Monday, December 20, 2010


We all complain about the cold.

The universal discomfort we have all experienced. Often a mere passing, fleeting feeling that some unfortunate, yet still far too many, souls know true what Arctic conditions encompass.

I wrapped my first blanket around my legs and feet, and draped my serape over my shoulders, trying to expose as little to the bone-chilling night air. My third blanket became a 21st century corset for the homeless. Underneath: a jacket, sweater, two shirts and torn jeans over frayed moccasins were no match for December in Northeastern America.

After situating myself, I became still like the stoic winter darkness; a cloudless night with no stars to be seen through the biting cold air. I began to watch the vapors escape my mouth, realizing this was the last remaining warmth leaving my body. Soon, this surreal mist would grow more sparse until it would be null. It didn’t take long for my lenses to ice over. I reached a quivering hand to remove my frozen frames from my face. So cold. I glimpsed at this purple hand and wished it were a mere hallucination, that this was all part of a bigger, more significant reality. That there was purpose to my torment. All that came to my understanding was that tiny crystals of ice had now formed on my fabric wrappings; creating new constellations of icy silica for me to admire. Again, I knew I could never trump nature.

I took the longest breath possible hoping to relax my body; to slow my pulse and calm my frantic mind. But it was the first of only a few slowed intimations. It didn’t take long for my body to begin twitching; violent spasms reacting to panicking muscles. My heart raced as my breaths grew shallow and I felt my skin ripple. Knowing that this purple tinge was only temporary between the blotchy red stinging sensations and the lifeless blue loss of feeling only heightened my fear of fatality.

Not a single aspect of my persona, of my consciousness or cognizance, understood this circumstance. How had humans come to inhabit such a desolate space? Then again, I didn’t understand how I ended up here, alone in a near weightless poorly insulated convertible.

I suppose, I should’ve just drank the anti-freeze.

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

The Breast Kind of Cancer

Disclaimer: This article expresses viewpoints that are insensitive. If need be, think of simpler organisms that are void of emotion.

October is synonymous with Biketoberfest, Oktoberfest, and now, boob cancer. It seems bikes, booze and boobs are inseparable. I don’t fabricate reality, I merely observe it. I’m not going to talk much about bikes or booze, I would much rather ride a motorcycle and just enjoy the booze. But breasts! That’s something to talk about. Just kidding. Those are for playtime. We’re talking about cancer.

Cancer has been a curse on the human race for longer than we will ever know. The Ancient Egyptians described it as an incurable disease. The Greeks documented the visible symptoms with no real understanding of cause or cure. Cancer might as well claim hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of deaths that have occurred without rhyme or reason.

I see cancer as the disease that will destroy natural selection amongst humans. Actually, I see all advancements in preventing and “curing” cancer as the problem with the future of mankind. Curing cancer will keep humans at a steady plateau to potentially produce monolithic and destructive overpopulation statistics. Please understand I am speaking without regard for emotions to those who have been affected directly and indirectly by the disease. If need be, think of simpler organisms that are void of emotion. Suffering is suffering, and it isn’t anything to joke about. Unless someone loses an eye, because you know what that means: a sweet glass eye.

Cancer presents itself as immaculate population control. The weeding of weaker or weakened individuals within a species is dependent on the success of its predator. With no physical predator to thin the unending herd of plump, lazy and ignorant Le-a’s and Skylars, there’s little hope Homo Sapiens Sapiens will advance for the better. Civilizations thrived and progressed without hindrance when cancer was a baffling mystery. Eradicating cancer might seem prolonging obvious for the longevity of any species yet counterintuitive for ameliorating every species. Also consider the age demographic cancer is most prone to affect, i.e. typically those well past their prime reproductive age show signs of mutating cells. The number of individuals affected, fatally and otherwise, has remained fairly constant in the past 30 years. Instead of trying to cure cancer, which is not always 100% treatable, medical science should focus its attention on definitely curable illnesses that are contagious and infectious, e.g. HIV and Herpes. Mutations on the cellular level will always occur; they allow for positive adaptations to be of benefit when applicable. Alas, with any trial and error there’s probably going to be a bountiful amount of incorrect mutations relative to one beneficial change. Really, curing cancer is as poignant as keeping up with the latest generation of iPhone; seemingly giving off the impression of doing something cool when it’s just mental masturbation.

