I find it hard to take this seriously.

Internet dating. Really, when it comes down to it, it's a joke. That isn't to say that it doesn't work for some people, and that it isn't awesome that people have that option now. However the formula necessary  to create an environment for internet dating must include a convenient breeding ground for some of the most inconvenient traits that most people possess. 


Everyone tries to pretend they don't judge a book by its cover, while in truth its all that most people do. Also, people want to do all of the real work on the internet, postponing any kind of real world interaction for an undetermined time, presumably when the other person has somehow swept them off of their feet. The simple fact is there are two types of people on internet dating sites; people who are motivated to find someone to spend time/ start a serious relationship with, and those who want it to happen enough to put a profile up, but not enough to do any real work. Which is fine, that is their prerogative. The problem is that this setup is just asking for all kinds of games, bullshit, and not to mention stalkerish actions. It's just altogether a volatile situation.


The thing that bothers me the most about it all is how it is, to many people on there, completely preferable to being asked out in person, or meeting people. The area where I live (which is different in many respects from other places I have lived, not just this) it's so bad that if you ask a woman out or show interest in a real world environment, her reaction can be summed up as "People still do this? Um... I don't go out with people who aren't on my Facebook." 


The most ironic situation that has happened to me left me wondering what the 21st century has done to the modern woman. I went for a hair cut, and the stylist was flirting with me a little, and I liked her, but I don't flirt with women who are at work, because I figure they probably get it constantly from men that I wouldn't want to be categorized with. But I liked her, and after I left I was thinking about her for a while. Maybe I would stop by and say hi later, or maybe I would get my hair cut there next time, or figure something out later. At any rate, I am not an expert on picking up women, but I am not afraid to try if I know what I am going to say.


 Well I went home later that day, and got an email that I had a message on the dating website that my profile was on. Upon logging in, reading the message, and looking at the profile, it was the woman who had just cut my hair. I was kind of excited, because now I wouldn't have to figure out a way to come on to her, and because she obviously liked me. Some people may have thought it was weird to find a guy online that you met in person and message them, but I don't, and even if I thought it was a little odd, I am open minded, so I wrote her back.


As it turns out, she had apparently written me the first message earlier that day before I had come to get my hair cut, coincidentally. I only saw it after I got home, after the cut. What this boils down to is that she got the added bonus of meeting a guy she was interested in in person right after sending him a message, and he wasn't even aware, meaning he wasn't trying to impress her. I got the added bonus of finding out after meeting someone in person that I liked, finding out that she did indeed like me an some deeper level than flirting with me to pass the time at work. This is one of those rare occurrences that could be attributed to fate or karma or life in some other way working like it does in chick flicks. That's right... what happened here was that crap that women literally daydream about,  and pay $10.50 to go see, and talk to their girlfriends about how great it would be to meet a guy like that. Serendipity and all that.


So how does she react? Well, she assumed that I came to get my haircut after she sent the message, and told me as much. Understanding the possibility of that bothering her, I assured her it wasn't the case, and made no effort to meet her in person. About a week later i was out at the movies with a friend, and she was also there with someone. I didn't say anything, because I had no desire to make her feel awkward. But then I get home to a message about how creepy it is for me to show up when she is at the theatre, and not to contact her anymore.


I, of course, haven't contacted her, equally as much because it bothered her, as because what the fuck? Weirdo. 


So what have I learned from this? Women are full of shit. No offense women, but all the stuff you insist on daydreaming about, to the extent that the entire comedy genre has been permanently infused with romance, and so much so that boyfriends are forever compared to scripted romance in the most classic of stupid movies, all of it is complete trash, because when life does throw you a bone, you can't handle it. All you had to do was go on a date or talk like a normal person, or what used to be normal, and who knows what could have happened? Instead you were so freaked out by someone who isn't afraid to talk to people outside of the internet that you made yourself look like a fool. Fool.


Don't get me wrong, I am not judging all women everywhere. I think this is a pretty widespread problem, sure, but I know there are still plenty of women out there who make decisions for themselves, based on what they want, instead of hiding behind Sleepless In Seattle and a computer profile while eating Bon Bons. 


Now, I consider myself to be a mildly attractive, mildly funny, mildly well-adjusted guy. So, a mild guy, I suppose.  So, my profile on this un-named dating site should get at least some attention right? Nope. I really don't get it. In fact, when I looked at the list of people that have glanced at my profile but decided not to message me, it's pretty insulting. So, always one to look behind the scenes, i wanted to know what was really going on, so I started a little experiment.


Now, and good experiment is a controlled procedure developed with a certain hypothesis in mind, so.... I guess mine isn't a very good experiment. I'll make a hypothesis later, kay?


I have been going onto my profile and changing the zip code once a week. I have discovered that each different zip code brings with it a different level of interest from the opposite sex. this has been going on for 1 month... let's see the results:


Anchorage Alaska; 3 messages, one of which replied to my response. A ton of people looked at my profile but didn't message me. A shit ton.


