The Wee Democracy

picture project

i bought a disposable camera today. it was one of those kodak ones, with the digital picture option -- you know, getting your shit on all on CD. cool, right? anyways, my idea was to take a bunch of pictures of mundane things from my daily life - the store, the buses and trains. the idea was to show alot of the things that occupy my daily existence to a friend of mine -- cady. she's super-cool, and pretty cute, but lives in michigan, so that sucks. she wanted some fun pictures, so that was the impetus.

but true to my immature and aimless nature, it quickly spiraled into a inwardly humorous foray into the adventures of a red toy triceratops i named jeff.

i think he belonged to a small boy i saw crawling around amidst the shambley sweaters and knit shirts hanging from racks in my area. he was looking for something, but i thought it was just a game he was playing with his dad. really, he was a cute kid. evidently, he was looking for a lost toy, and had i known that at the time, i'd have gotten down there and looked myself.

it wasn't until around 4:30 that i found the little red triceratops -- he was unearthed after i'd done some cleaning/moving. i took him in, adopted him so to speak, and he became the focus of my pictures from that point on. jeff at the bus stop, meeting the woman whose picture i took candidly, surprising the hell out of her. jeff at the train station, looking at the tracks. jeff on the train. downtown. walking down my street.

i took other pictures of me, too. usually in some state of wasting time at work, or lounging in the bathroom. watching the mavericks game (though that was taken at home). i thought about writing a little book for the pictures.

i know i'm going to try to link them to this page somehow. i think they're funny as hell.




feeling: uncomfortably bloated, but otherwise ok.
thinking of: somehow getting out of work tomorrow. god how i hate work.
song of the day: nothing better - the postal service
don't you give me lies about some idealistic future....your heart won't heal right if you keep tearing out the sutures

shameless begging

my idiot friend rick, due to extreme intoxication and a seriously rash use of bad judgment, has unwillingly (ok, kinda willingly, more like unwittingly) pledged himself $200 in the name of a date auction. he did this last night and realized, amidst his hangover fury this morning....that he does not HAVE $200.

he is begging, not unlike a mangy dog, for the $200. if you would like to pledge a small amount to help him out of his admittedly self dug hole - let us know:

weedemocracy@yahoo.com

or rick, himself
rickflores@mail.utexas.edu

joshua

I have a teddy bear, and his name is joshua. i don't sleep with him anymore, simply because i'm a tosser/turner in the night, and i hate waking up finding poor joshua down on cold floor with lint stuck to his body. but he sleeps in his own makeshift bed not far from me.

i got joshua when i was but an infant, given to me by my aunt some mere hours after i arrived home after being born. so well over twenty three years now. he's a little worse for the wear - a few foot claws missing, and the snap-button on the back of his shirt doesn't work. how a snap fails is beyond me, but his has. speaking of his shirt, it rocks. it's got a picture of him on it, in a sailor getup looking through a telescope and bubble letters at the bottom that spell joshua. he rocks.

i had a dream when i was younger, maybe 12, where my house was on fire. it wasn't raging or anything, just real smoky, and i had to get out....oh, but i wasn't going to leave the house without joshua. i tossed aside a pile of stuffed animals that were at the base of my bed in a box looking in vain for joshua. but i couldn't find him. needless to say, when i woke up, i promptly dug him out of said box and have not, to date, forgotten where i can find him immediately if fire threatens.

i'm gonna try to start posting pictures.


feeling: good
thinking of: cady
song of the day: something pretty - patrick park
At the most, i'm a glare, i'm the hopeless son who's hardly there, i'm the open sign that's always busted, i'm the friend you need, but can't be trusted.

Reaction

when i was younger, much younger, and my mom, sister, and i were crammed into my sister's bed, having a bed time story, i looked over to the wall. there was a little green ribbon.

I asked Jesus how much he loved me

He said "This much"

And He stretched out his arms and died.


i thought about that then, when i was maybe six years old, and it made me cry. just uncontrollably. even now, it makes me choked up. i was raised catholic, and i knew all about what had happened. to a six year old, death is pretty horrific and the thought that someone died for the love of me was overwhelming.

i hadn't thought about that little ribbon in so many years, but i thought about it today, as i sat in the theater, watching it unfold. i remembered that phrase and back the tears came. to see it portrayed so graphically, with an unflinching eye, speaks to a jaded, cynical, 23 year old who doesn't think about religion all that much at all, and has the same relative effect as it had back then.

anyone who really knows me knows that i'm not all that religious, and that my main motivation for seeing 'the passion of the christ' wasn't going to have much to do with my role as a semi-christian. i'm not saying to go see it for evangelical reasons, not to save your soul, or change your life, or convert you to christianity.

it doesn't matter whether or not you're christian, whether or not you believe that jesus was actually the son of god, the messiah sent to save us all, sent to forgive us our sins. all that aside, jesus died for a profound unimaginable love of mankind. that cannot be denied. that, i guess, is the reason for the powerful and generally atypical reaction i got when i first read that phrase, and when i was reminded of it again today.



feeling: good
thinking of: nothin' really
song of the day: you can't always get what you want - rolling stones

You're The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe!

by C.S. Lewis

You were just looking for some decent clothes when everything changed
quite dramatically. For the better or for the worse, it is still hard to tell. Now it
seems like winter will never end and you feel cursed. Soon there will be an epic
struggle between two forces in your life and you are very concerned about a betrayal
that could turn the balance. If this makes it sound like you're re-enacting Christian
theological events, that may or may not be coincidence. When in doubt, put your trust
in zoo animals.


Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

Constitutional Ire

i wrote a few weeks back, around the time of the state of the union, about how ludicrous it is, all the hubbub surrounding the "taboo" subject of gay marriage. i wrote a couple of weeks ago a fake interview with bush, and both entries were meant to convey just how much i disagree with that particular political agenda. I never thought i could hate a man i've never meant, never thought i could get that sick feeling in my stomach for someone i've never seen in the flesh, never loathed someone so much i've only seen on television. well, evidently, i can.

considering that i'm not gay, i've often wondered why i care so passionately about gay rights. I guess for the same reason some whites back in the 60's cared for equal rights for black people. it's just right. i harp on and on about justice and fairness, and to deny someone the same rights as you or me, simply because of sexual preference is absurd. more than that, it's morally outrageous. it's wrong.

and here, that simple minded buffoon, that prejudiced sonofabitch wants to actually ammend the constitution to further his and several other people's agendas that preach about equal rights and betrays the very heart of those causes.

seriously, bush? how can you, in good conscience, talk about justice and liberty and the pursuit of happiness to the american people, go about your military crusades to protect those tenets of american life, and at the same time, actually amend the fucking document our nation was founded on to single out those with sexual preferences YOU find appalling. and don't hide behind your psuedo argument of family values, because it just doesn't stand. you hate gays? fine. you want them to hide in the shadows and deny them basic rights that any crackhead can claim? fuck you. ain't gonna happen.

it is the document guaranteeing my right to say these things i've said. don't make a disgrace of it with your sickening prejudices.

how dare you?



feeling: pissed off
thinking of: summer plans
song of the day: won't get fooled again - the who
The change, it had to come, we knew it all along. We were liberated from the fold, that's all. And the world looks just the same

Ad

SWM seeking SWF. i'm ok looking, shitty attitude when it comes to work, funny. must like good music. anti-tv and vegetarians need not apply - must like hamburgers, alcohol. freckles or fair skin a plus, but not necessary. the same for red hair. OK kisser. I make good cd's.





feeling: peculiar
thinking of: tyron
song of the day: absolutely cuckoo - the magnetic fields
don't fall in love with me yet, we've only recently met, true i'm in love with you but you might decide i'm a nut

makin' a brotha choked up 'n shit

so the end of sex and the city was tonight...and it ended fabulously. everything about it was great. so mr. big's name was john....that's awesome.

*sigh* i said i wasn't gonna get all misty eyed! dammit!




feeling: so sad!
thinking of: michigan
song of the day: sex and the city theme song

prime nombres

that story i wrote a couple of years ago, about that girl? she didn't have a name. people pointed out that in the conversation pieces of the story, no one ever said her name. well, think about it? how many times do people address you by your name in person? are people like "hey, josh!" or are they more like "hey!"?

i IM alot, as you may have guessed. people don't usually start it out with "hey josh!" mainly because they know and i know who's doing the talking and who's being talked at. we don't need to use my first name all that much, if at all. so when someone used it the other day, it kinda weirded me out.

it's not like i don't like my name. it's a cool name. kinda distinctive, boyish, which suits me to a T. not just a whole lot of joshes out there, which is not to say its an uncommon name, just not something like, john, or robert, or something like that. but i never got too attached to it. i mean, my folks call me by annoying nicknames half the time, and my sister usually calls me some hip abbreviation of an actual address. i don't really like introducing myself. sometimes i lie at parties, just so i can avoid people actually knowing what my identity is. i'm kinda like bond.

anywho, when i was in school, half the time i didn't correct my professors when the called role and called me out by my true first name. i just didn't care. usually when i think about myself -- you know, those narcissistic sessions where i think about myself, i don't think about myself as a josh. just as a me. and if i try to imagine myself in the third person, still not a josh -- a he.

*sigh* i guess it's kinda odd.

i'm thinking a blog is in the works chronicling fun times with pot.




feeling: agony in my legs
thinking of: what i'd do with 230 million bones
song of the day: look on down from the bridge - mazzy star
Everybody seems so far away from me...Everybody just wants to be free

words

i like the following words:

flabbergasted
poppycock
balderdash
marker
motherfucker
bastard
collinder
eclectic
clip
vivacious
sassy
brutal
quagmire
boggling, mind or otherwise
midget
bombastic
meticulous
hazy
sleazy
purgatorial
dread
matriculate
breastesses
chesticals
drat
bong
mung (what the hell is mung??)
inimitable
hawk
pubert
mug (as in face)
grill (as in teeth)
billion
iron
pittance
meager
narcotic
sesquicentennial
present (as in gift)
slop
and bulldozer



feeling: frighteningly altruistic
thinking of: adding "altruistic" to the list above
song of the day: jealous guy - john lennon
I was dreaming of the past, and my heart was beating fast. I began to lose control

which one are you?

