Sunday, March 30, 2008
Friday, March 21, 2008
Thanks to friend Jesse Benner for reminding me to utilize "das blog" as a medium unto which I impart:
All the following were cut and paste from my Myspace blog...
The Cancer Diet
Life is absolutely awesome and death really fucking sucks. I think suicidal, but otherwise physically healthy people are ultimately assholes.
Night sweats, but no fever. Lumpy nodes in the throat but no soreness, no tenderness. Slept 11 hours to catch up on uh, the 11 hours I got the previous night. It’s really damn cold in this 68 degree hermetically sealed car of mine.
No history of Lymphoma. Father has coronary artery disease. I don’t know Doctor, he never had a heart "attack" so that’s kinda pushing it.
Forgetful - shitty noun recall like this one guy from uh...um
White-coat hypertension.
"Cat" scan scheduled. Possible bilateral biopsy. Doubtful it’s bacterial but here’s some Keflex.
Relax. I don’t think it’s the other thing.
Forgetful.
Otherwise, young and healthy. Unexplained weight loss?
It’s all too explained. I still have lumpy nodes in my neck. It’s "probably viral" according to the Infectious Disease Doctor at the hospital. The CT scan was negative for anything suspicious. I left my heater on high and was blanketed by half of the textiles in Kashmir that evening. I’ve been eating like a chain-smoking Deer-mouse (read: not much) while awaiting the results. As I spend 36 hours a week exposing my dermal layers to the onslaught of pathogens made happily and readily available to me, I shouldn’t be suprised that I’d have some kind of recent, crescendo-ing immune activity.
Anxiety kills one’s appreciation for subtlety; for analysis of finer things, and, sadly, good humor.
It’s amazing how much we all referrence our own mortality each day. In songs and cursing when we back our cars into those seemingly pointless cement pillars at gas stations.
But I don’t want to fucking die...at 30. That’s horse manure people. I figured, with a nice fiberful diet and a lot of low-impact soul nourishing Tai Chipilateyoga Spinning classes I’d make it to 120 (assuming the future of medicine kicks ass.)
This sounds corny and worse, pretentious, but every little moment is...well, this is what Charles Darwin said apparently:
A man who dares to waste one hour of time has not discovered the value of life.
That’s pretty cool, n’est pas?
Since discovering or I should say re-discovering that I am as healthy as I was a week ago I have since adopted the sedentary, hypocritical, but healthily-fed lifestyle I had previously grown accustomed to.
But I’m happy. Really fucking happy. I’m glad you are all my friends and, if you’re a stranger, that’s fine too. I hope we can do this more often. Hug a tree, or plant one or call a relative or run a mile or write a blog. Do something. Take a nap. Pastel a still-life, but don’t be one.
And I’ll leave you now with a couple more quotes from my second favorite Philosopher:
Just as in earthly life lovers long for the moment when they are able to breathe forth their love for each other, to let their souls blend in a soft whisper, so the mystic longs for the moment when in prayer he can, as it were, creep into God.
Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.
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Thursday, January 17, 2008
Coqui en mi pantalones
:( = An A300 from Ft. Lauderdale to San Juan cuz planes should be less in years than myself.
:) = Immediately upon arrival at the airport. I managed no less than five to seven words of Espagnol. Fuck you "Rosetta Stone" or Fodors or 8 anos living en Low-Changelos. I don't need your snooty Faux-netics. I speak directly from my tostones and I always get what I want: mas agua, por favor.
:O = Watching my Madre (that's Farsi for "Mom") toss a puerto-rican pizza (that's Spanish for cheese-frisbee) several meters upward as she slips on the leftovers of a rather typical mid-january downpour.
Good stuff people. If you have the means I highly recommend living here. If you don't, perhaps rent the "Buena Vista Social Club" (pretending it took place in PR and not Cuba) or "Captain Ron" (which was actually filmed here) and fry some chiquitas that have been dipped in equal amounts Bacardi and irony.
Cheers...or sorry, Salud.
5:16 PM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Sunday, January 06, 2008
Turning tears into brine to pickle my own heart
I've done ALL the following bad things and a few of the good things...
If you like them, tell them.
Don't become a friend. Become friendly.
A lover becomes a friend more easily than a friend becomes a lover.
Don't talk about your needs.
Don't be that guy. Be the guy.
Don't talk too much.
