7 Reasons Why You Should Buy Vintage Clothing
4 years ago
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
An ode to strippers
Recently it's been brought to my attention that I have an affinity for strippers. This could be for many reasons, number one that I'm a red-blooded american male (despite evidence to the contrary), number two is however the more evocative to the reasons. After examining the situation, I came to realize that it's not the strippers per se that I like but rather the environment, the mood, the set and setting, etc. that I like. I like the dark, plush, sexyness of strip clubs. That is obvious, but more than that I love the off stage dance that takes place. Maybe I take it as a personal challenge to occupy as much of a strippers time as possible with out giving them my money or maybe I just love talking to the girls. The thing that grabs my attention the most is the aninimity of the clubs. The girls all are using stage names. I know this, I've been on the other side, I've dated more strippers that most, when she says her name is "Kitty" or "Diamond" she named herself that, or her friend, or an ex-boyfriend or something. It's very very rare that a stripper actually uses his or her real name. This does build an interesting and exciting barrier. When they talk to you they are using a fake name but the details are real. Strippers aren't creating elaborate story lines that they tell to john's just to get them to spend more money. Well, most of them aren't. So when she tells your that she was a dancer in highschool, she's probabbly telling you the truth. They understand that with out an actual name they can ramble on and on about their life with no accountability. The same lack of accountability and animinity is in effect for the customer. These girls see hundreds if not thousands of generic guys day in and day out. They ask the same sets of questions, go through the same motions and get almost the same responses from most of their marks. One guy with a crappy wife at home is just like the next. So there is no check and balance, no accountability or responsibility at a strip club, awsome! Why do I love this so much. Because it allows me to get right to the heart of things. I can skip the crappy details, the bullshit of "can I buy you a drink?" or "So, come here often?" and get right to the fun talks. Strippers, believe it or not, have lead some rediculously interesting lives. Not all of them suffer from "daddy issues," not all of them have a kid at home, and not all of them are dumb. Many of them do / are, but a majority of them have lead very real unique exsistences. I've talked to girls that have kids, I've talked to girls putting themselves through college, in very difficult majors, I've talked to girls that have overcome serious drug problems, and there is even the occasional girl that has that classic "small town girl trying to make it in the big city" story. The common thread is that they are real slices of americanna. A chunk of the pie. A unique flavor in this great big melting pot. If one has the oppertunity to bend the ear of a stripper, ask them questions. Don't just talk about yourself. If you keep asking questions, and are even vaguely paying attention, they will spill their inner most secrets. They will tell you things about them and their lives, their families, their friends lives, that you can never imagine. A cross section of life that most only hear about in made for TV movies. There are countless mistakes that have been made, just waiting for someone to learn from them. I love strippers for this reason. They reflect america, all it's shining glory prancing around on stage, and it's delightfully appealing underbelly, the dark side that is so pervasive and yet swept under the rug daily. There isn't the image protection bullshit that people spew daily. They hear things from customers about the state of the world and about day to day life that most of us couldn't even begin to deal with. People tell them things because they are just another customer, and the stripper is their therapist. Listen to strippers because they tell it from the heart, if only because they call themselves "Bambi" and their real name is JoAnna.
Monday, October 24, 2005
Monday, October 17, 2005
Sunday, October 16, 2005
Wine of Wrath Chapter One
The uhaul slammed shut. Dad locked it, walked around to the bed of his truck and made sure all the ropes were secure. It wasn't a Model 'T' like was so common in the 30's when this place was being settled, it wasn't even a Ford, but the truck, a full size GMC, had an eerily familiar feel to it. If there was a mattress stacked on the top we'd be "Okies" again. Dad came up to the lawn to say good-bye. The heat of Bakersfield was starting to rear it's ugly head. It was only Febuary and already the afternoon heat was becomming more opressive by the day. Eighty five degrees and steadily climbing by the week. We shared hugs and kisses, tears fell and promises were made. I'll never know what they said to each other that day, but it had become more and more obvious that Mom and Dad were growing apart. Although too young to understand, I noticed an observible difference in their interactions. We were all upset, but this wasn't a somber occasion. A new life was only a few months away. By next fall I'd be starting highschool in a new town, in a new state. The life I knew in Bakersfield would be no more. A new world, a new journey, a new exsistance was waiting, all we had to do was cross the Rockies.
(work in progress)
(work in progress)
Drunk by Nine Part Deux
Twenty bucks and two beers later I was drunk. Seven Eleven had come through, making it the best pay off in Vegas so far. Our shopping list was simple; styrofoam cooler, case of beer, sun block, chips, and condoms. We were like warpped boyscouts; Las Vegas troop 666. Ready for anything that could happen that day. We hit in the shade on the east side of the pool. The sun, still rising, was blocked on that side by a wing of the Palace Station. The AAPR crowd was awake. They were leaving their coffee pots looking for winning slots. A few of the retirees, not inclined to gamble found their way to the pool, presumably looking for an excape from the overindulgence inside the casino. Was in too early to seriously commit oneself to gambling? Was it too early to start drinking heavily? It didn't matter, we had already decided. Commitment we had, it was common since, sobriety, and reason we lacked.
