Don't Call It a Comeback - I've Been Here for Years

Well, it has been quite a while since I have posted anything. In light of that, it would make sense for me to have some magnificent and meaningful essay on the timelessness of sharing and/or here's what I've been up to. That will not be happening. Instead, I will without ceremony, be re-opening this meaningless Junk-fest most post-haste and for no rhyme or reason. Those of you still on this particular wavelength of earth-time may be pleased/surprised to hear that:

• I'm getting married in August to an amazing woman. We're incredibly happy and are deeply entrenched in planning/managing/damage-controlling the activities.  I've added a link to our wedding site. Please visit. 
• Seattle is my new home. If I had continued to write for the past two years, it would have been littered primarily with this fact, and the idea that Seattle is AMAZING. Stay tuned for variations on this theme.
• I'm still pretty awesome, with occasional veins of nerd. 

That said, post-its in hand, feel free to rage against the reality of it, but I'm back. Boom.

-J

Wednesday

So have you ever had one of those days, where you get off work at eleven o'clock, feeling like one of Calvin's snow men, in terror and agony about the futile life you live, and so pissed off about it that the only thing to do is to pack your lunch for tomorrow, slam two Bacardi Razz's, hop into bed and read post-apocalyptic sci-fi serials until you can't hold your eyes open anymore?

And then you wake up the next day, trying to remember the dream you had, whistling to yourself, hair sticking straight-the-hell up (like you like it) and thinking, "I should blog about the uncanny human ability to separate the punishments of yesterday from the promise of tomorrow."

Has that ever happened to you?

Me too.

Cleanroom Rantings

So, as it turns out, leftover Uncle Bills' pancakes, sausage, bacon, eggs, and fried chicken is a delicious mistake. AKA Heartburn Central. But it was fun while it lasted. Also, little known fact, the open sign at 3am on the Vietnamese sandwich place is gloriously deceiving to drunk-Us. (drunk-Us is hyphenated for a reason people. Keep up. It's called rhythm*.)

Well, the Pabsts were cold and cheap, the conversation relatively obscene, and the music good enough to thump in my seat. Last night equals a sucessful Monday. Thanks Kyle and K.

-Junk

P.S. KB's eye was less swollen - from when his bony-assed friend was thrown bony-ass first into him whilst breaking into a CWE pool a la 4am-get-stuck-like-a-pig-on-the-fence style. That happened at the old place once, and I pulled the guy off. Gross. I didn't even know his name. But it didn't happen this time; because I manhandled John-John thighs and got man-glittered in the process. Left 'em a present, too. My least favorite Calvin Kline whitey-tighties were found by some erstwhile poolman early Sunday morning. Enjoy, poolman, enjoy.

*Great scrabble word.

Guess who had Sparks last night...

That's right. In a paper bag and everything.

So I picked up Edo last night and he was already done. With a D. We went to Westport, never a good idea, and JC- who stills claims to be better than a puppy - decides shes going to hit on girls for us. Except that E's wasted and I'm Sparky and we do NOT look like guys that should be having a hot girl talk to girls for us. Or maybe we do. But the music was good and then we went to the CWE and embarrassed ourselves in front of all Karens friends and coworkers. And when I say us I mean ME. It was great. We got home and Karen made delicious duck confit spring rolls, which are, unsuprisingly, awesome drunk food. Now its rent paying time (in more ways than one) and that means stepping into an oven. Goodbye sweat. It was nice having you inside my body.

Reasons I Totally Suck Vol. 1

Okay, so I know that I'm a complete douchebag for not even writing once this whole time I've been away. No arguement there. But here is a short and totally incomplete list of other reasons I should be thrown down a well...

After all that drunken, "No seriously, man, what do you want me to buy you from India?" I haven't purchased ANY souvenier-style gifts. I bought my mom a pashmina shawl. that's it. Everything else was for myself. I bought three pair of shoes. I'm selfish. So no one is getting anything. Except some aawesome stories and pictures.

I can't spell.

I plan on being that really annoying guy who says things like, "You know, while I was in India, they did it like this..." I hate those guys. Therefore, I am a hypocrite.

I only write blogs about myself and how awesome I am. Even the self-depreciating blogs are quasi-ego filled. Only I could make "Reasons why I suck" mkae me sound awesome.

I can't spell and I have no shame.