If they are talking to you, listen and remember what they say; even if it's only like three things.
Laugh at yourself, but don't make fun of yourself.
Never say, "I wish we could be together." In the least, "wishing" implies that you ordinarily wouldn't be.
There really is no "league" or "type" for that matter. There's only interest piqued.
If you start sweatin it, remember even pretty people fart.
If she's just a friend, she is just a friend.
You can make love to her in your mind or offer lamentations and explanations on how happy you feel when you are around her but that doesn't change the fact that you are someone she talks about other guys to.
G.L.H.F.
Speaking of which, don't make airquotes or talk in acronyms. It devalues the worth of the few words you actually are going to use; Words that are better utilized relating to her; allowing her to realize you think she's beautiful and intelligent and worthy of your time.
Be brave and smile.
If you ever get a second chance, and you probably won't, it is a gift from God.
Be thankful.
6:28 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Home
Current mood: recumbent
What a nice place to be.
It's knowing which light switches still don't work. It's the same smell of a busy spice-rack and mildew and oddly tropical plants in a cold basement.
It's hearing your neighbor's now-extinct Knightrider big wheels echo it's plastisized rambling on the side walk. His house is beat up and his Father, a shell of a former man.
It's 2:24am and I don't want to sleep and forget. I want this moment to pause and stretch and stretch; Like when a child smiles or a perfectly timed song becomes your life's soundtrack for a minute because you might have otherwise called her or not called her.
It ends.
You breathe out and board a flight. You opt for the "snack pack." You forget you don't have cash. You remember a handshake from two days earlier; a single salty tear is left unwiped for dramatic effect. It's not a movie. It's you going to your house but not your home and the tear was a stranger's in a seat across the aisle.
You unbuckle and walk to the lavatory and wait.
And wait.
And pee and think. You miss them and think. I miss them when I'm with them. You think that's fucked up.
You land and drive and arrive. Hi guys. It smells like a house. It's not yours but you live there. It's not a comfort but you lay there. It's a pillow so you hold it. It's a bed. It doesn't love you but it accepts you. You don't accept yourself so you apologize and drive.
You should've opted for "the meal." You should've have kissed her lightly on the hand. You should've given her comfort. Maybe there was another perfect song for you to give pause to your thoughts, or thanks, or love. Maybe there is another home.
.Rest.
It's only Wednesday.
10:57 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Saturday, December 15, 2007
End of Night
Last night I had a dream about April 23rd, 2132.
I was sleeping with my space heater on so when I awoke I was unpleasantly warm; like hot farts always smell like Death, hot sleeps feel just wrong. As I reached to turn off my faux-radiator I noticed where my mind had just been:
I was sort of slipping over water. It was troublesome to me only because the water felt like cold air; no density to it. Looking into its depths was like looking into a ten gallon aquarium complete with the old-school diver-guy. You know, the orange or yellow colored dude with the flippers and ridiculously ungainly helmet. I remember thinking it's 2132 and Jules Verne was right?
Everything was red and the water blinked away. I mean dusty rusty red, earthy - funny choice of words I suppose considering I was on Mars. There weren't any Starbucks or Barnes and Noble, so I have no exact proof that the habitat I saw was in fact on Mars, but the iron oxide in the soil and the ...
(to be continued)
9:06 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Emotional cholerae
Category: Goals, Plans, Hopes
Classes are over bitches. Pardon the coloquilism.
If it weren't for my stomach feeling as if it were anticipating the effects of a wrathful dinner of garlic and portabello mushrooms, I'd say I was relieved.
2008 is gonna be a good year everybody.
But tonight I will write about what I miss.
I miss snow falling and the the way light bounces off it in a red glowing morning in the mountains. I miss you.
I miss hot chocolate and pretzels. The cup always seems to warm chilled hands better than kisses warm lips.
I love the internet, but I miss letters from people - in the mail - with personalized wax seals.
I miss my Grandma Grace. I miss her greenhouse with paintings and roses growing from seeds fallen into the cracks in the brick floor.
I miss Northern Exposure when it was still a new show.
Life was all wonder and Weezer wasn't ironic. They were just a good band.
I miss playing the guitar and the piano and the drums in the same day and thinking I was a fucking genius.
9:44 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Sunday, November 25, 2007
F-ck you LA Fitness and your thieving theives
So my shit got stolen today at LA Fitness and the reaction from one of the worker's was as such:
"Sorry about that...wow that sucks, Hey (insert owner's name) we had another break-in."
