Apocalypto

I hate the way that lately I only get jacked up enough to write on minortriad when I've had a proper injection of hot-cinema-beef. Well, that's precisely what this was. See this movie, it's beautiful and snappy enough to suppress even the most deep-seeded of anthropological/archaeological criticisms from coming to mind until well after the 139 minutes of digital glory have played out.

Even juicier than his cinematic craft, is Mel's overall message. Civilization is ultimately destroyed by the duping of the masses by the powers that be (in this case Mayan priests). This film is no cop-out to some kind of universalized Christian morality whose corruption and violation spells disaster. In this vision of Mayan civilization, the great accomplishments of mathematics, astronomy, technology, and art become the carrots to keep the donkeys marching on through a field of slavery and carnage toward a smallpox-infected future. Viewed in light of the historical liberties taken in producing such a vision, Mel's message seems not to be aimed at the Maya in the least, and clearly enough aimed at the "powers" which pull the strings of the Western global hegemony. Apocalypto:Mel Gibson::Loose Change:Alex Jones... and I feel oddly delighted about that.

happy bird meat day

I do not have a particular purpose for posting, but I feel I would be remiss not to take advantage of this time when I am sitting on a couch with no particular immediate responsibilities, other than the responsibility not to abuse the hospitality of the Nelson-Penlands by vomiting a Thanksgiving medley on their upholstery. If nothing else, I suppose this day provides me a conveient template in which to structure my thoughts. In the spirit of the Pace Thanksgivings of my recent past I would like to go around the table, and each of us will say what we are thankful for prior to eating. I will be playing the roles of everyone. Bear in mind that the object is to see how far we can make it before someone makes the first exceedingly sarcastic comment. Usually this is about as far as Uncle Bob.

Today I am thankful for:

The spilling of beans all over the kitchen and into the cranberry sauce, thus creating the first annual beanberry loaf.

The imminent winter.

The movie Bad Santa and the continuous joy it brings me to hear Billy Bob Thorrnton say "fuckstick."

That we decided to so thoroughly document our high school experiences, allowing me to get nostalgic last night and scan through a goodly number of pictures of Joel. Joel looking dumb. Joel eating a sandwich. Joel laughing uproariously.

That my parents and sister will be here in a week, and that my sister wants to stay in my house, a house which contains among other things, Christopher McKay who will likely offer my sister pot, sex, or both. (And there it is. That must have been Bob.)

That I might not have to be at home for the predicted death of Sandy the dog, which will take place within the next 2 weeks to 1 month. I don't really want to see what happens to the dog, or my dad.

Please feel free to add your own heartfelt contributions. I will see you bastards soon. Keep it unreal.

Masculine E. Tea: The Bitch is Dead Now...

Yesterday I went to Casino Royale... This movie caused my head to fall off, and I thought I should tell you about it.
The movie was one that David, Peanut and I had initially attended as a means by which to bolster some vague sense of masculinity which we claim to possess at some level. Casino Royale was not in fact the sort of film that one would ever want to go see in the hopes of reinforcing modernist metanarratives of masculine power and accomplishment. Casino Royale was great and frustrating because it refused to cop to these notions, deciding to instead reenvision and comment on the typically modern agenda of Bond movies with a truly subjective, postmodern outlook. The Bond that we are left with at the end of this film, the Bond who is now realized as the modern man-weapon stereotype spy that the world knows as "Bond, James Bond",is a creature who finds himself in this mindset only after first coming to reject it and with full knowledge of its flaws. He casts off his sociopathic spy persona only to find himself betrayed in every instance and hurl himself back into the relative comfort, security and simplicity of his double-o life.

