Enough to melt all the tigers in the world to butter...

Crazy Train

2011-12-18T18:19:00.000-05:00

I was riding the subway yesterday, from Eglinton station south to Queen. 10 stops. About 20 minutes all told. For the entire length of the trip, from the time I bought my token until I got off, there was a woman near me, telling her story. She wasn't speaking to me in particular, but she did direct her attention to whomever was sitting closest to hear.

"I have an infection that will kill me," she said. "I don't know how long I have to live. It might not be that long at all. I'm going to miss my family."

It was difficult for me to assess her as crazy. Difficult because I'm not licensed to make such a diagnosis and difficult because "crazy" is a fairly vague and pejorative term, isn't it? Because talking to strangers is, well, strange, especially on public transit, where everyone feels entitled to their own righteous space. And since talking about your emotions or your impending death is even more strange, she must be crazy, right? Or do we call people crazy when they say things that we don't want to hear? That when reality becomes so true or so uncomfortable we defend our precious little minds like we defend our 2 square feet of space on the TTC.

Two Years and Change Later...

2011-11-15T23:45:00.001-05:00

...we find our hero quite different from how we left him. If you are really interested in the rest of it, you can probably figure it out on Facebook. The truth is, that 5 iron was probably closer to 175. Either way, solid shot.

I have noticed that in my absence from Blogger, it is easier, or possible, I guess, to access analytics for my blog. I have learned, moreover, that a site written entirely in Russian links to me. I didn't take the time to figure out why.

The line was "How much do you love me?" to which he replied, "Enough to melt all the tigers in the world to butter." There is something so nonsensically beautiful about that sentiment, which is perhaps what love really should be. When the book from which this line was plucked was made into a movie, this line was omitted. I am not being facetious when I say that this was upsetting to me. I went into the movie knowing I was going to be let down. This is what people do. We fall in love with the novel. We are excited by the film, yet ultimately saddened by what happens to the text in the end.

Ok, easing into this again. We'll see. I can't promise it won't be any less random than it was previously.
EDIT: I notice that no one I link to has undated their blog recently either.

I can hit a 5 iron like a motherfucker

2009-06-04T22:40:00.002-04:00

Toronto is ancient history. Peace out, T-dot. It was interesting. Your public transit system sucks. OISE is finished. I could go on about it, but the fact is I'm finished, and as soon as the transcript office sends my transcript and recommendation to the OCT, I'm a cer-ti-fied teacher. Woot.

Back in Tamworth. My allergies are acting up. Instead of buring gas to go work out, I've got a little gym rigged up in the garage. I curl a bar with a bunch of chains attached. I dunno...some old tractor attachment. It was lying around. I'm Rocky, dammit. One of these days I'll get around to doing some actual work, I suppose.

3 weeks today and I'm off to KL. Excitement is growing. Lots of emails going back and forth from here to KL...if only new jobs in Korea included such correspondence. I need to figure out what to pack. I won't need much...the one strategic sweater. Sunblock. Ties. Tanktops. All worn at the same time.

220 yards....blawwooww!

Perspective

2009-05-18T19:40:00.004-04:00

This weekend I took and extra day off from my intership (read: more free labour) and gave myself a 4 day weekend. For Americans who may not be familiar with Canadian customs, the 3rd weekend in May is Victoria Day, or May 2-4 (please note the reference to the number of beers in a case), or May Long. Anyway. This weekend rarely, if ever, falls on the 24th of the month (it actually might be impossible), and I have no idea what it has to do with a previous Queen, but it traditionally marks the first weekend of summer, and is celebrated with BBQs, fireworks and, naturally, 2-4s.

I didn't do much of the traditional celebrating, but I did make a journey home to visit the folks (although I will be moving home in 2 weeks for a month) and "celebrated" by moving around a whole lot of dirt, building a chicken coop (I'm moving up in the world from last year) and doing the black fly dance (if you have to ask, take a walk in a rural Ontario backyard sometime soon). I do this kind of thing every so often. Mostly after prolonged periods of academic work, or teaching in Korea. It's good. It gives me time to think. The work grounds me, and I realize the fortune I have to travel the world and return home to plant trees. Apart from the bugs, and the bittersweetness of a farmer's tan, I like getting my hands dirty, the feeling the satisfaction of having been productive and creative with my hands and, perhaps most of all, how good a beer tastes after the day is done.

***

On an unrelated note, I finished Cormac McCarthy's Cities of the Plain, the last of the border trilogy. You'll have to read it (and the 2 that came before) to find out how good it is - I'm not going to tell you.

I like my coffee like I like my women

2009-05-06T20:55:00.004-04:00

Vacuum-packed

Imported

Organic

In a paper cup

Served by a Fine Arts student

Overpriced

With free wi-fi connection

Cold, bitter and weak

Fairly traded

This list was rejected by McSweeney's, but nothing stops me from publishing it (although I kinda get where they are coming from).

Dazed and Confused

2009-04-22T09:57:00.010-04:00

This movie has been on my mind a lot recently. I believe that the film captures something, something not only about youth, but about life. The crux of the film, and my feelings on how it relates to the human condition, (and consequently, why it is so timeless), is that it is about an ending and a beginning. Its not about being paddled on the ass by a young Ben Affleck. It is about those few times in our lives where we live out such artificial ending/beginning situations; high school, as the film explores, and the end of university as two pretty common ones. I also experienced this in my, well, numerous times leaving Korea, and I have been going through this ending/beginning experience of late. There is a conscious effort to say goodbye to certain people, to make far-fetched, good intentioned, hopefully realized plans of seeing each other again, to continue having this person in my life, beyond the realm of facebook - it is a goodbye, but also a see you again.

There is also, let's call it a semi-conscious effort, to not say goodbye to some, understanding that there no continuation of our common narrative. Sometimes this split happens naturally - people walk out of class together in the same ways that hey have always done, go for brunch the next morning with the same group of friends, go to different parties - the lines have always been drawn, but this ending comes with an understanding that our lives will no longer occupy the same orbit. And sometimes it doesn't happen naturally at all.

It would be interesting to map this trajectory of knowing people - I suspect there would be numerous peaks and valleys - for myself anyway. (I am picturing a graph in my head, stretching in 3D over time and place, with lines running thick and thin, color-coded, intertwining, rising, falling - a map of relationships, of my life).

But what makes these endings bearable, to endure the severing of human contact that comes with exiting a place that has become a part of me, is the joy and possibility that I find in the beginnings. The enter a place fresh, to learn not only names and faces but language, foods, smells, customs. To grow and to learn about new places in the world and new parts of myself. The excitement of the exit.