Hemet California; 12 messages, and only a little more than that looked. Two women kept talking to me for a while, one of them is still talking to me after I told her what i was doing, and that I live nowhere near her. She thinks it's hilarious.


Hutto, Texas; 3 messages. One of them turned out to be a man posing as women to meet other men. One of the others was trying to get me to sign up for sex website of some sort, and the third was an escort, trying to get me to spend 300 an hour. Is that cheap?


New Baltimore, Michigan; 2 messages, no response to my response.

                                        really bad comic #10

Fireworks with commentary:

                               (Skip to 8:15 for the grand finale)

Alison wrote the Ripley's Believe It or Not museum in NYC because of the ridiculously bad time we had there. They wrote us back the following lame excuse: 


Alison,

Thank you for taking the time to write a review of our attraction here on Yelp.  It certainly sounds like we failed to exceed your expectations on your recent visit.  We pride ourselves on providing a unique, interactive and fun experience for visitors of all ages.

As with any item that gets as much use as our interactive elements, there are occasional repairs that need to be made.  Recently we replaced a few exhibits entirely.  While others which are more complex (like the hologram and music interactive) have parts on order that have to be custom produced for our Odditorium.

I'd like to invite you back to have an opportunity to meet you personally and to demonstrate our commitment to our customers and to show you the more than 500 real, authentic items in our collection.  If you'd like to take me up on the offer, call anytime at 212.398.3133.

Warmest regards,

--Steve 

I kindly deigned to reply:


What about the letter was unclear? Why would someone as dissatisfied
as we are want to go all the way back to NYC because some corporate
prick offers up lame excuses for a shitty, overpriced, non-authentic
experience? How do you let a place fall into such disrepair? We are
not talking about a few exhibits. At least half did not work at all.
The ones that did were mostly fakes. Everything in the place that did
work was completely uninteresting and uninspiring to anyone who has
read a book in their life. Around every corner, expecting to see
something new and exciting, I was faced with old-ass little trivia
facts that EVERYONE and their MOTHER knows! EVERYONE! There are some
things that are just not "little-known facts," and your museum had all
of them.  Poor placement and crowded, dingy rooms do not help either.
The only mildly interesting part of my visit was a huge painting that
had to be looked at from the center to view some sort of fancy effect.
It was completely blocked by an exhibit on the ground floor, and even
by a huge, poorly placed fat guy from the balcony view, which MAY have
been tolerable if not for the completely unnecessarily huge hanging
tray of food, as if I do not know what huge, fate people eat. Viewing it from anywhere near the middle was completely impossible.

For starters, people who are paying a large fee to see something
called a museum don't expect to see multiple exhibits that contain
out-dated, and therefore false, facts touted as real truth. My eyes
hurt from all of the rolling after reading about historical figures
and dates and events that are completely wrong.

The list of ridiculous management decisions that obviously resulted in
a nausea-inducingly boring, and at times thoroughly unenjoyable
experience is almost too long to list. Almost. But not too long.

A replica of a dinosaur skeleton? Seriously? You waste space in
your museum of "unbelievable" objects for a fake skeleton of something that no one has been surprised existed for about a hundred
years? I'm glad that I wasted money on the Museum of Natural History
right before coming to your hole. (btw, their dinosaurs were real)

A small TV that plays small waves over and over again? Enough said.

The leg in the fireplace. Why? I am sure the reason is unbelievable
(or not) but there wasn't even a plaque anywhere.

You had two different people listed as the tallest man in the world.

The coal from the titanic? You can buy that at a gift shop. (believe it or not)

I also found your fake mannequin that shows a tattoo when I press a
button to be almost as much fun as when I got my actual tattoo. By the
way, I already knew that people tattoo themselves. It wasn't even a cool tattoo.

Inflatable boobs? Really?

And the haunted library was slightly interesting, except all your
little ghosts were going off at the same time. The doors kept opening
and shutting at the wrong times, which doesn't seem to be
part of the experience, unless me getting permanently sandwiched
between one of them and being added to your ghost collection was also
supposed to be part of the experience.

I also enjoyed attempting to roll my tongue into a camera, only to
find out an hour later after suffering through your crummy displays
that people were watching me on the way out on a television. Thanks for the warning douche bags.

The shrunken heads that you swear are real look exactly like novelty
store shrunken heads. In fact, many of the items that you claim to be
authentic seem suspiciously low quality, and non-antique, especially
considering the surprising number of the same "rare artifacts," that
you seem to have, especially since you have to share with your other
locations.

I also learned at Ripley's Believe It or Not that ancient tribes did
not ever sharpen their weapons, but must have been proficient
blacksmiths, because the "authentic" weapons have a perfect, non-sharp
factory quality dull blade, like when I order a samurai sword from the
internet.

