establishment figure. This was not his only work to do that of course, but it is a notable piece of social commentary in that respect.
Cypress Hill cannot be examined in the same context as Dylan because they were responding not just to Dylan but also to society as a whole in the same way that Dylan was. So while Dylan had to be cutsie with his phrasing to get his song played, which simultaneously hammered home his point that censorship was dumb, Cypress Hill was working with a different set of social norms. When they took on the task of writing and performing a song on the subject of marijuana, the times they had changed a bit. Like the rest of Cypress Hill's work, there is a strong anti-establishment to this song. When this song came out it was a bold statement of free expression in that, rather than being cutsie about taboo subjects this was a group that was going to be in your face and telling you all about their illegal activities. Everybody knew that Dylan was talking about marijuana but he could point to an alternate meaning to satisfy the prudes of the world. The modern version, though, removes that layer of cover for the artists and dares anyone to complain or try to censor it. While Cypress Hill was not the only group pushing the limits of acceptable public speech when they wrote this song, neither was Dylan. The reason I find that the Cypress Hill version to take pop culture to the next level is that it represents the removal of the veneer of acceptability and conformance that marks the music of Dylan's time. The veil has been lifted from the references to the same activities that artists have been engaged in since long before either Cypress Hill or Dylan. Cutsie is alright, and can be witty and all of that, but cutsie takes a backseat to raw truth in my opinion. ((however, long live Dylan))
Phil's position is that Dylan's song is superior and that Phil himself could have written (and implicitly performed) the Cypress Hill song, "with [his] butt." Now, I have yet to get much more than that out of him on the subject, so I will attempt to extrapolate where I think he is coming from. First off, the thing that I am referring to as "cutsie" is actually an amazingly intricate batch of lyrics that rhymes, flows, whatever you want to call it, makes sense, and makes about a bajillion marijuana references without any of them being explicit. I agree with this wholeheartedly. But the lyrics of the Cypress Hill song also rhyme, flow, and make sense. While the references to marijuana are explicit rather than implicit, that in itself is insufficient to dismiss the song as something one could write with their butt. For the reasons outlined above, much of the point of the newer song was to take the older one and modernize it by making explicit the "quiet part." As far as flipping the bird to the establishment, there are some strong similarities here. And as far as the lyrical skill employed by the artists in crafting their message, Cypress Hill throws out flows that would leave Dylan a stuttering mess if he tried to imitate their style. Cypress Hill may be operating with a more limited vocabulary than Dylan, they convey their message just as artfully as Dylan. It might be worthwhile to note that English is a second language for Cypress Hill, a slight disadvantage in a lyrical contest. But in either Spanish or English, there are very few artists that can match the oral skill that these rappers can put down, which is impressive.
Now, for all of you that are itching to write about how Dylan is a more skilled musician than Cypress Hill could dream of, I agree. He's nice on the guitar, and can write with the most powerful of imagery. That's not the point that I'm trying to make, so save your fingers. Many also believe has one of the worst voices in human history, that is also not the point. Heck, some people even like him for the voice, it's like his thing. Hell, I do. My biggest hangup here is that I feel pretty confident that the knee-jerk reaction of everyone reading this blog upon considering the question of Cypress Hill versus Bob Dylan snorted, huffed, and said "Dylan, of course." The lack of respect given to rap music as a forum for valuable art as well as political commentary is as unfair to the genre as someone dismissing all music performed by female artists after listening to Brittaney Spears. Of course there is no way to come to a definitive conclusion over who is a "better" artist or who made a "better" song, Dylan or Cypress Hill, that is also not the point. The final determination comes down to individual preferences and tastes and neither Phil nor I will ever convince the other to change which song we like better. By the same token it is unreasonable and unfair to dismiss one song or the other because you respect one genre of music more than the other. I leave it to all of you to draw some connections between knee-jerk reactions to different types of music, be they country, rap, classical, techno, polka, whatever, and to different groups and ideas in society as a whole. I think that the same phenomena is at work when Phil rejects Cypress Hill offhand when Apollodorus rides to the defense of capitalism at a moment's notice. Take a look at the things you are so quick to defend or condemn and question yourself a bit. I am curious to hear what you find.