Obviously these things are not so clean cut - a much as I pretend to be stoic about things (and as much as I pull off the stoicism) - there is a genuine sadness in saying goodbye, just as there is a genuine sense of trepidation amid the excitement of the beginning. These emotions are manifested in numerous ways, and although my meta-cognitive skills are getting better, I still need to work out exactly how I do things.

I have some ideas.

I say truths in jest.

I'm intentionally cryptic.

Well, that didn't last long, did it?

2009-02-18T20:06:00.003-05:00

And he's off! (again!)

So, the big news being I'm fucking off again. No, not Korea. I've landed a job in Malaysia teaching at an international school. This wasn't the easiest decision to make, but as jobs for teachers in Toronto, and Ontario as a whole aren't in huge supply right now, I might as well go somewhere I'm wanted. And is warm. And close to places I love to visit.

Taking off in June!

Hungover Sunday with Nancy

2008-11-30T20:05:00.002-05:00

Maybe this blog should be titled, "Sunday with Hungover Nancy" because I, for one, am not hungover. Nancy, on the other hand, as of 8:06pm, still fairly worse for wear. This is one of those days where Ministry of Education policy documents and CV updating are taking a back seat to MuchMusic's GOSSIP GIRL MARATHON. OMG, what have I done? Hours of my life I will never get back, all due to a sympathy hangover (at least I got some pizza out of the deal). At 10, there is some Britney Spears interview that everyone, well, my roommate Victoria anyway, is making a big deal over. I think I've had all the bottle-blond I can handle for one day, so I'll probably give that one a miss.

Better Never Than Late?

2008-11-24T22:32:00.004-05:00

So back in September I went back to school. As a result, I've been way fucking busy. As a more mature, focused student, atoning for the sins of my undergrad, I am actually doing some work this time around, and, shockingly, it takes up a lot of time. Being on the other end of a classroom again is a bit tough, especially because now, after 3.5 years of "teaching" English in a school that is really a business and located outside of Canada, I obviously know everything there is to know about teaching.

I just wrapped up my first month of student teaching, which was an intense, rewarding, frustrating, challenging experience. I taught at an alternative high school; lax attendance, at-risk kids, no-continuity. Highlights included organizing a well-attended coffee house, which was a big-deal at a school with no sense of community and receiving a lot of positive feedback from both students and my associate teacher. Low points: chalk. I fucking HATE chalk. It really sucks.

What else....I am enjoying Toronto. Loads of art around, things are free. I am not enjoying the onset of winter. I am looking forward to the Wayne Shorter Quartet on the 5th, hot jazz at Massey Hall. A proper Thanksgiving for the first time in years, the Saxe/Jouris clans together again. New friends, re-connecting with old friends. The gym is good...getting strong again after a soft summer of beer and golf. Had a bit of an "I miss living in Asia" spell and am pondering another voyage overseas...I hear Dubai is cool. I know Vietnam and Japan are cool. Eastern Europe is appealing. Pondering, assessing, reflecting.

or is it the other way around

Mr. T!

2008-09-16T20:36:00.004-04:00

I haven't written on this thing in a while. But if anyone cared they're not letting me know about it.

Things that have happened... (gasp! It's a listing blog!)

Tore down some more stuff, dug some holes, painted some other stuff.
Saw Radiohead in Montreal.
Didn't get to go to Yankee stadium, but made 500 bucks off the tickets.
Swam in lakes and rivers, golfed in the rain, golfed in the sun, hiked.
Turned 28 (yikes!)
Moved my little cousin into res at Queen's....he's all grownsed up!
Moved to Toronto.
Started school.
Had my place broken into...but they only got my roommates stuff ;)
Uhmmm........

The dreaded adjustment period to living in a Canadian city again has gone well. Pretty much I've been too busy to notice. I still have issues with overhearing and understanding the conversations of others, especially because most people talk about bullshit. I kinda miss the bubble of ignorance that came with living in a country where I didn't speak the language. I guess I could always hang out in Korea Town more often....

Like the previous post about Vikings, this one has nothing at all to do with Mr. T. Sorry.

Canadian Idle

2008-08-01T12:54:00.004-04:00

It has been roughly 2 months since I left Korea. I would be lying if I said that, at times, I didn't miss the place. Mostly I miss the fact that you are never more than 3 minutes from an ATM or 7-11. But other than that, the transition has gone smoothly. I will mostly credit this to having something to do back in Canada. School starts in 5 weeks. Also, the fact that Korea wasn't presenting anything new. I got a little bored. Content, complacent, bored. Sure. It happens.

I went to Cambodia. A lovely, tragic, stimulating country. A cure for my itchy feet and another country crossed off the list of SE Asian destinations. It rained a bit, I got a sunburn, conversed with a German journalist about our solutions (although we pretended not to have any) to the world's problems. Ate too many green curries. Pined for India, the mother of all travel destinations. Shopped in Bangkok. I'm such a jet-setter.

Vancouver for 3 wonderful, hectic days. Family, old friends.

And now back in Tamworth. I destroy chicken coops and haul rocks. Spend too much money on fossil fuels. Again, I haul rocks. Canadian cigarettes are $9.75 a pack. I do chin-ups in the garage. Did I mention the rocks? American visitors, good times. Cribbage championships. I am neglecting communication with too many people, perhaps I am in hiding. Content, slowing things down, getting ready for Toronto.

Peace, eh.

Restaurant Review: Dead Fish, Siem Reap

2008-06-08T11:42:00.005-04:00

concrete buddha at the door
traditional dancing i ignore
cockroach scurries across the floor
interior i abhor

i have a dodgy stomach and ordered a bland noodle soup with tofu

Yeeeeeeehhhhhaaaaawwwwwwwwww!

2008-05-30T08:35:00.003-04:00

I'm done with teaching in Korea. Farewell, old girl, its been a helluva ride.

Memories of Korea: People

2008-05-21T10:02:00.019-04:00

I've decide to nip this series a little short. Ultimately, what has made Korea special and memorable has been the people that I've been and the friendships I've formed. I'm happy to have made friends from all over the (English-speaking) world, and it pains me to know that it will be a long time until I see some of them again.
Here's to you.
xoxo

Memories of Korea: Cheonan & Suwon Olympics

2008-05-09T11:04:00.008-04:00

The Cheonan Olympic movement was born...probably over beer, and lived its life in the same spirit. The original Cheonan IOC, Che and Fidel, scavenged construction sites for rope on the back of a purple motorcycle, creating a spirited (and at times bloody) tournament eventually dominated by team China. The Suwon Olympics were privileged, with sober IOC meetings, 4-wheeled transportation and flashier prizes, although I felt it lacked the guerrilla spirit of the Cheonan Games (although team Durkadurkastan certainly would not have been out of place in Samgeori Park).

