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More and more I find that I am becoming dependent on music to lend me sanity.
I wish I was back in Ottawa. It's only been a week, but I'm already starting to wish I wasn't home.
Too many evil memories.
On the bright side, the food in T.O. is waaaaay better than the food in Ottawa. Mmmm... food.
So The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy hits the theatres today... I'm hoping that it actually turns out well.
As far as life goes, I've got a lot on my mind that I don't really have time to talk about, nor do I really want to. Suffice to say that I'm still worried about school, despite having been home for some time.
So I'm making another post about food. Enjoy.
Slow-cooked Steaks on a Grill
I've been complimented many a time on my steaks. Sure, there've been mishaps... (lesson learned, don't grill at night, you really can't see anything... of course, being me, I refuse to admit to those steaks being undercooked. They were just... very rare) but most of the time, I'm called upon whenever we have guests to do the grilling.
So here's my guide to grilling steaks. A note on this, I *hate* marinating. Despise it, throughly. I like my beef the way it is. So if you're the type who likes to have their meat all these funny flavors (sure, I add stuff afterwards...) then don't keep reading this.
Before you even switch on that grill... choose your meat carefully. Whatever cut you like (I'll presume you've some knowledge of meat...) but make sure it's well marbled. This is possibly the most important bit. I prefer a thickness of about an inch (I like thick steaks), but that in itself is your call.
Hit the grill. Heat it up till you've got a really, really decent fire. I assume you know how to use your own grill... I myself use a propane grill. If you're using charcoal, I also assume you've a system in place, (raising/lowering, slats, etc...) because if you don't, then you want a medium-high heat (I'm sure you can judge, you fancy charcoal griller you) all around, rather than the directions I am giving now. However... good on ya' for having a charcoal grill... I would love one right now.
When the grill's nice and hot, (high, high heat) put your steak on the grill, and leave it on high heat, flipping the steak after 15-20 seconds. The point here is to quickly seal in all the juices, so that you may slow-cook to your liking without losing all the juices. If, despite my warning against marination, you're STILL the type to dress up your meat before-hand, don't use salt, you'll lose tenderness. Simple olive oil (extra virgin) and fresh-cracked black pepper will do... maybe some spices too. It's your steak, after all.
Soon as you've flipped the steak, turn down the heat after 5-10 seconds. For a steak upwards of an inch thick, you'll want it slightly under a medium heat. For a thin steak, low, low heat. And for a thin steak, the previous instructions on sealing the juices should be slimmed to 5-10 seconds each side, or you'll overcook.
Flip once whenever your gut tells you to, or at the 5-minute mark.
To determine how done a steak is, poke it. If it feels like your bicep (unflexed) it's rare. If it feels like a tensed muscle, then it's well-done. I personally like my steaks medium-rare (and you should too, 'less you're a bloody atrocious barbarian), so I know how it should feel. However, the gauge I've also learned to use on occasion is to put your middle-finger and thumb together and poke at the fleshy bit in your palm right below your thumb (if you're using your left hand, palm up, it's left of your life-line). That's medium. Putting your thumb to your ring finger is medium-well, and your pinky is well done. Works the same the other way, medium rare with the index finger, and it's rare when your hand's fully relaxed.
Eating a well-done steak is like eating soft jerky. Eww.
Here's a thing about slow-cooked steaks now: They are not your average steak. So when you take them off, I would recommend serving them within two minutes. On steaks cooked at medium-high heat, you want to let them settle for a few minutes. Though you lose some heat that way, they gain a *lot* more flavour... but that's not what this post is about. We're talking slow-cooked steaks here.
Season THEN with whatever you like. Except salt. Salt and steak are mortal enemies. Sauces, if that's your thing... (I hate barbeque sauce) but for me, it's simple black pepper, and English Mustard on the side. Serve with whatever floats your boat. Potatoes are wonderful with steak.
Last direction: Eat.
Here's a recipe for my favourite night-time snack... recipe by me, indulged by me, guaranteed delicious... by me.
Blue Cheese English Egg Muffin West Coast Style
What you need:
A pan, large enough for two sides of an English muffin
A stove surface
Spatula
Oil (canola or olive)
A bit of water
An english muffin
1 or 2 eggs
A tomato (toe-MAH-toe, dammit)
Blue cheese (any kind, but let's not go too costly on this, a simple Danish is fine)
Optional:
Salt, black pepper (fresh ground)
2 slices of cold-cut roast beef
Set heat to high until pan is hot... put some oil in the pan... not too much, just a little so nothing sticks. Seperate your muffin in two, put two seperate drops of water (do not be too liberal here) onto the oil (be careful of jumping hot oil) and place your muffins (insides down) over top of them (this will steam the insides of the muffin, leaving you with a crispy outside and a soft inside.
Turn it back down to medium. While the muffins are toasting, slice your tomato in two, cut the two inside slices out and place them on the sides of the pan, then place the two demi-halves that are left also on the pan (as a side) or eat them raw. Your aim is to sizzle them a bit (a bit blackened if you like a bit of carbon in your diet, as I do), but not too much.
Remember to check your muffins, and flip if golden brown. If you have flipped them, slice a bit of blue cheese (to your own taste, of course, and many other cheeses will do) and place on top of one side of the muffin to melt slightly (it will have the consistency of butter). If you have no room for eggs and are impatient, splash a teaspoonful of water onto a corner of the pan and cover with lid, so that the steam can melt the cheese faster. (This is not very recommended, be aware that it will dull the taste of the cheese)
Remove muffins when the cheese is half melted, and remove the tomatoes when done to your liking. Place muffins on paper towel (outsides down) to absorb a bit of the oil, so your hands don't get all messy.
Whenever you have room for the eggs on the pan (or if you want to use more than one pan) make eggs 'over-easy' or 'scrambled'. (I prefer over easy) As this is a sandwich, I recommend cooking the yolk until solid, though I normally like my yolk a bit runny.
When everything is done, stack into sandwich and enjoy. If you have the cold cut roast beef, sizzle for no more than 20 seconds, and place under eggs. Stacking order should be as follows, from bottom to top:
1) Plain side of muffin
2) Optional roast beef
3) Eggs
4) Tomatoes
5) Blue cheese side of muffin.
Serve with the sides of the tomato, if you still have them, and/or hashbrowns... (breakfasty things)
Enjoy. If you like to salt your eggs, be aware that cheese has a sodium content of its own, and salting is only necessary if you do not use any cheese (defeating the purpose of a blue cheese muffin).
Why do I call it a West Coast Style muffin? Only West-Coasters are silly enough to put blue cheese or guacamole on everything, that's why. =D
Cheers, good eats to y'all.
Finally watched Scarface all the way through. The legend of Tony Montana...
I remember that house quite vividly. Probably because I used to own it. (Mind the GTA: Vice City reference) Twas' a good movie, Scarface... not exactly ranking up on emotion or drama, but it's something to kick back and enjoy.