Creepy, right... and then we had to stop so David could buy himself some Lebron James's...

digital message, optical bottle, electric sea

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

REMINDER: Never give out your password or credit card number in an instant message conversation.
Kitchen Paint says:
here, how's this?
Milkman Dan says:
there, it's Kitchen Paint again...
Kitchen Paint says:
sweet, if you change yours to weaker eye, eric will have a frickin cow, do it
Milkman Dan says:
how's that?
Kitchen Paint says:
because his is pollutant, and weaker eye is another one of our classic bush lyrics
Kitchen Paint says:
or you could do bone driven
Kitchen Paint says:
awesome weaker eye
Milkman Dan says:
have you ever noticed how some of these new children's toys coming out have some whacked up names... ...I mean, you see these adds for stuff, and it looks perfectly normal until you hear what it's called and you can't help but think "What the fuck is that?!"...
Milkman Dan says:
I just saw a commercial for Rugrats toys from some fast food joint and if you put them all together you could make one bit Reptarlanpinbar... ...whatever the fuck that is... ...at least, that's what it sounded like...
Milkman Dan says:
big, not bit...
Milkman Dan says:
but anyway, I swear to God that's what the guy said...
Kitchen Paint says:
cool
Milkman Dan says:
mhmm...
Kitchen Paint says:
i love tomorrow
Kitchen Paint says:
i finally perfected the tabs for the intro
Kitchen Paint says:
no i just have to perfect the actual playing of the intro
Kitchen Paint says:
now, that is
Weaker Eye says:
I see...
Kitchen Paint says:
and we can get bass for that
Weaker Eye says:
cool...
Kitchen Paint says:
so then the kitchen paint cried out to the weaker eye saying....
Weaker Eye says:
I've got your damn herring right here!!!
Kitchen Paint says:
well, said the weaker eye, you can't have it, because....
Kitchen Paint says:
I'm Fucking Freezing!!!
Weaker Eye says:
you and your damn big fuck off beard... ...if it wasn't for that, we wouldn't have so many people taking flights from New Jersey to Hong Kong... ...you bastard...
Kitchen Paint says:
well, retorted the kitchen paint brilliantly, "i've got news for you....
Weaker Eye says:
but no, you have to be big man himself and eat all of the oysters yourself... ...well, you've got it coming man... ...it's coming for you and it ain't your normal two bit soccer mom in her minivan... ...this is something big...
Kitchen Paint says:
"damn you, you never did understand" screamed the weaker eye, for his wrath was growing, "i've got problems too you know, i have big fuck off problem, and i'll have you know, they aren't pretty"
Weaker Eye says:
well aren't you the squirmy little half naked girl swinging from branch to branch? I'll tell you something mister, plaid ain't the last thing I'll ever wear...
Kitchen Paint says:
and with that the weaker eye summoned what little strength he had left, lept out of his comfortable socket and began to urinate into the small bucket of white paint
Kitchen Paint says:
take that you heinous fiend!
Weaker Eye says:
uhhh, who's ~lyss~? do you know?
Kitchen Paint says:
alyssa maguire
Weaker Eye says:
ok... ...just wondering...
Kitchen Paint says:
damn you, not only have you interrupted the wonderful saga, but you have also changed your name back to milkman dan!!!!!
Weaker Eye says:
haha...
Kitchen Paint says:
butch
Kitchen Paint says:
cassidy
Weaker Eye says:
and
Kitchen Paint says:
paul newman?
Weaker Eye says:
the
Kitchen Paint says:
your mom?
Kitchen Paint says:
Dick Cheny?
Weaker Eye says:
Sun
Kitchen Paint says:
Glance Pid?
Kitchen Paint says:
we should seriously write a whole long story with three or four people on messenger some time
Weaker Eye says:
dance
Kitchen Paint says:
it would be great
Kitchen Paint says:
kid
Weaker Eye says:
Kid
Kitchen Paint says:
we should though
Weaker Eye says:
small goa
Weaker Eye says:
t
Weaker Eye says:
pygmy women
Weaker Eye says:
teeny tiny titty twister
Kitchen Paint says:
is it bizzare porno night over at the old levad place?
Weaker Eye says:
no, I'm just saying random things that come to mind...
Weaker Eye says:
fermented blue cheese...
Kitchen Paint says:
oh that's right, every night is bizzare prono night at the old levad place
Kitchen Paint says:
!!!
Kitchen Paint says:
i like blue cheese
Weaker Eye says:
Nasferatu was my grandmother's pimp...
Kitchen Paint says:
awesome, nosferatu
Kitchen Paint says:
have you ever watched that movie?
Weaker Eye says:
whatever...
Kitchen Paint says:
it is fucking hillarious
Kitchen Paint says:
it's a silent film, so everything is incredibly overdone
Kitchen Paint says:
great great great
Weaker Eye says:
finger bang the yin yang until your bing bang is a color other than purple...
Kitchen Paint says:
how did you hear about my bing bang
Weaker Eye says:
selective channels...
