Idle hands...

Don Quixote of La Mancha, a fictional character in author Miguel de Cervantes highly praised novel "The Ingenios Hidalgo Don Quixote of La Mancha, is a textbook example of childhood imagination, curiosty, and adventure. A more in depth and professional version of Maurice Sendak's character Max of "Where the Wild Things Are." Though it hardly does Don Quixote justice, the two bear striking similarities. The obvious being their infamous imagination, as Don Quixote believes he is a knight-errant, a true hero of yesteryear. Seeking out quests, monsters to slay, and things of the like. Max, like Don Quixote, also believes himself to be something he, in all reality, is not. A king, an adventurer, a sorcerer. So much so that he creates a reality of his own, sinking himself into his own thoughts and perceptions. Living in a world seen only through his eyes.




Now that that's out of the way, I can get down to what I really came for. Currently kickin' it in the Kings Library of Miami Oxford, I'm mearly attempting to kill a couple of hours until 4:30. What happens at 4:30? Kyle's got a little art show going on, and I being the supportive, and all around nice guy that I am, agreed to go to it. However, being that I caught a ride here, and Kyle has class, unbeknownst to me, until the afformentioned time, I must fend for myself in an unfamiliar, unforgiving, alien world. I thought I would be able to find a more secluded computer where I could, guilt free, hang out and play around on addictinggames.com, without feeling like a complete idiot. I was wrong. I'm more or less positioned smack dab in the middle of the library, my back turned to a respectable army of students, not knowing whether or not they're actually convinced I'm writing something of worth to a college education. This trickery I may or may not be successfully pulling off, explains my half-assed joke of, what they believe to be, a "book report" comparing an eight sentence childrens novel, to a fullblown literary epic. I mean, I'm not bullshitting around with the deception aspect of it. I've got wikipedia, dictionary.com, and numerous other research related websites open to add to the effect. I suppose I just have to worry about wether or not an eagle eyed asshole decides to take a gander at my impeccible writing abilities. Who could blame them?




I saw a kid riding around on a scooter today. He played it off to his friend, who was walking, which makes the scooter look even more redundant, as if he weren't being serious, as though he thought it would be funny to onlookers to see a grown man on a mobility mechanism designed for ten year old girls. He even went so far as to attempt to do a killer move on his iron steed. He, of course, wasn't successful at executing his incredibly difficult maneuver. Which, I don't know made him look like more of an idiot or not. Anyone who can actually do a killer stunt on a Razor Scooter must have spent some time trying to pull it off. Having said that, because he's clearly prone to playing things off like he's not way into it, one could just as easily assume he intentionally didn't nail his radical move so as to prevent him from looking like even more of an ass. Oh scooter kid. What a tangled web you weave, when we first practice to deceive.




Ugh. The time is now 2:41. I've been writing for maybe 20 minutes. I'll have to get back to this.

He get's all that anger from me...

Okay, so. I went to The Ohio University in Athens, Ohio this past weekend. Arrived at about 9:00 pm, and immediately began consuming alcohol. I went to a party, was verbally assaulted by two feminists who refused my apologies and kept insisting that I was "so lucky." You're right. I consider myself to be extremely lucky to choose to facetiously pinch the butt of the ONE girl who would react in a very unreasonably and stubborn way. I must've been born with a silver spoon in my mouth, or maybe a rabbits foot up my ass. Who knows? No harm, no foul. That's how I see it. Woke up relatively early the next morning. Maybe around 10:30, which is early as far as Everclear is concerned. We showered, ate some day old Wendy's, and began drinking again at a groundbreaking time of 12:30, which is groundbreaking as far as Everclear is concerned. Half of us seperated to go parading around campus. Showing us the sights and the like. Whereas the other half remained put, feverishly consuming what must be one of the strongest Growler full of mixed drinks I've ever made. Yes, I was the mastermind behind the drink which was responsible for my friends roommate, who has dreadlocks (that IS relevant to the story) to slip into some pretty serious hipster gear, walk around with a bass, and insist he was the "White Lil Wayne." Keep in mind this was going on before the sun had set. It was lots of fun. Buddies band played a show at a bar called The Union, the local hipster bar, which was cool. I was thoroughly inebriated and couldn't stop myself from "WOO!-ing" over and over. They did a Bad Brains cover show, which was even more fun, because shows are boring unless the musics fast, and the crowd is rowdy. Fuck all that other noise. His band, The Red Army, always have good shows. The lead singer, Will, always does a good job. He's super into it, which shouldn't even be a problem. I mean, how do you expect the crowd to be into it, if the bands not even into it? Pretty basic shit, if you ask me. All-in-all it was a good time. Got to see some old friends, got to make some new friends, got to have a pretty killer jam sesh with my friends little brother, who will, for all intents and purposes, be hereby known as Samus.