Cancer is most often caused, possibly attained, through environmental means with a fair amount resulting from genetic predisposition. Exposure to radiation either by occupation or accident causes mutation of cells. Inhaling known carcinogens, for pleasure or by unfortunate circumstance, will screw with your organs and most likely kill you. Worst of all guys, if your mother has breast cancer you might want to get those moobies checked. Regularly. Realizing that most cases are not accidental but rather self-induced or already innate is evidence enough that these individuals are pursuing self-termination, knowingly or otherwise. There has yet to be a single documented case of cancer being contagious or infectious; therefore, it is impossible to prevent via vaccination. Again, curing cancer is pointless because you cannot stop nature; it isn’t even about trying, it’s about automatically failing.

Given our current place in history, we have the knowledge, not quite wisdom, to lead very proactive and health conscious lifestyles. Considering majority of the population thinks Proactive is an acne treatment, we are nowhere near living above cancer. Still, with the understanding that organically grown vegetables are safer to eat than genetically engineered pesticide-crops, we ought to be able to let the ignorant dine out. I mean die out. Cancer may not be a monumental killer relative to population size but the importance of removing malignant deviations is undeniable.

Before I say long live the strong, I will mention that I avidly inhale carcinogens and am spotted with so many moles that I’m really far too hastily curious to see whether I develop lung or skin cancer first. That said, live long and prosper, cancer.

Sunday, July 11, 2010

Abortion & the Right-to-Lifers

I’ve talked to a few people, some used to be friends, about abortion. We all agree that it’s wrong to deny life to any conscious being, i.e. we uproot plants and fungi but we wouldn’t break off Polly’s wing for a quick, uncooked snack. If you understand consciousness as I do, you can’t help but see humans as an unfortunate variation of random mutations. We are no more than the fibers and tissues that construct our body. The developed brain we possess is large enough to understand language, a system of communication that has granted us god-like superiority amongst the dumb beasts that also inhabit the Earth. This is what really separates us from animals, the ability to say “fuck you!” A growl is threatening but it’s indirect; growls and roars are meant to ward off all present dangers or hazards, not to instigate conflict. “I’m going to fucking kill you, asshole!” cuts right to the chase, so to speak. There is no ambiguity there, especially if alcohol and/or penis size is involved.

Consciousness, like every other mental disorder, comes in a multitude of levels. From ravenous brilliances to the obnoxiously stupid, humans claim the highest scale of intellect known to man. I don’t wonder why UFO’s never stop by to say “Hi!”; I’ve seen Springer and I’ve heard about the Jersey Shore. I wouldn’t stop here, either. Not even for a Klondike bar.

Life is not always conscious; amoebas, bacteria and parasites hardly exhibit or communicate any level of intelligence as they develop, grow and eventually cease to grow and develop. Bacteria do not deliberate over which organ is the next target, nor do viruses hold meetings to decide whether or not to germinate. Simply enough, life is the biological process of an organism. The duration, despite the expected life cycle, is irrelevant to consciousness. If you think there is a moral or ethical justification, or even righteousness, to saving a bus of toddlers over saving a bus of recently retired janitors, then I am afraid to inform you that you are a moron. The value of life is subjective; I guarantee that the custodians will give you better reasons, albeit not as cute, as to why they should live on.

If you can agree that life is just the natural process of dying, regardless of the ability to use a telephone, then you will understand why eating meat isn’t all that bad and why “humane” killing of animals isn’t that relevant when humans kill humans in the most barbaric ways. What ought to be promoted is the understanding and appreciation of all consumable organic matter. Food chains exist in nature. I’ve heard that humans are at the top but I know this cannot be true: chains don’t have a top. Chains are composed of links that are interconnected, in a shapeless figure, making it bottomless. This is yet another one of our selfish, egocentric notions that inevitably results in the unnecessary destruction of life.

Abortion is the removal, or termination, of a developing fetus from, or in, the womb. Birth may result in a baby, but I assure you that the majority of any females eggs, fertilized and otherwise, are flushed out. So, if abortion is murder then it goes without saying that any ovulating woman who has had unprotected sex is a possible serial killer. Imagine having a tape worm removed as opposed to an abortion. Both organisms rely on the host to survive and displacement most often results in cessation of what we consider life. Once dead and removed, both contain bacteria’s that are still alive and thriving. In fact, more life will be inside a decomposing body than in a live one. And in this society, we value quantity over quality. Just a thought.

The idea that humans deserve a right to life is just ignorant and egotistic thinking. We own this Earth no more than the parasites in our bowels own us. The most eco-friendly thing you could ever do is buy a Prius. Just kidding. Really, the most eco-friendly act any polluting, fertile and barely conscious being can perform is self-termination. And while you’re at it, suffocation is probably the greenest.