Kitchen Paint says:
oh yeah
Kitchen Paint says:
awesome
Weaker Eye says:
now squeeze me them knockers and drown out the talkers and knock the old ladies off of their walkers...
Kitchen Paint says:
please tell me you made that up?
Weaker Eye says:
of course I did...
Kitchen Paint says:
we need to get a copyright on that, pronto
Weaker Eye says:
can do, chief...
Kitchen Paint says:
Canned Doo?
Weaker Eye says:
Potted Meat Product...
Kitchen Paint says:
new chia meat
Kitchen Paint says:
grow beautiful grass on all your favorite meat products
Kitchen Paint says:
ham, bologna, turkey, chicken, salami, linguini, and many many more
Kitchen Paint says:
(chia meat is not licensed for head cheese in some states, see our website www.chiameat.com for details)
Weaker Eye says:
and for our Eastern friends, cat and dog as well!!
Kitchen Paint says:
i'm cool
Weaker Eye says:
Goldengate watercolor...
Kitchen Paint says:
oh dear, three way
Weaker Eye says:
I've embedded my guilt up to the hilt and I hope that this joy never ends, as I push in and out I'm surrounded by doubt and passion and warmth that she sends...
Kitchen Paint says:
did you just make that up
Weaker Eye says:
yeah...
Kitchen Paint says:
dear god man, you're writing our lyrics
Kitchen Paint says:
that rocks
Kitchen Paint says:
i'm saving this conversation
Weaker Eye says:
cool...
Kitchen Paint says:
muffins make me cool
Kitchen Paint says:
if i wear them in my pants
Kitchen Paint says:
i've seen you sporatically typing in this window, what is it you have to say?
Kitchen Paint says:
driving in my car, i smoke my cigar, the only time i'm happy's when i play my guitar
Kitchen Paint says:
yeahhhhh yeahhhh, yeah yeah yeah
Weaker Eye says:
I know this mechanic who's good, but Satanic, and fixes the cars kinda strange... ...he chants and he prances, does Satanic dances, and that's just for one oil change...
Weaker Eye says:
that's really dumb... ...but I like it all the same...
Kitchen Paint says:
dude, that rocks
Kitchen Paint says:
god, we have to keep all of this
Kitchen Paint says:
we are going to have some awesome songs
Weaker Eye says:
I'd have to agree...
Kitchen Paint says:
i like that last limeric a lot
Weaker Eye says:
that one took more time than the rest...
Kitchen Paint says:
and i don't think the musical aspect is going to be as hard as i initally estimated
Kitchen Paint says:
once i learn a bunch of this crap i'll just start modifying it all a little and add in some stuff that i think sounds cool
Kitchen Paint says:
and that's how it'll all start
Weaker Eye says:
sounds fine with me...
Kitchen Paint says:
good
Kitchen Paint says:
guess what i just found out
Weaker Eye says:
that five thousand pounds of strawberry custard fell out of the sky onto Nantucket?
Kitchen Paint says:
chase was wearing bikini underwear again today
Kitchen Paint says:
black
Weaker Eye says:
again?!?
Kitchen Paint says:
thought i'd share the pain
Weaker Eye says:
he needs to stop doing that...
Kitchen Paint says:
yeah
Kitchen Paint says:
kinda makes you think things doesn't it
Weaker Eye says:
he was telling us about it in Chemistry a couple weeks ago...
Weaker Eye says:
kinda makes me try not to think things...
Kitchen Paint says:
that's really gay
Weaker Eye says:
that's REALLY gay...
Kitchen Paint says:
uh huh
Weaker Eye says:
may the hot fires of hell consume me, may the human filet knife renew me, may the meaning of life just confuse me, and I just want my girlfriend to do me...
Weaker Eye says:
except ex the "hot"
Kitchen Paint says:
nice
Weaker Eye says:
this is fun... ...just sitting here coming up with shit off of the top of my head...
Kitchen Paint says:
i bet
Weaker Eye says:
name something cool...
Kitchen Paint says:
what?
Weaker Eye says:
just name something that's cool...
Kitchen Paint says:
oh, umm, brendan?
Weaker Eye says:
ok, something more vague...
Kitchen Paint says:
snow?
Weaker Eye says:
snow... ...good...
Kitchen Paint says:
the light shining through the bathroom while i take a crap early in the morning before marching band?
Weaker Eye says:
wow, that's a good one...
Weaker Eye says:
my motherly instincts towards baby sea turles and killer gray apes from the movies...
Kitchen Paint says:
you thought the leaden winter would bring you down forever
Kitchen Paint says:
true
Weaker Eye says:
nifty sixties sock hops and jumpin' fifities rock bops and just watchin' while the chalk drops and breaks upon the floor... ...the white outside of snow days and the yellow tint of sun rays are sinking through the gray haze as death knocks on your door...
Weaker Eye says:
it would make more sense if the sixties and fifties were switched around...
Weaker Eye says:
nifty fifties sock hops and jumpin' sixties rock bops...
Kitchen Paint says:
yeah, that one goes in many different directions, it's very complex, i like it, make sure to save this stuff
Weaker Eye says:
hmmm...