((turns up Dylan))
But now I am afraid to leave my house, because there are ten billion children roaming my 'hood with bags, and I have nothing but razor blades and bleach to give them. Maybe they like 40's and oldstyle porno playing cards?
two years ago today.... almost:
While Phil is off in Greece there I thought I'd finally take up the opportunity to talk about him without him having the ability to disagree. We have been having this off and on discussion regarding the relative value of two songs. Both of them are entitled "Everybody Must Get Stoned." One version is performed by Bob Dylan, the other by Cypress Hill. As some of you may be unfamiliar with one or both of these songs, I'll give you the basic idea. Bob Dylan, writing and performing in the 1960's and '70's created his song such that the references to smoking marijuana were all double entendres in a witty and cute way. At no point did Dylan explicitly refer to marijuana, thereby evading the wrath of the censors. Cypress Hill, writing and performing in the 1990's and through the present took a different tack where the entire song was explicitly making reference to smoking marijuana. Working from these basic facts, Phil and I have come to divergent opinions regarding these songs. I'll lay out my position, which I may or may not have stated in full to Phil, and attempt to recreate Phil's position as I understand it. When he returns from the great beyond he can go ahead and clarify any points I have muddled or otherwise misconstrued. But I am curious to get some input on this question from others. So, here goes.
Push comes to shove over this question, my vote comes down with Cypress Hill elevating the game that was initiated by Dylan. Before I get too far, I want to acknowledge that neither Cypress Hill nor Bob Dylan were/are the only artists pressing the limits of art, expression, etc. through their music. This debate could just as well expand to include NWA versus The Rolling Stones or Elvis. Dylan and Cypress Hill happen to have songs with identical titles and similar themes which creates a set of like terms that make for easier comparison.
Getting back on point, the context that these songs grew out of cannot be ignored in this discussion. Dylan wrote his version, as I said earlier, in order to thumb his nose at what the national censors would and would not allow to be played on the radio. At that point in time, Dylan's lyrics making such bold references to marijuana were cutting edge, risque, and gave him considerable notoriety as an anti-establishment figure. This was not his only work to do that of course, but it is a notable piece of social commentary in that respect.
Cypress Hill cannot be examined in the same context as Dylan because they were responding not just to Dylan but also to society as a whole in the same way that Dylan was. So while Dylan had to be cutsie with his phrasing to get his song played, which simultaneously hammered home his point that censorship was dumb, Cypress Hill was working with a different set of social norms. When they took on the task of writing and performing a song on the subject of marijuana, the times they had changed a bit. Like the rest of Cypress Hill's work, there is a strong anti-establishment to this song. When this song came out it was a bold statement of free expression in that, rather than being cutsie about taboo subjects this was a group that was going to be in your face and telling you all about their illegal activities. Everybody knew that Dylan was talking about marijuana but he could point to an alternate meaning to satisfy the prudes of the world. The modern version, though, removes that layer of cover for the artists and dares anyone to complain or try to censor it. While Cypress Hill was not the only group pushing the limits of acceptable public speech when they wrote this song, neither was Dylan. The reason I find that the Cypress Hill version to take pop culture to the next level is that it represents the removal of the veneer of acceptability and conformance that marks the music of Dylan's time. The veil has been lifted from the references to the same activities that artists have been engaged in since long before either Cypress Hill or Dylan. Cutsie is alright, and can be witty and all of that, but cutsie takes a backseat to raw truth in my opinion. ((however, long live Dylan))
Phil's position is that Dylan's song is superior and that Phil himself could have written (and implicitly performed) the Cypress Hill song, "with [his] butt." Now, I have yet to get much more than that out of him on the subject, so I will attempt to extrapolate where I think he is coming from. First off, the thing that I am referring to as "cutsie" is actually an amazingly intricate batch of lyrics that rhymes, flows, whatever you want to call it, makes sense, and makes about a bajillion marijuana references without any of them being explicit. I agree with this wholeheartedly. But the lyrics of the Cypress Hill song also rhyme, flow, and make sense. While the references to marijuana are explicit rather than implicit, that in itself is insufficient to dismiss the song as something one could write with their butt. For the reasons outlined above, much of the point of the newer song was to take the older one and modernize it by making explicit the "quiet part." As far as flipping the bird to the establishment, there are some strong similarities here. And as far as the lyrical skill employed by the artists in crafting their message, Cypress Hill throws out flows that would leave Dylan a stuttering mess if he tried to imitate their style. Cypress Hill may be operating with a more limited vocabulary than Dylan, they convey their message just as artfully as Dylan. It might be worthwhile to note that English is a second language for Cypress Hill, a slight disadvantage in a lyrical contest. But in either Spanish or English, there are very few artists that can match the oral skill that these rappers can put down, which is impressive.