I only called four people. My mom. My dad. My brother. My sister. --- I didn't even call my other brother. It's been over three weeks, and I'm completely within reach of a phone like 24hours a day, but I'm such a chotch that havne't called ANY of my friends. And these are people who would LOVE a drunken phone call at 9am. You know who you are.

I totally farted in the World Temple for Krishna Conscienceness. Loud. And it smelled R E A L L Y bad. there were people that hadn't showered in like eight years that were giving me dirty looks and wrinkling thier noses.

Oh, I wore leather in a Jain monument. that was on accident, so I can't really be blamed for it, but I don't regret it at all, so I'm going to Jainist hell, which I think is the Super Smokers in Maryland Heights.

to be continued.

I'm flying home in approx. 13 hours. For 15 hours. whoever sits next to me on the plane is going to hate being alive for 15 hours. Or maybe they'll just hate their olfactory system. I know I hate their olfactory system already. With its scrunchiness and hating the player not the game. Party at my house this weekend. Please call or post with availability and theme ideas.

Art is Money, Money is Art

So I usually listen to NPR while driving to and from work. tonight, while driving home, the BBC had some program on about Art as Investiture (or some other made-up-British word). Something the commentator said has stuck in my head and I've been thinking about it for a while now. I thought I'd share.

Andy Warhol, at some point during his career, made numerous paintings and screenprints of a single dollar sign:

Apparently, one of these paintings is now worth $3milllion. The BBC World Serivce went so far as so speculate on its origins. (I'm paraphrasing here.. has anyone ever tried to navigate their transcripts site?? eugh!!) Anyway, he might have painted a single dollar wondering how many dollars it would be worth. This is irony at it's most ironical.

What a crap blog, today guys. Sorry. But it really got me thinking about art for arts sake and whether or not artists think about value/worth in a business sense or in a sense (also explained by a interview during the BBC show) of owning a unique snapshot... a poem.

Well just to throw and wrench in the works and make this the single most incoherent piece of writing ever concieved, take this quote from, yet another BBC interview of Andy Warhol himself:

Warhol claimed that the commercialism he appeared to mock was also a form
of art. "Making money is art," he wrote, "and working is art, and good business
is the best art".

So I'd really like to dicuss this with a few people who are willing to explore it a little more. Especially if you have a view of art or money that could help me understand or fix a point of view for me. Thanks for putting up with my late night ramblings.

Warning: Unintelligible babbling.

You know those days when you wish you could shoot lasers out of your eyes and burn buildings by point point pointing your finger really hard like Lewis Black and you could flip peoples car over because they drive slow but make sure that had their seatbelts on and no one gets hurt, just that slow fucking neon?

AND you know how on those days, when you're already really mad and you are revelling in your anger and you LOVE the fact that everyone is avoiding you and you tell them by yelling, "Don't fucking IGNORE me!" You know how on those days, you always manage to bump your head really hard, or slam your finger or pinch your skin on something painfully banal and dull and you or anyone else has NEVER hurt themselves on this spigot/curb/doorknob before. Have you any idea why that happens? I do.

And its not some weird cosmic shit like karma or "The Secret" or genies or fucking anything involving mental powers or Hinduism. Its the world fighting back! You're out here, stomping around, blowing noxious fucking gases out of your ears, creating noise pollution with the amount of times you drop the F bomb, grinding on the gears of the world by just existing in the state that you're in. I think its God or mother nature or whatever pinching you in the ass and telling you to chill out.

Or possibly the genie thing.

The funny part about that whole little tirade is that at the beginning, I was mad. You could tell, I know. But just by writing it, I cooled off, losing speed and momentum until my sudden burst of angry creativity completely fell out of the sky, like some Hindenburg-esque blimp with EUREKA! spelled out on the side, instead of GOODYEAR and banged-crashed-collided-was muffled and then completely absorbed into my little city of boredom.

The darkness that is my job ate my mean little inventive wit. I'm so pissed.

e-evolution.

--copied from a myspace blog-- Go read it there and then add me add me add me.


