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Craigslist Makes Me Weep For Me And You

2009-03-09T22:52:00.000-07:00

I hate drama. Wait, fuck that, I actually love drama.

It makes this short life more interesting, more exciting. A wise friend recently advised me that suffering and happiness are essentially on the same plane of human emotional experience. The see-saw swings perpetually, he told me, never resting in the same place for too long.

I countered this argument by pointing out that it seems to me the suffering seat must have a fat child sitting on its end, because getting stuck in lengthy periods of depression and suffering seems far more likely and common than getting stuck on the other end.

I cannot recall hearing even once in my life someone exclaim their seemingly uncontrollable state of being stuck in persistent, constant euphoria. Unable to thrust the see-saw out of this seemingly unchangeable position. (Well, except for a few friends of the heroin set, although I suspect that unless they die of an overdose their swing to the other side of the see-saw could very well propel them airborne, landing teeth first into the monkey bars.)

It seems like people don’t require a lot of help to become horribly depressed, while on the other hand happiness requires a specific set of circumstances to sustain itself. What a cruel, cruel reality we humans find ourselves in.

But why, I ask rhetorically, is this our lot. The world must hate us. Was it the horrible tree of knowledge that led to this? Curse that delicious looking fruit.

If ignorance is bliss, than universities and books are far more dangerous and insidious than a dirty needle filled with china white heroin cut with fiberglass. Burn the schools. Burn the books. Live in blissful, naked wonderment at the rising and setting of the golden god as he rides his flaming chariot across the sky.

I sometimes wonder if it would be better if all knowledge was lost forever in some type of mass neurological disease sweeping through the world, combined with a plague of paper and silicon eating locusts to wipe out all traces of recorded history and knowledge. Sure we wouldn’t have penicillin or LCD television, but we wouldn’t have to pay off student loans and mortgages either.

Each day we would discover something new and exciting. We wouldn’t just read or hear of someone else’s ideas and concur mindlessly, resigned to the fact that that particular corner of human experience has already been dusted clean and patented. Never questioning the status quo of 2,000 years worth of beautiful and bloody tradition. Rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat.

I am, perhaps, being a bit extreme in my commentary. The underlying theme of this document is to propose a questioning of the inherent usefulness and worth of current human civilization. Are we so great? Are we so advanced and evolved that we are on the verge of wiping out all human suffering, disease, war and famine. Or conversely, are we on the verge of exponentially increasing them? Are they as synonymous with our existence as pubic hair and religion.

But I digress...back to craigslist.

I was looking through the personal ads, because I am that curious kind of fellow, and was struck by the number of lonely people that are “sick of drama” and just looking for someone to talk to and share an evening of connectivity. I was even more struck by the much larger number of horny people that are “looking for D&D free/no strings attached relationships”...and I always thought Dungeons and Dragons was quite stimulating for the imagination. I can’t help but think that these horny people are lonely too, in their own sexy way. There is something about fucking that connects two people in a timeless sort of way, although I doubt many romance novels begin with a craigslist posting.

There has got to be a place for all these lonely people to get together and mingle en masse. Perhaps learn to love a well conducted game of D&D. What would come from this gathering? Pile them all in together, add booze and a subdued soundtrack of "The Smiths". I much prefer to imagine this instead of sweaty palmed meetings in coffee shops and other safe public places to decrease the odds of kidnappings and sting operations.

But who would want to attend that party? My jaded, stereotype laden psyche tells me that it would look like a circus side show circa 1902, but with far more grandfatherly types than grandchildren. The idea itself makes the curiosity inside me boil. What would come out of from behind the white and black impersonal personals. What creatures are these that take to the internet in search of soul mates and sex dates? At least a few people are bound to get laid. The excruciating loneliness and boredom would be abated for at least a few hours of commiseration. The booze could be like dynamite on a gas station fire...but fuck it, like I said...I love drama.