You mentioned "interactive elements." Considering very few of them
work, I am left to guess which of the exhibits that did not seem to be
anything were supposed to be interactive. Thank you for writing to try
to give me lame excuses as to why your exhibits don't work. By the
way, how many things have to break before you order parts? Because, a
LOT of things didn't work. Here's a tip: order things as they break,
and customers may find forgiveness in their generous hearts for the
occasional malfunction.

Much more can be said about the low quality of your crappy
establishment, but I am assuming that somewhere deep inside you must
know what a failure you are and how stupid it is to think that people
want to be bothered with your lousy explanations.

I could go on, but I don't want to take all of the fun out of it for
you, so why don't you take a walk around your little navy made out of
toothpicks (also a glorious addition to your museum. Who knew that
people could glue toothpicks together? Did you know that you can build
little gay sculptures from many different things, like tongue
depressors and even tampons? Because I didn't! Wow!) and try to put
yourself i the boots of someone who is not a moron and wants to see
exhibits about interesting, or true, things.

Sincerely,

guy who paid 60 dollars for him and his girlfriend to go when they
were told it would cost less but you people lie.

This is what its like?

    My brain hurts! But my book is going to be awesome! I am learning so much about crazy things! I am almost ready to start writing the story! But mostly my brain hurts! I hope it doesn't explode!

really bad comic #8

boobergobble

   Writing a book is hard work. There is so much research to be done if I am going to write a decent novel, and not just one kind of research. I have to delve deep into history, master the human mind, and know several Middle Eastern religions inside and out if I am going to pull this off, and this is just my first novel! Knowing how to type properly would also help, but- like that's going to happen.

    I guess I don't really know what its like to really put my brain to work. I probably wouldn't be able to memorize all the buttons in a video game if it wasn't a visual experience, let alone form complicated plots and prolific twists like seems to come naturally to great authors like Neil Gaiman and Haruki Murakami. So, I have to find a way to make it deep while keeping it simple, otherwise I'll confuse myself like the writers of Lost and have to add polar bears and secret domes all over the place in order to patch up plot holes.

    Oh yeah, and I still need characters.

 

 really bad comic #7

    I wonder if I can write a bunch of kick-ass books that will inspire video games like Tom Clany's Splinter Cell (and Tom Clancy's H.A.W.X., Tom Clancy's EndWar, etc...). Speaking of which, I wonder what Tom Clancy did right to prevent people from just making video games based on his ideas and claiming they had never read his books?

    In that same vein, I am SURE I could write great video game books like the ones based off of Halo and Mass Effect. Should I just start a FanFic page and see where it takes me? Hmm, what's that you say? Nowhere? Oh.

    I have no idea where to start.

Just Say No

For the last 2 months Rite Aid has been raising money for a local hospital by way of those little pieces of colored paper that you pay a dollar for. You know the ones, sometimes shaped like four-leaf clovers, sometimes hearts or stars. These ones were hot air balloons. They looked more like strange light bulbs to me, and I don't even know what hot air balloons have to do with sick children.

Anyway, basically for the last 2 months I have been pushing these little paper things on every customer that comes in. Kudos to the many customers that donated, especially those that came in multiple times and donated every time. What I find interesting is the various reactions of people that decline to donate. I have absolutely nothing against people who decline to donate to a cause. It is simply not required that people donate, and it is their unquestionable right not to, weather it's a dollar or a million dollars. I find it hilarious that many people can't just say "no," instead coming up with long winded excuses or shady attempts at avoiding the issue.

The way I see it, if you feel that bad saying no, maybe you should just donate. A dollar. Maybe you'll feel better.

And so I present to you the list that I have been keeping of all the most common excuses, as well as the most ridiculous ones:

~ I always donate.

~ I did it up front.

~ I did it last time.

~ I did it last year.

~ I donate yearly.

~ I am tired of getting solicited everywhere I go, so I will not donate.

~ I donate to ...um, something else.

~ **pretending I didn't hear you**

~ I donate enough.

~ No, my wife might be doing it.

~ Aw, hell no.

~ I donate to the Shriners.

~ I just spent the morning setting up fundraisers for breast cancer awareness and stuff. I'm not donating to anything else. Not today. (waves hand dismissively)

~ I did that.

~ No, I'll pass- I donate too much as it is.

~ No, we do charity rides.

~ * unintelligible reply, followed by perfectly understandable segue into another subject *

~ You got me the last couple of times.

~ No, someone needs to donate to me.

Rain,Rain.

Rain is relaxing. I like to fall asleep to the sound of rain. Also, pretty much anything else is more relaxing while it is raining outside. Thunder doesn't even bother me, or even the pelting of a severe storm. Right now it's just raining lightly, though. It put me in the mood to actually write, for once.

Another thing I like about rain is the mood it puts everyone in. People don't expect as much when it is raining. Some people make remarks if you don't seem in good spirits when the weather is nice, but those same people will let your mood slip by without making it their business if it is raining out. People mind there own business when passing you on the street, and aren't as likely to look at you sideways if you walk too close.