I do tend to enjoy gangster flicks every so often.
This lack of sleep, however, isn't good. I think I will go to sleep now.
An update on the upcoming comic: The panels for the pilot strip are almost done... they will probably be the most detailed of the bunch. (Each done on full-sized sheets) I don't expect to be doing that for any of the other strips, but I really wanted to do some full-sized frames for the first one to set everything up the way I wanted and to get used to drawing in ink again...
Going to go to bed and fall in love with Sarah Slean now.
That movie really, really fucked with my head. I am so glad I was not high while watching it, as I had originally planned to do a long whiles back...
What is it with movies and trying to give hope? What is it? It makes me despair. I feel like all sorts of shit right now because now I want to remember feelings I have tried to forget.
It's fucking with my head... slop that on top of the fact that I've been trying to talk to someone whom I've simultaneously been trying to forget (someone that's proving quite hard to track down)... I am utterly and completely... GOD.
I need another beer. I need another beer very, very badly.
Drinking time.
Later: Nick Drake is singing me back to sanity. Combined with beer, chips, and soon a shower, I think I might just be alright.
The telly is the root of all evil and sloth ever. Nonetheless, I will not rest tonight until I have watched Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind... since The Whole Ten Yards sucked monkey nuts.
Ugh... the first one was just decent, fun comedy.
This one was ridiculously shite.
Time to go back to the telly again to watch my movie. It's good to be home... my dad's record collection is continuing to astound me.
The Final Cut on vinyl was almost as profound as the theophany to Arjuna. Mmmmm....
Been thinking a lot about kids... and watching Jersey Girl didn't help any. Though it did amaze me, as with Chasing Amy, to find Affleck actually acting well.
Affleck doing good comedic drama? Whaaaaa?
But yeah. I've been thinking about kids. It happens every so often when I think about life down the way.
Sure, I'm not a big fan of kids. They get loud, annoying, on my nerves... at least, most of them. And sure, I've still got a lot of life to live, and I'll be damned if I have kids in the near future.
Doesn't mean I don't want one of my own somewhere down the road.
Guess I'm just doing my part in the prolonging of the human race.
It's funny how things change on me. Not three years ago, I wanted to die beofre I was twenty. It was almost a third of my life away. I'm approaching that now... another year and a half and I'll be there.
Now I'm just another guy, living another life, indulging in another set of ugly vices, waiting for some sort of enlightenment, thinking about having kids someday.
As if I'm even ready to settle down yet. I haven't had a relationship that's lasted more than seven months. It's sad too, I don't know if I could now see myself together with her again, much as I do love her, much less have kids.
I don't know why this urge is kicking in now. it's not like I've seen all that much. I can count the people I've slept with almost on one hand. People I've dated for more than a week (I don't count short flings...) on all my digits (yes, toes too). I really haven't found anyone that I'd see that with... and I've still got a lot of life to live.
God, I'm pathetic.
I'd have to put my debaucherous lifestyle in check, that's for sure.
*sigh* I don't know what it is that's bringing this up... but it's starting to really bug me. I guess it's a natural instinct...
I just wish I didn't have to think about it. Still got a long life to live.
Gotta call _____ sometime and make things up to her. At least that's one thing on my mind that I know how to settle... kinda. As long as it turns out without either one of us flipping out all too much.
P.S. And I changed my mind about the Christian Bale entry. Kevin Smith is way cooler than Kurt Wimmer anyway... despite Equilibrium being a sweet movie.
One year of University down. Three more to go.
How do I feel now?
For starters, I could've actually put more effort this year. Hopefully, I learn that next year. Likely not, but it's nice to hope.
I met some awesome people. Let's say... I'll miss them this summer. A bit over four months until I see them again, and during those four months, I'm hoping to just chill, get some money, and get this site done.
First year was a year of party. I won't forget it.
So the year's over. I'm waiting on my grades, not that I really want them. I'll be happy if I pass every course... So far, everything seems like it should work out in the end.
I wish I could say the same for my emotional life.
Nick Drake overdosed on anti-depressants, you know? That really has no relation to my emotional life at all, just something I'm fond of thinking on... artists that have inspired me and put my soul at peace.
Been reading through STRIPTEASE... it's a really good comic, and it has been ripping at my heartstrings all week.
If you've read it, why should be obvious. It resembles my life far too much, except with out the moral high-ground and the owning a comic deal. Though I've been a comic artist before... and I'm working on starting one up back again. What's funny is they have this fencing duo... and fencing was going to take a back-seat somewhere in my comic. (Being a fencer myself) Hopefully no one takes that as me stealing ideas, cause that would be quite horrific.
I should plug my old partner's comic again... Video Game Heroes. He's not the best artist (I was the artistic genius behind Minimen) but he's funny as hell (when he's lucky).
That counts for something. I think. I plugged him, so judge whether you'll click on the link on whether you agree with my tastes.
I don't exactly know how I feel about being back. It's good to get away from the stress and all of school, good to not be celibate anymore... and it's nice to have a real bed again...
But there are things I will have to do too, which may prove just as stressful.
Or satisfying.
I'm hoping that talking to _____ again will settle things. I was an idiot back then (still am now, heh. It's not smart, though, to get oneself trashed every night, no matter what happens with someone.
It leads to stupidity.
Or it's a sign of stupidity, more likely. I'm kinda dumb, you know?
All guys are just a little on the dumb side.
Or a lot on the dumb side. Take your pick.
Went to see an apartment before I left... even nicer (and still close to) the one I was looking at before. And cheaper. Cheaper is good.
I've got some thoughts on Christian Bale, American Psycho, and Equilibrium (low-budget, yet awesome films) that I'll share later. It's great to watch movies that aren't art-house (though I still love em') and yet low-budget (read: several mill, rather than hundreds of millions), and still find them to make good break material. Either I'll share those thoughts, sketches for the comic that's been brewing in my head, or thoughts on Jack Layton's offer to the Liberal party.
We'll see how I feel about this tomorrow.
The assignment was to construct a ritual for first year graduation. I was tired (it was early morning) and going nuts. So here it is.
I'm going to get some sleep and get back to work soon.
____
The construction of a ritual is present far more often in everyday life than is normally realized. A rave, for example, must have a fully constructed ritual to be fully successful. Too much too soon, and the dancers/participants get anxious about the barrage coming at them, and feel awkward, incapable of joining into the fun. Even if they force themselves to accept their new surroundings and give it a go, their anxiousness causes out them to burn out and leave, killing a rave in a short amount of time. Too little, however, such as playing solely chill-out tracks at a fully bouncing illegal desert rave (as is found all over California and Nevada), or pushing out the psychotropes to the crowd in an inefficient manner, not keeping up with the demand, will simply bore the ravers, causing them to also simply pack up and leave. Of course, like any other ritual, the rave ritual compensates slightly for this through experienced participants themselves, whom all have put it upon themselves to ensure that relatively new ravers get to experiences the scene and enjoy it as much as they do.
