boo

Dear Red Sox management,

We already have one over-paid "power-hitter" that comes nowhere close to performing up to what his salary indicates... and our over-paid guy doesn't have that shitty attitude. Thanks, but no thanks.

With love,

New York*

Devils / Flyers tonight... Yankee manager's heads rolling... Lebron living up to the hype. It's a good time for professional sports.*

For the first weekend since I began working my weekend job, which was just over three months ago, I have a Saturday and Sunday off. I know the idea of a "weekend" is something that comes fairly natural to most people, but the thought of having absolutely nothing to do and nowhere to be for two straight days is a foreign feeling at this point. Sort of like a mental version of having a doctor take blood from your arm. You've felt it before.. but you approach it with caution.. and even when it's happening you can't help but think "this.. certainly.. feels weird." Yeah. So it's like that.

The leaves are golden, red, and yellow in New England and the smell of fall has overpowered the not quite missed smell of rotting trash that summer brings to the city of Boston. The weather for this weekend calls for mid-60's and I've got a pimp-ass Richie Tenenbaum costume ready to roll. Tomorrow's pay-day. If you don't mind me saying... "shit, life is good." *

When I boarded the train this morning there was a slight drizzle outside. When I exited the train, which marks the beginning of my 15 minute walk from Downtown Crossing to Boston's oft forgotten Fort Pointe Channel district, I was confronted by a monsoon. Or a Hurricane. Maybe a Tsunami. Regardless, it sucked. It's worth noting, I think, that it all come to a pleasant drizzling end as I walked into my office building. Despite the umbrella that Marissa donated to help keep me dry, my pants were... and remain 5 hours later... completely soaked. Solid. *

I'm a rap moron. 100% oblivious to almost all hip-hop music. Probably because I'm whiter than white and just don't get it. Or care to take the time to get it. However, everytime I've listened to Outkast I've thought to myself... "wow, this is what hip-hop should be." More to come on Outkast tomorrow or so... *

I've picked up Final Fantasy Tactics Advance one day before what could quite possibly be the most difficult mid-term of my college career. Good thinking, eh? While my studying for the mid-term has been minimal at best, I'd like to note that I've won two battles and found some fucking herb that some dude at a bar asked me to find for him. I had to kill monsters to get it. It was pretty sweet. *

But anyway.... let me talk to you about the salad bar.

I like the salad bar. Once a week I make sure that I eat lunch at the deli down the block from my office and purchase vittles only available through the self-service salad bar. Despite my reservations about items like "community potato salad" and "community feta cheese blocks" I feel that this is a healthy thing to do considering most of my home-cooked meals consist of steak and a baked potato and most of my dining out consists of hamburgers and fries. I certainly have no weight concerns to speak of, but fear of my little heart shutting down in a fit of grease drenched anger has crossed my mind from time-to-time, and my weekly salad bar trip is in direct response to that fear.

Putting together your salad at this particular establishment is quite involved. You see, the containers that they provide you are of the bowl likeness, without separate compartments for incompatible items. Anyone who knows me well certainly knows that I under no circumstance can deal with eating more than one of any type of food at once. Steak and potato? Steak first, potato second. Pasta and garlic bread? Garlic bread first, pasta second. Under no circumstances can a bite of vegetables be eaten in between bites of meat. I suppose it's a bit obsessive compulsive, but most of my life is surrounded by ridiculous obsessive compulsions, so there's nothing I can do about it but deal.

It's difficult however, in the context of the salad bar, to make this work. For instance, I really like potato salad. I also really like jalapeno peppers. I REALLY enjoy taking a bite of leafy greens drenched in ranch dressing to find a delicious spicy surprise therein. Conversely, the thought of taking a bite of potato salad and finding a hint of jalapeno-like flavoring is enough to make me nauseous. The fact that both of these items are available in the salad bar, combined with the one compartment container makes for some interesting attempts at keeping incompatible items separate.