P.S. Do not use the car-running-in-garage method, it's just a dick move.

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

Public Apology

I wrote an extremely inflammatory article. I am sorry for writing about the personal affairs of others. It was unkind and out of place.

Sincerest apologies

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Live Animation

It's Wednesday morning. I'm sitting in yesterday's jeans and t-shirt feeling my eyes sizzle. I think it's time to call it a day for working on "This is the Life" and go to sleep. I'm hoping to play life-size Tetris at work tomorrow; I'm going to the warehouse and that means no riding in the city. Seriously, if you hate your job, sincerely hate it, then quit. I imagine that anyone who is capable of reading this blog is also capable of sustaining his or her life, through whatever means necessary. So quit and enjoy the time you spend looking for another job. If you do look for another one.

I feel as though I've neglected the blog a little bit. Don't worry, I've apologized to myself. I could hardly take myself seriously at first, but I was very convincing. I'm sorry. It's okay.

In my most humble defence, I have been fairly busy lately. Not with school or work, though both have been detracting factors, but rather with life. I've been enjoying the spring winds as they blow my mind with these amazing bipolar tendencies. I have been gallivanting around NYC enough lately to find myself in extremely enticing scenarios. Earth day festivals and sunny days in Central Park mixed with a NYC Harbour cruise and a Dead Meadow show have given me perspective into what really matters in life: I and I.

It's an hour later into the early morning. I'm still checking and smoothing out bits of the video. I can't help it, it's like a bad habit.

I doubt I will be posting regularly until "This is the Life" is completed. I'm aiming for Friday, but who knows. I've got a few more projects to work on, but this will resume topmost priority soon.

All right, this is enough. I will be back soon to talk about the things you don't want your mother to know about. Oh, I must give many thanks to Severina for being the first to actually give my writing a thought out written response, I appreciated it greatly and look forward to any future debates/discussions. Also, getting close to 1000 views is pretty exciting. I'm might have a party on here; just bring your imagination.

Monday, April 12, 2010

Morning Breath

I've been wondering where I've been the last two weeks.

Starting on Good Friday, after resigning from Nordstrom the day before, I went to the South Mountain Reservation and got lost for a few hours. I got some great shots of Autumns passing. I returned to the real world again when I met up with Niel for coffee, and then met up with Valentina soon after. We ended up in South Orange and I was introduced to a great grocery/prepared food store, Eden Gourmet. I don't recall Friday night, right now. Saturday hosted the Annual NYC Pillow Fight. Union Square was the battle-site of a good 7000 warriors; 7006 counting Mike, Gizem, Derya and Kazuno. Oh, there were a few cartoons as well. And of course, FOR GONDOR! After our epic battle, we ventured to Park Slope for some Easter BBQing. The wind picked up and it got fairly chilly out but we braved the chill and enjoyed the ambiance of penis whistles, beer pong with Stella, and a delightful double-hosed hookah (out in the cold, again). I claimed a bottle of Jim Beam Rye Whiskey for the night and that's about all that matters. We woke up Sunday ready for a hearty brunch with fantastic guacamole and mimosas but Jesus ruined that for us. I ventured back to Jersey with Evelyn across the mangled and frenzied roads of New York. We stopped at Cafe Luna before she headed off to do Eastery things. I went for a drive, enjoying the remnants of the passed weekend.

Houston, we have a problem. I am without a computer for an indefinite amount of time, should be no more than 4 weeks. But for the time being, I'll be posting more bloggier type blogs. I mean, I won't be posting my usual "angry" material. Rather, just whatever is on my mind at the time I get to a computer to write. It should be fun.

This weekend was pretty fantastic as well, though. Another BBQ on Friday at Sonja's; we ended up grilling by candlelight. I "directed" my first video on Saturday morning, in a church. Everyone who worked with us did an amazing job and I cannot say thank you enough to those who came out. We headed over to the Millburn Reservation for two rounds of Extreme Ultimate Intense Hide n Seek. Not long afterwards, we were skating. It was my first attempt on rollerskates, I think I might actually prefer them to roller blades.

I went into Brooklyn with Nora on Sunday; I needed a new jacket and she was going to climb stuff. I came back to Millburn, ended up at Above. It was really spectacular enjoying a poured Hoegaarden out on their patio while the Sun began it's descent. Oh and laughed until I cried.