So it begs the question, how does one properly celebrate and ritualize the success embodied in the graduation of first year? No doubt most programs already have rituals in place, but it is apparent that many of them do not last over the years, at least not nearly so prominently as the rituals of the first weeks of school, in which students are indoctrinated into their program. Each ritual has a beginning, a build up, a climax, and a conclusion. For instance, the first initial concept (the beginning) of Waterloo Engineering is the handing out of yellow hats, to show a sort of solidarity among the participants of the ritual. It’s a fierce symbol of pride, as it contrasts sharply to the Mathematics department’s Pink Ties, and the Science department’s lab coats. In addition, objects pertaining to their majors are turned into symbols. The Engineering students receive screwdrivers, the Math students get calculators, and the Science students receive lab coat dyes. This then is the initial success of Frosh week. By expressing solidarity (against the students of other programs), they unite the groups. Over the course of the week, they compete in various events (the build-up), harass each other, and generally make fools of themselves. However, since it is completely endorsed by the school and other students are quite willing to participate, no one feels out of place. The climax results in a large-scale competition, as is the case in most frosh-weeks in University, and the conclusion typically ends the festivities in all out drinkfests at local bars and residence rooms. Larger, more upscale (read: RICH) American Universities even engage in cross-nation competitions, such as Harvard and Yale’s prank rivalry, or the history of hacks between MIT and CalTech, many of which are simply impressive, and ultimately amusing. It is a sign of success when the willing participants of the rituals get so involved that violence becomes a concern when planning these pranks.
Carleton Humanities, on the other hand, has no natural enemies. It is neither a predator nor is it prey. Rituals therefore involve communion with those around them (similar, in a way, to the Peace at a mass, except with far more drinking and socializing). This tactic alone is not all too powerful. The solution to this initial phase is simple, like the plan for the Fremen which Thufir Hawat proposes to the Baron Harkonnen in Dune (though already carried out by Kynes and later, Paul Atreides), filling the students with a heavy mystique that they are simply superior to all other arts students. The groundwork for this is laid out in the entire selection process, and finalized in the introduction to the program. However, these are beginnings to a ritual at the start of the year, not the end. So we shift once again to the graduation rituals of Waterloo Engineering.
At Waterloo, on graduation, they are given an iron ring. This is actually universal among Engineering schools, but as we began with Waterloo, we may as well continue with them as an example. It’s basic popularity in North America speaks volumes of the entire importance of the ritual to Engineering graduates, and its complete success. Self-admittedly, though without any risk, as Engineering students are completely ignorant in the ways of ritual and will succumb to any level of brainwashing (quite voluntarily, mind you, they are issued a Engineering Handbook which outlines these rituals at the beginning of the year. Rituals are not necessarily negative in nature), the process is titled "The Ritual of the Calling of an Engineer". It is simply supposed to symbolize their completion of the program, again, a sort of mystic symbolism centralized around a distributable object. In fact, most Engineers could care less about the actual field of study, so long as they graduate successfully with the ring.
While the “Ritual of the Calling of an Engineer” is a fourth-year ritual, it provides a simple groundwork on which to build upon for a first-year ritual. Humanities itself provides the rest. Firstly, Humanities could care less about a puny piece of junk metal, after having studied the Tao, Confucius, Buddha, Job, and etc. for the past year. If anything, the only thing they really care about is a good pint of beer. Guinness… preferably. Something relating to it, a stein, a tall can, anything will do.
Now that we have a symbolic object with which to centre our ritual around, we must first launch into the questions in building a ritual… Structures, processes, and experiences. The structural question is answered in the centralization around a ‘power-object’. The experiences in Humanities, given the nature of the program, are meant to be profound. While a salvia trip after the beers may do the trick, most psychotropes available to Humanities students are not communal drugs, nor do many students engage in the use of psychotropic substances. So, the experience must lie within the power-object itself, must separate itself from the multitude of bar trips that Humanities students are bound to already have engaged in, AND create a positive and powerful reaction of some sort. The process, of course, is the most complex part. Considerations into what is included, and what the process has to be to evoke the desired experience, must be considered.
Firstly, the experience desired, as already mentioned, must be powerful, communal, and positive. Closer analysis indicates that most everything that could be thought up already has. There have been many a drunken rendition of classic East Coast drinking songs, 80s hits, and 60s classics. Aural stimulation has been proven to work, but to find something original (something that has not been done) will take quite a bit of work. Other sense stimuli are typically exhausted after a years’ worth of partying, therefore sense stimuli, while possible, may be difficult to do as the focus of the experience alone. Once again, we focus upon the pivotal centre of the ritual, which we have already established must be revolving around Guinness.
As most civilized human beings well know, there are certain rituals and strict codes already revolving around the beer itself. Several of them are:
1) Thou shalt not chug Guinness
2) Thou shalt not pour a great amount of head
3) Thou shalt tilt the glass during the pour
4) Thou shalt not drink Guinness from a beer bong
5) Thou shalt not drink Guinness from the can
While breaking these would certainly be powerful, one of the requirements for the experience was that it should be positive. Breaking the rules of Guinness would leave a bitter taste on anyone’s mouth. However, illegal acts are typically positive (especially if it becomes a school institution which the school only half-heartedly tries to stop). While drinking is not illegal, open alcohol in public areas is typically frowned upon (and illegal). Access to Dunton Tower’s roof is generally… also illegal. This provides incentive, and mystery. A midnight excursion to the roof of Dunton tower (those indoctrinating the first years into this mystery must be proficient with the use of lockpicks, unfortunately… however, this is not so difficult a skill to learn as movies would have one believe) to drink together, one entire first year class sitting on top of Dunton tower, borders on spirituality. What more can be added to this experience? One must play up on the superiority complex of the Humanities College. A light, similar to a Bat signal, with the mural on the Humanities floor lit up across the sky, would be more than sufficient. Or, conversely, the same mural could be draped down the side of the tower. So this experience, this climax, at least, is now sufficiently fleshed out.
Now we move unto the process. Now that we have our climactic focal point, how do we get there? Firstly, it has already been established that there must be a mystery as to what exactly is going on. Secondly, it must be fantastic. For example, Frisbee initiations at Cornell University involve naked guys running through the streets of Ithaca, New York, and generally doing random, crazy things. Typically, those involve defacing, or engaging in sexual congress, with College landmarks, and other things of any sort of wild imagination. The premise? To go out and get photos of crazy things your team is doing around campus.
As Humanities is not generally as peppy (nor as sexually charged, with certain exceptions) as one of the best Ultimate Frisbee teams in all of North America, and Ottawa is surprisingly a larger city than the college town of Ithaca, naked people running around streets are likely to be arrested. While it is tempting to keep the nakedness, only move the activities indoors (for example, running through residence naked… and oiled, so the security can’t catch the person… rather like releasing greased pigs without the animal cruelty), it is also necessary, in order to make the climax more fantastic, to keep most everyone relatively sober. (and also so no one falls off the tower in drunken idiocy) Because of this restraint, (however unfortunate) activities earlier in the day should begin immediately after the last exam, but begin first in a common meeting place, such as the lounge.