Now, for all of you that are itching to write about how Dylan is a more skilled musician than Cypress Hill could dream of, I agree. He's nice on the guitar, and can write with the most powerful of imagery. That's not the point that I'm trying to make, so save your fingers. Many also believe has one of the worst voices in human history, that is also not the point. Heck, some people even like him for the voice, it's like his thing. Hell, I do. My biggest hangup here is that I feel pretty confident that the knee-jerk reaction of everyone reading this blog upon considering the question of Cypress Hill versus Bob Dylan snorted, huffed, and said "Dylan, of course." The lack of respect given to rap music as a forum for valuable art as well as political commentary is as unfair to the genre as someone dismissing all music performed by female artists after listening to Brittaney Spears. Of course there is no way to come to a definitive conclusion over who is a "better" artist or who made a "better" song, Dylan or Cypress Hill, that is also not the point. The final determination comes down to individual preferences and tastes and neither Phil nor I will ever convince the other to change which song we like better. By the same token it is unreasonable and unfair to dismiss one song or the other because you respect one genre of music more than the other. I leave it to all of you to draw some connections between knee-jerk reactions to different types of music, be they country, rap, classical, techno, polka, whatever, and to different groups and ideas in society as a whole. I think that the same phenomena is at work when Phil rejects Cypress Hill offhand when Apollodorus rides to the defense of capitalism at a moment's notice. Take a look at the things you are so quick to defend or condemn and question yourself a bit. I am curious to hear what you find.
((turns up Dylan))
But now I am afraid to leave my house, because there are ten billion children roaming my 'hood with bags, and I have nothing but razor blades and bleach to give them. Maybe they like 40's and oldstyle porno playing cards?
Saturday, September 15, 2007
it began so hopeful, but this is the night of the infuriated mengtar.
chilled with mike-the-man-of-all-that-is-awesome and randall at jupiter for a good 4 hoursish. watched TGTTM bear traps. jb's trap shop. trap house, kyle speaking. it's your mayoooor!!! hello. hello mr. mayor. i laugh.
also, i do origami.
anywhat, as we prepared our departure, tara-the-slut pulled up with her apparently-not lesbian lover? i can't keep track of people. whatever. but her everything makes me angry. and she started talking which made my everything hurt. then she dropped the jx-word and i shut her off for the rest of the two hours it felt like but was probably actually twenty minutes that we were in her presence. i left angry with the only remaining brilliance of the evening being my ability to blog about it and sleep in my bed of amazingness.
also, i listened to bob dylan's modern times album. but even that was upsetting for more jx reasons.
i often finding myself wondering how it would feel to completely fuck somebody's world. i thought i was done with this?
balls to you, sir.
chilled with mike-the-man-of-all-that-is-awesome and randall at jupiter for a good 4 hoursish. watched TGTTM bear traps. jb's trap shop. trap house, kyle speaking. it's your mayoooor!!! hello. hello mr. mayor. i laugh.
also, i do origami.
anywhat, as we prepared our departure, tara-the-slut pulled up with her apparently-not lesbian lover? i can't keep track of people. whatever. but her everything makes me angry. and she started talking which made my everything hurt. then she dropped the jx-word and i shut her off for the rest of the two hours it felt like but was probably actually twenty minutes that we were in her presence. i left angry with the only remaining brilliance of the evening being my ability to blog about it and sleep in my bed of amazingness.
also, i listened to bob dylan's modern times album. but even that was upsetting for more jx reasons.
i often finding myself wondering how it would feel to completely fuck somebody's world. i thought i was done with this?
balls to you, sir.
Friday, September 14, 2007
ONE YEAR AGO TODAY:
I bought the new Bob Dylan album.
Amazing as always.
TWO YEARS AGO TODAY:
I have a fuzzy recollection of something I read in a Chomsky interview in the Sun about working and getting a job. The gist of it was that the conditions we work under are fairly tyrannyical. He said it in a real slick sort of way though and I think it is a good point. Here's me trying to flesh it out.