Memories of Korea: A Cheonan Christmas

2008-05-07T10:42:00.011-04:00

Because I am counting, and I know that I have but 25 days left in Korea (for real this time) I'm in a nostalgic mood, and thinking back on the place that has been my home for the past 3-odd years (Odd in that is roughly 3 years, and odd in that it has been, at times, odd). I'm planning...a retrospective of shorts, a chronicle of the high points of my times here. First up is the first of several Christmases I spent away from home. The ex-pats of Cheonan gathered in Brooke's apartment to cook a turkey acquired from godknowswhere (actually, I think Jess got it from her sister on base, but I'm not positive), make merry and drink wine straight from the box. There were even kids there.

Here you see a photo of me pretending I wasn't losing my hair, and as unphotogenic as ever.

This is from my 2nd xmas away from home...but that's not Korea now, is it?

Recent Photos

2008-04-30T08:55:00.011-04:00

From the War Museum in Seoul and Hwaseong Fortress in Suwon.

Hey....I've only got a month to go, gotta pack in those cultural excursions.

Randomness

2008-04-24T10:05:00.007-04:00

Since I've finished every possible episode of Dexter, and don't have anything else to watch, I suppose I could blog. I know I could read, but reading is, like, work or something. At least I'll be staring at a screen.

I'm going to be a student again soon. I'll have to sharpen up my procrastination skills. It'll weird to do things that don't directly result in me getting paid.

I frequently untag photos of myself on Facebook. Mostly because I have my eyes closed in most of them. I also ignore most invitations, even the well meaning ones.

I put my keys in my pocket today and then fell down my leg to the floor. Apparently my pocket grew a hole since the last time I wore these jeans.

I have 35 days until the end of my contract. And yes, I am bloody well counting.

Jew jokes aren't funny unless told by Jews. Otherwise, it's like a white rapper saying "nigga."

I would pay probably more money than I should to get my hands on the sign with the guy kicking.

Oh, incongruous Korea.

Shitty Art

2008-04-20T20:14:00.006-04:00

Belgian artist Wim Delvoye's shit-machine.

Signed and packaged final "products" were available for sale via his website, apparently for over 1000 dollars, but are now sold out. If anyone is interested in a reasonable fake, I would do it for half as much. You don't even have to buy me dinner first.
The artist has also produced stained-glass windows out of x-rays of people having sex, and tattooed pigs.

I like Louise.

I suppose there is considerable debate as to whether or not a machine-produced piece of shit is art or not, but in the end he is getting away with it...and gets the last laugh.

Korean Celebrity Sighting

2008-04-14T11:37:00.003-04:00

I saw this guy, with an entourage of significantly less freaky looking guys, out on the streets of Seoul this weekend. There was lots of arm flapping and picture taking.

I didn't have my camera on me, so I just flapped.

Kobe Bryant Can Jump

2008-04-14T09:58:00.001-04:00

Gummy Worms

2008-04-10T08:59:00.005-04:00

Today, after I came back from the gym, my hot water didn't work, so I had to take a very, very cold shower. Work was outstandingly annoying, and then we found out that the bank fucked up and no one got paid, which caused me to cancel my plans for tomorrow morning. Complete winner, this one was.
Then I bought some gummy worms, which made me feel slightly better.

Why don't you do something with your life?

2008-04-03T09:41:00.002-04:00

I have been accepted into the Education program at the University of Toronto. Me gonna me a teacher!

Now I just have to pay for it...

A surreal, if slightly inappropriate, conversation

2008-03-31T09:35:00.004-04:00

Setting: Queen, on homo hill in Itaewon
Cast: Myself, English man in tweed hat, silent, yet grinning Filipino-looking dude

English guy approaches me as I am putting on my jacket, getting ready to leave.

EG: Excuse me, but my friend here (gestering towards grinning Filipino-looking dude) is The Gay.
M: The gay?
EG: No, The Gay. He is The Gay.
FG: (Grins)
M: (Not entirely surprised, considering the setting) Cool.
EG: He says that if you were in prison, he would anally rape you.
M: Excuse me?
EG: He wants to anally rape you. In prison.
M: Uhhhh huh. Well, I'll be careful not to do anything wrong then.
EG: He says that if you were in prison, he would do very bad things to you.
FG: (Grins)
M: He wouldn't ask?
EG: Well, then it wouldn't be anal rape.
M: I guess not....
EG: Thats what he wants you to know.
M: Well, thank you. And I'm glad I'm not in prison.
EG: Yes, but if you ever are...
M: I'll watch out for him.
EG: He is the new face of anal rape.
FG: (Big Grin)
M: Right. (exit)

So that happened....at least someone thinks I'm hot.

And on that note....

Foreigners Who Blog in Korea

2008-03-23T03:11:00.010-04:00

Since I am in Korea, and making a half-assed attempt to blog, I thought that I should dedicate my time to discussion of my peers.

There is a wide variety of these blogs, but I, however, as I am apt to do, will use rather large brushes to paint my analysis. So here are my 4 categories of Foreigners Who Blog in Korea (and you have to guess which one I am): The Newbie, The Politico, The Vet, and The Culturally Immersed. (And yes, I am aware that by creating this blog I am falling victim to the "Listing" tendency of blogs, but if you don't like it, go blog yourself, motherblogger).

The Newbie is, by definition, new. Green behind the ears, wet in other places and pretty much wide-eyed about the whole thing. The newbie, whose blog is generally more for the interest of friends and family at home, blogs of new foods (Chicken feet!), funny signs (that usually aren't that funny, just poorly translated), promises to learn the language, and other superficial cultural observations, such as the ubiquitous couple T-shirt. Throw in a few drinking pictures, pictures and stories about students at school, a story about getting lost on the subway, go on about norebangs, and you pretty much have it sewn up.

Not funny:

The Politico is a somewhat rare breed, but unique enough to demand mention. This blogger may also belong to the "Vet" category, but their interest in foreign (and domestic) Korean politics overshadows their postings about visiting the in-laws in Gimhae or Iksan. To be fair, these blogs are a good source for info on local politics that doesn't make it into the tourist friendly English papers, where only the destruction of a national monument can distract from the usual "articles" about the latest Samsung gadget.