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Watching Night Come Amber says:
Pretty nifty, eh? I figured we needed something to comment on.

Take it off quickly...

I met a girl and changed a tire in the rain and befriended a drag queen and missed out on a day of wonderful Iowan insanity and threatened a dead-beat douchebag and kicked some dude out of our store and made vegan chili and watched a bunch of people tap dance to "I'm Afraid of Americans" and became a vegetarian(kind of) and drank gallons upon gallons of beer and bought a bed and started rolling my own cigarettes and got to drive a stickshift for the first time in years and died and drunkenly chopped most of my hair off in the bathtub...all in the last month or so. The Triumvirate needs to reconvene like the world needs to end...it's getting fucking urgent. I need to get crazier again...I enjoyed that insanity so much...I crave it as though the wonderful suckling tit that it came from is be deprived from me eternally. And comfort? Where are you? I'm going to go buy more beer and watch Hellraiser until I fall asleep in hopes that it will help...

Ty

Robby, you are more of a fucking genius than I had previously thought...I'm listening to Current on my headphones for the first time and I can hear so much more...it's amazing...

the boy who had green hair (and sweaters) {HAH, 550, your 450 can suck it}

I went on a walk armed with a cigarette and an Ipod Nano. The Ipod started spitting tunes, and the cigarette started smoking. A song off the first Taproot album came on, and it was one of those songs I like so much because they have cheesy overdramatic pauses. So the Taproot cuts out completely as I'm taking a drag, and I don't notice or think about it, and exactly as I exhale, the drums hit like a gorilla pounding with both fists on my skull. I'm walking down the middle of a dimly lit street in a hooded sweatshirt, and this is the hugest cloud of smoke I've ever emitted, and it starts curling and twirling symmetrically, and blocks out the whole sky, and my entire field of vision, with patterns, like the Spiralator. It was an Eminem/Korn music video or something. I continued to attempt to endow my cigarette smoking with a musical quality, resulting in a record breaking cigarette smoking time and a mild cough. I reached the Deals', and saw a huge two story house where there had been a small cabin the last time I had checked. This confused me not a little. Said confusion was not aided by the encounter with a mailbox shaped like a ginormous bass (the fish), whose mouth was the place where you stuffed the mail. Ate multiple ice cream sandwiches, pissed in the lake (after recognizing the upcoming dock rather belatedly and narrowly adjusting so as not to walk directly into the lake), watched some stars and floodlights and lightning, some Arrested Development, and to sleep. This was so much fun, I had to try again the following night. Similar results. Replace ice cream sangwiches with handfuls of macaroni salad, taken directly from the bowl in the refrigerator in the garage. This was done because of lack of any other food, and without utensils, for fear of entering the house and waking the people I don't like to wear green sweaters with (my family). Handfuls of macaroni are difficult to consume. Little individual macaronis squelch and suirt out, all over the floor. Hands are covered in thick macaroni goop residue. I attempt to pick up a blue cylinder and it flies out like one of those green tube snake things that are filled with jelly stuff and slide out of your hands when you try to grab them. There are no available napkins, and everything I touch on my way back to the bunkhouse is coated with macaroni juice. This is not exactly a low profile. This time instead of Taproot-Jay Zizzle, Kings of Leon and a love song about dancing in Lansing, MI. Pimp my Ride greets me with open arms, and the best episode of all time is on. Some chick really likes snakes. I immediately realize what this means (if you like S'mores X-zibit installs a fire pit in your car, if you like WMDs he puts in a nuke factory) - so if this chick likes snakes, she gonna get some snakes! This idea incapacitates me for several minutes. She gets a terrarium, with a 2 inch TV built into a rock, for her snake's viewing pleasure. This lake isn't so bad. I think I'll frequent it, and someday maybe even get in it.