Hey guys! The blog is now google result number one!!! Thank you very much, it would've taken me a lot longer to do it alone.


Sunday, March 28, 2010

Pigmentation in Technicolour

You’re racist. No joke. You just simply are. If the words black, white, yellow, brown, nigger, spic, kyke (that’s not racist!), towel-head, chink, cracker, coon or Asian are in your vocabulary (don’t worry, they are now), you’re a racist. Congrats! All it means is that you’re an observant and judgemental person. Both are outstanding qualities that I enjoy in anyone. However, the line is drawn at discrimination; to exhibit prejudice from mere observation and to treat an individual as the generality of a whole is disgusting. It displays a level of arrogance even I’m uncomfortable with.

Now, we can all agree that language was invented by man. Every word (even God) is just a sonic representation of a thought, abstract and/or otherwise. Race is the representation of a judgemental thought, often it is misused as a discriminatory thought. Race is our creation; ergo, we can and must obliterate it. Think without race. Don’t worry. You can’t and that’s okay. It is too disconcerting. Why? You lose a major source of your own identity. You could never disassociate yourself from your heritage, culture or family history- after all, your entire life has developed based on fairly rigid social stigmas, most of which are racially biased. Relax, it is a terrible and terrifying thought, to say the least.

Still, you must consider the inadequacy of race; especially the dividing role it plays. Consider the white race, Caucasians if you will. A girl rooted in Southern France will bear little to no resemblance to a girl of Scandinavian origin. The term Caucasian is rendered meaningless, the span of the definition is too broad. Don’t get me started on blacks, or African Americans, or whatever those people are called these days. It’s insulting to shrink-wrap all of Mother Africa together. The land of the most diverse cultures, of the most inventive and wonderfully natural people, was labelled primitive (another great invention) because of the Caucasian man’s ignorance. He saw one colour instead of all the pure colours Africa truly possesses. They did the same thing with Asia, but I won’t be opening my eyes on that topic.

So, race is the invention that allowed the Caucasian man to divide what he thought was his world. It is really the only barrier left between people in the globalizing world. Borders have lost their meaning with the internet and prejudices are changing for the extreme. And since you assheads are already fucking up language, why not do something beneficial, too? Eliminate race and just forget about racism.

Now, the word God was made by man. I don’t think God calls himself God, that’s just pretentious. I mean, I would hope he can present a humble appearance; otherwise, I don’t even want to go to Heaven. Can you imagine? God being a total dick- just the most arrogant prick you could meet. Well, God is man-made. Probably made in China, you know, by Religion, Inc. Religion. I’m going to avoid a trip down this road, but just think about how your religion enforces racism. Shut up, I said think about it. God isn’t telepathic, unless the clumsy editors left that out of the Bible, too.

Sunday, March 21, 2010

Save the Testicles

Young men! Where have your nuts gone? I said,
Young Men! Where are those boys?

Alas, I must write about the sad demise of our once masculine-dominated society. It’s sad because it is an example of how easily emotions override logic. The masculine-dominated society employed a masculine-dominated language, we now know that as politically incorrect (turns out that’s a double negative, politics are always incorrect). The domination was set up to allow language to be specific, or exact, and direct. So if you’ve kept up so far, I don’t care much for the dominant male-monkey attitude; in fact, I rather despise it. I am totally and incurably for women’s liberation; unfortunately, that doesn’t change the fact that many women are raised to be subservient and dominated. Parenting fail.

Back to those young men!, through the power of language, men are getting pregnant and are also having kids! Did you get that, men, the people with penises, are having kids. It’s ridiculous. Where does it end? How about the subtle emasculation of language, i.e. personhole cover or the non-gender specific replacement for salesman, associate? No one seems to mind, but then no one seems to mind that “all right” has become “alright”. I suppose because “already” exists, it had to be America-fied and thus we have “alright”. Well done again, America. “LOL”

Seriously though, I am all for the feminist movement. I want them to move the hell away from me! They’re usually the ones I wouldn’t go near, anyway. Just kidding, ladies. I don’t particularly like “feminism” because it forces the identity of “masculinism” to be negative or oppressive. That’s unfair, dudettes; I mean, way to go, using illogical and unreasonable thinking to get your way, as usual. You girls are brilliant, and that’s why I admire you. You take on the masculine world and conquer it so slyly that you don’t even know that you’re doing it! It was inevitable though, it’s inherent in nature, Mother Earth says so, as it is in Mother Culture. Oooh Mama.