So I've just had an epfiany. It occured during my typing of a reply to a myspace message from someone that, under all other circumstances, I shouldn't have ever heard from again. (All other circumstances = No myspace.com). The idea that popped into my head was exactly that...
There was a time when certain people that you may have been aquaintences with (or known as the guy with the weird beard or the chick with the huge forehead) were supposed to slide slowly off your radar after you move away or stop going to the same coffee shop. If you saw them in a bar or at a bookstore, because of your no-first-name-but-recognizable-aquaintenceship, you might have the inclination to walk up and say hello and ask them what book they are reading. ( This approach, has in the past backfired, as everyone has experienced I think in the dreaded, "They don't recognize you,", or if either party is holding pornography.) However, if you did not see them after a period of time, these people were just gone. Not usually missed, either!! Not that they were bad aqaintinces or smelled or you owed them money... no! It's just that you didn't know them well enough in the first place to warrant setting up a meeting to see them again and in fact would have never even said goodbye, had they not brought it up awkwardly at the bar when you told them you were graduating/moving/finallygettingajob! Its the natural order of things! Certain people that are your friends - stay - your friends because you make a concerted effort to keep them as your friends! It's survival of the fittest! The spots that were once filled by casual aquaintences are now filled by newer, more casual aquaintences!! It's natural selection, honey! Weirdbeard Guy didn't make the cut! Clan of the Cave Bear is out!! You'll never see them again and probably won't ever remember they existed except for their exceptional names. (Which, technically, you gave to them in a fit of drunken hilarity. So really, you are only remembering them because of your off-handed association with their easily recognizable faults - a defense mechanism perpetrated by your ego to inferiortize them. Others, more close to you are spared this because you get to see the good side of each of their faults and your id justifies and forgives imperfections. Its called friendship.) Close friends stay close and casual friends stay casual and all those other people slowly slip into the background like white noise, only periodically to slip into the conscience through a conversation about the place you bumped into them a lot or a smell that reminds you of beard cream. Perhaps a sex dream containing every person in your graduating class. This has previously continued until each college socialite is just like their parents, with two best friends that live forever away who are only seen once every five years and every other spots being filled by allthepeopletheyworkwith. It's happened this way for generations. It's the way G-d intended. It happened to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. It happened to Moses. It happened to Jesus. It happened to Arisotole. It happened to Charles Darwin. It happened to Bill Clinton. And it was supposed to happen to YOU.

But no. myspace had to fuck it all up. Now, once we have known someone long enough for a casual conversation, it undeniably means that we've known someone long enough to look them up on myspace (Which, by itself, is a hilarious social enigma, if you ask me.) And once someone is your friend on myspace...it though to get rid of them. Our egos are so fragile that the justification necessary to "Remove from Friends" is ridiculous compared to the will-power needed to 'fudge' and Add someone you never really liked in the first place. But now, you get to hear everything they have to say about their favorite drink, where they last were kissed, if they are a cat or a dog or a monkey or want a monkey or HAVE a monkey or just got finished eating monkey or if their last 24 hours had NOTHING AT ALL TO DO WITH MONKEYS. You will still hear about it. And this is all from the guy, that naturally, under any other circumstances, you would've never heard from again.
conclusion: Myspace is ruining the world. In fact, we are all headed for total social meltdown. I'm talking orgies in the street, here people. for real.

I gatta get back to work.

Bullets don't kill people. I kill people.

So it's been awhile since I've posted anything and I thought I'd just bring everybody back up to speed with a bullet presentation.

• While watching the Food Network, Karen's jealousy of Rachael Ray overcame her and she personally renamed "$40 a Day" to "How to Cheat Poor Service People Out of Their Tips". Karen's just angry because I call RR a goddess, although we have both decided that Rachael Ray would be the world's single most annoying person to be around in person. ( I swear to Gd, if Sumit ever said "Yum-O!" I would slap the shit out of him. ) Plus, she has a Ba-donk-a-donk.
  
• I've gotten a cell phone, and in addition to the copious amounts of drunk dialing - expected, of course, I have started to take a ridiculous number of ridiculous photos. It's quickdraw properties have definite advantages. Observe:

Exhibit one. Holla Back Boy giving Will a "Wet Willie". It just seems natural sometimes.



This is Sumit making sure there is no Tequila on the poker money. Thanks Sumit.




The ever-elusive Karen, in her natural environment. ( Natural environment being a towel, a silly hat, smoking a cigarette, and reading Calvin and Hobbes.


Unsuspecting bystanders picking your nose, beware!! I have the ability... I have the technology.. to snap pictures in like five-point-two milliseconds. If I can figure out to get 'LifeBlog' going, I could even instantly upload them. The possibilities are endless.

• The bullets are pointless.