a classic conversation between josh and riqui:

alceste1103: if i were a ninja turtle - who would i be?
ricv56: raphael
alceste1103: fuck
alceste1103: why?
ricv56: why fuck?
alceste1103: cause man, chicks don't like raphael, they like michelangelo
alceste1103: and i'm not michelangelo, i'm raphael
ricv56: i dunno that you fit him as much as you just don't seem to fit any of the other ones
ricv56: michaelangelo is a sack of shit
alceste1103: i think he's gay
ricv56: i think he's the only one that's not
alceste1103: michelangelo?
ricv56: raphael
alceste1103: whew
ricv56: i thought you were saying you thought raphael was gay
alceste1103: nope
ricv56: good
ricv56: i think he's the only solid hetero in the bunch
alceste1103: what about splinter? pederast?
ricv56: likely
ricv56: a four hundred year old rat cohabitating in a sewer (read:underground) with four teenagers
alceste1103: so what? it's all a homosexual allegory?
ricv56: don't even get me started on shredder, krang, bebop and rocksteady
alceste1103: oh no
alceste1103: oh, you have to explain this to me
ricv56: a warthog and a rhinoceros? if that's not code for beastiality, i don't know what is
alceste1103: hmm
alceste1103: that's pretty thin
ricv56: and a disembodied brain lives in a man's crotch co-leading an alliance of evil with an insecure ex samurai with his face covered?
alceste1103: so?
ricv56: that just screams S&M
alceste1103: goddamn, some days i get down on my knees and thank god i know you
ricv56: all the principles are mail
ricv56: *male*
alceste1103: i always wanted to fuck april o'neal
ricv56: yah well if you were on the cartoon, you would have been the only one
alceste1103: shit, i woulda ruined that woman
ricv56: she woulds stayed ruined too



feeling: schadenfreude
thinking of: taking a test usually reserved for high school dropouts
song of the day: of a broken heart - zwan
so let's see you smile, cause i'm not impressed with your loneliness

it gets worse...

added to the fact that i'm more or less bored to sobs these days, i haven't been sleeping well. this is due mainly to some fucked-up-ass dreams lately. you see, my dreams are rather blatant slaps in the face - none of that subtle messages that you need to resolve certain feelings you've got or life issues. mine are more like bloody or dread filled reminders that i've got to get my shit together.

i used to have this recurring dream about waves. it sucked, because really the beach is like my own personal fortress of solitude. when i went to north carolina a couple of years ago, i used to go out at night when no one was on the beach and sit in the sand, watching the waves crash. it was really indescribably a killer sight. and it put me at ease, which was a hard thing to do at the time...still is, as a matter of fact.

the dreams i had were followed the general pattern of a lovely day at the beach. i'd be walking or something equally pleasant when the waves would start breaking bigger. i'd back up the beach, and the waves would break further up the beach, until one wave would knock me off my feet. then it starts. the waves grow bigger, and bigger and i can't retreat any further up the beach. i'm blocked in, sometimes by a sand wall, once i was trapped in an ocean front room, with the waves crashing up against the shaking glass. but the waves grow, enormous now, looming over me blocking out the sun, twenty or thirty feet tall and holding there in front of me. then they collapse. i survive, but it's only a matter of time before another wave comes and threatens me. the last time i had this dream, i was far away from the beach. i saw the waves, and i saw them get enormous, but they were too far away from me to hurt me.

i dream about tornados too, but those dreams are less formulaic, and usually, i'm pretty much out of harms way.

but last night, i had a dream in which both my body and my mind were assaulted.

it's raining, and the backyard is flooding. i'm stuck out there, on a bench out there, and in the water there's a small shark. the shark bites off my left arm, which he proceeds to leave behind and i have to snag it from the rising water before it sinks. i jam the gruesome artifact into my stump and get into the house. i'm holding my arm in place, and try to tell my mom and my cousin that a shark has bitten my arm off and i must get to a hospital. they don't believe that a shark is swimming in the backyard and ignore me.

i get to the hospital and am tended to by my old pediatriction who stitches my arm back on, almost no worse for the wear. i tell people that i'm sort of incapacitated, what with my arm being sorta mangled. people don't believe me. i tell people that my arm is actually barely sewn on by a few stitches, and i show them the blue criss cross stitches in my upper musclature. it is at this point when i'm at a coffe shop, showing off said stitches and reading a book, that i pull on one of them and it comes off. not out...off. then..the whole line of blue knotted string comes off my arm. it's nothing but a string that my doctor tied around my arm to humor...a shark didn't bite my arm off...i imagined the whole thing instead, and i realize that in my dream, i'm going crazy instead.

so that's how my dream ended, with the realization that even in my dreams i'm slowly settling into a pathological state of lunacy.

isn't that fucked up?



feeling: just...goddammit all
thinking of: jumping
song of the day: wonderwall - ryan adams
no particular lyrics, just the overall melancholy tone which completely undoes any of the lame shit those oasis motherfuckers did

love-starved boy

first of all, i'd like to thank the couple of people who sent me email, but it's not over!!