Sunday, March 14, 2010

God Save the Children

Time to refocus following a previous post, "The Despicable Age": The appropriate response for our youth is doubtlessly rebellion; Standing up against this confused and inane tradition that is known as western civilization. It's our fight against having life castrated.

Our youth continue to illustrate the rate at which we are losing our humanity. Often enough, the kid slitting his wrists is no different from the pacified* wonder-student who plays baseball and the alto saxophone when he isn't working for his "Jewish Carpenter Boss" trying to save the world from, essentially, himself. The American teenager is riddled with unnatural and debilitating pressures, mistakenly called "responsibilities." The home front often offers little support, not due to poor parenting or neglect but rather because it's uncharted territory. Developmental psychology is still on the rise and, simply, prior generations didn't give a damn about what the child thought or did; the concern was for what the child thought or did wrong. It appears that we have all forced each other into a game of "Ostracise the Nonconformist." And really, who wants to see their child ostracised. If you really take the time to understand why a teenager is rebellious and frustrated, you'll notice that we will always be rebellious and frustrated; we just become less of who we should've been.

The kid who shuts down and refuses to function is responding adequately. Especially within these concurrent generations, within my generation. Just imagine the stigma no-child-left-behind will leave on these tragic kids. We will be remembered for graduating on the "adjusted" honour roll. When the standards of education were dramatically and visibly lowered so that test scores and passing statistics could rise. Yet another unfortunate association of the Bush administration, I suppose. Though in all honesty and natural fairness, some kids ought to be left behind. They're not all winners, they can't be; we are bound to have some losers. Actually, we'll have a whole lotta losers and very few "winners". We need less of this unfocused and generic attention on children. We need more Darwin and That Devil Science (Great Christian rock group from Arkansas). We need to let nature take control; it will, inevitably.

*He just happens to be on attention deficit medication because, at one point in his useless existence, he displayed actual soul, real character and his parents couldn't handle it and presumed the world couldn't either.

Sunday, March 07, 2010

All I Got Was This Lousy Shirt

I saved Haiti. No, don’t thank me (I’ve already gotten a t-shirt). Thank the customers of Nordstrom; I gave all my tip money from a busy Friday- a good $12-16, easily. Anyway, as I was on my way to CafĂ© Luna, two high school girls approached me with cut soda bottles labelled SAVE HAITI. They asked if I wanted to help. I said, “Sure I’ll give it a shot.” ! Before I knew it, I was presented a t-shirt for saving Haiti and I was on my way to enjoy those delightful essse lattes. Hold your applause, please.

Don’t you think us westerners have displayed enough arrogance for the world to see? I mean, just look at those high school kids, toting the slogan “Save Haiti”. There were other kids collecting money out there for Kids with Cancer but their slogan was “Help Cancer Kids”. I sat confused in Cafe Luna; we really ought to Help Haiti and Save the Cancer Kids. If anything, the alliteration makes it way catchier. Another thing to mention about these kids who are begging on the streets is that they belong to a fairly affluent community. I thought that was interesting; rich, white kids who have no real perspective for what they’re really doing, bumming for change.

Shockingly enough, there are actual kids who are starving and need that money to survive right here in the United States. Then we also have the crack babies. It just seems like we have quite a predicament here already. The fact that the whole nation rallied to help a foreign nation before we’ve even considered helping our domestic neighbours says a lot about how patriotic the patriots really are. God Bless America, 'cause no one else will.

There needs to be less concern for other nations. I’m not saying we should not be a part of the globalizing world but we should retain our identity in this globalizing world. Instead of participating in meaningless wars and occupancies, allegiances and blockades, America should adjust its focus back to America (remember, like back in the good ol’ days). It just seems like something of concern to me to consider the amount of resources that are spent willingly outside of these borders when it could be of great benefit right here.

I suppose I have forgotten that the world belongs to China. We belong to China. Haiti now belongs to China; Haiti, thank China. I guess the only question that’s left is: Who does China belong to? Probably Jesus.

Saturday, March 06, 2010

The Blind, Deaf and Dumb Ages

Imagine the future, even a hundred years from now. Fine, I know you can't do it. It'll be amazing; everyone will win the lotto everyday except the lotto won't be a money awarding system it will be a game that allows you to live one more day. It will be a ploy to force people into enjoying and appreciating every day of their lives. My utopia. ANYWAY, I'm sure they'll have a damn near infinitesimal amount of archives of what went on during the txt & twat generations- as long as Dick Cheney doesn't eat them, I suppose.

