Since the beginning of styrofoam, men and women have been stealing leftovers from each other and lying about it. I've done this a lot and I'm gonna offer you guys some tips on getting free food in these desperate times. Now, if you wanna steal your roommates' leftovers, there's a few precautions to take. I'll input my own experience here. I lived with a veteran named Josh. I'm going to preface this and say, if you're interrogated, the magic phrase is "I don't know". And if that doesn't work, you say "No." One day he makes a shitload of chicken drumsticks and thighs. But I need to test him before I can steal from him. One day I open the tupperware and simply rotate a few of these drumsticks, and wait to see what happens. I'm sitting on the couch doing nothing and I hear "What the shit? Who touched my food?!" "I don't know," i said. "Was it you, Matt?" "No." Well then I knew. This motherfucker would put you into a sleeper hold over half a hotpocket. I live with better people now. I ate some of chase's pasta salad and he actually noticed and asked me. "Matt, did you eat my pasta salad?" "I don't know." "Well who did?" "No." Now if you're unfortunate enough to work in an office, you're lucky in that the fridges are actually communal. They don't tell you that. You've just got to reach out and grab the chicken salad. The rule here is the 3 day rule. If something's in there for 3 days, it's yours. Now, this one time there was an old trader joe's greek salad. So i took it into the bathroom, took a shit, and then ate it. The salad, that is. But the walnuts were kinda chewy and it was taking me some time. Someone knocked and was like "Is someone in there?" and I remembered the magic phrase, "I don't know." oh is that you matt? "no." And then you MUST MUST MUST dig some trash out of the bin, bury the leftover containers, and then put the trash back on top. even if its gross. otherwise they'll know it was

6,030.00 18 6,030.00 18 2,412.00 4 14472 7,156.00 20 7,156.00 20 1,206.00 2 15518 18 20 2 14,392

For me, chapters X and XI were the best out of Cranford so far, because they deal with Victorian neuroses, paranoia, and the occult. In this scene, reminiscent of combating a vampire, the sign of the cross is made to ward off an evil spirit or otherwise some un-Christian element from the East, I wasn't sure which. I also liked the footnote explaining the possibly of Signor Burnoni possessing a "will…of deadly force" which said that something like the "evil eye" has existed since the late 18th century, whereas one could direct the will through the eyes into some sort of metaphysically powerful gaze. I would like to know more about these sorts of beliefs with Victorian folk. My Russian professor was telling us the other day that generally people of lower social standing are more likely to believe in superstition - to not risk losing wealth or health - and it fits in perfectly with the ridiculous delusions that the ladies of Cranford underwent in Chapter X and all the irrational xenophobic fears that surmised.
Also I found it easier to get into the novel by realizing who it was published for - Gaskell's contemporaries. I suppose fear of losing wealth invested into risky international banks or businesses may have been a realistic imperial fear. Poor Miss Matty. But despite some of the support Miss Matty's friends have promised her in her poverty, I have no doubts that they will soon begin to think less of her for losing her status.









i cant help but stare at girls in the library
then they notice
and i stop for a bit

Anyone ever been to the food bank? Anyone ever see who else is in line at the food bank, and then suddenly feel guilty for going to the food bank? I was usually picked last or second-to-last in high school and middle school sports. Softball, last. Basketball, definitely last. Football, second to last (i could run when i had to or when i was scared) It was worse when we weren't divided by gender. I made the switch from briefs to boxers when other schmucks began paying attention. It was kind of weird at first, like shaving your pubes, there's suddenly more air molecules orbiting around your junk. It's kind of nice, though. They were silk but that meant more random boners in class. This was harder because it was earlier in my development, before I learned that you can tuck your erect penis behind your belt and toss your shirt over it. I don't know what I would do if I was in a situation where I'd have to tuck my shirt in. I'm glad my parents had all their money tied up on visa cards and couldn't send me to private school. There are other reasons I'm glad my parents were functionally poor, poor enough so that I didn't have to go to private school, but employable enough to not be white trash. The only thing my parents had in common was liking the Beatles. But, now, after saying that outloud, I feel like that's not much of an achievement for people born in the 1950s. Who doesn't like the Beatles? Trolls, mallgoths, and hecklers. I included hecklers to make it sound like I do this a lot. Mallgoth chicks are kind of hot. But we don't have much of a mallgoth scene here. I used to listen to Cradle of Filth and fantasize about a chick sucking my wrists slicing my dick and tattooing her tits while she's licking my asshole on meth while we listened to a grown man bellow like Satan with a mouth full of marbles about the whores of Babylon to guitars being broken. This never happened to me. I wrote poetry about it, though. GF missionary normal normal normal normal we're always told...it doesn't matter what people think of you everything depends on what people think of you! Pants in school, leopard print boxers Voting. I'm pro-drugs, there are times in life where I think everyone should get high and re-evaluate what the fuck their doing. Never before in US history, i would argue, has there been more congressional gridlock. I sort of grew up listneing to my dad falling asleep in front of Keith Olbermann and therefoer think most republicans have a few screws loose. But my dad is a liberal nut, too, so that makes me kind of jaded. But whenver I hear about nothing getting done in congress I think we should release marijuana fumes into the house of representatives. ron paul: eliminate the fed, eliminate income tax, eliminate the jews republicans: let's settle for a litte less