So you gets up in the morning or afternoon and you heads to work, traveling through our fairly democratic society. Free to walk down the street. Free, more or less, to protest. Free to speak your mind. Free to express anger at the conditions you find. Free to associate with whomever you choose.
Then you gets to work and a lot of things change. You leave your relatively democratic society and enter a much more tyrannical system. Granted, you're just going to work and it's not going to kill you or anything, but I think it's worth noting the differences. From that moment on, you musy obey what in many cases is a very strict system of regulations. You must do what you are told, how you are told to do it, when you are told to do it, until it is time for you to leave. You will be in a hierarchical system where the people above you can punish you in a variety of ways, more or less at will. Court their favor and you will receive awards. Fail to do so and your days will be plagued by extra nuisances.
Remember that you are always being watched and evaluated more or less continuously. In many situations you will be monitored by cameras. Your results wll be checked. Your behavior will be scrutinized. You must remember that even your emotions are not your own until you leave. You must act enthused about all of this. About this opportunity you have been given. You must show that you can work well with those around you. But you ought not to become too close. Close friendships might dirupt the system of obedience. Friends might prove too supportive. Friends might cover for one another.
It is an artificial and unsatisfying situation for a human being to find themselves in. Ideally for the business it is a team of antagonistic individuals, jockying for position and favor. Pointing out each other's flaws. Hiding their true feelings. Working together without building meaningful ties.
And the best part is that you have little to no choice in this matter. You pretty much have to get a job and the more reluctant you are to do so, the more likely you are to find yourself in the most restricted varieties of work. Those who buy in are rewarded with longer leashes. Those who work only with the enthusiasm of the obligated find themselves punching clocks and accounting for their every move.
There is nothing else you can do. You can't go off and live somewhere else where you don't have to pay rent and where you are free to collect the things you need from nature. The world belongs to the people who own the businessess. You can work for them or you can throw yourself on the mercy of a pretty unforgiving society. You can beg for a job or you can beg for a change.
You live in a free and democratic society but you probably spend at least half of your day following orders under the scrutiny of others in an environment where it is risky to speak your mind and where the freedom of assembly is touch and go. You don't have to like it, but you should probably act like it if you want to keep having the opportunity to pretend to like it.
There has to be a better way for humans to relate to their work and each other.
I bought the new Bob Dylan album.
Amazing as always.
TWO YEARS AGO TODAY:
I have a fuzzy recollection of something I read in a Chomsky interview in the Sun about working and getting a job. The gist of it was that the conditions we work under are fairly tyrannyical. He said it in a real slick sort of way though and I think it is a good point. Here's me trying to flesh it out.
So you gets up in the morning or afternoon and you heads to work, traveling through our fairly democratic society. Free to walk down the street. Free, more or less, to protest. Free to speak your mind. Free to express anger at the conditions you find. Free to associate with whomever you choose.
Then you gets to work and a lot of things change. You leave your relatively democratic society and enter a much more tyrannical system. Granted, you're just going to work and it's not going to kill you or anything, but I think it's worth noting the differences. From that moment on, you musy obey what in many cases is a very strict system of regulations. You must do what you are told, how you are told to do it, when you are told to do it, until it is time for you to leave. You will be in a hierarchical system where the people above you can punish you in a variety of ways, more or less at will. Court their favor and you will receive awards. Fail to do so and your days will be plagued by extra nuisances.
Remember that you are always being watched and evaluated more or less continuously. In many situations you will be monitored by cameras. Your results wll be checked. Your behavior will be scrutinized. You must remember that even your emotions are not your own until you leave. You must act enthused about all of this. About this opportunity you have been given. You must show that you can work well with those around you. But you ought not to become too close. Close friendships might dirupt the system of obedience. Friends might prove too supportive. Friends might cover for one another.
It is an artificial and unsatisfying situation for a human being to find themselves in. Ideally for the business it is a team of antagonistic individuals, jockying for position and favor. Pointing out each other's flaws. Hiding their true feelings. Working together without building meaningful ties.
And the best part is that you have little to no choice in this matter. You pretty much have to get a job and the more reluctant you are to do so, the more likely you are to find yourself in the most restricted varieties of work. Those who buy in are rewarded with longer leashes. Those who work only with the enthusiasm of the obligated find themselves punching clocks and accounting for their every move.