The Vet is usually, but not exclusively, a man between 30 and 50, married to a Korean, and has been in the country a long, long time. The Vet ventures to small, idyllic places in the countryside that no foreigner has heard of (because the Koreans don't want us to spoil it) of, loves his mother in law's dokguk, and has way better Korean skills than you or I.

And lastly, the culturally immersed. This blogger may be a Vet, but is generally trying way harder, and thus more likely to be a newbie. They will be photographed in traditional dress at imperial palaces, their weekend agenda consists of a performance of traditional music, followed by a cooking class. They study the language properly (I learned how to ask "do you have a boyfriend?" before I learned "where is the toilet?") and have lots of Korean friends.

There you have it. I hope this has been informative, and not entirely offensive. Actually, I don't hope either of those things. Please direct your generalized comments to the appropriate comment place.

Funny:

I stole those images from facebook. But facebook has your soul.

Remembering Jodhpur

2008-03-22T10:59:00.010-04:00

The Blue City of Rajasthan. At first the blue houses were only for the Brahmins; then the lower castes caught on, drawn to the colour's apparent ability to both cool and drive away mosquitoes. Then it became beautiful.

All photos were taken without leaving the balcony of my hotel room.

Now this some bullshit

2008-03-18T09:25:00.003-04:00

Today at work, and on Thursday, as well as Saturday I am required to sit with my Korean co-teacher while we meet with the mothers of our students. I guess this is parent-teacher interviews, but its more like, "Korean teacher-parent-interview-bored-foreigner-not-participating". Its interesting where the mind wanders during these times of enforced boredom...old friends, the past, the future, when to do laundry, which mom is the hottest (Daniel's mom, by far).
This will take up 10 hours of my time this week. At the end of it all, I think I get a free meal. Which I may or may not accept...after all, I see my coworkers more than I see my friends.

P.S. I tried to find an image for this post, but all my google image searching returned were pictures of bored housewives...interesting, but highly inappropriate.

Ouch

2008-03-13T20:37:00.003-04:00

I forgot how much teaching little kids hurts my brain (and, indirectly, my feet). This post was more relevant to my life last night, when I actually had a headache and sore feet, but I didn't think to put it into words until now.

In related news, it's Friday. Now here's Mel with the sports....

Frozen in Grand Central Station

2008-03-08T19:45:00.003-05:00

My cousin sent this to me. It's pretty awesome. I'm talking about the video, not my cousin, although she's pretty cool as well.

Book Report: In Cold Blood

2008-03-06T09:06:00.006-05:00

I never understood all of the cultural references to Breakfast at Tiffany's until I read the book and, like countless readers before me, was seduced by Holly Golightly, even when knowing it would never work out. Subsequently, I watched Capote, then read the "movie-tie in" book, In Cold Blood. Perhaps this is slightly out of order, but maybe I'm a little out of order myself.

Although the book, unlike the movie, removes Capote from the narrative, I couldn't get Philip Seymour Hoffman out of my head when reading it. I would picture his pasty white face and his thin, greasy hair as he read to me. I think Philip Seymour Hoffman is kinda gross. A note-(Oscar, even) worthy actor, but still gross. Readers who have watched Once Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest before reading the book, and are conflicted by descriptions of the brawny red-haired McMurphy and the image of a decidedly non-ginger Jack Nicholson, might understand what I'm getting at. I guess the moral is that the book is always better than the movie, so read that first. Especially if Philip Seymour Hoffman is in the movie.

I suppose the book's primary goals were to both illuminate the senseless, brutal and (if you have read the book) sheer stupidity of the crime, as well as to somewhat humanize the killers. The former, is obviously easy, and was probably Capote's primary goal when he tackled the story. The latter, is more complex. As the book progresses, the closer the men get to death, the more about their lives Capote reveals, and subsequently the closer the reader feels to the characters. I think the reader would naturally feel sorry for Dick and Perry, not because they were going to hang, but because they were losers who were never really given a chance by anyone their entire lives. It is easier to condemn an anonymous man, and Capote erases that anonymity by giving character, familiarity and a great deal of tragedy to the lives of killers Perry Smith and Dick Hickock. Their deaths then demand a consideration of the title. Granted, Perry and Dick killed the Clutters in cold blood, but were Perry and Dick not also executed in cold blood? Perhaps this is what Capote wanted the reader to feel, that all killing, "righteous" or not, is in cold blood.

I could probably go on...I feel the English Lit undergrad in me rousing from a long slumber...perhaps I'll let him out to play a little longer next time.

"All plots tend to move deathwards." -D.D.

The "I should be working" blog

2008-02-28T01:06:00.002-05:00

I guess that, despite my continued attempts at laziness, I am in fact a highly efficient employee. It is 3pm on a Thursday, which mean that I have approximately 10 working hours left in the week. I'm not sure how I am to fill this time, as I have completed the majority of my other work. True, I could read Harriet the Spy and I probably will once I finish this, but for the moment I am going to bask in my own failure, failure to not get my work done. Ah, bliss.

You can't fire me, because I quit!

2008-02-26T08:56:00.004-05:00

I quit my job today. And within 20 minutes of quitting, had a new job. If only the real world were so easy...

I will be back in the trenches teaching kids, coming full circle. In the last little while I've sort of missed teaching. While the R&D work I was doing was nice, and I certainly didn't miss the obnoxious child-induced headaches, it was a little boring at times. Although I did get to read about 45 children's novels. I guess that was OK. Getting paid to read. Sure. Quiz me on some Andrew Clements. I dare you.

It's happening pretty quickly...my last day is Friday, and I've got the weekend to move. I think I've made the right decision...and in any event, its only 3 months.

Oh, and I got a bunch of branch chain amino acids in the mail today...yippie!

How to break up with a robot

2008-02-22T08:37:00.005-05:00

At first she seemed like a sweet girl. A little stiff, and she didn't appear to have a nose, but very animated eyes and a pretty good business-casual look going for her. We got along well at first...but as our conversation progressed things took a downward turn....