Hanging in the Caucasus

Hello! It's been a long time. I'm hanging out in Batumi right now, in a hot, smoky internet cafe. I've been enjoying the city, walking around with S, trying to find her a bikini as well as the Stalin museum, which has been shut down. It's a much more walkable town than Tbilisi, and reminds me of Yerevan. Ice cream is a popular treat, and as my friends and I were patronizing a soft-serve joint, one ordered chocolate, one ordered vanilla, and I wanted the swirl, so I said "byelii i shokolad" but the attendent didn't understand, and just gave me vanilla. Our comerade, B, who didn't know any Russian, simply pointed at the lever in the middle. "The power of pointing!" she said. It made me feel stupid. She always one-ups somebody...and the way she talks about herself tends to sound pompous. But I admire her, she's a good spirit.

Equipment list!

I'm nearly ready!

My list of gear thus far includes:
Bivvy sack,
down sleeping bag,
self-inflating sleeping pad (need to pick up),
two synthetic long sleeve base layers,
two synthetic long underwear,
a fleece pullover,
a raincoat,
trekking pants (need to pick up),
sock liners,
two pairs of wool socks, (need one more),
leather boots,
extra insoles (need still)
a pillowcase,
a larger dry stuff sack,
a smaller one for toiletries,
eye drops, contact lens solution, extra contacts,
ibuprofen, benedryl, melatonin, cold medicine,
insect repellent, sunscreen, sun hat,
mini toothbrush, toothpaste, water purification tablets, water bladder, and trekking poles.

what else do I need?

A fine Saturday

Yesterday was a day of learning and growth for me. It began with a handful of miles hiked in the large forest just outside of town. I'm training for my big trek this summer, in a different continent. But other days I'll get high on drugs and smoke cigarettes. Either way I'll make it.

I threw a little part for my class. I spent $40 on liquor and $50 on food, and made shish-ka-bobs. They turned out brilliantly, with a blend of teriyaki and barbecue sauce painted on, and my party was fun for a few hours. Although, at about 10:30, most of the people there were leaving, so it only lasted for about 3 and a half hours, tops. I'm not entirely sure why, but I'm still really glad I did it, and it opens up possibilities for future invitations.

Wow, what a show.

In the past two weeks I've been dealing with the
*Crisis of writing a research paper on something I'm not really interested in anymore
*Trying to excommunicate an ex-friend who has been harassing me and my crew, and potentially my girlfriend.
*Starting to get into art and painting again to sooth my soul
*Cooking and having people over (which I haven't been able to do at my old residence)
*Enjoying the day
*Trying to lower my T-mobile bill and realize that if I want to access email from my phone I'll need to use and KEEP my $79/mo plan...helplessly addicted to my blackberry...anyway

So it's been pretty swell. It capped off with a beautiful Sunday too. I got up at noon, went to walmart to get a new inhaler, spent the next 3-4 hours cooking chicken, rice, beans, onions, tomatoes, and peppers into a number of separate dishes that can be brought together scrumtiously with a flour tortilla. We invited a friend over and the three of us (my ladyfriend included) had a lovely time. I endured a minor trauma in the process, as it was mother's day and I was inviting people to come over within the next 30 minutes. S & B, and the rest of the kids in the new house, couldn't make it. Damn. I even tried inviting a few classmates I hang out with and they were all busy. People kept saying they had too much homework to come over for an hour for free amazing food. Kind of painful. I even went so far as inviting my ladyfriend's roommates (including a boyfriend who is rather annoying and ever-present in her apartment, yet nice) and A said she was "too busy" with homework. I'm gonna call out this bitch on it next time I see her. It's less than a 10 minute walk to my place. She always has me over and occasionally cooks B grade food for me, but wouldn't come to my lovely new house. Ah, well. 1st world problem. This isn't something I've complained about before. In fact, I feel kind of silly about it...it was a bit like a Curb your Enthusiasm episode.

Later on, J and I struggled to find our friend's house for an event (in her bathroom) that it turned out I would be performing for (!!!). I didn't realize I was booked and almost ducked out it. But I wrote some notes to myself to prepare and put on some nice clothes, which I'm still wearing. We drove. The house turned out to be on the east side of town, rather than the west, but everything is pretty close together in this city, so it came together.

The house was ragged and trashed. There was a homogenous blend of the new tenant's possession's with the former tenants' which I found to be unruly. Yet more and more people were arriving and I realized that J & I were probably the only one who found the house to trashed. It seemed as if the former tenants had strewn out their belongings against the walls, leaving emaciated walkways between rooms.

Old cabinets, microphone stands, aging banana-painted drawers, various mugs from Minnesota, a teapot from the East, beer cases full of trash and wrappers and peels, cannisters of paprika, epsom salts, black pepper, curry seasonings, green and red bouillon cubes, cat trees rooted to the carpeting, stains of cat urine alongside them, a mateless sneaker, a coverless vent nestled under floorboards, and an upturned boxspring.