Polka Dotted Handkerchiefs and the Roo

2009-02-17T23:45:00.001-08:00

Why not take off and make my passage to France? Just gather a few things into a red and white polka-dotted handkerchief and tie it to a stick. I could become an expatriate...get some tight pants and loose shirts, lounge around drinking wine and eating baguettes, maybe write or water-color in the park. Smoke cigarettes and bathe in the culture. Why not, it's just a matter of making my mind up....or is it?

I think I may have discovered the answer about a year and half ago while in the midst of a mushroom trip. I suddenly had the urge to leave this world with all haste. It occurred to me to just sort of jump really high and drift off into space and find another little stretch of land on a planet far away from all the injustice and pain of this world. I thought about it for a second and even tried a little, but I could only manage a few inches...maybe a foot if I was lucky. This pathetic attempt to defy gravity made me sad...sad and very dizzy.

Then I was struck by something even more depressing and given the hallucinatory atmosphere of my state, became quite upset. I had what experts refer to as a bad trip. I thought about how, no matter where I might travel on Earth (since I couldn't fly into outer-space), things were probably going to be the same. I would still have to live within the slow and meandering collective of human civilization. I would be weighed down by the social mores of my generation. I would be restrained by the scientific boundaries that are impenetrable by modern technology. I was gripped with an intense urge to flee, but to where. Where was my red and white handkerchief? Where were the French Underground? Did they have the answer?

I wonder if other people ever feel this way. Feel like they want to run off to some paradise where things make sense. Where life is easy and the questions all have answers. What karma has brought us all here, and where will it take us?

Whatever the flow of the cosmos is, it seems to be flowing just fine for a good friend of mine. A cat named Roo. I have learned many lessons basking respectfully in her silent and majestic repose. I think she might be on to something. A confused animal could never be so cool.

Playing hide and go seek with her brings about a feeling of humility and safety. She is much better than I am at stealthy movement, jumping, running and just about anything advantageous to a great hide and seeker. I am like a water buffalo on ice. But she lets me win every once in a while. It feels good to know that something as pure and naturally perfect as my friend Roo is hanging in there, cool as the other side of the pillow, without the slightest urge to jump-fly to France. Maybe it's about relaxing and enjoying the path that karma has placed us on, instead of trying to fitfully search for a more perfect pathway.

Still, if I ever see her packing up a little red and white polka dotted handkerchief....

Year End Reflections Pt. 1

2008-12-29T15:36:00.001-08:00

2008 was intense.

The full measure of its ultimate impact and meaning is not completely understood, and likely will not be in the foreseeable future. One thing is for certain, it was a formative year in my life.

I began the year a vastly different person than I am today. Looking back, I can see that there was a sort of poetry and struggle to the hours and minutes. I learned to appreciate the second as a meaningful measure of time. Sleep and dream intermingled. A new rhythm developed.

Whether or not I am any wiser because of this year's events is yet to be seen. I think I have a better understanding of myself and the limitations and possibilities of this world, a better appreciation.

The world moves and time passes whether or not we are prepared. It has moved me and I find myself amazed. Amazed and pleased. Satisfied would be a stretch...I feel that there is much more to be accomplished and many more answers to be found.

As I spend more time in this strange and harshly beautiful world I find that exposure to life brings about a peace and modicum of patience that is not present in youth. Breathe.

Going Under

2008-10-27T18:04:00.000-07:00

I had my wisdom teeth taken out today. It wasn't painful in the least. I was completely sedated by the oral surgeon. The pain is now. My jaw feels bad, and then there are some holes and whatnot.

I've never been under anesthesia before, and I have to say it was a weird experience. I didn't even do the count-backwards from 100, 99, 98....thing. Or maybe I did.

All I remember is getting the laughing gas. Feeling that come on and relax me with it's sweet head-fuzziness. Then, waking up and asking if we were going to start the procedure yet....it was already done. They doctor wasn't even in the room anymore. Whoa.