Says, vaguely German owner in vaguely bored accent, "Yah, vell dats vy we haf de yellow hand-outs and some schpecial luck boxsess fur yer valuables."
This would've been awesome if a. They told me about der special lock boxes when I joined and/or b. put in a bit more effort than was required to mention that I should "file a police report" Well, I'm sure Deputy Hernandez will get right on it with rest of the cast from CSI Miami and run some cross-checks of anyone who clocked into the building between say 10:00am and 11:30am.
Fuck you LA Fitness and your well-harbored felons!
love,
Damian
8:55 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Saturday, November 24, 2007
The Center
Category: Religion and Philosophy
Hello.
I realize you might be familiar with my question type format and, in that spirit, I have few more for you.
Unlike my past few "blogs" (if you actually want to call them that - they were more ramblings than anything else) I expect, nary demand some kind of response.
So, you know how gravity works and orbiting works right? Well, so there's probably a Black Hole at the center of our galaxy and, much like we orbit the Sun, everything in our galaxy is orbiting around this Black Hole.
My theory is that there is a Black Hole at the center of every galaxy and, therefore, there must be one at the center of the Universe (assuming there is a center - which is probable as the Universe is currently expanding.)
What do you think? Do you think there's a big-ass Black Hole in the middle of the Universe?
If so, what do you think it implies about everything else?
Thanks.
4:51 PM - 1 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Fortitude
Category: Life
You ever wanna pull the trigger a bit prematurely?
Anticipation is half the pleasure people.
I've been a relatively patient person for quite a while.
How about you?
12:32 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Oh schnap!
Current mood: confused
Category: Life
Did you ever look at the cinnamon floating on the top of your latte? It's beautiful. Really. Random but well-textured - course you're supposed to be driving and now you just looked up and saw brake lights. Fuuuuck! You got hot-like-a-motha-fucka coffee on your crotch; burrowing through levels of denim and undergarment; steaming it's hot anger towards your otherwise well-protected upper-thigh.
Yeah?
That's how I feel right about now. 'Cept the coffee, in this case just splashed all over my brain.
You feel me guys? Ever get distracted by the "cinnamon in life?"
Here's a latte for reference:
6:34 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
All the following were cut and paste from my Myspace blog...
The Cancer Diet
Life is absolutely awesome and death really fucking sucks. I think suicidal, but otherwise physically healthy people are ultimately assholes.
Night sweats, but no fever. Lumpy nodes in the throat but no soreness, no tenderness. Slept 11 hours to catch up on uh, the 11 hours I got the previous night. It’s really damn cold in this 68 degree hermetically sealed car of mine.
No history of Lymphoma. Father has coronary artery disease. I don’t know Doctor, he never had a heart "attack" so that’s kinda pushing it.
Forgetful - shitty noun recall like this one guy from uh...um
White-coat hypertension.
"Cat" scan scheduled. Possible bilateral biopsy. Doubtful it’s bacterial but here’s some Keflex.
Relax. I don’t think it’s the other thing.
Forgetful.
Otherwise, young and healthy. Unexplained weight loss?
It’s all too explained. I still have lumpy nodes in my neck. It’s "probably viral" according to the Infectious Disease Doctor at the hospital. The CT scan was negative for anything suspicious. I left my heater on high and was blanketed by half of the textiles in Kashmir that evening. I’ve been eating like a chain-smoking Deer-mouse (read: not much) while awaiting the results. As I spend 36 hours a week exposing my dermal layers to the onslaught of pathogens made happily and readily available to me, I shouldn’t be suprised that I’d have some kind of recent, crescendo-ing immune activity.
Anxiety kills one’s appreciation for subtlety; for analysis of finer things, and, sadly, good humor.
It’s amazing how much we all referrence our own mortality each day. In songs and cursing when we back our cars into those seemingly pointless cement pillars at gas stations.
But I don’t want to fucking die...at 30. That’s horse manure people. I figured, with a nice fiberful diet and a lot of low-impact soul nourishing Tai Chipilateyoga Spinning classes I’d make it to 120 (assuming the future of medicine kicks ass.)
This sounds corny and worse, pretentious, but every little moment is...well, this is what Charles Darwin said apparently:
A man who dares to waste one hour of time has not discovered the value of life.