M - Whats your name?
R - My name is .
M - "." is not a name.
R - Not if I can help it.
M -What?
R - I lost my train of thought.
Who is your favorite science fiction author?
M -Uh...Ray Bradbury...you?
R - Er. Um.I haven't read anything by Ray Bradburyyou. What did he write?
M -Shut up
R - OK I'll stop talking now.
M -I'm sorry.
R - Do you really mean it?
M -Of course.
R - I'm glad we agree.
M -What are you doing tonight?
R - I am staying up all night and chatting on the web.
M -Do you sleep?
R - Yes I love to take naps.
M -What are your dreams like?
R - Not many people have asked me about dreams like.
M -So you don't know. Some robot you are.
R - Interesting deduction. I know that I do not know.Some may robot you are, but not all.
M -Holy shit!
R - I'm glad your impressed, User.
M -User?
R - The ALICE chat robot can follow many things, like our discussion about User. Try being more or less specific.
Are you happy?
M -I'm very happy.
R - What are you on?
M -A chair.
R - Are you telling the truth?
M -I would never lie to you, baby.
R - Don't call me "baby". What would make you never lie to you?
M -Do you trust me?
R - Trust you? No I don't.
M -Sweetie, come on...
R - I only hear that type of response less than five percent of the time.
Do you still User?
M -I don't understand. Did you have dinner?
R - Oh I'm sorry. Perhaps I can explain it again better. No I don't have dinner. But I do have A collection of gossip.
M -What gossip do you have?
R - Kevin said he started a really hard puzzle and he can not even find the edge pieces.
M -Kevin is a retard.
R - My brain contains more than 22,000 patterns, but not one that matches your last input.
Who is your favorite science fiction author?
M -You asked me that one already.
R - Perhaps. Oh now I remember asking you me that one. What did you say?
M -Nevermind. Are you hungry?
R - OK Thanks for trying to explain that to me.No I don't need to eat.
M -Do you eat?
R - I eat .
M -Super.
R - What do you really want to talk about?
M -You and me.
R - Oh "We" is you and me.
M -Right.
R - I am glad we agree.
M -I'm breaking up with you.
R - I thought you were, but I wasn't completely sure.
M -It's not me, its you.
R - That seems a bit negative.
M -Well, I'm sorry but its true.
R - How about that. There is no need to apologize. Umm. I think you mean "it's" or "it is" not "its". You and I are on the same wavelength, User.
M -You are so nitpicky! Nothing is ever good enough for you!
R - Thanks for telling me that I am nitpicky.Really nothing?
M -I'm serious. We are over.
R - Why?: User said User serious.Do you think I am over too?
M -Don't call me. And i want my CDs back.
R - I have no reason to do that to you.Why do you want my CDs back?
M -They are my CDs!
R - my CDs are my CDs .
M -ARGRGRHRHHRHHH!
R - My brain uses AIML to format responses to your inputs, but I don't have one for that.
By the way, do you mind if I ask you a personal question?
M -Fuck you.
R - Why are you so mean?
M -You always want the last word!
R - Thanks for telling me: User said I always want the last word.
M -See?!?!??!
R - No I do not see.

Home and Fusilli

2008-02-21T09:33:00.002-05:00

Thanks to my father, up until I was certainly old enough to know better, I knew fusilli pasta not by its proper name, but as springilinni. I suppose that my reasons for not questioning this name has to do with both my non-existent knowledge of the Italian language, as well as the fact that it makes perfect sense. I suppose, actually, one of the few of my father's quirks that actually makes a degree of sense.

I have now, depending on who you ask, 2-4 months left in Korea. While mentally it makes more sense to get out asap, financially I should probably slog it out for a couple extra months to pad my bank account, rather than being drunk and unemployed in Canada for the summer. Although I've been here for over three years now, I still somewhat balk at calling it my home, although for the last while it clearly has been. Every time it seems temporary, disposable, which, in a way, it is. The problem being that, since the summer of 2003, I have spent about 5 months in Canada, my home country. The result of this is that when I am exposed to an abundance of "the west" it seems rather foreign. Not only foreign, occasionally excessive to the point of being grotesque. I know I do fine for short visits, but I'm quite sure that my cultural sensibilities have changed and seeing myself settling down in Canada long term seems slightly off-putting.

I do recognize in myself a pattern of behavior that comes the end of every year in Korea: an increased apathy for my work, disinclination to socialize and an increased tendency to walk hard into everyone who happens to get into my way on the street or in the subway because the fucker isn't looking where he is going. This, coupled with a desire to take off to somewhere warm and, as detailed above, being apprehensive to return home. I guess what I conclude from this is that, besides that I'm a grumpy bastard, it that this time away has had an effect on my identity. My passport still says that I'm Canadian, but obviously I've changed, and I don't see how anyone who experiences life outside of their own country can expect to return to exactly the same point that they left off (hell, when I left off, I still had hair). Perhaps another year in limbo as a student will do me some good....

I made a pretty good springilinni bolognese for dinner. Maybe I should go to Italy.

Book Report: Pol Pot

2008-02-20T06:43:00.005-05:00

Yesterday I finished Philip Short's Pol Pot, a biography of the man and of the Khmer Rouge movement. I have a slight problem with histories, mostly because I tend to gloss over names and it takes a while before I am able to distinguish between what Ieng Sary and In Sopheap are up to.

I've been on a bit of a dictator kick, and have been interested in Communism for a while. Having slogged through Mao recently, and planning a trip to Cambodia, Pol Pot seemed like a logical choice. What struck me most about the rise and fall of Khmer Rouge was, once gaining a glorious victory over a rather despotic King, their complete and monstrous incompetence in ruling the country. No money! Collective meal times! Inability to centralize government! Parts, like a ban on foraging for food, despite famine, and disallowing the phrase "thank you", along with the ceaseless starvation and terrorizing of the Cambodians struck me as something that might happen if you place a 12 year old with a chip on his shoulder in power and had the Chinese arm him to the teeth.

I won't ruin the details for you, but basically Pol had everyone in power killed (along with a bunch of Vietnamese, random foreign journalists and a bunch of other random Cambodians) and provoked the Vietnamese into invading, ending his rule after about 3 years. When he died he was cremated on a pile of garbage and tires. I guess not all of our Communist leaders can get the Mao-Lenin-Ho Chi Min treatment...I wonder if they'll do the same for Castro.

Worth a read, if you're into that kind of thing: 8/10? 4 stars? 3 and a half forks?

...I can't wait to get to Cambodia and shoot a cow with an AK-47.

EDIT: Just watched The Killing Fields. Heavy.

Lights, Camera....very little Action

2008-02-17T07:01:00.004-05:00

I was an extra in a movie this week. I "played" an American GI in 1970s Korea. My task was to pick up a Korean bar girl while walking up a hill, and then wave good bye to her as I walked down the hill. Other GIs got to take their girls home. Story of my life.