• 
  
• New Music to check out: Ratatat ( Try "Seventeen Years" )
  
• Gatta go. Heading to the zoo, hopefully to see the new elephant baby. Have you ever noticed that optimism exists without actual practicality? For instance, I was just thinking, "Man I love my apartment. Now that they've opened up Forest Park Ave, I could ride my bike to the zoo! If I had a bike."

Numa numa

Apparently there is an internet sensation that I've been missing. Numa numa is this craze where you dance in front of your webcam to a ridiculously catchy song... ok actually, I'm just going to quote wikipedia. Because it's way more official-sounding and that makes it even funnier.

Numa Numa (or "the Numa Numa Dance") is an Internet phenomenon based on amateur videos made for the song Dragostea din Tei by Romanian pop band O-Zone.

Anh, just go read the whole article.
Plus, it's time for me to post videos that I've found while looking for more Numa numa. (Kinda sounds like some sort of exotic South American fruit.... or an obscure reference to sex or drugs. "Have you ever sucked dick for Numa numa?"

















First, there is the David Hasselhoff music video. If you haven't already seen this, it's worth it. It brings to mind the days of Yatta! and Dalher Mendhi. (Who, by the way, I had playing in the car the other day. I've turned into a Dalher Mendhi fan.)





Then, the spoof of the David Hasselhoff music video. Equally as hilarious.




Everything on this page made me laugh out loud. At work. And shoot hazelnut coffee out of my nose. Especially the Scare Tactics one. I had to cover my mouth and pretend that I was reading a horrible e-mail.

Meet Max: Internet Time Waster.

I'm not a poet

Poems from The Brew


walking slowly to
the beat of happy cops casually
discussing radio hardware hierarchies
while eyeing a slinking perp, deluded and
paranoid, tripping exhaustedly on the curb
recovering quickly gasping
studderstep softly and walk into the night

the air is clean
it's too early, or too late for jimi.
if thats how you spell it anyway

abercrombie babies, beautifully sweetly smelling
fantasia of bookbags slung so carefully at
a casual angle, softly ripped and worn jeans and
shoes, beating happily to their own imaginative
Dave Matthews versions, beating quiet rhythms
of knee kicking guitar and bass and drums, flutes
for voices and bottled beaches for hair and sheep.
Smiling about, glancing for someone to
sit with, piercing souls and egos coolly, with sweet sweet
melodic steps past, until shes finally rested,
at the table of wool and wolf hair, narrowly
skipping my latte with a kiss Oh! how they
love Bob Dylan, especially the ones he doesn't play.
But neither do I. I must be shallow. Sipping caramel and
chocolate and expresso and thinking naked sweatiness
The girl behind the counter with the large smile and
cute sandals and honest eyes stares, my eyes must
be red. And she must be mysterious. the brunette in
the center of the room intrigues me, not because of her
breasts but because of the variety of her facial
expressions, but breasts help.




_____________________________________
I TOOK THE PIECES YOU
THREW AWAY AND PUT THEM
TO GATHER BY NIGHT AND DAY
WASHED BY RAIN, DRIED BY SUN,
A MILLION PIECES ALL IN ONE
_____________________________________


slick and standing
A testament to frame and physics
pert and unmovable
loving smiling waiting
(g)leaning oh so slightly
untouched by music or coffee

Milwaukee-love. Love, Milwaukee.

Random Thought:

When I hear 'that sound' in the shower I have to roll out of the way or be burned to death. Oh God, the heat. I just wish I didn't have to treat my morning routine like it was the dangers of the fire swamp.

Highlights of Milwaukee

Caf-love (not smiling. caf-love never smiles. In fact, it's more fun not to smile. )

The new fountains at the MAM.

Chihuly rocks!

That's called "The Museum Air-Hump."

If you look closely, you'll see Lakefront's "Rodent Log". Awesome.

Divine Inspiration

Five minutes. You're worth it. We all are.

Go to Sumit's blog. I'm gonna do what he asks and I think everyone else should too. Let's spend five minutes and think hard, for once in our lives.

Sit and Spin

Seis de Mayo

Here's a good story.

So this drunk guy wanted to fight me last night, so I talked him out of it. He ended up asking to buy me a beer. I was like, "Cool. How about a Corona, seeing that it's Cinco de Mayo." And then he's like, "What? you must really LOVE Mexico." And then I was like, "Nah. I just really hate France." (Because Cinco de Mayo is the victory over the French at Pueblo. Keep up.)