That’s pretty cool, n’est pas?
Since discovering or I should say re-discovering that I am as healthy as I was a week ago I have since adopted the sedentary, hypocritical, but healthily-fed lifestyle I had previously grown accustomed to.
But I’m happy. Really fucking happy. I’m glad you are all my friends and, if you’re a stranger, that’s fine too. I hope we can do this more often. Hug a tree, or plant one or call a relative or run a mile or write a blog. Do something. Take a nap. Pastel a still-life, but don’t be one.
And I’ll leave you now with a couple more quotes from my second favorite Philosopher:
Just as in earthly life lovers long for the moment when they are able to breathe forth their love for each other, to let their souls blend in a soft whisper, so the mystic longs for the moment when in prayer he can, as it were, creep into God.
Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.
9:34 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Coqui en mi pantalones
:( = An A300 from Ft. Lauderdale to San Juan cuz planes should be less in years than myself.
:) = Immediately upon arrival at the airport. I managed no less than five to seven words of Espagnol. Fuck you "Rosetta Stone" or Fodors or 8 anos living en Low-Changelos. I don't need your snooty Faux-netics. I speak directly from my tostones and I always get what I want: mas agua, por favor.
:O = Watching my Madre (that's Farsi for "Mom") toss a puerto-rican pizza (that's Spanish for cheese-frisbee) several meters upward as she slips on the leftovers of a rather typical mid-january downpour.
Good stuff people. If you have the means I highly recommend living here. If you don't, perhaps rent the "Buena Vista Social Club" (pretending it took place in PR and not Cuba) or "Captain Ron" (which was actually filmed here) and fry some chiquitas that have been dipped in equal amounts Bacardi and irony.
Cheers...or sorry, Salud.
5:16 PM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Sunday, January 06, 2008
Turning tears into brine to pickle my own heart
I've done ALL the following bad things and a few of the good things...
If you like them, tell them.
Don't become a friend. Become friendly.
A lover becomes a friend more easily than a friend becomes a lover.
Don't talk about your needs.
Don't be that guy. Be the guy.
Don't talk too much.
If they are talking to you, listen and remember what they say; even if it's only like three things.
Laugh at yourself, but don't make fun of yourself.
Never say, "I wish we could be together." In the least, "wishing" implies that you ordinarily wouldn't be.
There really is no "league" or "type" for that matter. There's only interest piqued.
If you start sweatin it, remember even pretty people fart.
If she's just a friend, she is just a friend.
You can make love to her in your mind or offer lamentations and explanations on how happy you feel when you are around her but that doesn't change the fact that you are someone she talks about other guys to.
G.L.H.F.
Speaking of which, don't make airquotes or talk in acronyms. It devalues the worth of the few words you actually are going to use; Words that are better utilized relating to her; allowing her to realize you think she's beautiful and intelligent and worthy of your time.
Be brave and smile.
If you ever get a second chance, and you probably won't, it is a gift from God.
Be thankful.
6:28 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Home
Current mood: recumbent
What a nice place to be.
It's knowing which light switches still don't work. It's the same smell of a busy spice-rack and mildew and oddly tropical plants in a cold basement.
It's hearing your neighbor's now-extinct Knightrider big wheels echo it's plastisized rambling on the side walk. His house is beat up and his Father, a shell of a former man.
It's 2:24am and I don't want to sleep and forget. I want this moment to pause and stretch and stretch; Like when a child smiles or a perfectly timed song becomes your life's soundtrack for a minute because you might have otherwise called her or not called her.
It ends.
You breathe out and board a flight. You opt for the "snack pack." You forget you don't have cash. You remember a handshake from two days earlier; a single salty tear is left unwiped for dramatic effect. It's not a movie. It's you going to your house but not your home and the tear was a stranger's in a seat across the aisle.
You unbuckle and walk to the lavatory and wait.
And wait.
And pee and think. You miss them and think. I miss them when I'm with them. You think that's fucked up.
You land and drive and arrive. Hi guys. It smells like a house. It's not yours but you live there. It's not a comfort but you lay there. It's a pillow so you hold it. It's a bed. It doesn't love you but it accepts you. You don't accept yourself so you apologize and drive.
You should've opted for "the meal." You should've have kissed her lightly on the hand. You should've given her comfort. Maybe there was another perfect song for you to give pause to your thoughts, or thanks, or love. Maybe there is another home.