achewood 5-25-06 = us... We're the juggernauts bitches!

This is a pretty simple post. Its entire purpose is to inform those around me of the power of novel objects that i have recently encountered.

1. X-3 - Comic book fans grimace at the inaccuracy of the plot of this movie. However, I can't help but be moved by a smoking hot Famke who, having seemingly limitless telekinetic power, decides simply to liquify any and everything with her mind. This in combination with a Vinnie Jones who uses his limitless momentum to, among other things, make reference to a ridiculous internet overdub of a children's cartoon. Plus Magneto... enough said.

2. The Raconteurs - It's like someone literally asked me exactly what I'd like in a rock album. Jack White + Backup Vocals + Hazy/Minor ROCK! This album is like finding out you can piss gold, or whatever other valuable substance you might desire.

3. Achewood - 5-25-06 - read it and viz our future, our past, our visit to Chicago, our hallowed weekend.

Stream of unconsciousness

I think that I just watched some retro 50s erotica, and there was some chick named Mrs. Rumperdoodle. She was very frustrated that her photographs were not turning out quite right, and boy did she throw a tantrum. There was also a condom robot and foreign people making racecar sound effects. Oh yeah, and the X-men comandeered the Golden Gate Bridge. Lindsey and I decided that once we mutate, one of our first purchases (although I proposed the argument that with super powers we need not bother with actually paying for any more items) will be Magneto's cape and helmet. Or we might just buy Ian Mckellan if he's up for bidding. We would also like some wings, bitches. Good movie. There were too fucking many of us...we eventually had to split up in twos to find places, and even then we were in the front row. I had to actually move my entire head to look around and see what was happening over on the other side of the screen. Chris and Jennie got drunk from Nalgenes they smuggled in, and I almost vomited buttery popcorn on Lindsey's forehead. (Do not ever get a medium. Ever. It's the size of Rotta's ass. And nobody can eat a Rotta ass full of popcorn. Just nobody.) For some reason we saved the green sweaters for after the movie, but that turned out pleasant enough. I've still barely begun packing or cleaning, after a week of complete lack of responsibility. Tomorrow we ride to the Gorge for the music. Then switch houses, and spwink off to Montana. And then the Midwest. Prepare me my kingdom...and by prepare me my kingdom I mean, you know, pop in a frozen pizza and set up the projector, or something like that.

Will A Soul Ever Glimpse This Update?

This clean white blog is in some sort of bad disrepair... that last post (which was in truth a rather lame, formalistic and ultimately failed attempt to generate more posts) is just hanging there like extremely resilient dry erase marker...

I woke up early to get cracking on my last paper of the semester (a methodological comparison and critique of Hobbes and Rousseau's respective approaches to the development of the social contract) and i'm entirely too excited about this summer to even begin without acknowledging it. Thus, in the spirit of at least some of our previous undertakings, let me proceed with the first list of the summer.

Entitled: Things I Will Enjoy

Reading for Leisure
Walking in the Woods
Driving on Straight Roads
Watching Television From My Computer
Mowing the Lawn
Digging Holes While Listening to Audiobooks
Encountering Mammals
Gaining Deadly Slingshot Accuracy
Working With Wood
Standing Near Water
Constructing Sandwiches
Devising and Creating an Elevated Tree Stronghold
Staring Into the Fire
Sipping Slowly
Generally Meandering
Drinking Milk

Phew! I think that's all for now. I'll go write that paper now and be on my way.