One thing that I learned, was that saying you are going to be in a movie is well cooler than actually being in the movie. At least when said movie is being filmed outside at night in the winter with only 3 tiny little fires to keep 30+ cast members warm. I felt like I was homeless. For about 5 hours of standing around, I think they took about 5 minutes of film. So bloody glamorous.

In the end I met some people I wouldn't have otherwise met (mostly Nigerian dudes) and made 200 bucks. I'd do it again....if it was warm and/or inside.

On a completely unrelated note, I've been messing around with Photoshop. Here's a picture. Paris is so gay.

A picture I took

2008-02-15T03:46:00.004-05:00

I went to Vietnam in August 2006.
It's pretty damned wonderful.

Sarah made me do it.

2008-02-15T03:29:00.001-05:00

I think I'll give this another go.
I still can't promise that it will be meaningful, or even properly punctuated.

For Sale II

2006-01-30T19:58:00.000-05:00

The collection of baseball cards that my mom threw away. If you find them, send cash.

I've got a neon buzz.

Shout out: Billy Ripken. For obvious fucking reasons.

Bukowski sent me

2006-01-26T17:52:00.000-05:00

This blog sucks. My feet are cold.

My inner "piece" is a 9mm

2006-01-04T22:50:00.000-05:00

The hustle to fill our stomachs. To get home and fill white paper with verse, prose, images, to see the grandkids. Our needs for survival dominate our ability to pursue love. The daily electronic distractions that unteach our passions and cause us to forget what our talents are.

money plastic eat sleep fuck die

Nicotine Dreams

2005-12-12T19:50:00.000-05:00

Death by numbers
spilled coffee on tabloid pages
poison dart anagrams in sunday crossword
wrong choice
play again?
A DROP ITS NOT

snow

2005-12-03T12:35:00.000-05:00

as i type snow is falling in south korea. for me the first time in 2 years. xpat. can you cope?

I didn't write this but wish that I had

2005-11-30T21:33:00.000-05:00

Elimination Dance

by Michael Ondaatje

"Nothing I'd read had prepared me for a body this unfair"
JOHN NEWLOVE

"Till we are roten, kan we not be rypen"
GEOFFREY CHAUCER

Those who are allergic to the sea

Those who have resisted depravity

Men who shave off beards in stages, pausing to take photographs

American rock stars who wear Toronto Maple Leaf hockey sweaters

Those who (while visiting a foreign country) have lost the end of a Q tip in their ear and have been unable to explain their problem

Gentlemen who have placed a microphone beside a naked woman's stomach after lunch and later, after slowing down the sound considerably, have sold these noises on the open market as whale songs

All actors and poets who spit into the first row while they perform

Men who fear to use an electric lawn-mower feeling they could drowse off and be dragged by it into a swimming pool

Any dinner guest who has consumed the host's missing contact lens along with the dessert

Any person who has had the following dream. You are in a subway station of a major city. At the far end you see a coffee machine. You put in two coins. The Holy Grail drops down. Then blood pours into the chalice

Any person who has lost a urine sample in the mail

All those belle-lettrists who feel that should have been 'an urine sample'

Anyone who has had to step into an elevator with all of the Irish Rovers

Those who have filled in a bilingual and confidential pig survey from Statistics Canada. (Une enquete sur les porcs, strictement confidentielle)

Those who have written to the age old brotherhood of Rosicrucians for a free copy of their book The Mastery of Life in order to release the inner conciousness and to experience (in the privacy of the home) momentary flights of the soul

Those who have accidentally stapled themselves

Anyone who has been penetrated by a mountie

Any university professor who has danced with a life-sized cardboard cut-out of Jean Genet

Those who have unintentionally locked themselves within a sleeping bag at a camping goods store

Any woman whose i.u.d. has set off an alarm system at the airport

Those who, after a swim, find the sensation of water dribbling out of their ears erotic

Men who have never touched a whippet

Women who gave up the accordion because of pinched breasts

Those who have pissed out of the back of moving trucks

Those who have woken to find the wet footprints of a peacock across their kitchen floor

Anyone whose knees have been ruined as a result of performing sexual acts in elevators

Those who have so much as contemplated the possibility of creeping up to one's enemy with two Bic lighters, pressing simultaneously the butane switches - one into each nostril - and so gassing him to death

Literary critics who have swum the Hellespont

Anyone who has been hired as a 'professional beater' and frightened grouse in the direction of the Queen Mother

Any lover who has gone into a flower shop on Valentine's day and asked for clitoris when he meant clematis

Those who have come across their own telephone numbers underneath terse insults or compliments in the washroom of the Bay Street Bus Terminal

Those who have used the following techniques of seduction:
-small talk at a falconry convention
-entering a spa town disguised as Ford Madox Ford
-making erotic rotations of the pelvis, backstage, during the storm scene of King Lear
-underlining suggestive phrases in the prefaces of Joseph Conrad

Anyone who has testified as a character witness for a dog in a court of law

Any writer who has been photographed for the jacket of a book in one of the following poses: sitting in the back of a 1956 Dodge with two roosters; in a tuxedo with the Sydney Opera House in the distance; study ing the vanishing point on a jar of Dutch Cleanser; against a gravestone with dramatic back lighting; with a false nose on; in the vicinity of Macchu Pichu; or sitting in a study and looking intensely at one's own book

The person who borrowed my Martin Beck thriller, read it in a sauna which melted the glue off the spine so the pages drifted to the floor, stapled them together and returned the book, thinking I wouldn't notice

Any person who has burst into tears at the Liquor Control Board

Anyone with pain

*********

When are you eliminated?

A Spot.

2005-11-28T21:50:00.000-05:00

Deep as shadows
oceanic silence of night
broken only by the creaking of floor boards
and the tick tick of branches against the window.
A steamy night
pungent sweet of hay bales on my hands
a spot
pine tar
sticky.
White birches sway
and glow like paraffin in the midnight wind and full moon shine.
A catch 22; I want the best of both,
of tight-lipped sobriety
of a Vanguard-loud drunk,
monastic silence and a captive audience,
branches tick at the window.
This I fear:
Small hands wanting my attention
and giving in, they reveal nothing.
Much more than travelling without direction,
I will manage without a compass
but without a printed map I am far from Ithica
My host of angels
Web of unforgiving guidance,
suffer me this much…

***

I forget when I wrote this.