secondly, if everyone who visits my site tomorrow, wednesday, could recommend it to another pal, that'd be great, too

thirdly, send me more email love. i'm quite bored these days and my ego sure could use an ever so gentle stroking. for the love of god, think of the children!!

weedemocracy@yahoo.com

i'm the howard dean of the blogging world.



feeling: inadequate
thinking of: how my past would ruin any political aspirations
song of the day: save me - aimee mann
if you could save me from the ranks of the freaks who suspect they could never love anyone

Department Store Panic Mode

I pass my old high school almost every day, either on the way to or from work. usually it dredges up a kind of low grade panic, as if somehow my secret life as a failure will be broadcast in neon lights from the top of the bus JOSH INSIDE!! and the people who had such high hopes for me will see me among this rogue's-gallery-on-wheels and realize with horror that i've realized exactly none of my potential.

during christmas i lived in fear that i would see someone i knew while i was working, and i took solace in the fact that the mall i work in is going downhill and there are two much classier malls within 10 minutes of this one. there was a couple of occasions where i saw someone i knew, usually teachers, and i simply and deftly manuevered with catlike stealth behind a rack or in the stock room.

most of the time, those people were people who probably wouldn't recognize me unless i reminded them who i was, and so, when i saw them, it didn't affect me. but the other night was different. the other night i saw a woman i knew well while in high school. we talked, we were friends, we even had meals together outside of school.

and as i stood there wearing my namebadge folding clothes, i saw her approach...and i hid. first, behind a tall table of clothing. i felt something...a swell of shame. i went to a good high school, i went to college, i got a degree in the ever-increasing four year time frame, and i work a shitty dead-end job for a biscuit over minimum wage.... you can see why i wasn't in the mood to see someone who knew me way back when.

then she walked back past me, so i bit the bullet and did the very thing i told myself i'd do if she came my way again - i ran.

when i returned to work 20 minutes later, she was gone.




feeling: meek
thinking of: how much '24' is the best show currently running in network tv
song of the day: mile end - pulp
and now we're living in the sky, i never thought i'd live so high. it's just like heaven, if it didn't look like hell

i heart work....i mean, hate

i've worked 6 days in a row. now, to many people that's nothing. but to someone as lazy as me, someone who hates work with the same passion and fervor as i do - and i don't mean this particular job, which is not to say it's grand, it's not...quite tedious and monotonous, this one is, especially considering the meager pittance they pay me...but all jobs, and all work - you'd think they were whipping me as I lugged a yokeful of bricks without straw to the pharoahs.

anyways, it's taken quite a toll on the old blogging. i'm just too damn tired many nights, and the juices are asleep. but i shall return and talk soon, about the beauty of snowfall on a cold texas night.

goodday, sirs and madams.




feeling: so tired....so, so tired
thinking of: 2nd grade, when i used to want to break a bone on the playgound just so i could get out of school
song of the day: still fly - big tymers
gator boots, and my pimped out gucci suits....ain't got no ride, but i'm still fly

things i hate

i hate when my bus pulls up and i can see the train pulling away. and i actually know that 30 seconds would have made a difference.

washing clothes.

mtv. and everything on mtv. except videos.

that the news comes on tv at 5 and 6.

boogers that are hard and hurt to pry away from stingy nosehairs.

pimples, despite being a devout facial cleaner.

hate sweating.

sleepless nights pondering regrets.

academy awards never going where they should.

people who don't listen.

i hate that i can't breakdance. or regular dance.

Entertainment Tonight, Extra, Access Hollywood, Celebrity Justice.

people who stink. it's like, dude, take a shower. not that hard.

fitted shirts, low rise jeans, cool hairstyles.

burning my fingertips.

I hate that i can't memorize songs that well. I still don't know the words to "so watcha want" and how old is that song?

dreams about the deaths of people i love. waking up from good dreams. falling back asleep and resuming bad dreams.

Dallas, Texas.

weddings shmeddings

now there's absolutely no disputing my place in the annals of american immaturity. i've said numerous times that i'm simply a 23 year old, slightly better coordinated and hairier infant. if i had the resources, i'd hire a nanny. but i don't think it is the natural immaturity that swings me in a radically different direction than that which ends up in my marching up an aisle in a penguin suit (though i do like quite dapper in said garb), wondering who the hell it is that i'm committing to live my life with.

no kidding, i once had this fucked up dream where i was being dragged to my wedding by my cousins (both married) and other assorted peripheral family members. and i was saying, "no! this is a mistake! i don't even know this girl! i can't marry her!" and the thing was, it wasn't hyperbole. i had no freakin' clue in bright blue heaven who the hell i was gonna marry. i walked down the aisle, hoping that i wasn't betrothed to some slightly younger bea arthur type. or worse, a christian.

and i'm really not sure if i'm down on marriage as an institution, or rather one that seems to be finding a handful of my friends quicker than perhaps i'd like, or at least, be able to accept. maybe when i get older i can understand it better, but now? nopers.

i knew six couples in college who knew they were gonna get married. 3 broke up. one got married, and the other two are in the purgatorial state of dreamlike horror some call engagement. but being their friend, you can't say anything about it. you can't say, dude, or dudette, as each individual case warrants, you're making a mistake. maybe not a terrible one, but if nothing else you're being a tad short sighted.