There is nothing else you can do. You can't go off and live somewhere else where you don't have to pay rent and where you are free to collect the things you need from nature. The world belongs to the people who own the businessess. You can work for them or you can throw yourself on the mercy of a pretty unforgiving society. You can beg for a job or you can beg for a change.
You live in a free and democratic society but you probably spend at least half of your day following orders under the scrutiny of others in an environment where it is risky to speak your mind and where the freedom of assembly is touch and go. You don't have to like it, but you should probably act like it if you want to keep having the opportunity to pretend to like it.
There has to be a better way for humans to relate to their work and each other.
Thursday, June 07, 2007
smoked too much tonight. whatever.
went to jupiter to chill with patrick, and as it turns out... everyone was there. had a good time chillin and talking and being philosophical which is about all you can do late at night at a 24-hour coffee joint.
my work pants look like pajama pants and it makes me look like i have a saggy butt. save money for smaller clothes... then buy a mattress... after the piercings, of course.
apparently when i go home, we are taking family portraits. news to me!!
also, full-on sympathies to sarah for stress fractures that make her unable to run marathons. sorry, hun!
anytime people talk about anyone cheating ((which seems like a regular discussion topic now-a-days)) i feel ridiculously sick to my stomach and become instantly ultra-depressed. when is this going to be over?!? i can't hear from him soon enough.
i drank an iced soy mocha. dan bought me a second... i don't think they used soy
milk. i drank half and felt kind of shitty. i hope i don't have to poop all day tomorrow.
patrick jammed to some dylan with me. he knew the words. he gained several cool points.
johnny's in the basement mixing up the medicine. i'm on the pavement thinking about the government. A man in a trench coat, badge out, laid off says he's got a bad cough and wants to get paid off. look out, kid. it's something you did. god knows when, but you're doing it again. you better duck down the alley way. looking for a new friend. the man in the coon-skin cap in the pig pen wants eleven dollar bills, but you only got ten. maggie comes fleet foot, face full of black soot. talking that the heat put plants in the bed but the phone's tapped anyway. maggie says that many say they must bust in early may. orders from the d.a. look out, kid. don't matter what you did. walk on your tip toes. don't tie no bows. better stay away from those that carry around a fire hose. keep a clean nose. watch your plain clothes. you don't need a weather man to know which way the wind blows. get sick. get will. hang around an ink well. ring bell. hard to tell if anything is going to sell. try hard. get barred. get back. write braille. get jailed. jump bail. join the army if you fail. look out, kid. you're going to get hit. but users, cheaters, six-time users hang around the theaters. girl by the whirl pool is looking for a new fool. don't follow leaders, and watch your parking meters. get born. keep warm. short pants romance. learn to dance. get dressed. get blessed. try to be a success. please her. please him. buy gifts. don't steal. don't lift. twenty years of schooling and they put you on the day shift. look out, kid. they keep it all hid. you better jump down a manhole and light yourself a candle. don't wear sandals. try to avoid the scandals. don't want to be a bum, you better chew gum. the pump don't work because the vandals took the handle.
((from memory, with only two umms and hmms along the way))
went to jupiter to chill with patrick, and as it turns out... everyone was there. had a good time chillin and talking and being philosophical which is about all you can do late at night at a 24-hour coffee joint.
my work pants look like pajama pants and it makes me look like i have a saggy butt. save money for smaller clothes... then buy a mattress... after the piercings, of course.
apparently when i go home, we are taking family portraits. news to me!!
also, full-on sympathies to sarah for stress fractures that make her unable to run marathons. sorry, hun!
anytime people talk about anyone cheating ((which seems like a regular discussion topic now-a-days)) i feel ridiculously sick to my stomach and become instantly ultra-depressed. when is this going to be over?!? i can't hear from him soon enough.
i drank an iced soy mocha. dan bought me a second... i don't think they used soy
milk. i drank half and felt kind of shitty. i hope i don't have to poop all day tomorrow.patrick jammed to some dylan with me. he knew the words. he gained several cool points.