Candice took me home and we watched Ramsey's Kitchen Nightmares, a fantastic show, with me while I dosed off and on with an ice pack on my cheek. Besides the intense soreness and intermittent extreme pain, it was probably one of the most enjoyable afternoons I've had. Just me and my baby, curdled up in bead. She even brought me a pudding.

After not being able to sleep last night because of the dread of the surgeon's hammer and wrench, it turned out to be a completely painless procedure. No civil war amputation tents here.

In other news, I got some really cool pictures up at Mary's Peak the other morning. Now if I can just figure out how to post them here.

To The Universe, Thank You.

2008-10-15T10:37:00.001-07:00

I have been feeling the good vibes of the Universe lately. I don't know what to attribute this to. Perhaps, the great power in the sky has looked upon me and decided that a lesson had been learned to its completion.

It is time for the next lesson, and I am a willing pupil. I promise to try and keep myself in line and not warrant a visit to the headmaster for a proper flogging. Although at times a proper flogging seems to be the only prescription for my re-alignment onto the righteous pathway. I believe I have begun to understand what the shamans of the old world were masters at...patience.

"Inspiration and Perspiration"

2008-10-07T15:40:00.000-07:00

What the fuck is all this about? This life thing.

What is the purpose?

Is the purpose to grow up, educate thyself, choose a career field and then pursue greatness in that field until it comes time to retire. Then while away the golden years satisfied and grumpy?

Is it to leave this planet and civilization in a better state than it was before your existence?

Is it to ask unanswerable questions about the meaning of human existence on a seldom read internet blog?

Or could it be, and I am personally hoping for this one, to maximize pleasurable sensation at the cost of all other considerations?

I have been wondering about these things lately with my free time, which by the way I have found to be antithetical to human existence. If there is one thing that life is not about it is free-time. Free time should be renamed "Purgatory with perks".

One would think spending countless hours lounging about listening to music, watching "Gordon Ramsey's Kitchen Nightmares", working out and playing Call of Duty 4, all while surfing the internet, would be a jolly good time. I don't want to trash it completely, because there are moments of fun and pleasure. I have learned a great deal about Wikipedia's version of history. I downloaded the light-saber app on my iPhone and proceeded to engage my cat in a furious duel on the staircase. But it is lacking a certain.....greater meaning.

There is something that happens when a human being in post-modern America is given too much time to ponder life and the circumstances that have surrounded it throughout history and into the present. They begin to ask ridiculous questions about the meaning of life and the validity of the American dream. They begin to explore heathen religions and worse yet, they realize that the track "Miles Iz Ded" by the Afghan Wigs is not available for download on iTunes. Perhaps these questions are not supposed to be pondered.

I have come to the conclusion that there is a profound lack of meaning in the lives of modern Americans, maybe even modern humans as a species. It seems like for the most part it has become about the mitigation of negative feelings and circumstances. The whole "making the best of things" notion.

But how to do this...

My first thought stirs memories of my southern protestant upbringing. "Get a job!!"....ahhh, the cornerstone of classic american parenting..."inspiration and perspiration!". But what about the poor shmizucks that followed that gem of wisdom and are now stuck, three years from that golden watch, with a bone dry 401K because of the nouveau Greater Depression.

I think perhaps some new research needs to be conducted into the minor issue of the meaning of life. Maybe there is a philanthropic grant that could be used for this purpose. Or has the question already been asked and answered so many times that it is looked upon as a exercise in futility to invest anymore precious time and resources into the quest. After all, there is good, honest, hard work to be done here in the real world...down at the factory making widgets.

Have we, as a society, already answered this question? Or have we just given up?

Sexy Eagle

2008-09-28T16:06:00.001-07:00

I wonder if massive amounts of good vibes have an impact on the universal energy.

Last Thursday the OSU football team pulled off a stunning upset of #1 ranked USC in a game that drew thousands of orange clad revelers into the tiny Oregon town to drink, eat beer-brats and cheer on their team.

After the victory, the faithful were elated. They stormed the field and then the downtown bar scene. I don't know for a fact, but I can hypothesize that more than the normal amount of post bar sex and happiness took place.