Goal oriented problems involving alcohol should be given. For example… not spending a dime on alcohol, while still obtaining it, without having to resort to your own stash nor asking politely. This may include generally harmless things such as stealing from others on the floor, accidentally leaving a bar to answer a cell phone, etc. The key is to leave the judgement to the participants themselves. The legal backup, of course, is to ensure that after avoiding pay, they are encouraged to go back and pay it, using some sort of excuse. Fully knowing, of course, that they certainly will not do such a thing. (why go back when you’ve gotten away scot-free?) Again, the central focus point is the beer, the focus point for the ritual itself)
Request, as with the Cornell Frisbee team, photo documentaries submitted by midnight, and each teams presence at that time at a certain location. Only then is the plan announced, though it is important to hint at it throughout the course of the day, as according to the chart for flow, it may obviously be far too much of a challenge than they are ready to accept without sufficient warning.
Then of course, the deed is done. Note here that there are several prevalent factors to the conclusion: After the lights are hit, or mural is unfurled, the first thing to be concerned about is escape. Adrenaline will play heavily. After having shared in a communal moment at the top of Dunton tower, and imbibing alcohol, everyone is likely far more friendly with one another. Seeing the symbol of pride displayed either on the side of the tower or in the sky is simply impressive, worthy even of MIT Hacks. While this may change each year (repetitive is good, but there must be variety in the climax, if only to avoid authorities or previous partakers spoiling it for the same persons next year) it will simply become a staple to display obvious superiority. The conclusion will come naturally of its own, whether to continue into more drinking, other substances, or just a chillout celebration party.
Here we have outlined a fun, powerful ritual to bring together a group of students. Note that in most cases I have completely disregarded the law, since most college rituals (hazing, for example… or sit ins, civil disobedience…) are generally frowned upon by the law, yet they happen anyway. As a disclaimer, no one is encouraged to actually follow the process outlined in this essay. If they do, they must take full responsibility.
But it would be worthy of respect and amazement.
Just finished my Anthro take-home. When I hand it in and come back, I will post it here.
Let's make this clear right off the bat: I didn't want Ratzinger to win. I heard from someone once that they thought they had a bad premonition about Arinze. Let's just say I had the same about Ratzinger.
Besides, she's a German and a conservative, so it's no surprise she would like Ratzinger.
For the rest of us though... it seems that he's the embodiment of evil. It's not like we weren't all thinking it. He looks like Palpatine.
I'll even forget that he was a member of the Hitler Youth, and as a conservative, regards homosexuality as a problem. I'll forget that. Like they say, he's-ah da frikkin' pope now, no longer the Cardinal, and damned sure he's not the little boy from Germany anymore. Growing up in Germany during the war gives him no other choice for the former, and for the latter... well... he's a Catholic conservative. Even JP2 regarded homosexuality as a problem. I'll even forget that he regards all other branches of Christianity as wayward heretics. Catholics do that. I had hoped the more liberal Arinze would've won, but it was a slim hope. A black pope? A black pope versus the Cardinal who headed up what used to be the office of the Inquisition...
Hmm... let's see.
Not even my Catholic friends like the new pope.
We'll see where things go. I'm not going to make any prejudgements, maybe he'll do the whole turnaround-rebirth thing and be a great pope, rather than crushing people with his Inquisitorial boot. For now, it's just fun to laugh at him. He'll strengthen the Catholic church with his hard-lining stance, that's for sure...
But that's like saying that he'll strengthen the dying Galactic Senate.
Even Wikipedia got in on the humour... though it's technically a open wiki site, so anything really could be done with Wikipedia. But it was funny, and quite subtle, nonetheless. My friend didn't notice it after I sent him the link until I told him where to look.
I'll post a screencap.
Click for larger image.
Heh. Cheers. He's a lucky bastard the council didn't wait an extra day, or his papacy would've began on Hitler's birthday.
(Later note: Let's face it. JP2 didn't win through with the younger audiences on issues so much as sheer force of personality. Ratzinger doesn't have it. People are already insulting him. Will it actually spur the revival the Catholics are hoping, or just make them a bunch of fringe outliners who people only believe in thanks to tradition?)
(Another addendum: As I suspected, Wikipedia has responded. There now reads a message: Attention: This article is in a state of constant fluctuation.
Due to the high frequency of edits at this time, the content of this article may change rapidly, and may currently contain inaccuracies, POV, and vandalism.)
So... 7:30. Not much work done yet. It's a simple essay, I just don't have the patience for simplicity. I like tackling large, overbearing problems. I need to fix that.
Anyway, I've developed a fascination with student protests in the States. Canadian protests rarely demonstrate the same level of brutality, waiting for the protest to disperse naturally, as it 'must'. Arrest are typically made with persons who are a precieved danger to those around them. They're still not pretty, but they're not crazy.
In the States, however... expect tear gas and physical force on non-violent students.
Not even the CHINESE broke to this point during Tiananmen until the very end. Of course, the very end wasn't pretty at all.
So it seems to me that the police of America seem to have a proactive stance against peaceful protests, training their police to use minimal force tactics that we've only gotten to perfect in the last decade or so (read: choke holds, tear gas, etc.)
... Quite interesting.
Of course, it's also scary as fuck for the people involved. Here comes a cop, choking the guy next to you as you hold on to the guy, and you have no idea what they're doing. Besides which, you obviously don't feel this is justified.
Which it isn't... but the police are there to protect the system, not the individuals in it. A protest is a breakdown of the system, they can't stand for that. Perhaps individually, but that's not their job. (On the counterpoint, so is murder, rape, etc... but those ethically wrong, unlike protests, which are typically ethically correct)
A bunch of non-violent protestors, if left to continue (and they do not disperse), simply forces two choices: police action, to break it up... and changing the system.
Since we know the latter rarely happens (you don't think the British grumbled about Gandhi?), the former is the only eventual choice.
Let's face it. The cops would rather get it over with than let a protest sit. They can get more troublesome...
What bugs me then is... are we approaching a time when non-violent protest no longer works? Simply because the police are trained to deal with it? Do we need to move onto something new?
Or do we need to learn new ways to evolve our combative strategies inside of a protest? If they have a chokehold that can subdue a sitting protestor... what else can we do? Hand out handcuffs, and cuff everyone to each other? But they have keys. Some other form of bonding? We can't run... running is 'resisting arrest'.
I pitch this question to you. What can we do?
(a link, to video footage of some of my research material... Tent University Santa Cruz arrests)
So... it's been several months since I've gotten my digital camera, a Minolta A800. It's about time I post some impressions...
First, I must say, this is the one and only digital camera I've ever owned. Therefore... take everything I say with a grain of salt. I am quite inexperienced when it comes to digital cameras.