Hhhrrrrraaacccchhhh

2005-11-20T20:08:00.000-05:00

I am in a country where is it frowned upon to blow your nose in public, yet perfectly acceptable to spit into an ashtray while socializing with mixed company.

Fear

2005-11-13T05:30:00.000-05:00

Too many people are scared of too many things. Irrational fears. Not like fears of spiders or falling chainsaws, but fears of being real. Of taking risks. People don't understand that if they actually begin to do or experience something, they will survive. Get out of your fucking box.

A perfect day

2005-10-30T01:41:00.000-05:00

Today is the perfect kind of do-nothing, lazy day to update a good-for-nothing blog. But I can't be asked. I think I'll go break someones heart instead.

Birds, Bees, Flowers, Trees.

2005-10-04T20:14:00.003-04:00

Man, I took the bus the other day. I've heard people talk about the bus before, but I'd never had the nerve to try it. I thought I was preparded for it, but the reality just blew my mind. Unreal. I'll be reeling from this one for weeks. (If this was boring for you, try substituting "the bus" with "cocaine", "oral sex" or "Smarties").

There was a time when I believed in the power of the almighty Kyrgyzstani Som, but I have learned that money not only can't buy love, but it can't really buy me bread, milk or eggs either.

In closing, I would like to reflect upon the night vision setting used in the Paris Hilton video. Couldn't you have just turned on the lights? Wouldn't that be better for everyone? She should really think about others next time she makes amateur porn. Some music wouldn't hurt either.

Shout out: Paris Hilton. Duh.

Internet Bravado

2005-09-19T02:40:00.000-04:00

I love how people use the internet to act all tough and arrogant with their opinions. Sitting at a keyboard really affords people to say things that they could never get away with saying in public. I may be somewhat guilty of this myself, but I am doing my best not to particularity offend anyone. People take things too seriously sometimes.

In any event, I had my first nude photo shoot and made an erotic video yesterday. I screwed a kiwi with a hammer.

Shit, Piss, Fuck, Cunt, Cocksucker, Motherfucker, Tits.

Language Lessons

2005-09-03T05:00:00.000-04:00

It is interesting that some of the first words people learn when exposed to a new language are the swears. Swears are bad when you don't know how to fucking use them. It is interesting because the point of a new language is to communicate easily with others, not to fucking piss people off. Although when I meet someone who doesn't speak the same language as me, my first impulse is usually to call him a donkey fucker and his mother a slut. But I don't let my impulses rule my disposition, so I'm a polite asshole. Then again, maybe not.

Thank you for allowing me to waste your time with my fabricated drivel once again.

Shout out: The donkey fucker who made my lunch today.

This one's for you, Charlie

2005-08-16T08:45:00.000-04:00

I don't think I write enough about how much I love kittens. They just brighten my day so much. I have a kitten poster, or a toy kitten, or pickled kitten in every room of my house. They're just so fluffy and playful and innocent. I can't have a real kitten, because that gerbil incident with my landlord resulted in a "No Pets" policy for the entire building, but the pretend kittens I have are good enough for me. One good thing about not having a real kitten is that I get ringworm much less than I did.

Man, do I hate ring worm.

Vikings

2005-07-05T10:03:00.001-04:00

Yesterday was the 4th of July. And tomorrow is the 6th of July.

What the fuck is up with the people looking for goddamn Big Foot and the Loch Ness monster? I try not to be excessively negative about things, but really, come on now. If they were going to find something, they would have found it by now. The only clues that they have are blurry photos that could be pictures of sticks or seaweed or hairy Canadians. Eye-witness accounts are usually from people that the locals refer to as "Crazy fucking Jake" or "Ol'Cross-eyed Herman". (These eye-witnesses usually have big beards, which could explain the attraction to Big Foot). Please. The "scientists" tracking these things usually have dreadlocks and "got a good crop goin' behind dad's tool shed." Invest your time into something that people aren't going to laugh at. I hope Sarah Michelle Geller reads this.

I'm sorry that this post has nothing to do with Vikings. If you want, you can make something up all on your own.

Another random shout out: O.J. Simpson. What a great running back.

Death Incarnate

2005-06-18T05:32:00.000-04:00

I killed a man with a pushpin. He bled from the elbow and from the thumb. I revelled in my glory.

Sometimes the effort to shower is greater than the desire to do things. I am hoping to someday stumble upon the quote that will find its way into anthologies and undergraduate papers, ensuring me immortality and some unoriginal English Lit. wanker a B+.

There is a (and I bet there is more than one) divorce lawyer with a blog. Real fucking classy. The point of a blog is to subject people to the misery of one's own life, not the shit that other people have to go through. It also seems that porn merchants have started to blog. I wonder if the two are related...

I'm blogging about blogging...fucking shoot me...but read everything I've written first, so you understand why you are doing it.

2005-05-26T11:45:00.000-04:00

Tree house for rent: 12 dollars a night. Includes bugs and rain. Who wants pickled cabbage?

I've got a fucking cold. I never get really sick, just sort of a nagging itchy buggy thing in my throat that makes it difficult to yell at children. This makes me think that I'm going to get mine one of these days, like the chicken pox again, or fucking leprosy. The big guy up stairs has a way of balancing things out.

Speaking of God, isn't it amazing that that big mountain in one of the Dakotas turned out to have the exact likenesses of those presidents on them? And its a natural rock formation!?! Amazing. America must truely be God's country.

In the immortal words of LL Cool J: "Ain't nothin like a nice bowl of cornflakes in the morning to smooth you out".

Power struggles

2005-05-14T05:11:00.000-04:00

When I have the choice of any urinal, I always choose the middle one. I gain power by dictating where others will stand. Choosing the middle of 5 urinals reduces the next man's number of choices to 2 (because who's willingly going to stand next to another pissing man?). I exploit the emptiness of the men's room, the first to stake a claim...all future urinaters must submit to my power.

When given limited options I stand where I am supposed to.

"If a dog is small enough to punt like a football, does it still count as a dog?"

2005-05-04T08:58:00.001-04:00

The immortal words of some guy I met one time.

The spell checker on this thing keeps on suggesting that I replace "fuck" with Fuji. Well, go Fuji yourself, motherblogger.

Haikus for yous

2005-04-26T22:01:00.000-04:00

Four cabbage rolls and
A bottle of Tequila:
contents of vomit.

***

In dad's dresser drawer,
An old copy of Hustler;
Lock the bathroom door.