Stella Marathon Under the Hot Iowa Sun

Announcement:
Today I downloaded the complete first season of Stella (10 episodes)... after watching one of these episodes I have come to the conclusion that I cannot possibly find a better audience for this show than, well... you know...
Anyway, based on this conclusion I have decided to hold off on watching even another 10 to fifteen seconds of the series until the triumvirate are once again gathered together around a monitor and sufficiently plugged into the strange semiotic matrix which hangs thick like a cloud and permeates our interactions...

Schedule:
May, June, July or August... special preference should once again be given to "parents go to Wisconsin and give us the chance to get real silly-weekend"

Caveat:
In case the show legitimately sucks enough for us to not watch it regardless of our state of consciousness, I will also possess all the other material that has brought Rufus to a depressingly awesome unused byteage count of no more than ten billion....

Says the beautiful man...

I don't really have anything postworthy for the Triad, but it's been a long time since I have contributed. Let's see...down at The Brown Elephant, I work with a bunch of gay guys, all of which are quite interesting and hilarious(the thrift store where I work exists solely to raise money for Howard Brown Health Center, which, in turn, exists for the purpose of providing health care for the gay and lesbian community who can't get health insurance because of AIDS...or something like that)...I enjoy it...and I've been drinking pretty heavily on my days off, which has also been interesting(by which I mean awesome). Cyndee came up last week...we had a couple beers and watched Secretary...it still seems a little strange to hang out with Cyndee without at least one of you guys around. Umm...other than that...Craigslist thinks that I and ALL of my coworkers are gay...it's closer to half...my thriftPod is all kinds of awesome...though my very brief experimentation with iPodLinux has already taken it's toll in the form of button fatigue (Doom involves a lot of control pad mashing...I don't recommend it)...and on that note, I'd like to give a big thanks to all of the rich people out there who buy iPods for the specific purpose of breaking them in every possible way and then writing about it on the internet...umm, I've ended up watching quite a lot of Project Runway with Meg and Bergen...and that usually involves more drinking...and that's about it...I've been doing everything in my power to keep my my consumption of cooked flesh at an acceptable level...but the occasional tofu makes it's way to my stomach, as well...what can you do? I can't wait for you guys to come visit...and to reciprocate...but I'm pretty sure that Renn Fayre is a no-go...it'll be quite a while before I have vacation time...however, you can be sure that the northwest coast is at the top of my list...

Oh, yeah, there's a shop a couple doors down from where I work that sells Old Peculiar...with which I have been very intrigued since reading about Eric's exploits in London...so I'm going to try it out when I get paid...hooray beer!

Naked is the new clothed

Here we see Minor Triad fufilling two of its main functions simultaneously: procrastination and resurrection. As I tried to write autobiographically, I somehow managed to remember a piece of writing Peter had procrastinated his last high school assignment with, and managed to uncover it in my endless Hotmail archives. I like it even more now that I've had three years removed from the subject matter, particularly the sixth paragraph, which I will be quoting in my paper for tomorrow, mostly unwritten as of yet.

Even you, you motherfucker, indeed. Enjoy:

I am about to finish the last assignment that I will ever complete for the Forest City Community School District. It's a 200 word spanish composition. The topic is to review a movie that we watched in class, The Milagro Beanfield War. Why is it that I am sitting here procrastinating? Why do I not crank out the 170 words (probably fewer) that I still need and go to bed? It is, after all, 1:59. I have no idea.

It isn't as though this sort of behavior is particularly new. Senioritis probably set in at least a month ago, a great deal later than most people, I might add. So, what is it? Why do I feel completely content to stare at this screen, albeit through my 3M Easy Clean Filter, and let my contacts dry themselves into plate glass? Why are my fingers most motivated by placing fruitless ramblings into my notepad file, which will probably be lost and erased when I reformat?