Maybe it's my cynical nature, but rainy weather and a gloomy sky make me feel like I can be my gloomy self for a while without everyone expecting me to share the world's optimism, since the world is pissing on everyone equally at that moment. It;s sunny days when I am supposed to be as happy as everyone else that people realy irritate me. But its much easier to just skate by if its raining.

Getting to the Bear/Bones

I just spent the last month watching every single episode of Bones only to be disappointed by the huge cliffhanger at the end of season 4. I hope the next season gets up on NetFlix soon. I don't even know if theres a season on right now, or if season 5 just ended, or what. I don't pay attention to television, I just watch it later.

In other news, there was a baby bear stuck in a tree on Chestnut Ave today. For once, the crazy people in my building weren't being crazy when they told me there was a bear in a tree outside. Well, it was an alien last time, but you know what I mean.

I could have gotten more pictures and maybe a video, but I had a sandwich getting cold inside and there are plenty of animal rescue/arrest shows on cable and I didn't feel like dealing with the crowd.


Since we are on about the animals, here are some kittens.

Prepare to be Toothed

Check out my movie poster from my graphic design class. Anyone interested in writing a screenplay?

Lazy Eyes a short story


My right eye is generally in a very good mood, and such was the case when he noticed his fridge was empty. On an ordinary day this would not have been a problem, but today he had a date after work, which he was late for. So, despite his love of cooking fine meals for pretty eyes, he would have to take her out. Which meant stopping at the bank. Which meant being even later to pick her up.

With a sigh, my right eye grabbed his car keys and headed out the door while slinging a dress shirt haphazardly around himself and tucking it in as he rushed out the two doors to the parking lot. He walked hurriedly to his jeep and was on the road long before the heat in his car was working. He was shivering in his leather seats, but still he was in a good mood. He estimated he would be only ten minutes late, and was sure the sweet eye would not hold it against him. Besides, dinner was on him. What kind of stuck up peeper would begrudge her hard-working host ten minutes?

It wasn't until arriving at the bank and seeing the long line that our ocular friend began to get a little annoyed. At this rate, he would be quite late- almost a half hour.

Then my eye noticed something out of the corner of him.......


TO BE CONTINUED

You've been Cock'd

Employees working the late night shift at CVS/Pharmacy discover home made cock

On Sunday, February 17, at approximately 3:00 am EST, employees at CVS/Pharmacy in Windsor Locks, CT were shocked to find a large homemade cock sitting outside of the car of an individual who prefers not to be named.

"I just went out for a cigarrette," states Jay, the first one to discover the phallic object; "I'm standing in front of [my coworker's] car and see something that looks like a large, erect penis."

"I couldn't believe my eyes," says the owner of the car, and apparent recipient of the homemade concocktion. "I checked to make sure it was safe and quickly texted one of my friends."

Being the only one that had an interest in the unique gift, Jay put it in his car and after work took it home to his girlfriend as a late Valentine's Day gift.

The couple and their two roommates were curious about their newfound penis. So, they took it upon themselves to have a deeper look.

Cynthia predicted the presence of pineapple juice somewhere in the penis, while Alison took a deep interest in the secrets contained within, pointing out the possibility of scientific significance.

"No one will know what is inside a random giant dick if we don't take initiative."

Composition of the Schlong
(mouseover picture for explanation)

www.flickr.com

Chat Me Up

me: life is one huge rigged claw machine

filled with cheap crap that looks better than it actually is if you can grab anything

LadyGrinningS0ul: well thats. depressing.

me: i didnt think it was THAT depressing

LadyGrinningS0ul: sure it is

LadyGrinningS0ul: i never win at claw machines

lol

me: see

i never win at life

LadyGrinningS0ul: how is that NOT depressing?!

life is not a claw machine

take that back

me: and the few times i grab good stuff, it either falls out, or it turns out to be imitation crap

that doesnt last

LadyGrinningS0ul: life is full of bunnies and meadows and rainbows. shut up, you.

me: and is made in taiwan

by young malnutritioned children

LadyGrinningS0ul: no

me: who are paid pennies a week

LadyGrinningS0ul: SO

HOW WAS YOUR DAY

I WORKED AND WENT SHOPPING

me: my day was ok

at Mandarin on Boston Road in Wilbraham !!

This is a haiku

I believe it's a good one

I could be wrong

The Case Against Monkeys


It's time that people realized that these "cute" furry little humanoids are nothing but trouble. I hear so many women going around wishing they could cuddle one, or indie kids saying it would be cool to have one to teach tricks. These people are fools!

A monkey would be the most unlucky pet. Only get a monkey if you can't get yourself into enough trouble without being dragged down by slow, distracted, rat bastard primates.

Evidence:

• Indiana Jones: Indy gets ratted out by a monkey (for a FIG!), and it almost results in our hero getting shot to death. If it wasn't for that Islamic Pimp shielding him with all those children he would have been done for.