Last week I put the potato salad on the bottom of the bowl. I then put a layer of iceberg lettuce over it and began concocting the green portion of my salad. This failed however, as most of the dressing leaked through to the bottom and left me with ranch potato salad... not very tasty. This week I added an element that I think has put me on the right track. I again put the potato salad on the bottom, feeling that my initial instinct was correct, but this time instead of a protective layer of flimsy iceberg lettuce, assembled a protective layer of croutons and those hard crackers that look like noodles. While certainly a far cry from the eureka that I had been hoping for, the dressing was mostly kept away from my salad and the only thing that managed to make its way down to the potato salad were little chopped onions, which were actually a welcome addition. My biggest problem with this, however, was the crouton and noodle wall. I had no interest in eating it since it had on one side been touched by the salad-items and on the other side been touched by the potato salad. I searched for a way to dispose of it but could not come up with anything other than the "push it to the side method" which ended up leaving me with nearly half of my potato salad layer going to waste. I would have like to scrape the infected crouton wall into the trash, but since the economy shit the bed the cleaning people only come once a week... and the idea of having potato-salad and ranch dressing crouton odor wafting up towards my nose for the rest of the week is hardly appetizing.

I'm hoping that I haven't hit a brick wall here.. and that in due time I'll be able to enjoy both a salad and potato salad together but separate, while minimizing waste. When I overcome this battle I'll be sure to relay the method to you, dear nonexistent readers. *

On the way to work this morning my subway train broke down in between Hynes Convention Center and Copley. About 15 minutes later we were allowed to exit the train at Copley and walk our asses in the rain to Back Bay without a free transfer. I showed up about 25 minutes late to work. I'm still alive, though. Still kickin'. *

My favorite two sports franchises, the New York Yankees and the New Jersey Devils, are completely in shambles. Without making some power moves the Yankees are looking dangerously close to falling apart next season. I don't doubt that Steinbrenner will make moves... I'm just worried that the morale has broken down so much that it's irreparable. The best Yankee teams of the late 90's consisted of a strong Roger Clemens and David Wells, a young Mariano Rivera and Bernie Williams, and a still kickin' Paul O' Neal. Take all of those things out of the picture, add-in a game 6 loss to an expansion team, a young "star" that can't NOT swing at low and outside pitches for the life of him, the possible departure of a stunning as-of-late Andy Pettite, a goddamn jihad declared between coaches and the aging owner, and you've got yourself a pretty lousy situation.

And the Devils... for fucks sake... I remember sitting there in a bar on the Seaside Heights boardwalk last year watching the swamp monsters holding the cup over their heads victorious, off of one of the most amazing post-season runs in history. 0-4 at home boys? What's the deal?

While I don't know where I'm headed after graduation... my recent luck would indicate that I should head right back to Jersey just in time to watch my two most beloved teams fall apart at the seams. *

FUCK YOU TO THE PEOPLE THAT SHATTERED THE PASSENGER SIDE WINDOW OF MY CAR THE NIGHT BEFORE I WAS TAKING IT BACK TO JERSEY.

FUCK YOU TO THE MOTHERFUCKER THAT FAKED AN INJURY LAST NIGHT WHILE I WAS DRIVING A COMPANY CAR AND WILL MOST LIKELY SUE EITHER MYSELF OR MY PLACE OF WORK, WHICH WILL AT THE VERY LEAST COST ME A LOAD OF AGGREVATION AT WORK OR POSSIBLY EVEN MY FUCKING JOB.

seriously... i couldn't be more fustrated with my ridiculous amount of god-awful luck. i'd like to think that i'm a pretty damn good individual and i'm pretty sure those who know me well think the same. if this is karma... what the fuck did i do wrong? or conversely, when the fuck is my luck going to change?

i've grown a pretty thick skin lately. generally speaking most aspects of my life are incredible. however, this recent string of events (to bring you up to speed... car being totaled by my brother, apartment burning down, being robbed at knife point on top of the two caps-locked events up top) has really taken a toll on me. so enough. i give up. you win. goodnight. --