Still, think about a history book in 2110. Consider our legacy, here. People will discover China and see that there were families, probably worse off than slaves, where children and mutilated parents alike were forced to spend all day in nigh-unbearable conditions only to have a bowl, one bowl, of rice for the whole family to eat so they go to bed hungry instead of starving in their walk-in closet sized room.

Our children will see who we really are. They will see we are the bullshitters and selfish assholes; the filth who abused this incredible planet and ruined so many perfect creations, gifts from nature were destroyed for man's feeble attempt at conquering. Man has yet to conquer his own life, but he has set out to dominate what is not his; the world.*

When the records are discussed and analyzed, our children will notice that when Haiti was demolished by the very force we so foolishly tried to overcome that the world provided relief for those victims; it was televised and publicized endlessly. The press got their hot date. While they were still smoking their cigarette, another quake struck the third world. Chile was devastated by an 8.8, then experienced multiple severe aftershocks. This event was categorized as one of the worst Earthquakes that Chile, or that part of the world really, has ever experienced. The quake reached Australia- that's the pretty much the span of the Pacific Ocean!!!

The world kept on smiling. It's really easy to feel good after you've just jerked off, right? (Still, there's that impending sense of shame and guilt)

Think about it, you're a terrible person. Sure, you can be nice, polite, respectful and whatever other word helps you sleep through the night, but when it comes down to our own standards, we are nothing but one huge, heaping pile of shit. And we're corrosive shit. Yeah, we reek that much. We ruin everything.

Fuck you.

*I urge all of you to pick up a copy of Ishmael by Daniel Quinn. It's about a talking Gorilla and it will change your life.

Friday, March 05, 2010

Whistlin' Past the Graveyard

Sunday morning came too soon. Before I knew it, my stuff was packed up and in my car, ready to go. I thought about the weekend so far: witnessing the most ridiculous missing persons case to smoking Hookah with Vlad, G and Will out in the cold, the freezing cold.

Once we were all pressed and dressed for the day ahead, we left G11 and strode over to the nearest dining hall.

After our hearty brunch, Vlad and I headed to my car so he could say goodbye to AriaBella. Back in Rafuse, we had Glenn join us in a few games of 8-ball, A short break later, the USA-Canada Olympic Hockey game was being completely ignored (by me, anyway) and we played our final game: Cutthroat.

About 10 or 15 or 45 minutes into the game, Vlad was eliminated. So I decide, after securing my place on the table, to manipulate the game to prolong the fun. You can call me Agra, Vi-Agra.

And then! During the game Glenn had mistakenly shot out of order. Clearly, Glenn had to be reprimanded for this action. Without hesitation, Vlad announces, "This is happening!" while grabbing one of Glenn's balls to throw it into the nearest pocket. Triumphantly roaring, "PUNISHED!!!" I was on the floor, trying to breathe because I couldn't stop laughing. I just couldn't stop as Glenn stood there motionless and Vlad remained fairly nonchalant for a moment about the whole ordeal. I would love to know what went on in Glenn's head at that very moment.

A few laughs later (courtesy of Arrested Development and Aziz Ansari), I said my goodbyes and headed out of Rafuse Hall. AriaBella was ready. It was the perfect resolution to a great weekend. The perfect cool-down.

After driving North for about 15 minutes (assholes fail continuously to add off- and on-ramps to the thruways here), I was on my way home. Somewhere through Pennsylvania I nearly doubled the state speed limit. Other than that, it was a gorgeous drive, especially given the company of John Coltrane's "Lush Life" and a Tom Waits' compilation.

I rolled into Millburn by about 8:50, a good 2 hours and 40 odd minutes of freedom.

Good night. Great weekend.

Wednesday, March 03, 2010

Mandatory Meetings

I was a little frustrated to see the microwave claimed it was not even 9, yet. Vlad and his dorm-mate Glenn were still asleep, as they should've been. As I should have been. I logged onto Vlad's laptop and read the news on the Chilean tragedies. Really makes me wonder how long it will take the western world to realize that instead of promoting prolonged life, they ought to promote the value of life and how easily it disappears. Be grateful to be- a great place to start is the Grateful Dead and the various accompanying accoutrement that go along with the flow-uh, show.