Anyway, the most important thing that went down is that I performed! Before I went on I told a hippie guy to play the oven tray at the 30 second mark. That was a good idea. I started off emphasizing the ideas of love and lust as the "big questions" we have to face in our lives, but that they're not really as immense as we're socialized to consider them in our literature and media (I didn't say that though). I just talked about how I fell in love with my astrologer and then my second cousin in Canada and ended that I found these loves to be a farce as they were unrequited, elderly, and ultimately, incestial. I kept my spiel to a beat, as J told me afterwards. I got a few good laughs and it was a hit.

I'd like to do more of this in the future. Some things I could discuss, as far as humorous anecdotes as cultural stories are, the downfall of society within the office space (need to write about this one more) the importance of travel for one's development...i'm not sure. i hope i can find more funny things to talk about. i'm sure there are many stories within me that are worth telling.

my paper

Ugh, I just don't really care about this right now. Maybe I'll lose credit. I don't know. I just can't get interested in this. I don't care! Gauthum says, try to be happy while doing it. But I can't get happy. I feel good, but I want to find personal accounts. Jstor is the only source I have and it's just not cutting it for me. Professor says find articles, articles are what you need! But I can't find enough shit.

What I'd like to see

Well, the report is in. Marcus Nagelberg's brilliant new novel, "Name Withheld." In it, Nagelberg addresses the sense of disconnection and alienation he witnessed in city life, on the college campus, and in suburbia. He paints the pictures that compelled him in his youth to experiment with drugs, and how he struggled to accept his heterosexuality, and how this gradually affected his view of women, relationships, and sex. It is a wholly modern Bildungsroman, echoing the necessity for a quick turn to adulthood, which was influenced by the death of the author's mother when he was a high school boy. "Name Withheld" is one of the first novels to address the issue of emotional isolation in the digital age of worldwide connectivity during the surge of social media.

The mindfulness approach

I took a mindfulness-based depression and anxiety class once a week last quarter. In short, I learned that when I feel anxious, I should remind myself consciously that I feel...anxious, and ask myself where I feel it. The idea is to make what feels almost automatic and unconscious, conscious. I noticed that whenever I walk up the stairs to my office I get the sensation of a vice squeezing my chest, shortening my breath, and making me feels shaky. But now that I'm more aware of it, I just feel more miserable about it.

D&D!

I Am A: Chaotic Neutral Elf Bard/Sorcerer (2nd/2nd Level)


Ability Scores:

Strength-12

Dexterity-12

Constitution-14

Intelligence-14

Wisdom-13

Charisma-13


Alignment:
Chaotic Neutral A chaotic neutral character follows his whims. He is an individualist first and last. He values his own liberty but doesn't strive to protect others' freedom. He avoids authority, resents restrictions, and challenges traditions. A chaotic neutral character does not intentionally disrupt organizations as part of a campaign of anarchy. To do so, he would have to be motivated either by good (and a desire to liberate others) or evil (and a desire to make those different from himself suffer). A chaotic neutral character may be unpredictable, but his behavior is not totally random. He is not as likely to jump off a bridge as to cross it. Chaotic neutral is the best alignment you can be because it represents true freedom from both society's restrictions and a do-gooder's zeal. However, chaotic neutral can be a dangerous alignment because it seeks to eliminate all authority, harmony, and order in society.


Race:
Elves are known for their poetry, song, and magical arts, but when danger threatens they show great skill with weapons and strategy. Elves can live to be over 700 years old and, by human standards, are slow to make friends and enemies, and even slower to forget them. Elves are slim and stand 4.5 to 5.5 feet tall. They have no facial or body hair, prefer comfortable clothes, and possess unearthly grace. Many others races find them hauntingly beautiful.


Primary Class:
Bards often serve as negotiators, messengers, scouts, and spies. They love to accompany heroes (and villains) to witness heroic (or villainous) deeds firsthand, since a bard who can tell a story from personal experience earns renown among his fellows. A bard casts arcane spells without any advance preparation, much like a sorcerer. Bards also share some specialized skills with rogues, and their knowledge of item lore is nearly unmatched. A high Charisma score allows a bard to cast high-level spells.


Secondary Class:
Sorcerers are arcane spellcasters who manipulate magic energy with imagination and talent rather than studious discipline. They have no books, no mentors, no theories just raw power that they direct at will. Sorcerers know fewer spells than wizards do and acquire them more slowly, but they can cast individual spells more often and have no need to prepare their incantations ahead of time. Also unlike wizards, sorcerers cannot specialize in a school of magic. Since sorcerers gain their powers without undergoing the years of rigorous study that wizards go through, they have more time to learn fighting skills and are proficient with simple weapons. Charisma is very important for sorcerers; the higher their value in this ability, the higher the spell level they can cast.


Find out What Kind of Dungeons and Dragons Character Would You Be?, courtesy of Easydamus (e-mail)



also, I cleared up things with my girlfriend :P

Poem for the school newspaper

I'm going to look into how much money it'll cost to get this published

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