I guess it sounds kind of silly to say goodbye to someone that you didn't even know... and I feel like a little bit of a hypocrite for having poked fun of individuals who express grief over the loss of a person in the public spotlight... but I would quickly like to publicly say goodbye to Mr. Elliot Smith. Your music has struck me in ways that other music never has on multiple occasions and I am forever grateful for that. May your art live on forever in the hearts and minds of those who truly understand. --

Last Saturday night I had the privilege of being robbed at knife point. I was walking through the Southwest Corridor, a walking path that's parallel to Columbus Ave and Huntington Ave, at midnight with my friend Ken. It had been a long day filled with drunkenly watching Pedro Martinez beat up on old men and Yankees relief pitchers beating up Fenway Park grounds keepers. The city was certainly filled with hostility but the incident that I am speaking of now had absolutely no connection to all of that.

As we made our way towards Mass Ave on the Corridor four nice young gentleman appeared before us walking in the opposite direction. One of these nice young gentlemen, a little bit on the overweight side, decided that it would be easier to shoulder check me out of the way while passing than to politely meet me half-way in a "normal" people-passing manner. Another one of these nice gentleman sporting a halloween mask decided his tactic would be to trip Kenny, a kid that is way larger, in better shape, and certainly more ill-tempered than myself. Normally while in a fairly drunken state, despite my own size disadvantage I'd probably respond to a situation like this with something along the lines of "are you fucking kidding me?" or a "what the fuck was that for?". However, upon sizing up these gentleman, both Kenneth and I opted to continue on our way, with me throwing in an "excuse me" for good measure. Unfortunately my polite comment was returned with a "you're not going to fucking say you're sorry?" Despite my previous attempt at sucking up my pride and putting the blame on myself I couldn't find it in myself to offer up an apology, and fired back with "I said excuse me."

We continued to walk away, hoping that this whole thing was over with when we were cautioned by the sounds of heavy footsteps approaching us from the rear. These guys were not about to let us walk away easy. After a couple more polite statements by us like "you catch the game today?" and "excuse me guys, it's been a long and I really must be going" that were returned with responses like "shut the fuck up", "you fuckers smell like booze", and "show me whatchoo got" I knew we were in for a ton of trouble.

All of a sudden Kenny was surrounded by three of them and the other was right in front me saying that if I took off my friend was done for. There was a butterfly knife in my face and one of the guys cornering Kenny was reaching into a shoulder bag grabbing for what I instinctively thought to be a gun. The second I saw the knife I reached for my wallet and somehow magically was able to pull out just a $20 bill, rather than the whole thing. As I offered it to the knife wielding gentleman in front of me the other three guys became startled and Kenny bolted for it. I threw the $20 and followed suit, screaming completely inappropriate things as I ran for my life. They chased us for a little while but eventually their footsteps were inaudible and they were gone.

I grabbed at my phone and dialed 911, telling the operator my location and the description of the guys that had just mugged us. Within one minute there was a car in front of my house with an officer telling us that they had apprehended three gentlemen that fit the description we had just provided the operator. They invited us to the scene and were more than pleased to find the same four MOTHERFUCKERS that had just robbed us face first on the ground in handcuffs. A few minutes later a different group of officers pulled my $20 bill, a backpack containing the aforementioned halloween mask and a huge ninja-movie-prop-lookin' knife, and a little bit of pot out of some bushes, ensuring that the attackers pleads of "what, black guys aren't allowed to walk through a white neighborhood?" and "you ain't got nothin' on us" will surely be jokes of the officers for as long as this incident resides in their memories. *

Between losing the car that I shared with my brother on Memorial Day, having my apartment burn down in mid-August, and this most recent dramatic event I'd go as far as saying that I'm in the top tier of unlucky people that I know.

However, I'm managing to juggle three jobs totalling well over 50 hours a week and three classes. I do my best to make time for my girlfriend and my friends although it sometimes might not seem like it. Just over six months from now I'll be staring face-first at graduation. If I can make it through until then I'll be walking away from this city with tougher skin and a coy smile that will read "fuck you, i've won," for the rest of my life.