the one married person i know, whom i knew as a single person but never without this beard, entered into this marriage wholeheartedly convinced of it's rightness. and the thing is, she didn't marry a bad guy. he's not mean or an ass, or even immature. he's just...boring...as...i dunno, trying to decipher the pros and cons to round toothpicks over square ones. just a humorless motherfucker, basically.

and what am i supposed to do? say, dudette, don't do this! take some time, see the world, meet other guys!! no, i can't. can't do that.

i don't think i can imagine getting married before like, 28.

or maybe all of this is just me being pissed at being dateless for vince's nuptials

national insecurity

contrary to my title, this isn't an entry about politics, or the current state of disrepair the nation is in. i'm not going to turn my little space into a pulpit from which i shout ill-informed rants and such about serious things. only about non serious things, like dating shows, myself, or which goes better with cheerios - bananas or ranch style beans. i've had both, and it IS a toss up.

it's more about the block i've felt the last few days. i mean, it's partially due to being busy again at work, and not having as much time to listen to the ramblings of the Brain Lobbyists, who typically waste the council's time, wringing their hands with misplaced guilt, far-fetched hypotheticals and halfbaked plots of romantic involvement with various bus station girls. you know the kind - your eyes meet hers as you are the only two people at the transfer center who clearly have no criminal record and/or drug problem.

partially its due to the influence of burian. as i said before, there are those moments when i'm reading some book or short story, and i think, "jesus, this is the kind of stuff that makes me want to write." it's usually followed by an attempt to assimilate some of those traits into my own style and frustration and self abuse when said attempts fail miserably, as attempts are wont to do.

and i blame my addition of the counter at the bottom of the page. i'm suddenly acutely aware that people are reading my site. and not just my friends - these are folks i've never even met before in my life, and that i, barring some kind of fantabulous miracle of homerical proportions, never will meet. suddenly i've got an audience, and then i'm like, uh, ok, i've got to entertain them. really, it makes me recall those moments when i was in 7th grade and i wanted to seem cool to the 8th graders, because they seemed so much older and wiser. this was before i realized that even the wisest 8th grader needs an friendly face-punching every now and again, to keep him in line and all.

so here i am, trying to think of funny things to comment on or to say so's i don't let you folks down, and i can't. this wee democracy is in danger of crumbling! the warring lobbies of my partially deranged psyche are in an uproar! what do you do when you're used to talking to yourself or a select few and you realize that other folks listen to your babbling!

you start talking about your exploits on the dallas mass transit system, that's what!!




feeling: sweet, glorious apathy!
thinking of: expanding my 15 minute breaks at work to 30 minutes
song of the day - i'm a thug - jesus christ
i don't know what this world's gonna bring. but i know one thing, that this is the life for me, baby, cuz i'm a thug

Fear

the following IP address logged onto my page to see my "interview":

housegate4.house.gov

The Man is after me, so i'm making this disclaimer to save my own ass. the interview didn't really happen, it was a bunch of bush quotes edited for humorous sakes.

p.s. the interview is real!!



feeling: afraid for my liberty and first amendment rights
thinking of: papillon
song of the day: i fought the law - bobby fuller
i fought the law and the law won

My (sort of) Interview with the President.

Josh: Mr. President, what's up with Iraq? You seem to have screwed yourself as far as intelligence goes huh?

President George W. Bush: The capacity to have good intelligence means that a president can make good calls about fighting this war on terror.

J: Does that mean you fucked up?

GWB: Yeah.

J: So is it fair to say you're a bit of a cowboy? As some may say, a war monger?

GWB: I'm a war president. I make decisions here in the Oval Office in foreign policy matters with war on my mind.

J: That's kind of irresponsible. Don't you think?

GWB: Yeah. I wish it wasn't true.

J: Mr. President, some people, myself included call you a buffoon. How do you respond to these allegations?

GWB: Again, I wish it wasn't true, but it is true.

J: Do you really think you're capable of leading this nation another four years?

GWB: No, not at all, not at all.

J: Let's talk about 9-11. How's that bullshit commission doing?

GWB: We have given extraordinary cooperation with Chairmen Kean and Hamilton. As you know, we made an agreement on what's called "Presidential Daily Briefs," and...

J: Wait, are those like the underwear that have the days of the week on them?

GWB: Right.

J: Cool. Can i get some Presidential Daily Briefs?

GWB: No, not at all, not at all.

J: Mr. President, is it fair to say you're administration is kinda...um...well, liars?

GWB: Yeah.

J: Wow. I appreciate the candor. Won't your administration be pissed that you let the cat out of the bag?

GWB: I want the truth to be known. I want there to be a full analysis done so that we can better prepare the homeland, for example, against what might occur.

J: Like, say, you're getting re-elected?

GWB: Exactly.

J: Back to the underwear - Who makes them? Hanes?

GWB: Vital question.

J: Thank you.

GWB: You know, I'm not going to comment on that.

J: Really? but you just said it was a vital question.

GWB: I'm not going to comment on that.

J: Why not? Who makes them? Is it Hanes? BVD? Fruit of the Loom?