In terms of cameras in general, however, I have used a large variety, and I've come to love Minolta SLRs. They are quite wonderful. Sitting at my desk now is my XE-7. Sitting at home are over 30 (closer to 40, really) rolls of film that I have yet to develop.
I hope they're still good. =)
So... impressions.
In comparison to a manual camera... I quite enjoy it. It's given me a huge amount of creative freedom. Never before could I publish photos online at a 3264x2448 resolution without a very lengthy process. It's far better than other digital cameras I've used (other peoples), which is certainly a good thing, and it's cheaper than a digital SLR.
In high to medium light (ISO 100-400 ranges) the camera performs brilliantly. It's practically the same damned thing as an SLR, except for a few key things. Things that happen to actually bug me at times.
A) At the manual setting (though I normally function on Aperture priority or Shutter priority, depending on my need), things are very sluggish. First I have to adjust one, then the other. It's rather disappointing.
B) I dislike auto-focus, but I have no choice. Manual focus licks monkey nuts on an EVF. I don't know about you guys, but auto-focus is probably the stupidest and slowest thing ever. I like being able to focus in under a second, thanks.
That's about it, really. ISO 800, to a larger extent than film, is really hit or miss. Grainy, and quite... shitty, most of the time. I would much rather use film. It's a much better medium for these low light shots, really. I don't even consider the built-in flash as a valid option when I'm shooting... and since I don't have a flash on me here on campus... can't really comment on that.
The built-in lens is great... while I often find myself wishing I had exchangable lenses, it's the price I pay for not buying a digital SLR. Heh, if I could afford one though...
Anyway, back to work. I'll maybe extend this post in the morning if I get the time.
Alright... a blog entry before I launch into finishing very, very overdue essays.
I am the worst student ever.
Nonetheless, I need to finish them. My life is starting to catch up to me, and unless I finish them there will be no solace at all this summer.
Especially if I don't make it back into school next year. That would be a disaster.
Anyway, this post is about the site. You may have noticed, if you're familiar with the MovableType system, that it's simply the default template with very minor changes.
I've been planning on modifying it, but I have not had the time... school and whatnot, you know how it is. Hell, I haven't even done my essays... how can I justify working on my blog?
However, I get out in two days. When I get home, I plan to do quite a few things. Among my priorities (outside of getting a job and whatnot) is to work heavily on the main site of JohannKwan.com, and to get the blog all nice and pretty.
The reason I post this is because I have a question for people. Has anyone got a good gallery/thumbnail script that they like to use? If so, let me know eh? =)
Cheers. Work calls.
My third study break of the night... err... morning. Exam in an hour and a half.
I am perfectly calm. This isn't the one I'm worried about. It's the one later today, at two... the German one, that wrenches my guts. I am sorely underprepared for that exam, and given my horrible performance on the oral (I panicked... sadly), I am not feeling in my game at all.
Nothing that can be done, I suppose.
I received two colourful e-mails in the last few days about things I've posted on the blog. That, and I had a 'talk' with someone concerning privacy issues. The latter I respect, though frankly, if I were any less level at the time I might not have responded so well.
The person was right, though. So with that note I will begin using pseudonyms for persons whom I may be slandering. The content, however, will remain as unmerciless (and forever my fueled by whatever creative urge... booze or otherwise).
Would you expect any less from me, after having ranted quite vividly about how I intended never to be scared away from blogging again, even if the long arm of the law decided to lay itself down upon me?
But I digress. They were right, after all. And I do apologize, thoroughly.
On the other hand... the two others whom I received e-mails from I do not so appreciate. Not that your opinions are not valued, just please, don't waste my time with silly little things. This is a blog... a log of my thoughts and fancies. It's not a journalistic publication, by any means. You don't need to flame me. (Besides, there's a comment feature)
First off... I'm surprised to receive an e-mail (from Australia, no less) within an hour of my posting my last post. Surprised, and pleased. Thanks for reading. Thanks for being polite too, it's appreciated. However, realize what you are doing. You are e-mailing me, an independent blogger, at his personal e-mail (which, by the way, I don't know where you found. It's not on the blog, though it's probably elsewhere on johannkwan.com) about how you think Bethesda won't make a bad Fallout 3. Isn't that just a little silly?
Look, it was my opinion. And I stick by it. No offense intended to the guys and gals at Bethesda. Just because the devs at Bethesda are fans of Fallout, doesn't mean they can make a Fallout true to the old ones. That's like saying that just because I'm a writer and I'm an avid fan of Dune, I can write a valid Dune 7. It doesn't work that way. Thanks for reading though, but next time, please use the comment feature. Besides which, that gets your counterpoint read, instead of me having to ask you for permission to post it (which I don't think I technically need to, but I'd feel bad) in a followup post. (and if you were trying to pick me up from being down about FO3, weird way to do it, but thanks!)
Second e-mail, actually, an earlier one... I'm surprised the spam filter didn't block this one. Barely, barely coherent. You must be fourteen or something. Frankly, I'm still not sure this one wasn't a prank. And I'm NOT going to e-mail you back to respond at all, because that would just boil down to a flamewar I don't want to engage in. Telling me that Nick Drake is "ghey" and "deserved to die" and "really depressing (well, he said sad) shit" (and yes, I fixed the spelling a bit) was just uncalled for. And how you found my e-mail... and my old one at that...
That scares me. That you'd actually go and find it. Unless of course, this is a prank. Which I highly suspect... I wasn't aware people were *that* stupid, even at your apparent age. Either that, or you're from Blizzforums, which would explain quite neatly how you got my old e-mail. *sigh* Don't make me regret my four years serving there... I loved it. Dealing with your kind without having banning powers now though... is bothersome.
I'm not even going to bother going on further.
One hour left to exam. I should go. More studying needs to be done.
Before I begin: Current listening is the Chillout In Paris CD (the first one) from The Buddha Bar, DJed by David Visan. The Buddha Bar is on my list of "Bars I must visit"... and mostly because these chillout tunes are wonderful. Now onto the meat of this post...
I don't often do this... a video game commentary is just not my thing. Music, movies, certainly, but though I've been an avid gamer all my life, I dislike giving reviews about games and screwing up the experience for people. Nor do I ever speak about the industry, about my personal heroes, unlike in movies and music where I'll publically worship certain actors/directors and musicians. All I'll normally say (say, in the case of Max Payne 2) is that it's a sweet game, and well worth playing, with a brilliant storyline.
But then, there's the occasional time like this, when I've just got something on my mind that wouldn't satisfy unless I mentioned it. Hey, I've got two exams tomorrow, I'm not keeping anything on my mind but German and ancient great works.
It's common knowledge for those of you who talk to me about games that Fallout is undoubtably my favourite game ever. No game since, RPG or otherwise, has come close to breaking new ground and producing a brilliant storyline unprecedented for its time. (I do say since. Some of the old DOS games were brilliant) It, of course, now lays only in the memories and treasured collections of a few dedicated fans, but with a Game of the Year award to its name, it can't possibly be forgotten.