Would you think less of me if you found out that I almost cried when I downloaded iTunes for Windows and upon installation got a "You must have Windows 2000 or XP to install" error? I thought WindowsME was sorta 2000? Like, it's less attractive and sorta disfigured and much ignored cousin or something... Maybe it's time to upgrade to XP anyway.. I just haven't been ready to use an OS that doesn't allow me to boot to DOS if I for some reason feel like booting to fucking DOS. Maybe now's the time, though.

The Yankees beating the Sox in Game 7 and me getting robbed at knifepoint in the South End apparently still isn't enough to motivate me to get all bloggy. Sorry about that, ya'll. When I'm busy @ work it's hard to blog and I've been incredibly busy.

If you've come here looking for the Wayne, NJ lost and found site, it's located in the post below.

hi, i went camping and came home with an "ivy : apartment life" cd which is not mine. if it is yours please reclaim it. i also have someones no code cd.

All summer long here at the office the sound of the air conditioning system has buzzed away completely unbeknownst to me. I certainly felt cool, and was able to unconsciously adjust the sound of my voice to be appropriate for the office environment, but I never once acknowledged the sound of the cooling system. Until this morning, that is, when the cold that's been creeping into Boston forced one of the employees to kill the AC unit and the buzzing stopped. It's kinda like when a cut finally heals and you continue to look down at your hand for days afterward expecting to see it still there. In addition, the eerie quiet in here is making me quite uncomfortable... and being able to hear the irish-born receptionist screaming "Company X how can I help you!?" every fifteen seconds certainly isn't helping. *

For the past month or so I've spent every friday night working at a shitty bar on Lansdowne St. The radio station I work for broadcasts from there and my job is to represent them, give shit away, and force people to drink Coors Light, etc. Oftentimes when performing this task at other bars I'll be offered free or discounted drinks in return for my services, which is certainly appreciated. This place, however, feels differently and charges me for every drink that I order. I can certainly live with this. I don't expect anything from anyone and certainly don't mind paying the price of a beer for a beer. My demand meets their supply and all is well with the world. What I can't live with, however, is the fact that when you open a bar tab at this place they charge $120 onto your credit card and then three days later adjust it to what you paid without ever telling you. I know $120 one way or the other missing from a bank account isn't that huge a deal, but when you're a college student paying his own way through everything; $120 could be the difference between an angry landlord knocking down your door and just barely skating by for yet another first of the month. *

I've decided to start using asterisks to separate topics here on the blog, I hope you find it useful. *

This past Sat we threw a surprise party for Marissa. She was certainly feeling that a few of us were acting a bit too strange and demanding of her saturday night whereabouts, but I'd say the whole thing went down quite well, if the tears of happiness were any indication. After the party a few us somehow found ourselves in a penthouse apartment that vaguely resembled something you'd see on MTV's Cribs. When the booze ran out Marissa began fiendishly wolfing down the pieces of fruit that had been left at the bottom of the sangria jug, which I certainly endorse as proper 21st birthday behavior. Needless to say, we both woke up with hangovers worth noting. Her's was certainly worse, but getting whacked in the face with a soccer ball during yesterday's brutal loss to the dreaded green team probably lined us up pretty close in the "feeling shitty" department. *

* By the way, the soccer team's been getting our asses handed to us pretty good lately, which is why I haven't been discussing. However, yesterday's ejection by red card for a blind sided punch to the face from a member of team green brought back warm fuzzy memories of playing club soccer in North Jersey against 12 year old guys with beards and names like Pablo and Vinnie. Good stuff. * --

Alright. I've gotten over the fact that blogger ate my post that contained the bitter argument between my id and ego. Please allow me some artistic license in having attempted such a conversation in the first place. I am fully aware that the id would be unable to actually hear or speak due to its inherent unconscious nature. However, I assure you that it was really, really funny when my ego told my id to "go fuck itself" and that it "deserved to have gone to Rutgers and gotten AIDS."