Kiwi-hip hop lyrics of the day:


Che Fu - Chains

Come test me like a bomb straight from murdera
How comes i got cyclops fish in my water, A
Nation of Pacific lambs to the slaughter three
Eyes for my son and an extra foot for my daughter,
Gifts from a land that i don't even know i was
To slow to see that s-car-go you say i'm all
blow no cash exchange i didn't lie there's a
Picture of me in the dictionary under "French
Fry", no racism i'm out for who's in charge, I'd
like to lay a fat cable, in their bckyard to
Far they've gone now i'm radioactive strong I
Just walk past the switch and all the lights
Turn on,no "last dragon" just left my bones
Exposed didn't reach no final level yet my body
Still glows, why do you wanna annoy, nuclear
Boy with your toy

Wa Pihia neke mase a koe

Feel the light of one who stays over come some
Day set your sights and chip away
Come break my chains come help me out living in
The sity ain't so bad

Ch-ch Chale may i pull you 'side for a second
Asking you a question checkin what you reckon
why you letting your guard down with a frown
freaking bout what you wear how you walk
Around town did your heads ever think further
than threads, instead your dress code of the
Soul wardrobe is dead, mislead maybe why's my mirror hazy, morphin into something else my own imae is fading, making, moulding, holding, folding, is it more or a moive, Channel z or 3? Stolen stupid as such why is it televsion be now ruled by a crutch, hairless and fearless
Devoid of all shape like a snake, stick, your mouth around the bit that says inflate, breath deep if a sucker that you be, time is running out for me, to old for cold rubber making whoopee, i prefer a woman who is real to the touch, she feels much, she be the "starsky" to my hutch
You crunched up my sisters to the point of no
return, anoint the tan with the ointment, now
Ken & barbie burn, crispy pink, with a plastic
Sheen turn it over, baste it with a bit of margerine
"mmm mmm smells good" the swine taste fine whe're my christmas pud

Come break, my chains come help me out living in the city ain't so bad

I opened up my mind, i severed it straight down
The middle, conciousness like the ocean started
Out from the trickle, inspiration now the damn is
Broken my brain is open game is over time to
Insert your token, hopin i didn't see my deepest
Upleasentries my creepy crawlies goupe title
"insecurities" what-chu-mean? i mean the kind
that make you worry, buggers like bove and
Money ain't it funny regardless of emotions
That i've found the things that pick you up can
Be the same that put you down, underground in
The pits of dispair way down there, once again
I've got to make my way from here, bleeding
Needing a piece of self discovery so i can
patch myself up and make a quick recovery


Cause it just soon helium baloon bursting

Come break, my chains come help me out living in the city ain't so bad
Come break, my chains come help me (Tights is the gag in my mouth)
Come break my chains come help me out (picking up the reigns in the south),
Tell who's gonna buy who's gonna sell?

Bring it back down.

So I'm getting the hang of html editing and embedding and other various functionalities necessary to blogging and otherwise communicating with random, silent voyeurs on the web. So I've decided to test my luck. Plus, I've got never-before-seen video that has the potential to crack up at least three people that might happen upon it. And finally, because Compy 386 is soon to be replaced and upgraded to MainframeMegaUltiPlex 2k6, I'm taking my camera everywhere I go and using the post-it method more often. Just in case this whole "biotechnology/pharmaceutical" craze ever falls through, I'll have a back-up career on the internet.

Good luck to me.

S.U.M.I.T.



ps The caption on this video should read: Oakland Gyros. Late. Yes, that's me with long hair and a boob-like purse. Yes, Mike, it's recording. Yes Sumit, we do know the rest.

Ingenious, Creative, Practical and Simply Preposterous

So Janette has raised the bar. Great gift. I'll recount one of my favorite stories...

A traveler found himself pulling an all-nighter in an airport. He wrote his flight information on a Post-it(c) Note, along with a plea to wake him up in time, and stuck it on his shirt. It worked - twice! He dozed off after one traveler woke him. The second person made sure he was up.

By the way, I'd just like to give a creepy shout-out to the reason I started blogging... Plus you should just keep up with this guy. Anyone who snorts 151 is automatically good in my book. (ps If my boss asks anyone, I had food poisoning today. It was the salmon salad.)

Ok fine.