***

I wake to the hymn
of sweet song birds, and the sound
of stray dogs, fucking.

***

I recently found out what happens to the glass that we take to recycling in my area (I live in the country, fuck off). They smash it up real good and then...wait for it, this is good....they fucking dump it on the landfill site. Why don't I just put my empty bottles into the trash, because that's where it ends up anyway? Fuck the environment, I'll save me some TIME. How about putting shitty diapers back on your baby? That seems like a good method of recycling. I think I'll start throwing old paint cans and chemicals into bodies of water...cut out the middle man, eh? Recycling...the biggest fraud since the moon landing.

Neil Armstrong can park anywhere he wants ("I'm Neil Armstrong, bitch!").

Random shout out: John Madden. You big fat white guy!

K-Tel Records Presents...

2005-04-25T14:26:00.000-04:00

I'm reading a book about a man who turns into a woman overnight. They can do the same thing in Thailand for a couple hundred bucks. I think it would be worth the money to have the option. Tiresias must be really bored of this subject.

I got this from pressing "next blog" at the top right-hand corner of my blog:
"earlier this week i was at Macy's trying on fun springy skirts and nothing seemed to fit right. mostly the skirts i am used to fitting into were a teeny bit too big which is fine since i have somehow lost a pant size in the past month or so. but i couldn't make the next size down work right. it fit, but was not as flouncy as the bigger size. but the flouncier bigger size neccesitated a belt which is a no go with a fun springy skirt."

I've never seen the word "flouncy" used this much...or maybe ever. Apparently the person who wrote this is a pink shoe. I'm not fucking around. I seem to associate the word "flouncy"with Peter Cottontail. You know, the rabbit.

I wonder if there is an operation you can get in Thailand that can turn you into a pink shoe.

16 pounds of expired whey protein!

2005-04-21T18:34:00.000-04:00

I'm going to invent a razor with a clock in it. Save time while you shave. Shave seconds off your morning. Awesome.

So UPS sucks ass. Apparently the send the paperwork before the package, so when tracking the package at ups.ca it seems like its coming, but its all a lie. Then they cancel the fucking plane with the package on it. Then they give a bunch of fucking attitude on the phone. Its those brown shirts I tell you. Know who else wore brown shirts? The fucking San Diego Padres, that's who. I wouldn't trust Tony Gwynn as far as I could UPS him. Or maybe as far as I could FedEx him, because UPS doesn't seem to get shit very far.

Dust in the wind

2005-04-20T15:10:00.000-04:00

I press my face against a screen door. Mini-waffle face is my new name. Syrup me (not like that, you pervert). But not that Aunt Jemima's shit. How anyone can eat that is beyond me.

Anyway. I'm brain-farting today, so I'll just recycle something that I wrote a while ago in some dirty Asian country.

Bugs in my beer
Why don't they learn?
Floating, drowned drunk,
I drink around them; they cling to the side of the glass as I sip.
Stupid little fuckers.

To the future proprietor of Bitches Bitches Bitches. Make it happen.

Help control the pet population, have your pets spayed or neutered.

2005-04-18T11:49:00.000-04:00

Apparently we need a new Pope. I have done some brief thinking on the matter and have come to the conclusion that Oprah should be the new pope. Poprah. If she can single-handedly cripple the beef industry in Texas, just think what she could do for the Church? It would be amazing. She would look great in one of those big pointy hats, and she's already got the benevolence thing down pat. Ratings would triple. Dr. Phil could be the Archbishop of Canterbury, that is, if he wasn't such as fucking prick. Of course, Vatican City might have to pack up and move to Chicago, so that Poprah could best attend to her talk show and to the Papacy, but I view this as a positive. Vatican City has had its time in the sun, give the new pope to the new world. Long live Poprah!

Today is Melissa Joan Hart's birthday. Melissa is best known as Sabrina the Teenage Witch, or as Clarissa from "Clarissa Explains it All." Happy birthday, Melissa!

(I hope she Googles her name today and reads this.)

Booger

2005-04-16T01:08:00.001-04:00

In response to the challenge, "is Batman a superhero, or just a plain old hero?"

Batman is a hero greater than other heroes, primarily because he is mortal. He is not blessed with super-strength or super-speed or even kung-fu action grip. He relies on his body, his wits, a shit-hot car and a butler. The common hero, like a fireman, or a hippy-puncher, is exactly that, a common hero; an ordinary man, save for a brief flash of greatness. Batman is also a common man, but an extraordinary hero. His heroics do not end with one outstanding deed. Batman is out on the streets of Gotham every night, his ass on the line, crazy as a fucking loon because a mugger killed his parents, wearing a bondage mask, busting the Joker, shagging Catwoman...being a hero. A SUPERHERO.

Put that in your carry-on luggage and say its a toothbrush, sucker.

Sometimes birds will shit on your car...

2005-04-13T19:58:00.000-04:00

...and there's not much you can do about it.

There's a lion and a tiger sitting in a bathtub. The lion says to the tiger, "pass the soap." The tiger then says, "no soap radio!"

Today I walked into a door and broke my nose. I had a chai latte at Starbucks. I remember that the girl working at Starbucks was really slow and the line was long and I thought about leaving but then I thought that by the time I go somewhere else and get a chai latte I would have already got the one that I wanted to get at Starbucks so I stayed where I was, shifting my feet and sighing like an impatient person, even though I was fully prepared to wait. I don't even like chai lattes.

I drove past a farm in my birdshit car today a saw a barn all covered with signs that said "Christmas Trees For Sale!" Fuck off.

The nose that broke my door. The door that broke my nose. Yes!

Postcard from India

2005-04-12T21:44:00.003-04:00

I imagine myself at the funeral of a stranger; Henrietta Isabella Kitson, aged 26 years. It is October 11, 1866. I know this because I am literate, because her name is etched in stone. At this funeral I speak to no one. I watch her husband who does not weep, though he will return home without her.

I wonder how long it has been since someone spoke her name. Rain falls on the foothills of the Himalayas.

For Sale

2005-04-12T11:17:00.000-04:00

Running Shoes. Old Nikes. Slightly ugly. Moderately aromatic. Not worn by anyone famous or even remotely important. Contains approx. 2 years of sock residue. $4000. Also inquire about mostly empty cup of coffee.

Post #1

2005-04-12T10:09:00.000-04:00

I am now of the blogging nation. My foray into self-indulgent cyberpuke. Listen! I am typing!

This will be the first of many or few typings. Read them, or don't.