Enough of that, though. The Yankees have lost game 1, young hockey stars are crashing their Ferrari's into my old stomping grounds, people are leaking classified names, and the Europeans have decided 50 years too late that they should go check out the moon. The world is mad for sure and my ego screaming "you know that you cheated your way through physics in high school and that you only made it through one FBLA meeting because you realized that all of the members were either scary weird chicks that you had never even seen at Wayne Hills before or total fags," sure as hell isn't going to change that.

Enough. Really this time. Besides, without the context I was working in it probably makes no sense anyway.

I argue that 'One Big Holiday' from the new My Morning Jacket album might be one of the best songs i've heard all year and that the new Strokes record is just kinda ok. No one seems ot be arguing back, though.

I'm still having fun playing King's Quest and with Marissa's help am nearly at the end of the game. No fear, though. King's Quest 2 will begin shortly thereafter and I've won 5 and 6 on Ebay. Pretty soon I'll be partying like it's 1992 all over again.

I lost my cell phone on Friday night and thought it was going to cause a world of problems, when in fact the only problem it's caused is that I talk on the phone less... which really isn't a problem at all. The details are not important, but I'd like to publicly thank Verizon for believing what i'm sure sounded like a blatant lie and giving me a new phone at promotional prices.

No more. --

bullshit, sideshow, three ring circus

The danger of becoming misologists, he replied, which is one of the very worst things that can happen to us. For as there are misanthropists or haters of men, there are also misologists or haters of ideas, and both spring from the same cause, which is ignorance of the world. Misanthropy arises from the too great confidence of inexperience;--you trust a man and think him altogether true and good and faithful, and then in a little while he turns out to be false and knavish, and then another and another, and when this has happened several times to a man, especially within the circle of his own most trusted friends, as he deems them, and he has often quarrelled with them, he at last hates all men, and believes that no one has any good in him at all.

why am i not surprised.

how do wee wee do.

been some time, been blasting rats and sassing frats.

been trusting myself less and less and putting too much credence into pop culture. nasty way to live. like a gentile. speaking of credence i met an interesting iranian man in the middle eastern section of borders bookstore. he was telling me that chomsky, for a jew, had very good poise on presenting issues factually and fairly to those confused about the state of the world. hes not so much what im talking about, im talking about the kid at the cash register. my mom and i were talkin bout truth, and this kid writes the name of a book "the awakening intelligence" on my receipt and tells me its all about truth. im not really that interested in that tho. the iranian was much cooler. something about how people initially perceive people. clown johsnon at the register starts peddling his ego.

its more about drawing, less about pushing. in some weird heterosnakesual way. its like saying, im not a misologist, im not a misanthropist, and being an american. its like food and fireflies. they aint hungry.

but about the pop culture. i saw lost in translation and i think its stupid. i like bill murray, but coppola has shit on the brains. those emotions are on the way out, so i could see how those close to such feelings would warm to them and hold them fucking tight. thats the way we work, only love something when its near the end.

but fuck, seriously. life is good and precious and all but ive got too much to worry about right now (ie my own survival) to bother understanding my emotions. instead of partitioning it out equallly i just focus it on one thing, when i have the time. this way i can get work done and like something a whole bunch, when i have the time.

chris said he made a post and tore himself apart letting his ego bash his id and vice versa. that sounds goddamn awesome. maybe not so much in the context of chris's life, but just in general. i know he played xenogears for a bit. and how you dont even know how much youd like a story like that.

ive been listening to tool and mix tapes. some jamiroquai. drank some whiskey the other nite, if thats pop culture. thing with whiskey, for me, is like going to the bottom of a pool and sticking your head in the center drain, then the harder you pull to get up the further down you get. pinned, folks. you can be like, oh, the bottom of the bin is gross, these thoughts are irrational and stupid. then when you think of the good stuff it gets infected. horrible way the mind works, if your down and out keep the good things out of your head, im telling you as a friend.