During that elevated period of collective yet private ecstasy, was there an energy released into the atmosphere? All that fucking and happiness and drunken reverie must have produced something supernatural, something somehow tangible. Could that energy be detected, and utilized?

I would love to be a sort of psychic eagle that could use those sexy updrafts to soar up into the midnight sky and float around for awhile. If you could somehow harness that excitement and rowdy sexiness into useable energy, that would be cool...and sexy.

The End and the Beginning of a Whale

2008-09-22T15:01:00.000-07:00

I wonder what happens when a whale dies at sea. Does it sink to the bottom of the depths where no light can enter or leave, coming to rest slowly on the bottom, cushioned by the sediment and sand? Does it rise slowly to the top of the ocean waves to ebb and flow, majestically suspended on the ceiling of its life long home?

Do the other whales come and pay their respects to a fallen brother or sister? The dolphins and stingrays. The eels and the great schools of tuna. There is something so gentle and caring about the waves and the sun and the tides that carry it when it can no longer carry itself.

I read once, possibly mistakenly, that whales and dolphins mourn their friends and family when they pass on to the afterlife. These creatures are surely some of the most graceful and awe inspiring of all of God's creations, and it is fitting that they should receive such a caring and peaceful end.

Life and death under the sea is a mystery to us on the land. Most of us, outside of marine biologist and scientists, care little about the civilization under the sea. The creatures and their routines and their culture. There is no war under the sea. There is no hatred there either.

Does the law of conservation of mass apply to the soul? Perhaps the soul of these giants escapes into the sea and flows into the currents forever, for I cannot imagine a whale being satisfied perched on a cloud when its whole life it dwelled in a world that clung to its body night and day and sustained it and held its children from the day they were born.

I think whales are awesome, I want to learn from a whale...I want to love the land like a whale loves the ocean.

A list of things I dig

2008-09-19T11:00:00.001-07:00

I've decided to try and contribute more frequently to my blog. But I can't think of anything to write on at length today so instead I have decided to list things that I am currently into.

1) Elton John's "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road"- A brilliant masterpiece. Bernie Taupin's lyrics and Elton's composition= 100% pure, uncut genius. A close runner up is Coconut Records album "Nighttiming", Jason Schwartzman also turns out a great performance in "The DarJeeling Limited".

2) My extra-large plush, white Four Season's robe. It's like wearing your bed throughout the day. The collar in the back can even do a Kanye-tidda thing. It should be worn without any undergarments, so that one can better enjoy the high quality fabric.

3) Brandy Alexanders - Brandy, Dark Creme de Cacao, Heavy Cream and a Maraschino cherry. John Lennon called them "milkshakes". They taste almost nothing like alcohol if made properly. I like the look people give me down at the public house when I am sipping on one. Little do they know, I will be nice and tight in half the time it takes them to choke down their cheap scotch.

4) Poetry - no explanation. I like writing shit that don't have to make sense. I think its a more truthful expression of the soul and emotion. It flows in a much more organic manner than other forms of literary expression. Plus it makes me feel deeper than I actually am. I guess there was an explanation after all.

5) Being married - I like the idea of being joined with someone, betrothed in a ceremonial fashion. Some people say that marriage is a useless institution and that it's trying to legalize something that should be organic and sacred. I don't know what to tell those people, only that I swore off making statements like that about the same time I realized that I wasn't God. All I know is that whenever I am feeling scared or unsure I kind of play with my wedding band and it reminds me that no matter what the fuck happens, my wife will always be there in the end to care for me and love me in our little, secret ways. It also makes me feel kinda redeemed, in that she took the time to marry my sorry ass.

6) Xbox Live - When I am gaming online something comes over me. I transform from a soft spoken introvert into a straight up gangsta. I don't know what the hell it is. I love saying stuff like "I'm dumpin' on ya'll niggas!!", "Hells Yeaaah" and "Betta check yo' self yung nigga". The British guys that I play with online laugh at me, but I swear I don't say these things in day to day circumstances....only when I'm regulatin' foolz.