GWB: These are people that will kill on a moment's notice, and they will kill innocent women and children.

J: Hanes kills people?

GWB: That's exactly what i said.

J: So you like briefs...where do you stand on thongs?

GWB: It's happening.

J: Are you wearing one now?

GWB: Obviously.

J: Good lord, sir.

J: President Bush, we were all sad to hear of the death of captain kangaroo last week.

GWB: He was a dangerous man.

J: Captain Kangaroo, are you serious?

GWB: We knew the fact that he was paying for suicide bombers.

J: Mr. Bush, we're talking about captain kangaroo for god's sake! are you insane?

GWB: Obviously.

J: Jesus H. Christ.

GWB: I want the truth to be known.

J: Evidently. So is it fair to say, you hold a grudge against all children's show hosts? I mean, do you think Mr. Rogers was mean to kids or something?

GWB: His henchmen could have destroyed them.

J: His henchmen? you mean the puppets?

GWB: We thought he had weapons.

J: No, sir, they were just stuffed puppets.

GWB: The man was a threat, and we dealt with him.

J: You killed Mr. Rogers??

GWB: That's exactly what i said. And I also said let me put it in context.

J: No you didn't. And besides, what context could their possibly be for playing a serious role in the murder of my childhood hero?

GWB: I call it a vital role.

J: Good for you, you sick bastard! Good lord ... let's just get back to the interview, shall we? Now, there's been word circulating that instead of working on iraq, you're actually just playing alot of dungeons and dragons.

GWB: There is a lot of roles being played by different players, but the U.N. will play...we want the international community to participate.

J: Don't you guys have more important things to do?

GWB: Every life is precious.

J: You sound like you take this game pretty seriously. Would you ever consider playing D&D with saddam?

GWB: Saddam Hussein was dangerous.

J: You played with him? Wow. I thought you guys hated each other.

GWB: No, not at all, not at all.

J: Learn something new, everyday i guess....Mr. President, you seem to be scratching your butt alot. What's going on there?

GWB: I got...discharge.

J: GROSS! Is that what that smell is?

GWB: Yes.

J: Let's try to concentrate here, mr. president! So....wait....why are you smiling?

GWB: I did something.

J: What?

GWB: Discharged.

J: Sick. Well, i guess it could have been worse. You could have gone all michael jackson and asked to see my testicles.

GWB: I was hoping to see one of them.

J: Holy crap! I'm getting out of here!!

GWB: Try to contain him!

J: Get off me! Let me go!

(partially taken from a transcript of today's "Meet the Press")




feeling: thankful to meet the press for this opportunity
thinking of: nothing...this is the high point of my day.
song of the day: hello my treacherous friends - ok go
Hello, my treacherous friends, and thank you for joining me here tonight.
I brought you all here to discuss, as I must, How grateful I am for your insights.

23 life lessons

behold, i present to you things i've learned in life - in no particular order:

1 - if you don't pull your socks all the way up, your feet stay warmer

2 - don't put sugar into your plain cheerios. suffer with your boring ass choice, because the extra sugar just gives you pimples.

3 - go to the bathroom when you can. if you wait to go to a cleaner bathroom, the line is always impossibly long or the bathroom is being cleaned.

4 - if you're watching a game and the team is doing poorly, turn it off. either they'll lose and you'll get pissed, or they'll turn it around because you stopped watching.

5 - anticipation is ten times greater than satisfaction.

6 - the day you dress down because you've given up on running into the girl you dressed up for four days in a row because you hoped to run into her, you'll run into her, and she'll make a comment about your shabby attire.

7 - your mom's advice, whether you like it or not, is usually right.

8 - when you think you want a tattoo, wait a year, then see if you'd still like the same design. if not, don't ever get a tattoo

9 - 'requiem for a dream' is the bleakest movie ever.

10 - just ask your sister what she wants for christmas. the disappointment of having no surprise is better than the disappointment of shitty presents.

11 - your parents do indeed love your older sibling more than you

12 - don't make mix cd's for someone you only kinda like. they're most likely going to piss you off right before or right after you make it for them, rendering them unworthy of said greatness

13 - sometimes you CAN judge a book by it's cover. books with covers that appeal to you are generally books you like, e.g. burn collector

14 - if you buy three cd's of bands you've never heard of, you'll like at least one of them enough to want to introduce it to your friends, and be their musical hero.

15 - dating shows can raise your self esteem while making you feel desperately lonely at the same time, which makes them one of the more emotionally involving television genres out there right now.

16 - There is at least one hot news reporter in every city.

17 - people are not always laughing with you.

18 - will and grace is the worst show on television. ever.

19 - tequila is the party crasher of alcohol. everybody's happy he shows up, but eventually he causes enough trouble so that the gastrointestinal police come in and fuck up the party.

20 - touching the outside of the plane as you board will save your life.

21 - birthdays do indeed get more depressing as you get older. but you can drink more, and negate that effect.

22 - dogs are better than cats.