HOLY FUCKING SHIT I JUST WROTE THE BEST WEBLOG ENTRY OF ALL TIME AND MY INTERNET CONNECTION CONKED OUT AND DELETED IT WHEN I HIT "POST". FUCK ME.

I own a Playstation 2 and a Gamecube. Those machines offer all up all kinds of hi-tech games. Cutting edge graphics. 3D and shit. So why have I dedicated more time to playing old 256 color King's Quest games than anything on those platforms? Or, should I say... why have I dedicated my time to watching Marissa hover over my PC monitor? (i'll explain that portion later)

Why? Because those games were good. Fuck graphics. They were clever. They easily immersed you into the scenery. Slightly challenging but of the mind-numbing sort, not thumb numbing. I've mentioned Tierra about 12 times on the blog already, so this will be the 2nd to last.. but please go ahead and waste a few hours roaming around Daventry on their behalf. It's worth it, I promise.

I've taken to trying to pick up original copies of the later King's Quest games, namely 5 and 6, on E-Bay, even though I've heard some complaints about their sound not working properly on Windows ME... I'll deal with that later. Nostalgia first, logic second. I might even download the incredibly sucky King's Quest 8 demo somewhere.. i mean, why the fuck not? Anything worth doing is worth doing right.

OK, back to Marissa. Ever since I described my geeky obsession with old-skool adventure games to her she seemed a bit interested in checking out what I was talking about. I threw Tierra's King's Quest 1 (ok, that was the last time) remake up on my screen the other day and within minutes she had taken over my PC desk putting me in the passice co-pilot position. While I've helped her a little bit along the way (i mean who ever really guessed on their own to spell Rumplestiltskin backwards for Christ's sake?) for the most part she's been on it like Shakespeare and a sonnet. This is exciting to me. Excitingly geeky. Geekingly sexy.

Ugh, I'm obviously insane.

On a completely different note, I went to see Miss Saigon last night. And despite the whole dialogue in song thing and overly homosexual lead character (who was supposed to be a US soldier in 'Nam) I enjoyed it. Gasp.

I just quit smoking. I think. For good this time. Yeah.

I've done this many times before. Once, in fact, for an entire year. I woke up from a long night of drinking and smoking like a fiend and felt so terrible that it caused me to chuck my half-full pack of Marlboro Lights onto a city sidewalk in disgust.

My most recent relapse came for no real reason at all. I vaguely remember being at a strip club and having a cigarette placed behind my ear, but that's neither here nor there. The point is that recently I've been smoking sort of regularly (more regularly on the weekends) and it hasn't really bothered me all that much. I've been relatively lazy in terms of physical fitness and haven't really challenged my lungs with much more than sitting at a desk for eight hours a day or berating people on a microphone (jobs #1 and #2, respectively). That all changed yesterday, however, when I played my first game for the new club soccer team I've joined. We were short three players (8 total) and they were a full squad +3 (14 total). We played three back, three midfielders, and one forward. Regardless of our positions we were all more or less all over the goddamn field for the full 70 minutes of play time. Sometime before the beginning of the first-half I walked over to the sidelines and dry-heaved. My lungs felt like they were bleeding from the inside. From the ages 6-18 I played soccer pretty much 6/7 days a week regardless of the season and never remember feeling like this.

So that is why I just quit smoking. I think. For good this time. Yeah.

Oh yeah, we won 3-2. Last two goals came off of my assists. If I were you I'd prepare for a game by game rundown for the entirity of the season. So either avoid Monday posts or embrace them, depending on your feelings toward this one. --

Since I obviously don't have anything interesting to say, it'd serve you well to check out the newly linked egofamine blog. It's the creation of a friend of mine who has gone by the names jonathan, jon, jonny k, and j-kizzle fo shizzle (ok, i made that one up) in the years that I've known him. I've heard that he lives in Harlem now, which makes him a pretty bad-ass mothafucka in my book. Don't let his post about cell phones fool you, this guy's all thug. Bling-Bling and whatnot. Gold Teef. --

I'm convinced that google is the computer system that will one day take down humanity. Before paul started posting to the website recently the ads at the top featured music related items and music magazine subscriptions. Now however, the ads feature headlines like "meditate deeply as a monk" with sub-heads reading an "eclectic selection of wisdom texts, Rare incense, candles, dharma items". Frightening.