• Aladdin: That little shit Apu is complete baggage. Half the trouble Aladdin gets into is because Apu stopped to look at something or touch it, or he's too slow to keep up. They never would have gotten trapped in the Cave of Wonders if the monkey hadn't touched the lamp.

• Curious George: the only thing more disturbing than monkeys that can't keep their hands off things is the homo-erotic men in yellow suits that smile at them the whole time. Curious. I'll bet.

• The Monkees: In this NBC Sitcom from the 60's, a group of ugly and badly dressed musicians are always getting into trouble and pissing everyone off. The group was aptly named.

• Monkeys throw poo. No other pet throws poo.

• Monkey Trouble (1994): Enough said.
  

More on this as it develops.

What the fuck is the point of doing all that extra work last week just so you can "make up for it" by cutting my hours this week?

no one can know me because i don't know myself

i would show you but you can't relate

wear my shoes if you can fit them

and follow if you can bear

the pain i walk in

and every step

jolting sensations of the present past

my mind so filled with hate

its hard to run from what i fear

when the road i walk on pierces

jagged stones and thorns composed of

memories that haunt me

this road is personalized with

forlorn sighs

and littered with remembrance

try them on and tag along

but dont get left behind cause

if you fall i cant carry you

im barely going on

Nice and quiet outside. Enjoying a cigarette; sitting in my tree for a while, then walking slowly on top of the little wall that surrounds my yard.

I used to think that maybe someday I would have someone to walk on it with me, maybe hold my hand and walk behind me, enjoying these quiet moments with me. I realize that, somewhere along the line, I stopped caring about that.

I reach the end of the wall, back at the doorstep opposite from that tree. Still quiet.

I stand, and finish my cigarette. I realize how long a cigarette lasts, out here in the stillness; realize that I inhale deeper than I used to. I smoke more packs than I used to too.

I spit some saliva on the ground. I hate spitting, but maybe I won't get cancer if I spit it out. I don't care about any of that anymore either.

I try to resist the urge to put the rest of it out, to hurry away from this mirror of serenity, go inside and fill the air with some distracting sound; a late night infomercial, maybe the muffled noise of a DJ on the crappy little alarm radio.

The tap, tap, tapping of my keyboard.

These calm moments, they are good for me, I know. There is value in the still air, the semi dark emptiness, my own thoughts bouncing off the lonely walls and landscape. Its these times that have gotten me through, weather on a Greyhound bus in the middle of the night, the side of the road at dawn, or in some one's living room or a strange girl's bed, sleepless. But, for some reason, I usually don't endure them long.

I have to piss.

I still manage to unhurriedly finish my cigarette, smothering the ash in the dull bricks and walking slowly to the trash can across the lot, and back into the house.

Its quiet inside, also, but as I step through the threshold its a different kind of stillness. Perhaps its the same, only tainted by my own preoccupation with distraction.

A stop at the bathroom. I Walk to my room, take a sip of my soft drink, sit at my computer. The movie is still playing.

Soda is so bad for me. That used to bother me. Now I just know it, I guess.

Tap. Tap.

You find a girl that you know you can love forever, and then suddenly, forever is over. It just runs out. For her, at least.

Yeah, I fucked up; we both did... but not that bad. Not bad enough that you should fall out of love so soon....after the things we've said? Crazy. Unbelievable. That you can just turn it off like that. Couples every day who don't have anythng like what we had, stay together through stuff a hell of a lot bigger than what made you give up so easily.

Forever isn't suposed to run out. It's supposed to last... you know, forever. Or at least for a hundred years or so.

So, why am I still in love, and not her? Does that prove that 'forever' is still happening? Or am I the only one stuck in forever?

Its not like I was even looking for a friggin girlfriend. It's not like I need one.

It's not like I want anyone else but you.

Am I a fool? When does a fool stop hurting?

What's the meaning of life?

That's what I was asked very recently. I really didn't have to think long.

The meaning of life is, you're on your own. Seriously.

Sure, some people are lucky enough to have good family and friends to get them through the hard times, or a lover that they are happy to spend their whole life with, or a religion to depend on, and use to justify their existence.

But when it comes down to it, you are totally on your own. No one else is wearing your skin, and experiencing the trials you go through. No one else really knows how you feel, and understands all the little things about you that make you you, and all the wishes and hopes, and dreams and aspirations, and all of your glitches. And for the most part, they don't really care. They can't, completely. Its not in our nature.

So what's the point of all this?

Live your life. Do what feels right. What else can you do? The world is too full of problems to spend all your years trying to solve them. Life is too short not to have what you want, and not to appreciate what you have. And if you figure out what love is? Just enjoy it. But learn how to live without it, and be prepared to; that's my advice.

I suppose I will write an update of sorts, even though my large following is all but nonexistent these days.