Which is why some of the development staff are some of my video game heroes. (No relation to my friend's comic, Video Game Heroes *runs from shameless plug*) When Black Isle shut down and the crew dispersed, I had lost all hope in ever seeing a third Fallout. (I do not include, of course, Fallout: Tactics or the console thing that I hope never came to light as true Fallout games)
Then I heard the contract was up in the air. Interplay needed cash, being bankrupt and all, and they were willing to sell Fallout 3.
This is where I believe pencil-pushers killed any hope for Fallout 3. There are (or were) two brilliant companies with Fallout members as founders. Troika Games and Obsidian Entertainment...
Troika has since died a miserable death. They closed down this year, after releasing Vampire: Bloodlines (which, despite its bugs, was a beautiful game). Obsidian Entertainment at the time was still a small company, and wouldn't have been able to afford the rights to Fallout. Since then, they've done Knights Of The Old Republic II, an above-average sequel to the first. (I won't get into the details... but production seemed to be rushed) That was, as any game attached to the Star Wars franchise, widely bought.
Neither of these companies got the Fallout franchise. This was alright, in some ways, since I had hopes that either Fallout would die at 2 or live on gloriously with one last sequel... to make it a beautiful trilogy.
What saddens me is that Bethesda bought the franchise. This isn't a judgement on Bethesda, since I know many people who enjoy Bethesda's games... Morrowind being the huge example of one of the better known games, but the whole premise of Fallout does not match anything Bethesda's done. It's not that I don't respect Bethesda, it's like having a creation carted off completely after its creators are dead and having mediocre sons work on it. Something like Frank Herbert's Dune series and its tragic fate at the hands of his son.
And yes, that WAS a rip on Brian Herbert's books. I don't like making gaming industry stabs, since they're all great, hardworking folks (well, most of the ones I've met, low-end guys. I wish I could meet Feargus or Chris Avellone... and marketing departments suck big balls), but novellists I will rip on quite happily. Like Salinger. Ooooh, I hate Catcher In The Rye.
It's not that I don't respect Bethesda. I didn't like Morrowind, but still. It'd be different if they hired some of the old Fallout Guys as "advisory contractors" or something, or even project heads, but that's likely not going to happen. It may still be a great game, it just won't be the Fallout I knew.
And that makes me sad.
(I am looking for a better PIPBoy image, as my good quality ones seem to have disappeared. If anyone has the old Interplay release B&W PIPBoy pictures, please send them to me! The Interplay site, as should be expected, is dead)
Farewell, PIPBoy... Farewell.
It's 2:48 AM, morning of April 28th. I woke up April 27th, at approximately 4:00 PM.
No work has been accomplished since then.
I've been playing Neverwinter Nights: Hordes Of The Underdark and it's simply not healthy at all.
Great game though. I've missed the real-time D&D action... my lvl 40 rogue/shadowdancer/assassin makes short work of anything, so long as she gets out of view. It's plenty fun, and plenty addictive.
Which puts me in my current situation. Two exams today, likely no sleep before it (one of them is my German exam, I have to study ridiculously hard for that exam if I wish to pass, and the other is my core class), two bags of chips ready to go, a Klondike bar in the fridge, and a coffee machine ready to crank out some good ol' fashioned happiness...
Tonight is not going to be healthy.
Neh. I bring this shit upon myself, so I'll deal with it.
Conor Oberst is singing in my ears. It's so good to have Bright Eyes to turn to, whenever any of my other music fails to fill my mood.
Time to get back to reading the Tao and such. Less than a week before I go home... I have mixed feelings about that. We'll see how this summer turns out.
So I fell in love with the girl of my dreams.
Quite literally.
I dreamt of a girl who hated me. We hated one another. And we fell in love.
A girl. In my dream.
My life begs to be re-examined. I do not believe I am sane anymore.
Or was I ever?
It bugs me to think that the police once sought to use my blog against me. I was reading Saffron's recent post and it struck me.
It's making me afraid to carry on about my insanity. What with the whole declaration at the beginning of this blog about telling the pigs to fuck off too.
Nonetheless, I woke up with the intense need to listen to Bright Eyes. Two exams tomorrow, time to hit the books.
There are some people out there I miss a lot. I really hope I can make up for what I've done to their lives.
Last night was awesome. I'm still feeling its effects, and it's now 10:35. I guess we left German club pretty late, for me to still be feeling it, but that's how it goes.
Damn, I love the way life works out.
Nonetheless, I have much work to do. Two exams Monday, essays to make up, and a life to lead.
So please excuse any delay in blogging. I'll try to keep it all updated. =)
Cheers!
I swear that God just wants me to give up now.
So here I am. Not a damned thing done for CLCV... no studying... nothing. Simply put, I am currently the epitome of slacking.
I am totally unprepared for this exam. But I've time... I won't be sleeping for another 4 or 5 hours... given that it's only 4 AM... so I have time.
So here I am, thinking about things to write about, when I remember that one of the french terms for orgasm is 'la petite mort.' Literally, it translates to the little death (which reminds me of a line from the Bene Gesserit Litany Against Fear from Dune, mind you), a phrase that derives itself from the time when they still thought that too much sex could kill you.
So I google it. Nothing else to do, and Google's a blogger/netgeek's best friend, right?
I ended up with this. Beautiful Agony - facettes de la petite mort. It's hot. Very, very hot. And it's not safe for work. So don't click, if you're not in a safe enviroment.
What is it?
It's not pornography. Or at least, it isn't in the conventional sense of the word. I'd still call it that... it turned me on.
There's no nudity below the shoulders. The simple function of the site is to record moments of orgasm on video... and make money from it.
And it's effective. They have sample videos. The site's all artsy, as if there was something more powerful behind it than just getting someone off. And there is. These people are sharing their most intimate moment with you... and it's not as though they do it because they're porn actors and actresses...
It's an eerie sort of artistic venture.
The kind that Caroline would've put down in her Anthro essay as a perfect example of pretentious BS. And it is, to an extent.
But it's hot. And it *is* beautiful.
I need a cold shower. Then I need to study.
Read below post for something far more interesting. This just came up in conversation with Jack so I thought I'd mention it.
This is me talking to my dad.
"Yeah dad, I met some girls, they're awesome..."
"I don't need to know. Just let me know if you get someone pregnant or are getting married. Let me know when it's time."
"Alright dad, alright, I was just telling you about my friends, jeez. I'm not having sex with anyone."
(I didn't want to tell him I was under a celibacy vow, I think he already thinks I'm gay)
Cheers. Read post below...
Disclaimer: This is me drunk and honest. Sucks to be you, if I rip on you. Hah.
I might as well confess this to everyone... I confess it enough. I miss sex. A year has gone by now (well, not really a year, I had some pretty wild nights in the summer recovering from my relationship with Steph) since I took my vow of celibacy. A school year is far more accurate.