23 - when a stranger compliments you, that is the best feeling in the world.



p.s. new links added! check out new blog friends sarah and jeremy

feeling: ok
thinking of: what to do tomorrow
song of the day: three mc's and one dj - beastie boys
sweet and sour like tangerine! fresh like a box of krispy kreme! kenny rogers gambler is my gamblin' fiend! mixmaster mike with the scratch routine!

heidi heidi heidi ho

i spoke of joy unadulterated earlier. of moments so blissfully pure that not even the inevitable come down when you realize you're mired in the midst of three months of shit-ass existential dread, not when you realize you've only got a few bucks in the bank and haven't worked in almost a month, even though you're still very much employed, or that rather than a path laying before you, you've got a beat-down field in which no discernible trail can be found. none of these moments that usually chap your ass and make you wish that either you were dead, or simply, that everyone else was dead can take away the bliss that you found for that one shining moment. and i found one of those rad moments earlier when the one, the only, the hollywood madam herself, heidi fleiss went out on BLIND DATE!!! i can sleep with a smile tonight.

fan mail.

Just dropped by your blog and dug it, especially the Simpsons quotes.
My
site's at http://ahorseisahorse.blogspot.com, if you feel like checking
it
out. Take care,
Jeremy


it's started....

neato books

there's a moment of pure joy that people experience sometime. innocent joy, that is. such moments as a 6 year old kid opening his eyes at first light on christmas days before the toys end and the clothes begin (which is usually around 7). new parents welcoming their first child into the world. potheads when the pizza man rings the doorbell.

such was the moment when i found a large bulky package jutting out from the mailbox yesterday morning, as i got the paper. evidently, it was left there the day before, and no one thought to get the mail. anywho, it was a gift from my sister leah, who lives in that hotbed of sin, grime, and midnight shenanigans that is NY.

it was a book. a collection of zines from the mid-nineties called "burn collector" by a fella named al burian. this book....is fucking genius. really, his zines seem like a far more in depth and vastly more intelligent than this mockery of self exploration. there are moments when i laugh so hard the snot in my nose goes a-flyin'.

behold, an excerpt of said snot-flight-inducing humor. it refers to a providence mayor - vincent "buddy" cianci:

If any doubt remained as to the guy having what my dad would call "a mean streak a mild wide," consider the name of his daughter: Nancy Ann Cianci. Say that fast. That's right, it's "Nancy Antsy Antsy." What this means in a nutshell, is that it's my mission in life to befriend Nancy Ann, get invited to some fancy social engagement, and then dawdle and putter around until she gets exasperated and tells me to get the lead out. At this point i say in the most condescending tone i can muster, "Nancy Ann Cianci's antsy!" Her bodyguards beat me to a pulp, but i die a happy man.

there have been moment in my life where i knew i wanted to write. when i first started reading flannery o'connor's stories. when i read raymond carver. nine stories, and the rest of the glass family tales. this guy makes me want to blog professionally, though i don't have the same kind of life experiences and funky friends that al burian has. and i don't draw comics. or visit europe.

so i figure i've got to start.

p.s. thanks to gutman and bekah for linking me up - evidently the northeast, ivy league potsers consider my scribblings to be as cool as, like, the bachman turner overdrive.



feeling: absolutely horrified
thinking of: moving to california, immediately
song of the day: the ramones - happy birthday, mr. burns
i'd just like to say, this gig sucks! up yours, Springfield!

a ray of sunshine on an otherwise cloudy day

many of you may remember that a while back i cast dispersions upon the teat from which i suckle most of my televisional entertainment. that is to say, i renounced dating shows. even yesterday, i badmouthed the bachelorette (though i stand by my assertion that that woman needs absolutely no help in finding a man).

but all of that was cast aside as i saw, to my surprise, someone actually do the right thing last night. it was on a broadcast of the fifth wheel. i don't remember everyone's name, save the girl who stood at the center of this incident, lise.

the guy, we'll call him adam, was mackin' on lise from the get go, and she was a take-it-slow kinda gal. respectable, as the french say. she dug his milk and cookies, and was fairly confident that they would end up together by night's end.

the other two inital daters were named mario and marlys. mario was hideous. he had the worst hair i've ever seen on any dating show, and i've seen some funk-ass hair. marlys was cute - a tad promiscuous it seems, but she had a long nose....you know how i feel about those.

the reason i bring up these two supporting characters is to show two things. 1) when mario tried to lay his game on lise, she simply wasn't havin' any of that shit. she was into adam, and was gonna stay into adam. 2) when adam and marlys got together, there was some touching and what not. and later on in the evening, adam kissed marlys. this is not the action of someone who is really into someone else. or maybe is into that person, but certain internal lobbyists reach a quorum and overthrow the better judgment of that person. stupid lobbyists.

then the fifth wheel shows up. this incredibly delusionally self confident j. lo wanna be hoochie mama named mirella. she had more pimples than i do. sick, right? anyways, she tries to get both guys to go after her, and surprise they both do. but not with serious intentions. she was ghastly, i shit you not.

bad news happens. lise sees adam kissing marlys. he tries to apologize, she's kinda hearing it, but suspects bullshit. then, she sees him kissing that hoochie mirella, and throws ice at him! i know!

but, he did something that surprised me. at the end of the night when he was going to make his picks, he chose lise. perhaps as a form of apology, and certainly in the face of an almost insurmountable risk of rejection. well, he did get rejected. lise wasn't havin' none-a that. she cut him loose, and he took it like a man. he said, i knew there was a risk, but i liked her most. so right on.