I am working at Wal-Mart now, which turns out to be a very decent job. The benefits rock, and the people are ok. I am even getting involved in the stock market a little bit, since they make it very easy to take advantage of Wal-Mart stock by deducing it from my paycheck. They even cover all of the broker fees, and match you by 15% of everything you put in up to $1800 a year. I still need to educate myself with all this stock market crap, but its worth it to see if I can save up some good money for a few years.

That's really it right now as far as new and exciting events. I worked 72.5 hours the last work week, during thanksgiving week, and I was beat as hell after that. I was grateful to be able to take advantage of the overtime though.Come the end of the year I hope to be debt free and on my way to financial stability and semi-success. But how many times have I planned on that, eh?

I have been doing a lot lately to try to stimulate my brain. I used to be a lot sharper, and lately I have noticed that my vocabulary has been going down the drain, among other things. Part of this is because of how hard it is to surround myself with stimulating company, and not people who are content to sit around and talk trash and brag all the time, who take it as an insult if you use a word they don't know.

I have been reading up on the subject of kick starting my brain, and have read some tips that I think I want to try, likethe concept of a 'quiet day' once a week, when I turn off all radio, TV, and other stuff for a whole day and just spend it in silence. Or, exercising my brain by writing more, using my non-dominant hand to do things, and doing word puzzles and things like that. I have been meaning for a while to get back to my writing the way I used to. Hell, there are a plethera of talents I have wasted over the last few years, cause things have been so crazy. Maybe I can make up for lost time?

Later

Okay, I know you all want to hear about my exciting weekend holding up a sign for money. Well, of course it couldn't be that simple....


Here's the cast:


Annoying chick; your typical know-it-all, with only a slight wit and mild attractiveness, which you wouldn't guess by the hot shit she acted like.

too-cool-for-school; this guy was announcing the make and model of every car we saw the entire weekend, putting his brand new phone on speakerphone constantly, and trying to make mysterious, elusive comments that no one bit on.

redneck party boy; my particular favorite, the entrepreneur that was behind the whole ordeal. His high (dashed) hopes and misplaced charisma were the perfect compliment for what was to be a thoroughly unenjoyable trip.

the truck; some old four door contraption, a primitive model of a mini SUV. Think of the bastard child between an H2 and a Honda Element.


Our story begins early Saturday morning. I pile into the truck with the other three occupants, and we hit the road. Not more than 5 minutes into the journey, the driver (redneck guy) begins to show an interest in the personal stats and history of everyone on board. I withstood his barrage of questions, only to find that he required a surprisingly minimal amount of material in order to carry on a conversation for a prolonged time. Fortunately, said conversation was mostly to himself, so I was able to read my book and eventually nod off for half of the three hour ride.



We arrived in the parking lot of the K Mart and began to prepare for our marketing stint. now, I don't know how many of you are familiar with the people that stand on the side of the road all day holding advertisements, but I had seen my share of them. I was under the impression that it was a simple concept, and was prepared for the ordeal.... or so I thought.



This guy was not to be outdone, despite the lack of competition.



I wasn't just carrying one sign around, I was carrying two, a contraption of PVC pipe and zip ties resulting in a two story high sign that threatened to impose upon JetBlue's airspace. And, to make matters worse, we were in costume.



However, despite these setbacks, I managed to keep my sanity for 6 long hours until the end of the day.



But that's where things got rough.



You see, the sole reason that the head of the operation, we'll call him Joe, decided to undertake this weekend side job (this was his first weekend) was so that he could spend Saturday night partying and then Sunday morning sleeping in while we all carried signs. This was supposed to be his weekly getaway from the wife and kids. He had it all figured out, making extra money, partying all weekend, and breaking even by Monday. He was planning to CUT LOOSE!!! One problem: We were in a town with a population so low that the last census was taken as an extra credit math exercise by the 5th grade class.




Well, after we packed up our signs and changed back into our clothes, we went out for some drinks. Emo cool guy was all over this irritating chick, and had apparently fallen in love with her since 6 am that morning. She was obviously not interested, but didn't bother to tell him so, which made it interesting for me to observe. that was fine with me, because I really had nothing better to pay attention to at the time.



Joe was buying drinks for everyone in the zip code, trying to get a party started, but wasn't having any luck. 8:00 rolled around and Emo Boy stormed out after Ira (tating) showed her interest in another guy.



We decided to go to another place. we found a very relaxed club, with a laid back atmosphere. We ordered some food, listened to the music, and I was finally starting to enjoy myself. However, Joe was obviously very perplexed that there was still no block party forming, and Girls Gone Wild had not yet started to be filmed around us.



We eventually headed back to the motel, because Ira was tired. This annoyed Joe to no end, but we headed back. While in their room, after Joe entered the shower, she felt bad and tried to get me to go back out with him. I, on the other hand, felt it was a better idea to go to my room and watch Adult Swim.




Upon reaching my room, I found Emo on the bed, staring at the ceiling with ICP blaring out of his headphones so loud that I wondered if he was still alive. After checking his pulse, I took my own shower, and made sure that there were no harmful objects within his reach while I grabbed the remote and caught the end of The 5th Element. I had forgotten how much that movie sucked.