7) Bvlgari Lotion - I got addicted to this shit awhile back. It smells great and keeps my epidermis all moisturized and happy. Plus, when I work out it covers the foul odor of what I can only assume is my taint.

Sidewalk Smiles

2008-09-13T12:01:00.000-07:00

The couch in my living room is fuckin' comfy. I've crawled up on into it wrapped up in my plush white robe, feeling tender. This is a morning for realizing shit. I often have these mornings...Jesus, why am I so introspective. I had some coffee and yogurt/granola. The sun is being cool, not too shiny or hot, it understands Saturday morning mode.

I have been observing people more closely as of late. It seems to me they are much more fragile and delicate than I may have previously realized. When I am out to dinner or just walking around making eye contact with strangers, I can somehow see the softer side of people in my old age. Maybe growing up means realizing the toll life can take. I caught a glimpse of something one crisp sunny afternoon that made me pause and savor a breath. It was one of those moments that provides a glimpse at some universal truth. It makes you think, is this shit all connected? Is being a human simple, or vastly complex?

I noticed a young woman walking down the sidewalk with a great big overcoat and a bag hanging off her shoulder and some books under the other arm. It looked like a clumsy load, and in Texas I would possibly ask if she needed assistance, but this is Oregon and the folk here seem to look on unsolicited conversation with disdain and suspicion. Here the more appropriate course of action is to stare unabatedly with a blank expression. The people here are a strange species, but they do leave themselves a lot of options when encountering other fellow mountain dwellers. They comport themselves in a manner that would be appropriate for the extension of friendly handshake or alternately the extension of a crude pine club to bludgeon you senseless if they decide at the last moment.

The overburdened woman looked down at the pavement and trudged along as if she was struggling uphill. She would look up occasionally if someone passed her or to check her surroundings suspiciously before dropping her gaze to the street once again.

As someone would pass her closely she would look at them and with brow lowered, she would sheepishly toss a polite smile in their direction and then bow her head back down and reconnect with the grey sidewalk. It was if she was looking for something, a tone of recognition perhaps.

As she came near I was determined to return her smile with a megawatt burst of friendly joy. I wanted to let her know that whatever she was feeling down about was going to be fine, and that we are all just as downtrodden as she seemed. That as a fellow human I could empathize, I have carried heavy, awkward loads before and looked to strangers for kindness. We have solidarity woman!!

She came close and looked up, smiling her brief, polite, labored smile and I dropped my happiness bomb. I summoned up all the afternoon charm I could stir and smiled a smile that would surely light up her journey.

For a tiny moment her little cautious smile widened and her eyes lit up with reaction. I could sense that possibly her internal load became lighter, if only for a while. Anonymous smiles can do that.

As she strolled off, I glowed with accomplishment. I hope she got wherever she was going and that maybe my smile represented something larger and more global than just some random fellow grinning at strangers. I would like to think that my smile inspired her to see life in a kinder, softer way.

I want to find a way that I can deliver smiles to people on a larger scale, but not through comedy. Professional comedians are disturbed, depressing creatures.

"I Wonder If Heaven's Got A Ghetto"

2008-09-08T20:50:00.000-07:00

I sometimes wonder about heaven. Are there churches in heaven? Are there lounges? What kind of furniture does God decorate with?

I sometimes imagine massive golden and velvet furniture with mahogany accents, but then I think....God isn't Indian, that's Krishna. God would have those leather English high back chairs.

I'll bet it would be great to party in heaven. But would God allow this? What are the rules about beer, pot...light petting. Think about the view from up there. There wouldn't be any hangovers or DUI's or any cops for that matter. Everything would be on the house.

When you get a little tipsy, just float over to that fluffy little cloud and kick back with Bob Ross and a dab of opium. You could ask him about brush strokes and learn how to be as chill as he is.