A few lazy hours later, after slipping in and out of sleep, Vlad was up and ready to eat. We headed over to procure our brunch with G and Glenn. I believe Jordan showed up, too. Later on, after losing 0-4 at 8-ball, we made our way over to a Chinese buffet place. Due to the incredible weather though, we had to dig Natascha (Vlad's Mazda 6) out of her icy fortress. Even after much digging, she just couldn't rock over the snow traps. I stood there watching these four college students (Vlad at the wheel with G, Glenn, and birthday-boy-Derek outside pushing) trying to move the car. Yes, I stood there and watched as they struggled to free the Mazda. After realizing these scholars were pushing the car downward into the snow traps, I ran back to the front (what?) to try pushing with an upwards force. In a matter of 4 or 5 heaves Natascha was free. If only I would try to cure cancer.

Four full stomach's later (Derek just happened to be outside at that time), we headed back to Rafuse as the select boys of G-street had a date with their RA. The meeting lasted a good hour. During which I thought about this blog, actually.

After a quick bout of Smash Bro's on CB's Wii, we uncorked the second bottle of champagne. A toast to Senor Derek.

Not long after, we were on our way to a Water Polo party where our choice of drinks was between Red and Green. Green tasted like the Hulk's ball-sweat while Red actually tasted more like kool-aid. Soon enough we were at Tom & Marty's, a bar co-dominated by Water Polo, Rugby and the Women's Chess teams. Blue moon in a mason jar. A beer tower of Yuengling. Much better than the Hulk's ball-sweat.

A bus ride back to campus and a short walk to sleep.

Monday, March 01, 2010

The Road to Higher Learning

It was about 10:30 when I flew onto the I-80. My Alfa was just about as warm as she was going to be for the drive up to Binghamton. This story almost begins like a typical disaster plot: it was speculated to be one of the worst storms in a dogs age and there I went, driving out into the abyss of winter in a featherweight rear-wheel driven convertible. I could see the ground becoming icier, still. The light traction on the steering caused by the wind had my heart fluttering momentarily. Another solid two hours of driving to go. By the time I hit New York, I had been spoiled by the frozen forest-lands that I saw through the strange haze of cascading snow. Everything was white; everything blurred into the shadows.

Immediately after parking my dear AriaBella for the night, Vlad and I both sat and appreciated what was about to transpire: our Binghamton Special.

My introduction to Rafuse Hall and it's inhabitants was in high spirits. Lemon-y spirits (followed by a series of fairly fortunate events), if I remember correctly. My memory is punctuated by the uncorking of Champagne bottle number one of the weekend. We had every reason to celebrate having no reason to celebrate. After deciding microwaved corndogs weren't enough to eat, we ventured to the Night Owl.

But first! We had to find a bubbler, which was unfortunately fated for a formidable demise. We never found the bubbler, but the cops did! After settling on a trusty glass bowl, we enjoyed two solid bowls. There is one item that deserves special attention; read carefully, so-you-don't-miss-a-thing. There were other kids visiting Binghamton that weekend, but one in particular, who also happened to stay in Rafuse, has given me one of the best stories ever. As he stood there smiling placidly and possibly interacting with his friends, he took the piece, placed the bowl in his mouth and proceeded to light the bit. Hang on, perhaps you don't understand. He put the flammable part in his mouth and tried to light the non-flammable part. After a quick laugh, we corrected him. Only to watch him try to set his lips on fire. Apparently, he was dead set on lighting the mouthpiece.*

On to the Night Owl: campus food.

Back to the dorm to pass out.

*Side note: next morning we wake up to find out that the cops are looking for this kid. That bubbler was in his car. Apparently, they forced him to smash his bubbler. Against a wall! Talk about police brutality. So yeah, they found him- completely amnestic of the prior night.

The Minute Observer Re-Presents

I find it extremely difficult to write anything for this blog without feeling even more pompously arrogant than I usually do. I try quite hard to keep my writing entertaining yet still poignant but I enjoy going off on tangents, which often enough are worth reading/hearing/understanding, yet I think I might be better off staying true and clear to the point. I was encouraged to create a more sophisticated blog, citing facts and sources. While I agree that this would allot me (and the cited articles) due credit, I don't really want that. Honestly, this is to be taken with a closed mind. Don't believe any of it.

This blog is about the thoughts that spew forth occasionally from the depths of my leather sole. This is entirely opinion. I could say it's all fact but that doesn't make it true. And the most insane thing is, I could be completely honest about it all. Anyway, it's up to you to investigate this world, with your own senses (I'll be writing about sensory experience soon!) and form your own thoughts. This blog is for your entertainment and mine, and perhaps also for their enlightenment depending on how progressed their minds are.