yes, he made huge mistakes, and yes, he acted like a tool. but at least he didn't choose a hoochie.


i've made shanges to the blog



feeling: young...restless
thinking of: my mind is a blank slate
song of the day: sad songs and waltzes - cake (thanks vince)
it's a good thing that i'm not a star. you don't know how lucky you are. though my record may say it, no one will play it. sad songs and waltzes aren't selling this year

Tracking

so there is a counter, now, at the bottom of the page. and frankly, i'd like to know who's visiting my site.

email me at weedemocracy@yahoo.com, friends.

misplaced rage

meredith phillips, the current bachelorette is a successful make up artist and model. and ABC is helping her find a husband. that's like shooting fish in a barrel.

if they want a real challenge, find me a girlfriend!

damn anti-ugly discrimination.

it's a smoot point

and i opened the door, and in the doorway there stood the thin man. his hand was lost in mine as they shook. fight club played in the background. such was the beginning of knowledge of the man known in certain circles as mark smoot.

i'll admit it, i didn't like mark when i first met him. it's not so much that i disliked him. i just didn't know him. i was firmly entrenched in my circle of friends, and i felt, perhaps, that i had room for no one who went to bed before midnight....on saturday night. it was awkward. but eventually, we got along. things built over the fall, built more in the spring, before peaking during the mavericks first playoff run in several years.

there was a time, when we went to go see 'traffic' at the dollar theater on a friday night, and ironically missed the movie because we were stuck in traffic. we bonded more over the summer, as he lived a mere two blocks away from me.

mark's the kinda guy who you hope that the best in life will find him. and you know that he hopes the same kind of good fortune finds you. he's honest when you talk to him.

we talk movies, we talk mavericks, we talk about life's struggles and complications. from the day's of the h-rod h-billies to the current skank williams incarnation found haunting the steps of WT special, the distinct flavor of mark smoot is easy to spot. and easy to quickly become enamored with.

although it was slow going for a period of time, the thing i can say about mark now is that i trust him implicitly. he's most certainly one of my best friends, and i know i can count on him for a hand on the shoulder at the right times. if there was some problem i had with a girl, likesay, perhaps she rejected me, i can count on him to sum it up with a prompt "bitch". lil smeezy, as he's known in the hip hop circle, is a good man. one of the best.



feeling: creative
thinking of: the hours - it was ok....but really, i dug nicole's looks. but then, i love a long nose on a girl. kryptonite
song of the day: these days - nico
please don't confront me with my failures; i have not forgotten them

Enemy's List

the following people can suck my nut:

the executives at CBS, for spazzing over a boob

the state of utah

the LA Lakers

george w. bush, and, indeed, the republican party

j. lo

the people who made "you got served"

terrorists

the baptist church

congress

george steinbrenner

joy behar (the annoying one on the view - and when you can be distinguished as being the annoying one on that show, that's saying something

dave matthews

... i think that's it for now.



feeling: mad as hell!
thinking of: not taking it anymore!
song of the day: dies irae - mozart

faster than a speeding bullet

my mind, as i've said before, works quite fast. without even trying, i can come up with all kinds of lovely fantastic scenarios in my head, especially the romantic ones. those come up so fast it's freaky.

but i guess that's what happens when you're a child raised by television.

when i met girl #1 sophomore year, i had fantasies of lovely pillow talk discussing her rather distinctive nose. really, it was kryptonite to me. i loved it. she would laugh at my jokes and slap me in mock shock and anger.

there was girl #2 later that year who had been the homecoming queen. later that day, i was already thanking god for vindicating all those years of high school solitude and loserness. yeah, that didn't pan out

girl #3 literally took my breath away when she walked into class the first day of spring semester, junior year. i'd never seen anyone like her before, and no one has struck me the same way since. i knew immediately i wanted her, and my mind worked amazingly fast at creating that special world where we were already together. that one went further than all the others did, as far as reality is concerned. till i fucked it up.

girl #4 threw me with her accent. in my mind she was fabulously wealthy (not that i'm a gold digger) but we clicked so well that she insisted i come to her family's house for christmas! isn't that just precious. oh, wait, she had a boyfriend.

and so i guess what i'm getting at is that its a hard life for dreamers out there. no room for fantasy in today's hussle and bussle deal a minute reality. sighs abound.



feeling: melon k. holly
thinking of: the minute when america realizes that breasts are part of the body, not a precursor to the apocalypse.
song of the day: no song today - not feeling one in particular

the game comes on in between the commercials

people bandy about the phrase "i couldn't care less" quite a bit, when in actuality, they can care less. well, in all truth and honesty, i could not care less about who wins this year's superbowl. i don't like carolina, i don't like new england. i don't like anyone on either team, or either coach. if there was some way to have them both lose, then maybe i'd be somewhat interested in watching the game.

but there isn't, and i'm not. i'm a commercial watcher.

and today -- "terrible" terry tate makes his triumphant return!



feeling: terribly bored
thinking of: the pain train
song of the day: hey ya - outkast
shake it like a polaroid pic-cha