I would want to hang out with John Lennon and Guy De Maupassant. I would want to barbeque some shrimp and chicken and write a few songs about Brandy Alexanders and French prostitutes.

Maybe I am conceptualizing this all wrong. There is the possibility that in heaven, souls take on an intangible form and just float around as a single orb of good vibes. I'm not sure how much I like that idea. I wonder how much fun that would be after a life of individuality. Spending eternity as a tiny part of some huge floating cloud of goodness seems a little like hell.

I strongly prefer the version of heaven that appeared in that Tupac Shakur music video where he is sitting at the piano with Sammy Davis Jr.. If this cannot be, and I am diluting myself with child-like caricatures of the here-after. If it really is some form of cosmic collective, then there should be a place where the people that made it into heaven can vacation from it. A place where we can go and relive some of the earthly pleasures that we grew so fond of. I think it is only fair.

I am not suggesting a 24-hour-a-day ecstasy and amyl nitrate fueled bi-sexual orgy. That would be asking too much. I just wonder if there would ever be a heaven where people can go and just do whatever they crave for as long as they crave it. I mean, for fuck's sake, I didn't program myself to love beer and pussy and rock n' roll music. I am merely suggesting that whoever did, provide a heaven that lives up to what can be had during any Final Four weekend at the Palms hotel and casino in Las Vegas.

Disclaimer - God, if you read blogs, I was just kidding. Wherever Lennon went, that'll do fine.

The Flavor of Things

2008-08-31T18:15:00.000-07:00

Life is weird. You are born into a world that has already been pretty much decided on and static. It seems as though we are supposed to conform to its rules and ideas. But what happens to the people that are naturally different, like queers and lovers of heroin.

It seems like the people that created the rule system should have accounted for these exceptions to their rules...or did they assume perfection in their reasoning. I don't know, but if I were deciding on the rules of the world, I certainly wouldn't take the word of men that lived centuries ago...when most of our rules were written. If we can discard their theories on the flat earth and witches, then why not the others. Perhaps we are just lazy. Or perhaps, because of our stupidity and complacency, we are deservedly punished by our dead ancestors.

I think that a great idea would be forgetting everything that is known, and starting over all again. But what would that look like, and how would we survive? M.R.E.'s could sustain us, and Bear Grylls could teach us how to eat roaches and make fire. Then we could reinvent things so that everyone is included, and we would also leave room for exceptions to the rules, knowing that we are morons, unfit to be the dominant species on this planet.

Ass and Titties

2008-08-23T09:32:00.000-07:00

I was reading an interview with the author of the book "Generation Kill" Evan Wright the other day. In it he talks about how Americans training the Iraqi soldiers reward them with pornographic magazines whenever they uncover weapons caches and other valuable shit.

The rationale is that the middle eastern dudes are so sex starved because of the strict religious rules of the area they value tits and ass more than money or Silver Stars.

He also brought up that addiction to Valium is a big problem over there because of the other religious restrictions on alcohol. Apparently they manufacture the pills in-country and also have their hands on copious amounts of hash.

What has developed is a lucrative black market bartering system in which American G.I.'s, who almost all have shit-loads of porno magazines, trade them for hash and Valium. Which I can tell you is a very complimentary duet.

I have a picture in my mind's eye of one barracks where row upon row of Iraqi troops are feverishly jacking off to a soggy, hand-me-down copy of last years Playboy centerfold. While in the barracks across the way a group of American soldiers are puffing away on some of the world's finest hash and then munching down on the cookies that Iowa fifth-graders sent them in a "thanks for saving the world" package. Then relaxing away the inevitable paranoia with a few benzos.

In my humble opinion we are doing our national foreign policy image a great disservice by allowing this inequitable trade-off to continue. These brave Iraqi soldiers, while hopelessly inept next to the state-of-the-art American combat trooper, are still serving to the best of their ability. They are still risking webcam beheadings by cooperating with the great Satan. I feel like they should be getting a little more in the deal.

This is my proposal.