Oh yeah, I had a really, really wicked conversation with some old-school hippie dude who graduated college back in '95 at some Irish bar. He had super long hair, which he wore in a ponytail, though even with it tied back, it was still unruly. We sort of just talked about how the large majority of college kids are incredibly dumb, and don't even realize that the career they're "pursuing" isn't feasible at all, that they're just living a $30,000 fairy tale, and will be very upset when they get a job not relating to their major at all. He was actually a fine arts major at UC. DAAP program, even. He now works a shitty 9-5 in some run down factory outside of Athens, and the highlight of his weeks are getting to get sloshed at some college bar with a bunch of goofy white kids running around talking about being a caucasian version of a big time rapper. It made me feel better, at least. I thrive on your sadness!

Still, things could be much worse....

OH WAIT, NO THEY COULDN'T.




So this morning, I step outside in what I thought was appropriate apparel for the current weather conditions. Wrong. Apparently there's a sink hole in my side walk which I, of course, stepped in. That means wet socks which, if you didn't know, I literally hate more than anything in the world. Immediately after having soaked my socks in cold snow, a mammoth icicle, about two feet long, comes crashing down onto my head, which already hurt, due to the excessive amount of alcohol I consumed the previous evening. Amazing. Now, here's the real kick in the ass. The reason I was stepping outside was to smoke my last cigarette. The very, very last one, and who didn't see this coming from a mile away? It was broken. Not in the manner that you can just remove one part and smoke it without a filter, it was broken right smack dab in the middle. I still smoked it, by god.

LMFAO.... Dont make me laugh.

So. This piss poor excuse for a musical group, LMFAO, who play their own blend of dance music and... Well, that's really all it is, are coming to Cincinnati. Covington actually, but lets be honest, they're the same thing. The worst part? Not their shit music, not the stupid fucking fans of their shit music, rather, it's the local rappers that are opening up for them. Not only that, but all of the somewhat well established DJ's are supporting them, and even calling them hip-hop, and rappers and the like. Hey idiots. Stop setting the rap scene back to the 80's.




"Huh huh huh huh, yeah so like. We'll be two morbidly hipster black(?) dudes from LA and we'll travel to all the midwest college campuses, since we know they'll eat up anything that comes from the west coast, and call ourselves rappers, but in fact say little more than 'Pour a shot, take a shot, pour a shot, take a shot!' over and over and over and over and over and we'll couple that with mediocre, pretentious techno disco bullshit and say we're a hip-hop/house revival!"




I swear to fucking god when I'm a rich and famous rapper I'm not giving ANY shout outs to Cincinnati, since you guys are all fucking stupid. Go listen to Ke$ha, she actually raps in her songs. Yes, a white drunken slut raps better than LMFAO. I'd rather slit my wrists and listen to the blood pitter patter onto the bathroom floor than hear those two retards grumble about party timing and getting their dance on. God damnit.

Her long dark hair may weave a snare that I may one day rue...

I had a dream last night. You might be able to call it a nightmare, but it wasn't particularly scary, possibly due to the outlandish material it held. See, I was walking down a dirt road, woods on either side, when a lioness sort of just appeared. I was with a couple of friends, and they managed to avoid it's wrath by, simply, walking around it. I, however, was not as fortunate as I tried to do the same and was promptly bitten in the hand. The lioness just sat there, tasting my flesh (I'm sure she was pleased,) as I debated what the best course of action would be to get a full grown she-beast off of your hand. I was smoking a cigarette at the time, so I decided to jam it into the eye of the ferocious feline. She then turned tail and scurried away, back into the forest from whence she came. If anyone has the ability to interpret dreams, I challenge you with that one. I've got some other pretty bizarre ones if you'd like to have a long conversation some time.

When speaking for God...

I was born with a tongue as silver as a dinner fork, and just as... forked?




My memories from my childhood are hazy at best. Not to say that they're bad, I just think that due to my increased consumption of alcohol, my brain has been forced to do a bit of spring cleaning, if you will. They're mostly comprised of family fishing trips, severe illness and/or injuries including, but not limited to, busting my head open numerous times, extremely high fevers resulting in extremely bizarre hallucinations involving who knows what, family reunions, a fender bender, a wedding, a funeral, and other typical family oriented situations.




My grand disappearance will be anything but grand. It will be subtle and unheard, just like any good disappearance. If you have a going away party, you're not disappearing, you're leaving. Sometimes I feel like you're not even worth seeing my hand wave goodbye.




I want to explain to you the feeling that I've been overwhelmed with at the mere sight of you since we first met, but I don't have the ability to articulate such an amazing emotion. I know it's not love, it's so much more. It nearly brings me to tears, but elevates me to a height which can't be measured by any earthly standard. So high that my falling tears only add to the downpour that happens all too often in the month of April.




No homo.