.Rest.
It's only Wednesday.
10:57 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Saturday, December 15, 2007
End of Night
Last night I had a dream about April 23rd, 2132.
I was sleeping with my space heater on so when I awoke I was unpleasantly warm; like hot farts always smell like Death, hot sleeps feel just wrong. As I reached to turn off my faux-radiator I noticed where my mind had just been:
I was sort of slipping over water. It was troublesome to me only because the water felt like cold air; no density to it. Looking into its depths was like looking into a ten gallon aquarium complete with the old-school diver-guy. You know, the orange or yellow colored dude with the flippers and ridiculously ungainly helmet. I remember thinking it's 2132 and Jules Verne was right?
Everything was red and the water blinked away. I mean dusty rusty red, earthy - funny choice of words I suppose considering I was on Mars. There weren't any Starbucks or Barnes and Noble, so I have no exact proof that the habitat I saw was in fact on Mars, but the iron oxide in the soil and the ...
(to be continued)
9:06 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Emotional cholerae
Category: Goals, Plans, Hopes
Classes are over bitches. Pardon the coloquilism.
If it weren't for my stomach feeling as if it were anticipating the effects of a wrathful dinner of garlic and portabello mushrooms, I'd say I was relieved.
2008 is gonna be a good year everybody.
But tonight I will write about what I miss.
I miss snow falling and the the way light bounces off it in a red glowing morning in the mountains. I miss you.
I miss hot chocolate and pretzels. The cup always seems to warm chilled hands better than kisses warm lips.
I love the internet, but I miss letters from people - in the mail - with personalized wax seals.
I miss my Grandma Grace. I miss her greenhouse with paintings and roses growing from seeds fallen into the cracks in the brick floor.
I miss Northern Exposure when it was still a new show.
Life was all wonder and Weezer wasn't ironic. They were just a good band.
I miss playing the guitar and the piano and the drums in the same day and thinking I was a fucking genius.
9:44 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Sunday, November 25, 2007
F-ck you LA Fitness and your thieving theives
So my shit got stolen today at LA Fitness and the reaction from one of the worker's was as such:
"Sorry about that...wow that sucks, Hey (insert owner's name) we had another break-in."
Says, vaguely German owner in vaguely bored accent, "Yah, vell dats vy we haf de yellow hand-outs and some schpecial luck boxsess fur yer valuables."
This would've been awesome if a. They told me about der special lock boxes when I joined and/or b. put in a bit more effort than was required to mention that I should "file a police report" Well, I'm sure Deputy Hernandez will get right on it with rest of the cast from CSI Miami and run some cross-checks of anyone who clocked into the building between say 10:00am and 11:30am.
Fuck you LA Fitness and your well-harbored felons!
love,
Damian
8:55 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Saturday, November 24, 2007
The Center
Category: Religion and Philosophy
Hello.
I realize you might be familiar with my question type format and, in that spirit, I have few more for you.
Unlike my past few "blogs" (if you actually want to call them that - they were more ramblings than anything else) I expect, nary demand some kind of response.
So, you know how gravity works and orbiting works right? Well, so there's probably a Black Hole at the center of our galaxy and, much like we orbit the Sun, everything in our galaxy is orbiting around this Black Hole.
My theory is that there is a Black Hole at the center of every galaxy and, therefore, there must be one at the center of the Universe (assuming there is a center - which is probable as the Universe is currently expanding.)
What do you think? Do you think there's a big-ass Black Hole in the middle of the Universe?
If so, what do you think it implies about everything else?
Thanks.
4:51 PM - 1 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Fortitude
Category: Life
You ever wanna pull the trigger a bit prematurely?
Anticipation is half the pleasure people.
I've been a relatively patient person for quite a while.
How about you?
12:32 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Oh schnap!
Current mood: confused
Category: Life
Did you ever look at the cinnamon floating on the top of your latte? It's beautiful. Really. Random but well-textured - course you're supposed to be driving and now you just looked up and saw brake lights. Fuuuuck! You got hot-like-a-motha-fucka coffee on your crotch; burrowing through levels of denim and undergarment; steaming it's hot anger towards your otherwise well-protected upper-thigh.
Yeah?
That's how I feel right about now. 'Cept the coffee, in this case just splashed all over my brain.
You feel me guys? Ever get distracted by the "cinnamon in life?"
Here's a latte for reference:
6:34 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
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