johnny's in the basement mixing up the medicine. i'm on the pavement thinking about the government. A man in a trench coat, badge out, laid off says he's got a bad cough and wants to get paid off. look out, kid. it's something you did. god knows when, but you're doing it again. you better duck down the alley way. looking for a new friend. the man in the coon-skin cap in the pig pen wants eleven dollar bills, but you only got ten. maggie comes fleet foot, face full of black soot. talking that the heat put plants in the bed but the phone's tapped anyway. maggie says that many say they must bust in early may. orders from the d.a. look out, kid. don't matter what you did. walk on your tip toes. don't tie no bows. better stay away from those that carry around a fire hose. keep a clean nose. watch your plain clothes. you don't need a weather man to know which way the wind blows. get sick. get will. hang around an ink well. ring bell. hard to tell if anything is going to sell. try hard. get barred. get back. write braille. get jailed. jump bail. join the army if you fail. look out, kid. you're going to get hit. but users, cheaters, six-time users hang around the theaters. girl by the whirl pool is looking for a new fool. don't follow leaders, and watch your parking meters. get born. keep warm. short pants romance. learn to dance. get dressed. get blessed. try to be a success. please her. please him. buy gifts. don't steal. don't lift. twenty years of schooling and they put you on the day shift. look out, kid. they keep it all hid. you better jump down a manhole and light yourself a candle. don't wear sandals. try to avoid the scandals. don't want to be a bum, you better chew gum. the pump don't work because the vandals took the handle.
((from memory, with only two umms and hmms along the way))
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
i know that i JUST said that i wasn't drinking anymore... but...
i went over to drink at patrick's last night. we drank wine. i had three glasses and then threw up four times.
a few days ago i had two windsor-cokes and a glass of wine and threw up twice.
apparently i am no longer allowed to drink wine. and now i am strongly believing that i have to stop drinking now.
ready... go.
i have one line from a bob dylan song running through my head.
yeah for just one moment if you could stand inside my shoes, you'd know what a drag it is to see you.
i am sad.
Friday, March 30, 2007
i drank a lot at rumors last night. i played pool with two guys i went to highschool with but don't remember. i was drunk. i lost. whatever.
hx sent me this photo this morning. it made me giggle uncontrollably.
i'm going to blue man group tonight at the excel with sx and momx. hopefully there will be pictures.
photography wasn't allowed at the bob dylan exhibit. however, it was amazing. and i finally saw the ever-so-famous chicken painting that no one shuts up about. and it was equally awesome to the standard everyone said it was at, unlike the movie 300. i forgive you.
i'm still in fucking minnesota, and sorry nx, i won't be making it down to eau claire, even thought your brox could give me a ride. i'm just chillin up here. too much shit planned for the weekend... like drinking with my mom. yeah. shutup.
i do want to get back to texas soon though, i miss it. didn't think i would... at all... but i do. fuck.
hx sent me this photo this morning. it made me giggle uncontrollably.
i'm going to blue man group tonight at the excel with sx and momx. hopefully there will be pictures.
photography wasn't allowed at the bob dylan exhibit. however, it was amazing. and i finally saw the ever-so-famous chicken painting that no one shuts up about. and it was equally awesome to the standard everyone said it was at, unlike the movie 300. i forgive you.
i'm still in fucking minnesota, and sorry nx, i won't be making it down to eau claire, even thought your brox could give me a ride. i'm just chillin up here. too much shit planned for the weekend... like drinking with my mom. yeah. shutup.
i do want to get back to texas soon though, i miss it. didn't think i would... at all... but i do. fuck.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
so jx wants to work on shit now, and that's great. i mean, that's exactly what i've wanted this whole time and i feel incredible about it. however, as of recently, he has also taken all photos of me off his myspace and updated his relationship status from in a relationship to swinger. now, i know that he talks to random girls online. and i know that it's probably quite inappropriate. however, this just hurts too much and is all too real. if we're going back to being boyfriend/girlfriend then this shit is seriously going to have to stop. 
also drinking tonight in celebration of the birthday of the guy that points at things that my sister fucks in the mornings. go lx. hit that shit.
i had the guts to call him last night long after he had gone to bed. now i'm afraid that if i called him that i would chicken out. i would say it to his face. maybe it's best if i just wait until i get back to texas. it just worries me what he's going to do in the meantime.
in other news, minnesota is as minnesota as ever. 80 when i got here. 50 the next day. fucking minnesota.
tomorrow i will make it out to the bob dylan exhibit at the weisman art museum. fucking right. pictures aplenty. also, if anyone would like to join me, leave me a message or call the cell.
also drinking tonight in celebration of the birthday of the guy that points at things that my sister fucks in the mornings. go lx. hit that shit.
jx, don't hit that shit.
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