The old ladies that had the hutzpa to join us by the pool settled on the west part of the deck. Their modest bathing outfits exposed leathery skin. No doubt these women had been bathing beauties, sun kissed goddesses in their day. I wondered what stories they could tell, what crazy things had they done? Absent mindedly I sipped my beer and put a chip in my mouth. The crunching of cheesy Doritos disrupped my day dreaming and bits of the converstions around me penetrated my conciousness. Schad, the Reverend, and Corazon were back. They hadn't gone anywhere but lack of sleep had supressed their true colors. We had all been on auto pilot for a bit. As their sobriety wained their more endeering traites established their prominance. The four of us are some mouthy fuckin kids. Quick to judge, quick to speak, and quick to insult. Not qualities most would look for in close friends, but drafting a drinking team is different. As long as you don't get into fights with randoms, and /or as long as you've got a big guy like Schad on your team, these are the ideal qualities to look for.
Laying by the pool, the over stimulation of most Las Vegas attractions was muted, we were the most exciting thing outside. Attention focused on why we came. To celebrate finishing those god damned spanish classes, and of course Ryans M-CATS, the reason we pushed the trip back a week. Spanish, the worst 9 weeks of class we've ever had to take. The irony of course being that w/o that torture, the four of us wouldn't have met. Four guys, all involved in greek organizations, all persuing bachlors degrees, all in different class levels. It's amazing that we had not met prior, and yet it's even more amazing that we ever came together.
School was the reason to have this trip, but fun was the agenda.
(unfinished, more to come)
The old ladies that had the hutzpa to join us by the pool settled on the west part of the deck. Their modest bathing outfits exposed leathery skin. No doubt these women had been bathing beauties, sun kissed goddesses in their day. I wondered what stories they could tell, what crazy things had they done? Absent mindedly I sipped my beer and put a chip in my mouth. The crunching of cheesy Doritos disrupped my day dreaming and bits of the converstions around me penetrated my conciousness. Schad, the Reverend, and Corazon were back. They hadn't gone anywhere but lack of sleep had supressed their true colors. We had all been on auto pilot for a bit. As their sobriety wained their more endeering traites established their prominance. The four of us are some mouthy fuckin kids. Quick to judge, quick to speak, and quick to insult. Not qualities most would look for in close friends, but drafting a drinking team is different. As long as you don't get into fights with randoms, and /or as long as you've got a big guy like Schad on your team, these are the ideal qualities to look for.
Laying by the pool, the over stimulation of most Las Vegas attractions was muted, we were the most exciting thing outside. Attention focused on why we came. To celebrate finishing those god damned spanish classes, and of course Ryans M-CATS, the reason we pushed the trip back a week. Spanish, the worst 9 weeks of class we've ever had to take. The irony of course being that w/o that torture, the four of us wouldn't have met. Four guys, all involved in greek organizations, all persuing bachlors degrees, all in different class levels. It's amazing that we had not met prior, and yet it's even more amazing that we ever came together.
School was the reason to have this trip, but fun was the agenda.
(unfinished, more to come)
Friday, October 07, 2005
Missed connection vs. Casual encounter
Ok, I'm fessing up. Although most people peg me for an Exhibitionist, and out wardly I have that appearance, I have a voyeuristic steak a mile long. Nothing that would be contrived as illegal or obscene, well maybe obscene, but totally on the level. I like to people watch. Everywhere I go, I love just being a fly on the wall. Quietly observing human behavior. Taking notes of posture, hair style, make-up, facial expression, etc. Maybe it's just me, maybe it's an "artist" thing, maybe it's human nature, I don't know, all I know is that people are the most interesting subject I can think of at almost any given moment. I use my obsevations in dance, in my acting, in a variety of other situations. That brings me to my current obcession. Craigslist. I've been surffing it for some time now, and I usually find exciting buys, or free stuff, or jobs, lots and lots of random 'things'. My favorite though, is the personals. Specifically the "Casual Encounter" and "Missed connection" sub sections of them. Although they appear opposite, I feel the connection between the two is where the magic happens.
Hope. Hoping that somewhere, someone would like to have sex with you. It's brilliant. The C.E. is blantant, vulgar, raw. These are the people that are willing to admit what they want in life. Some ass. The M.C. portion is more subtle, but it's even more emotionally jarring than the grotesque overtly sexual nature of the C.E.
Those that write in the Missed Connections are also those that rent "She's all that," "Sleepless in Seattle," or "Waiting to Exhale." These people have consumed too many romantic comedys, too many trashy romance novels and too much Ben and Jerry's. They are not going to find what they want because they are shy, or because they are unwilling to be proactive. You need to talk to the people you want to date. You have to approach people, get their numbers etc. The odds of someone actually finding you on the Missed connections page is rediculous.