I confess it now in so many words: I miss it. Celibacy sucks.
But it did teach me a lot of things did not rely simply on sex. And I was more than happy to enjoy what time I had outside of it.
For the better part of the year, this has not been a problem. I needed serious time to think about my relationship with Steph and not just be having sex to try and forget about it, because that's not what it was about.
I cared about her.
And I betrayed her.
Ahh, my history of violence. A shameful history. Ask me about it sometime and I'll tell you. It's a sad, sad story. And no, I did not beat my girlfriend. Not at all. I heard that rumour going around somewhere... let me clarify: She was the world to me. I did not harm a single hair on her head. I simply made a bad judgement call when someone insulted both my friend and her at the same time.
But all's well. I live now a life of debauchery without the sex. Hey. Drinking and smoking. Can life get better?
Oh wait, right. I could not be engaging in a vow of celibacy. Time's up. I'm not thinking about Steph anymore. I can have sex without thinking about her. This is good.
Jaco Pastorius is in my ears. Thank you Kelly. Damn. I love the bass. Makes me wish I could play more than just piano. An underappreciated instrument, though... Piano is so beautiful. More people need to learn to love it. Rock tends to use it just to lay an outlying beat.
So the end of the year is here. Classes are over... things are done. So what are my reflections about this year? I'll list ten.
Number one: FUCK roommates. I'm living alone next year. I had two this year. I signed up for one. The one I signed up for is totally cool. So is his girlfriend. But I am not living with other people ever again. I get enough sex-talk as it is. I don't need to worry about going home because my roomies may be having sex. Though it does afford me the chance to make fun of Caroline all the time, since in all honesty I do let her live in my room. This is the only upside.
Number two: Celibacy is for idiots. I am an idiot. Samanas... idiots. Either that or they are off having sex while we're not looking. I would rather think... idiots. Sex is great. Sorry to say, but I miss it. I've learned a lot, but never again.
Number three: I will MISS a lot of people next year. A LOT of people will be gone. This is sad. I will miss them. It makes me consider staying in Ottawa third year just so I can see them again.
Number four: Things go missing when you're in residence. I miss my All Things Must Pass album, which has been missing for a while. I bought that not long before George Harrison died too... so it makes me ultra-sad.
Number five: I need to work out. My body is losing it all. I am a flaccid pile of waste, as it stands now. I epitomize laziness. I can go from skinny to a little less skinny in a day, depending on whether not I had a meal that day. That's sad.
Number six: (almost wrote number sex, you know where my mind's going now that it's near summer break) I am rediscovering my bisexuality. I'm not sure whether or not this is a good thing. Nonetheless... whatev. I live with it.
Number seven: Fuck celibacy. Oh right, I said that already. Music... music is good. There is nothing wrong with having 50+ Gigs of music... and another bunch waiting soon as your ex Fed-Exes (haha, ex) your Hard Drive back to you. That's totally awesome.
Number eight: Some people are humongous assholes, but are nice guys. For example... myself. Or... my friends. Dave, for example. S'cool though, they mean well. That's all that matters. (for the record, Dave is one of the sweetest guys you'll ever meet, he's just bitterly honest... which I admire more than anything... but I'll be damned if he's a gentleman... which is how I like it)
Number nine: Booze... booze is good. There was not a night in the first semester when I didn't at least have a shot in me. This was a good thing, trust me.
Number ten: Last but not least... I love them all. Humanities... I mean. I'd pretty much (with rare exceptions) take a bullet for any one of them. And my professors... god... my professors. Let me PLEASE be like them eventually down the road of awesome.
Anyway... that's my life. I am going to bed now, cause I wish not to think anymore. I will go to bed listening to good music. This is a moment to savour.
Mmm. That was a fun party, though I did leave early, and didn't dance. It's good to be there at their house... it's chill, not someplace I really feel like getting up and dancing. A place to chill, lie back, smoke, and just enjoy myself.
Life is good.
Soon this will end... less than two weeks now, until I have to move out of Residence. I even got a threatening letter from the school, telling me I had to move out the day after my last exam.
Doesn't matter, I'm planning on it. I love my roommates (yes, plural) but I can't really live with them making out all over everything anymore.
Everyone loves Nick Drake. His music makes me so mellow... and brings me down to level ground. Whether I'm depressed or not from listening to him is a question of how you really define depressed. Artistic, definately.
The end of school spells an end to my vow of celibacy for this year. It comes ever closer... And it is so very difficult to deal with the dormant urges bubbling up again.
Been playing Fallout 2 again. I love Fallout. It makes me want to go and save the world from an army of super-mutants. Fun stuff... considering that super-mutants lug around miniguns and flamethrowers. Definately would be awesome up until the point where I got ripped into a million little pieces and got charbroiled by a spewing gout of fiery death.
A break from Nick Drake. Jaco Pastorius time. Thank the heavens for Kelly having introduced me. Quite friggin' awesome. I should listen to him more... I hope I get my HD back from Anna soon so I can do some moving around of my music. =)
Time to lie back to music alone and continue enjoying my beautiful world.
Okay, so maybe I'm not depressed, or really alone, either. My roommate is sprawled across his bed, so I can't honestly make that claim.
I'm tired. This last week has honestly been unhealthy, moreso than any amount of booze-fiendery that I would otherwise have engaged in. In total, I think I must've gotten at most 8 hours of sleep... working my ass off or just slacking, thinking about things, thoughts provoked by all the writing I've had to do.
My Sihaya...
There are a few things I think I still haven't dealt with. I don't know what it is... whether I spent my time shagging rather than thinking about it, then running off as soon as it was out of my mind to pursue other goals... I don't know. Or maybe its been the incredibly huge amounts of booze I wash through my body with as I wallow in my own putrid desolation.
Who knows... all I know is that I will eventually have to face myself with the fact that past loves could still so easily have their hold on me, controlling my every action.
To make myself feel better I'll just make a list. I think there are a few things people need to understand...
1. It doesn't matter what the person you're dating has, or hasn't done. All that matters is what they're doing during the time that they're with you. To think that someone hasn't slept with a lot of people would be sorely hypocritical. Let's say for example I sleep with three people a year... until I marry at say... 30. That's still 36 or 39 people. Hard lesson to learn.
2. If you're not seriously dating someone... then expect them to be with other people. Especially in a cosmopolitan area. This should not bother you. They aren't bound to you in any way but sex, right? Then why care?
3. You are not the epitome of sex. Hey, you can give great sex... god, I should hope so... but there's always someone that will best you. If you're heterosexual... an even greater chance, as someone of the same sex will likely know better what the other person wants. Simple fact. Just enjoy the sex. Empowerment is not necessary.
4. Love is rare.
Never mind, that didn't make me feel any better. I'm just tired. Being tired sucks.