He decided to start conversation later, and after assuring him that it is better to have loved and lost than to have had to deal with that shit in the long run, I went to sleep. despite my 9 am wake up call being mistaken (by the well-meaning foreigner at the front desk) for an 11:30 pm call (three times) I got a good night's sleep.



The next day was pretty uneventful, except for rain and overtime. Then, right after the last day was finally over....



.... the truck broke down.



Aye. We got that fixed. We left. We drove for three hours. I took my money, went home, and slept.




How was your weekend?

No, seriously, sorry for all the trouble. Here's another statue, guys.

The level was always trying to bring other household items down.

I went tubing all day yesterday on the Salt River. It was awesome, even though today I'm paying for it with excruciating sun burns.

I had never been before, and so I was a little surprised at the concept. Its more uneventful than I had expected, since all we did was float ten miles downriver on tubes. Thats it. No motors, no ropes, and no cigarrettes since they got wet early on in the trip.

We parked the car and got our tubes, then rode a bus for ten minutes to the drop point. After making our way to the edge of the water, and settling ourselves as comfortably as possible onto our rubber contraptions, we began drifting slowly down the river.

At first the mass of humanity on the river with us was almost stifling, since it was labor day, and groups of families and college kids were having floating parties with their coolers, beer, and frisbees. These thinned out considerably as we left the drop point, though we were never truly alone throughout the trip. It was not unenjoyable to have others near, enjoying nature in their own way, however only at the pace that mother nature allowed.

It was this that fascinated me: being coerced into taking my time, and enjoying the breathtaking view and small bits of wildlife that we encountered. If I was on a jet ski, or even a canoe, I certainly would have ignored them, concentrating instead on how fast I could conquer it myself. Instead I was at the mercy of the river.

The current was not very fast (unless you tried to get out in the shallower parts and walk in it- then you realized its speed and power). At first I hoped it would begin to rush me down its panks perilously; before too long I was too busy gazing at the monstrous craigs and beautiful constructions that the river winds its way through, it, too, at the mercy of the landscape around it.

I am sure some of you are wondering why I am making my post so boring, with talk of rocks and water, and philosophical ramblings caused by floating around all day. But I was in awe! I can't help but try to express the beauty, and how nice it was for once to just. . .float, and observe something beautiful.

If you are a local reading this, you have to try this mini adventure sometime. Just let me give you some tips; Plenty of sunscreen, drink water, even though you'll feel fine (afterwards is when it hits you), and take a waterproof camera. I didn't bring my camera because it would have been ruined, but I was vey disappointed to miss the chances to capture some awesome views and unique animal moments on film.

- - - - - - - -

So after we left, we got some taco bell, and I went home, after smearing myself all over with aloe vera and neosporin (since I am apparently allergic to raw leather).

Jesse came over and we hung out for a while after she left her photo shoot. She had a rough day apparently. I was glad for the opportunity to make her feel better, and her company is always enjoyed.

We got to talking (it seems like it had been a while since we just sat and talked about nothing. Those are some of the best times. . . . my advice to anyone would be not to only hang out with friends if there's a reason to) about random stuff, and then about dreams... always a gripping subject with me, because of the vividness and ironic, fake reality that I find in my own. I have done a lot of reading on the subject, and it still eludes me, as it supposedly does the whole scientific world.

But those who know me (which seem to be few, really, but thats kind of beside the point) know that I only take science so seriously. Not to say I think they are necesarily wrong about some things.... but I believe that we don't do ourselves any favors by thinking too deeply into anything. Dreams are manifestations of whatever it is that sneaks around in the back of our minds while we are awake; fears, longings, secrets, they are all let lose while we dream. i think the reasons for this are simple: our brain tries to rememebr itself. It won't allow us to shove away those thngs we try to stifle, or to forget what we try to erase, and its always bringing up what it hopes we will someday grasp in our waking life (things that the soul, or whatever that part of us is, has figured out, and longs to manifest itself)... I am not making sense most likely. I just mean to say this: that dreams are who we are in the background, when we finally give our selves a rest from chasing our dreams and desires around all day.

With that unintentionally poured out, I will share with you that I have a blog floating around in cyber space that I used to put all my dreams in that I could rememebr. I am inspired now to find it and once again make a habit of recording them. Who knows what I might discover about myself?

Sitting outside tonight after the storm, I saw through the mass of clouds a single star was able to poke out. I looked around in the sky for others, but this was the only one.


I realized how alone this star is. It was no more alone on this night than any other, just because one creature on one planet had a cold front in the way. But I realized that stars are like people in some ways.


One looks up at a sky crowded with billions of stars, and it would appear that they are close enough to touch each other , to have more than an indirect effect on each other. Perhaps even to commune on some celestial level with a life of their own that we cannot comprehend.