For the handful that have read so far, feel free to comment and leave suggestions. I would like my audience (that handful of you out there) to shape the blog somewhat, not entirely of course that's for Jesus and Xena to do - all night long. This blog will be my voice flailing across the internet, passed you, into the abyss and on drugs.

Friday, February 26, 2010

The Minute Observer Presents: The Despicable Age

A by-product of our glorious society is a phenomenon I refer to as the "Despicable Age". Between the ages of 18 and 21, our youth are barred from adult festivities yet are thrown amidst adult responsibilities. We are also expected to maintain a childlike mentality, so we're obedient I imagine, while we grow into the incapable adults we are fated to be.

At the ripe age of 18, when the fun really starts- when we discover ourselves, when we fall in and out of love only to learn it's just lust, when we disappear in life's mysteries- we are allowed to sacrifice our bodies for our most glorious country, we're allowed to vote for our next glorious leader, we're ready to bend over and get screwed every year for the rest of our lives but we cannot stop by our local bar and have a pint? Not without slighting our glorious law, anyway.

The Law: ever notice that between those ages the only people readily available for intimate relationships are the other people in that age group. It is only so because of the ridiculous and inane law of the land. Connecting with another person, it's non-gender specific these days, you knew from high school who's still in high school after you've graduated isn't always frowned upon but it is illegal. That wonderful word, Jailbait, comes to mind. Then, trying to connect with someone above the age of 21 in the necessary social situation is damn near impossible as they tend to be where a big dude in all black checks your ID to make sure your eye colour is correct, or something like that.

Thankfully, there are plenty of exceptions to these circumstances. But still, the law does infringe upon my pursuit of happiness, usually by the hour. I just find it curious that people haven't even considered the repercussions due to these laws: stinted social growth, inadequate personal development through life, unnecessary and intense anxieties and depressions, prolonged virginity for some- it's just another way we're complacently reminded that we don't have any control except for the remote control.

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

The Minute Observer Presents: Cigarettes May Save Your Soul

So, I’m not sure how many of you are aware of what cigarettes do. Yes, lung cancer, stained teeth, loss of friends, and an open invitation to be ostracized in public situations. Yes, they’re unhealthy. However, those wonderful little sticks actually relieve anxiety and depression. Remember when a few decades back when everyone and their aunt Beth smoked? When it was okay for smoking to be cool; when people could decide for themselves whether or not they wanted to inhale delightful aromatic carcinogens. When the government didn’t decide what was appropriate for its citizens health? Well, back then very few people were even aware of mood-stabilizing medication, let alone SSRI’s. So, it is in earnest observation that I noticed the inverse relationship between cigarette smoking and the use of SSRIs to alleviate the strains and most definitely some of the unbearable circumstances this glorious society sometimes blesses us with in America.

Here’s the thing, though. I don’t think there’s a mass conspiracy behind this with the pharmaceutical companies having an agenda to make money off of anti-depressants. Surprising, I know. They have their pull, though. I do think they took advantage of the fact that a more "educated" world created a more conscientious people by claiming that medication is a perfectly acceptable and healthy way to deal with anxiety. Whether it is acceptable is up for debate, especially considering that over the past 15 years the number of people on happy pills has already doubled, but it's clearly very far from healthy.

And the premise that doctors, people dedicated to healing, were essentially bought and sold to push these pills makes me want to vomit. And the sheeple responded almost perfectly: they lined-up at the drugstore for this shit. Almost a shame they didn’t know they were buying a subscription for the unexpected and exciting side-effects: obesity, insomnia, diminished libido and plenty more soon to come! Remember, most of these people would probably just need a quick smoke break at the worst of nervous moments. Not to say there aren’t people who don’t need mood stabilizers, but those people generally have better things than SSRIs and the generally prescribed lot. Even still, instead of medication these people ought to try and resolve their problems. Just a few minutes of actual thinking would do some people good; whatever happened to just staring out a window and thinking about stuff?

So with cigarette sales at a 55 year low, what can you do to help? Certainly, those on anti-depressants are taking care of themselves. I mean their suicide figures are only climbing. I suggest you re-evaluate the value of a cigarette. The comfort it offers for that single mom who was chewed out by her chauvinistic boss for being late because her youngest has a fever. Think about the simplicity of this comfort; stained teeth and the smell of tobacco smoke seems kind of worth it to me. As for decreased lifespan- well, I'd rather have an enjoyable life over a long life.