Taking a break from the ol' slackin'. It's an art, you know. Can't be doing it all the time. Gotta find something else to do to waste time... and simple slacking doesn't cut it sometimes. I don't know how that all works, but s'alright. Blogging, I suppose, is more productive than 'slacking.'
Other than that, I'm just lazing around, listening to Martin and his friend's radioshow on CKCU. (2-7 AM Thursday nights, Friday nights...) They played Morcheeba's The Sea... <3 *LOVE!*
Overdue essays are looming over my head.
Oh hey, he just talked about his German oral exam. He bombed it too... happens.
So I wrote six thousand words just the night before cramming for an essay. (Not last night... night before) Start at midnight, finish before class with much random shit happening inbetween. It was beautiful... what was not so beautiful was waiting for my damned printer to print it off as I got a call from Shannon telling me class had ended early.
Running to class across campus hurt. A lot.
I'm late on the aforementioned essays, which is what I'm slacking from. Not an entirely pleasant experience... but nonetheless, I'll be alright.
I don't know why I can't just crunch these essays like I did that other one. Whatever.
Cheers, back to slackin'.
Ooooooh! Beck! See, this is why I should listen to the radio more often... Yay for ads for the Trail Of Dead tour too... Mmmm.
I apologize for the lack of quality postage... rather busy as of late. I'll try to keep the blog up to date... bear with me! =)
Later in the night: (3:36) OMGOMGOMGOMG Pedro The Lion... Talk about taste... going to call in a Portishead request. =D
I worked out tonight. It'd been bugging me, that I hadn't worked out seriously for well over a year. So I worked out. Did 15-20 minutes of stair exercises, a bunch of sit-ups (a measly 125, which better improve by the end of the summer to at least 400, or I'll be pissed), and something like a shitty 50 pushups. But nonetheless, I got a sweat going (mostly on the stairs, damned unventilated piece of shit) and I'm pretty happy bout it. Tomorrow I'll go for more stairs (outdoors, if weather permits) and a bit of a run, to get my legs back in shape for next year so I can join Varsity fencing...
I seriously couldn't sleep with the thought I hadn't worked out in so long. I don't feel like I've done enough at all, but I don't have a punching bag to work the arms a bit more... but such is life.
Damn, that was good.
So I went to the barbeque yesterday. I have to say... I have missed barbeques. Had a smoke on the way there... Played some poker, enjoyed myself... and after a trip or two to Jamaica I was all set and good. Lotta Guiness too.
Probably the highlight of the day was the amazing jam session I got to listen in on. The owners of the house, who I'm sure you all know by now, unless you're not of the Ottawan persuasion (in which case, you wouldn't know any of these people... Justin, Chester, John... Pete was not there) and some others (forget who exactly... Dan Parker was there, Kelly was there, forget who else jammed. Oh yeah! Braeden jammed for a while... and there was Aaron, who I don't know well...) just jammed for a long while... you could hear it quite well outside, but being in that room was just a-fucking-mazing. It's really awesome when all the people in a jam just mesh together so well. I wish I had pictures, but I didn't bring my camera. Great vibes.
Thank god too. Music was too good to be wasting it trying to figure out exposure rates.
I think in all my years of hanging with people, drinking, and musical awesome (I myself indulge in Piano and Keyboard when I feel the need, though I do miss my singing voice... perhaps I'll practice a lot of Elton over the summer). Not even Yellowstone Driver comes close... and I miss those guys. I'd really want to go back to NY and hang with them, smoke and play poker on the porch after a good show downtown...
My buddies, Yellowstone Driver, hanging outside Savannah's after a gig. Picture used without permission, but with much love.
All's well though.
So when I got back to campus, Dave calls me, and invites me out to a bar. At this point I'm pretty damned set, but hey, it's a bar, and Dave's an awesome guy. Why the fuck not?
Mistake? Yeah. Not blaming Dave at all, because I went of my own will and he's totally a nice guy, but I got floored. I danced for some people whom I will likely never see again, and just... damn. It was rather silly. Another set of people to have admired my dancing.
I'm still amazed Dave got me into the bar, what with my no-ID situation and all. That was totally cool of him.
Better of him was dragging me home... you see... I puked for the first time in three years on booze... and only the second time in all my years (what, 6? 7?) as an alcoholic. And when I say I puked, I mean I puked my guts out. I'm still feeling it now, and it's noon the next day. I haven't puked that much since I had all those SoCo shots and coolers last time...
I can't believe it's been three years.
I forgot how much the carbonation in the beer gets to me. Note to self: Stick to hard liquor, Johann! Don't you remember why you prefer it?
Anyway, so it was a good night, puking aside. So good a night I'm still feeling it now. Listening to Joanna Newsom now, but...
I hope I get to hear them all jam again. That was fucking awesome.
P.S. I got word I puked on the lady next to me in the bus. If you're that lady... and you're one of my readers... I'm really sorry. If not, then... *laughs* OH GOD I'm a bad person.
The fire alarm likes to put everyone in shitty moods. I don't know that I'm in one. I don't seem to care about the little things anymore.
It's really ridiculous. I have spent over a decade trying to change the world. Over a decade of research, experimentation, love, and now...
Well, I stopped because I had to keep finding out who I really was, and what I really wanted.
I saw God once. I don't know if it was a dream anymore... but even if it was, I have learned to trust my dreams. It happens so that falling unconscious in a bathtub and having a dream ranks among one of the forms of dreaming I have learned best to trust.
I don't know much about anything, I've discovered. I don't know what God it is that I saw, whether to believe, why he would come to me and tell me the things he did. I don't know why I reacted in fear and told him that he was a jerk.
Then, I didn't know half the things I knew now.
That's why I came into Humanities. To make sense of how people have tried, and succeeded, I suppose, to find God.
Because I want to find him again. And this time I want to listen to what he has to say.
I don't know if I'm ready, or if I want to hear his answers. Or whether I have any questions. I just want to listen. I fear his answers, but nonetheless I want to hear them.
I can't change the world without knowing myself.
Look forward to a story sooner or later. I haven't written anything good since 'Watching Me Fall.' I've hopes for this one.
Cheers.
So what does one think about when clearly inebriated, alone... listening to beautiful music... dreamily floating away... and clearly celibate, and thus unable to take his enjoyment to levels of sexual awesome?
To get here, I certainly think I hit a crucial point where I felt as if I fell backwards into a pool... and began to drown... until I found the strength in me to push myself up back to the top...
It was beautiful... I cannot describe how beautiful the world is when you come back into it from having visited the void.
I long, right now... to do something that I have never seen outside of tales in books. "I killed my dinner with Karate..."
Sorry. Lyrics are interspersing themselves into my thoughts.
Nonetheless... a chess correspondance. Write letters to someone, sending them chess moves... have forever to think about the move... have chess board off in the corner dedicated to tracking the movements.
Would be fun... especially since I was never really that good at Chess.
Now to lie back and enjoy some music.
Love to y'all.