We offer a reduced sentence to any willing female convicted of a drug or prostitution offense of less than 5 years the option of traveling to the beautiful yet restrictive Arabian Peninsula and aiding the War on Terrorism with a lil' bit of what momma blessed them with.

A little sip of ass and tiddies for our brothers in arms. They shouldn't have to make due with the sloppy seconds of a porno magazine when they could have a 350-pound woman named Ladonna sit on their face so firmly that they can no longer hear the stereo.

Then maybe we could talk about getting some of that hash smuggled back in Ladonna's anal cavity.

Napoleon...Period, Motherfucker!

2008-08-16T13:17:00.000-07:00

Exile is no fun. I wonder how Napoleon dealt with it. He probably had some form of military council that he could plot his French schemes with. Perhaps I should start tucking my hand into my shirt. I need one of those hats, and some wine and peasant wenches.

Solitary living and extreme boredom breed strange habits in the human creature. I have developed a fascination with Dudley "Booger" Dawson from "Revenge of the Nerds". I have great respect for his outlook on life.

His T-shirt that says simply "Gimme Head 'Till I'm Dead" is a summation of my greatest ideals and aspirations in life. I love the scene in the movie where they all sneak in for a panty raid on the sorority house and proceed to install hidden cameras in the bedrooms and bathrooms. The other members of the Nerd house are excited to see tits, but not Booger. No, Booger wants bush.

"Pan down" he tells them. Then, in a moment that only true lovers of the female genitalia circa 1985 can appreciate, he exclaims..."We've got Bush!!". It is a moment that surpasses Neil Armstrong's "Tranquility Base here...the Eagle has landed" in my book.

Also, I have started watching YouTube with increasing frequency and duration. I am particularly fond of two clips that I think embody the essence of the YouTube experience.

1) "Simon & Garfunkel & Andy Williams" performing Scarborough Fair/Canticle. It is hauntingly beautiful and if you get a chance to watch it take special care to note Andy Williams posture.

2) A clip from Australia's Funniest Home Video's. It is simply titled "Scared Fat Kid". This shows the depravity of Aussie culture.

Honorable Mention) "Period Motherfucker!" a classic excerpt from the hit television show "Cops".

Also, I don't recommend the new featured dessert item from Pizza Hut. It is basically just flavorless pizza bread topped with some form of chocolate sprinkle crap. The Hershey dipping sauce they give you is like, half-filled. Totally inadequate. The only reason I could fathom someone enjoying this dessert is if after choking down Pizza Hut's already bread heavy pizza, you think to yourself...."Hmmm, maybe I won't be constipated enough tomorrow...". Shame on you Pizza Hut.

Just the facts ma'am

2008-08-13T19:20:00.000-07:00

Welcome to the Japanese Love Palace.

That was the title of a chat-room that my friend used to host. She was a college student from Japan and had a thing for Nick Carter. I have often wondered what a real Japanese Love Palace would look like. Tons of silk for sure, Geisha girls, nude sushi women with saki in their belly buttons and cutting edge video games. All wrapped up in a beautiful ancient pagoda with manicured gardens and humungous koi...but I digress.

My name is Estanislado. I am a sinner in exile.

For more than a decade I banished my ego and super-ego. I became the walking embodiment of my Id. I indulged in many things, some to extreme excess. It was tremendous fun and sometimes terrifying. I made a lot of friends, and then proceeded to lose almost all of them. There were lean times, fat times and everything in between. It was a banquet of decadence and debauchery.

And now I find myself 27 years old, a real post-modern man. The hills of the Northwest have become my home. This solitary existence is mostly boring and lonely, but sometimes can be quite and peaceful. A respite from society gives one a unique perspective on life. I feel like a wild cat that has resigned itself to the confines of its trap.

But the weather is cool and the foliage smells sweet. Surely, this is an appropriate setting for my convalescence. So it is here that I sit, with my triple grande non-fat latte, trying to find a poetic strain in the madness that was my foray into the world of the Id.