I still haven't played those Tierra games. Verizon claims that my DSL line will be alive and kicking on the homefront tonight, so hopefully I'll be able to divulge then. Just in time for school, of course.

I played video games the other night for the first time in god knows how long. Jimmy and I tried a little two-player Ikaruga on for size and then took it old-skool for a little but of Monkey Ball 2 love. I just barely edged him out in Monkey Target but he handed my ass to me in Monkey Fight. I'm sure we would've tried another mini-game on for size to break the tie if it wasn't ass o'clock in the goddamn morning.

I enjoyed my weekend with Jimmy and Toni. Lots of shopping. New My Morning Jacket, Constantines, and Q and Not U records for myself, Mr. Show and Family Guy DVD's for Jimbo, as well as the hilarious Vice Guide to Sex, Drugs, and Rock-N-Roll, and Blind Melon's greatest hits and the new Constantine's (she copied me) record for Toni. When friends take the time drive all the way up from Jersey to visit me I like to try and show them the best time possible. I don't know if I succeeded this weekend, but I sure hope that they felt that the time they had was worth the 4 hour trip there and back.

On Saturday we bussed it to Cambridge to check out Lost In Translation. I thoroughly enjoyed every minute of the film. It was fairly uneventful, but left me with the sweet feeling of going unwillingly on vacation with your parents at the age of 15 and finding yourself a nice little crush in the same situation as you. Maybe you hang out with her. Maybe you don't. Maybe all you get is a sweet little smile on the way to breakfast every morning. Despite those details, it's still a memory that resides in the back of your mind only to to be conjured up on days when the air smells a certain way or the sun is shining at a similar intensity. These memories aren't life altering by any means, but for one reason or another they stick with you forever. A+, in my opinion.

In addition to that, My Bloody Valentine's Kevin Shields provided an amazing score that worked perfectly with the setting of the film. Including 'Sometimes', my favorite MBV song at one of the pivotal moments of the movie certainly didn't hurt either. --

11:49 PM 9/11/2003

on nights like this i know where to find you...

been obsessed with the crusades lately. interesting stuff. too bad school has started...
ah, you think. so far i have discussed the crusades in more than one class. seems to be a hot topic. alternatively my brother got an invite from the demolay youth group organization, which is odd.

my classes go like this, philosophy, american environment, multicultural lit, spanish renaissance lit, bio. nast-eeee. almost done, soon i will be able to live in squalor and have more kids than i can feed. ill beat them, cause theres no test to take to make sure i wont. plus, i can establish firm ideas of subordination - early.

i was talking to somone at some point about general human populations coming upon discoveries at generally the same time. i see it as a spout of human being we all drink from. in terms of sense of self and mans general grasp of whats whos and hows.

the air is at that crisp point. makes things crisp? put down my cat.

The new Decemberists album isn't quite exactly what I expected. It's very much not chock full o' fall anthems like I hoped it would be, but it is still very, very excellent. Los Angeles, I'm Yours reminds me of this weird 80's music that I saw in a porno film when I was way too young to have seen a porno film. Ahh, warm fuzzy memories. I've put my hopes into the new Shins record to provide me with those chilly / cool fall anthems I'm looking for, however, if it doesn't deliver in that area i'll certainly accept a pleasant surprise like Her Majesty, The Decemberists.

Jimmy, whom we still haven't figured out how to sign on to this weblog, will be making one of his infamous Boston appearances this weekend, which is always exciting. I've taken Saturday off from work (my first day off in God knows how long) and am eagerly anticipating whatever the hell him and the still kinda fuzzy cast of characters that he's bringing along with him bring forth. I'll be sure to comment after the dust settles.

Still haven't checked out those Tierra games yet. --