In truth, though it looks like they have each other, they are all utterly alone, surronded by almost incalculable measures of miles of dark matter.

The same with each one of us; it would seem, at a glance, that the world is so full, so crowded that everyone would have someone, that you need nearly reach out to touch your neighbor, or to feel his warmth. Instead, we are close enough to see warmth, and know that we don't feel it. We are each surrounded with our own dark thoughts, dreams, and heartaches, the void seeming to stretch out for more than we can fathom. It would seem that someone could reach us, could touch us, but everyone is too far away.

We, as a society, are too far away from each other. Like scattered celestial bodies lost in a sea of blackness, we are all so much more alone than it appears.

So I have decided to force myself to blog consistently once again, even though it would seem that no one cares.

A lot has happened in the past like 8 months since I last kept written track of my life. I have met an awesome person that has become like my best friend, and would make an awesome squeeze if that was at all what I wanted at this point. Its not... we will save that for another day, hmmmm....?

I am still trying to find my niche. I like it out here in AZ, but it still sucks not having a car. In fact it sucks way more than it did out east.

I have been making it one of my most vital goals to get a vehicle, but it seems like everything stands in my way. I am so incredibly sick of my life going around in the same pointless circles.

My halfhearted hopes of things working out in some way with my family have turned to shit. I am not surprised or anything...I really did give it an effort, even though I had my misgivings.

Jesse has sparked my old photographic aspirations... I am hopig to be a photogrpher eventually with this company that I am selling for right now. The only thing holding me back is a car...... I don't even have a license yet. How lame... I don 't even have a car to use to get one. Aye.

That is the synopsis.

I was going to say that I am sure many of you are wondering what has been going on with me, but I actually have heard barely a peep from all my would-be fans.

I have not been blogging much, because so much crazy shit has happened in the last few months that in order to begin blogging again, I feel like it will take way too much effort to sort everything out into a sufficient explanation, and to just start off without clueing you in would just be weird.

Basically, I ended up moving from NY to Arizona. After a grueling 3-day bus ride, I began the tricky process of establishing myself in yet another city.

There is a great deal of anxiety, because I once again have lost everything. To top it all off, all of a sudden my estranged extended family has decided to take an interest in me after all this time. This is a mixed blessing, and a subject that would have to wait for another day, but suffice to say it is a lot at once, and pretty overwhelming.

But besides this and a relatively few amount of larger obstacles, I really can't complain too much. I have been working my ass off, and just today put a down payment on my apartment. At the end of January, I will be taking a trip back to NY to help a friend remodel their house, and then returning to Phoenix to get settled once and for all.

Things are looking up, hopefully this time for good!!

I was bored late last night, and decided to put a prank ad up on craigslist to see what kind of response I would get. I was surprised to wake up this morning to find a whole load of responses in my email. Apparently no one thought this could possibly be a hoax, as I recieved so many concerned emails with advice on what I could do to help the poor dolphin...

I have included the most hilarious emails below for your enjoyment. (keep in mind, we live in arizona!)
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JUST AN IDEA, CONTACT SEA WORLD OVER IN SAN DIEGO THEY WILL GIVE IT A HOME.
OR CALL CALIFORNIA GAME AND FISH DEPT. THEY CAN HELP YOU
MAYBE ARIZONA GAME AND FISH AS A LAST RESORT

OR TAKE HIM OVER TO SAN DIEGO AND LET HIM GO.

JUST TRYING TO HELP
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In ARizona? In a tank?

Have you considered rescue services? I'd be happy to research them
out for you - just tell me what city you are in.

Mist
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Hi,

Have you tried contacting Sea World or other sea mammal rescue
agencies? I'm sure someone would come take it for you -- dolphins
need special care and diet, as I'm sure you know. Don't let someone
take it for a pet -- contact some professionals who will rescue it
properly and give it a good life in an appropriate habitat. I'm sure
if you google "dolphin rescue" or something, you can find links to
the appropriate parties.

Best of luck. Wish I could take it and put it in my pool! :D
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How big of a pond is it in?



How big of pond would I need?



-Clint
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A R I Z O N A

Hi, everyone. I know I have been out of touch for quite sometime. I was in a real weird transition, and a whole bunch of CRAP happened all at once, so it was best to fly under the radar, indefinitely.


Still not too definite, cause things are still crazy. I am in Arizona, and I love it out here. The picture is me on top of Shaw Peak a couple weeks ago (pics courtesy of a couple cute college girls I met at the top). I love the mountains and stuff here, but I miss the trails back east. These are lacking a certain diversity...everything is very bland and monotone.

Not a whole lot interesting to report right now. I am not going to go into the whole story of the last few months. It is quite a tale, but I will leave that for other posts.

For now, I am just working hard, like always. I am working at a leather store (Top salesman!) and doing what odd jobs I can get on the side. I am about to fly back out to NY for a couple weeks to help a friend build her house, and then I will get back out here to finish getting settled in my own place.

till next time!