I sit here and search for every possible distraction. I check ancient websites that I visited in 1998, and not since, for updates and new pictures of Calvin and Hobbes or some other crap like that. I adjust the volume, now the bass, now the treble of my stereo. No, that isn't quite right. Now, I change the little digitally emulated iTunes EQ. By this time the song has changed, and it's all wrong again. Suck.

I leaf through my little pile of Senior Pictures. Friends from this year, from last year, from the year before. Where are they now? They could tell me what the hell my problem is, and why I can't think of even two more words to describe my feelings on The Milagro Beanfield War. Actually, the only Spanish word I can think of at all right now is chingar, but I couldn't conjugate it well enough to insult or offend even a potato (papa, there's two I suppose). No, they don't know what my problem is either, in fact most of them have it as well, but at least they could distract me for another minute. They can't help.

And then I start to wonder... Maybe I just don't want it all to be over. Maybe it has been nice. And maybe going away and leaving them all, and going to the coast, and living with a bunch of intellectual druggie bisexual hippie weirdo sex freaks will really fuck me up and leave me wanting something that I had, but can never get back. Because it ends tomorrow. Wow, maybe I'm getting somewhere with this? I leaf through the pictures again. It's just one of those "am I just paranoid, am I just stoned?" questions, and I'm really neither.

Why can't we hate and loathe and betray each other and make this easy? Why do I have so much respect for all of you? Even you you motherfucker! You used to point at me in the fourth grade and you wouldn't be my square dancing partner, presumably because I was eloquent and badly dressed and myopic and I thought about you being naked before it was the fashion? And now everything is so different. I'm still myopic, and all of us are badly dressed because it's cool and I'm even more eloquent and so are you and the naked thing is just a given at this point, and we respect each other.

It is good. And it won't ever be this good for "us" again. But, for us it'll just get better. And for some of us it'll get better, or at least stay the same for "you and me", and that's pretty damned good. But for now it's time to go off, even if that's just down the block, and be what we need to be now, poor hippy druggie satan wierdo oversexed intellectual jesus rich blue collar moron genius freaks. I swear to god, I'm going to dog ear these pictures tonight.

This feels really good now, and I'm ready, and tomorrow, and the next day, and Sunday, I'm damned sure going to take notice. I'm going to appreciate you people, you bastards and you saints. For everything that you've been for me and failed to be for me. Some of you I'll talk to, some of us will wave, some will five, some will shake hands. And we'll laugh and talk and read our Senior Warwhoops. Some of you I won't even see, but we'll still know.

I'm going to write it now. I'll probably get a C or at least a B, sort of fitting for a last assignment. Leaving in a blaze of mediocrity. I suppose it is spanish. Anyway, I won't blame myself. I won't even blame Jacobson. It's your fault, all of you.

Massive Reggaeton Overload

So, all of a sudden there are three days left in my south american odyssey. Though they will probably end up being pretty fine days (certain things must be consumed before airline, this is still something to be at least slightly miffed about.
Since arriving here in the southern hemisphere i have done and seen a great many things, travelled relatively far and wide, made extremely poor (not unrewarding mind you, just grammatically retarded) conversation with too many people, eaten all variety of tasty sea morsels (they have a word that effectively means "uncooked seafood grabbag" - Mariscos) and fresh fruits and veggies, paid (around a quarter) to defecate, kissed a million women on the cheek, partied with rich kids, touched a narwhal horn, partied with poor people, partied with old rich people, imbibed an unfortunate amount of "piscola" (there's a definite taste relationship between this substance and its english cognate), sung harmonies to many a guitar-fueled engrish singalong and seen a socialist woman elected president.... phew... it's been a busy break... Hope shit is equally surreal on your respective continents....
Take it easy boys - more on my return!

Hold me closer Tony Danza

Hooray for the first Minor Triad post from another country! Hopefully we'll get a South American one soon as well. Apparently there has been a livejournal site created for my three friends and I so if you desire more in depth news about London and us feel free to take a look. The username is effed_up_four. I think I'm going to spend a lot of money on beer because the Guinness is amazing and there is something called Old Peculier that is unbelievably good. The best thing I have ever tasted that is alcoholic. Also, they give you more of it, and it is stronger than in the United States. One of our proffesors will be taking us on a Pub Crawl on Friday. I'm out.