To be fair I shouldn't be so judgemental. I'm self aware enough to know that I hold out some shred of hope when I read these things. Not only do they make me feel better about myself, but I do have the deep seeded, hopeless romantic fueled desire for someone to have a missed connection with me. Someday I'll get on my computer and there will be prose about me. Something along the lines of:
"You were standing in front of me in line at Starbucks. Your long hair was pulled back with a blue hair tie. You ordered a venti vanilla latte and I asked you if it was good. You told me it was your 'usual' and that I'd enjoy it. I did. While you sleepily scanned the paper waiting for you coffee I secretly desired to rip your clothes off and do you on the floor of Starbucks. I hope you noticed me, I was the blond hair blue eyed one, I had a white top on. Can I buy you your regular next time?"
Ah hope, as they say, it floats, like the foam on my latte.
Hope. Hoping that somewhere, someone would like to have sex with you. It's brilliant. The C.E. is blantant, vulgar, raw. These are the people that are willing to admit what they want in life. Some ass. The M.C. portion is more subtle, but it's even more emotionally jarring than the grotesque overtly sexual nature of the C.E.
Those that write in the Missed Connections are also those that rent "She's all that," "Sleepless in Seattle," or "Waiting to Exhale." These people have consumed too many romantic comedys, too many trashy romance novels and too much Ben and Jerry's. They are not going to find what they want because they are shy, or because they are unwilling to be proactive. You need to talk to the people you want to date. You have to approach people, get their numbers etc. The odds of someone actually finding you on the Missed connections page is rediculous.
To be fair I shouldn't be so judgemental. I'm self aware enough to know that I hold out some shred of hope when I read these things. Not only do they make me feel better about myself, but I do have the deep seeded, hopeless romantic fueled desire for someone to have a missed connection with me. Someday I'll get on my computer and there will be prose about me. Something along the lines of:
"You were standing in front of me in line at Starbucks. Your long hair was pulled back with a blue hair tie. You ordered a venti vanilla latte and I asked you if it was good. You told me it was your 'usual' and that I'd enjoy it. I did. While you sleepily scanned the paper waiting for you coffee I secretly desired to rip your clothes off and do you on the floor of Starbucks. I hope you noticed me, I was the blond hair blue eyed one, I had a white top on. Can I buy you your regular next time?"
Ah hope, as they say, it floats, like the foam on my latte.
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
Drunk by nine
The match sizzled and popped as I pushed it toward my last smoke. Menthols, always menthols. I streched and squinted, arms reaching for the answers. While shading my eyes I took a nice long drag. "We're not doing too bad." I thought as I looked around. The strip club was closing and we were greating the sun. "Whats the plan now?" I asked, knowing full well that we still had a minimun of 6 hours before early checkin. Blank stares. The sun shown down. It wasn't hot yet, but any idiot could tell it would be soon. We needed to be somewhere. Anywhere would do, just not the stoop of a strip club. Rays of light exposing it's true color. What moments earlier looked like a glimmering pink castle was quickly truning into a run down, sleezy shanty as the sun cast it's oddly sobering glow across the desert. I was sober, the adderoll had worn off, and I was smoking my last P-funk. It was time to go.
"Whats the plan?'' I repeated, not wanting to make a decision, wanting someone else to make up my mind for me. It had worked so well last night.
Crickets. Well, not crickets, i don't think they live in the desert. The las vegas equvalent of crickets, traffic. The sound of cars rushing by, busy, rushing to get to their destination, bitter that they were off to work on a friday morning and we were busy stumbling from the mouth of a strip club.
Corry wanted to go back to the hotel. Ryan wanted to get drunk. Schad eccoed both their sentiments. So that was the plan, go back to the hotel, and drink untill we could check in, or until something better came along. But first Corry had to pee. We walked. Why waste cab fair in broad day light. The hotel wasn't that far, just in the worst part of vegas. Not the worst, we would find that out later, but not the glits and glamour of the strip, expecially at this ungodly hour. On the way we stopped at the nearest 7-11.
bing, the door chimed as we walked through. A rush of cool air blew hair from my face. Everything in vegas is airconditioned. This is the real genius. Everywhere there is AC there is gambling, this 7-11 not excluded; and it's so fuckin hot in the desert you have to seek shelter. Brilliant. Truly brilliant.
I sat at a video poker machine, just staring at the games it offered. They make little, if any, since. All I understand is that if I put in money, and press the right buttons at the right time, they give me money back, but most of the time, they just keep the money I feed them. My Left hand slinks into my pocket. I fish, out it comes, empty. Damn strippers. Right hand. I fish. Sweet, one dollar. Thats all i need, two trys. I push buttons a few times and the lights keep flashing. I must be doing something right. Corry returns.
"That was fast." I say, barely listening to myself as the game took over my brain.
"No public restrooms." is the grumble i heard from somewhere behind me.
I won. Not big, but I was up. I cashed out my five dollars and quickly gave it back to the man behind the counter. P-funk Menthol ultra lights, got to keep the party rockin.
"Lets bounce before Corry wets himself" and I motioned to the door.
I checked my cell, it was 620 am. This was going to be a long day.
A few blocks and under the freeway and we were back where we started, the entrance of the hotel. "Hey look!" said Schad, "there is another 7-11 right next door." Now what I wondered? With no plan and no leader we wandered. Amilessly. Lights flashed everywhere. The noise of the casino was like the ocean, rhythmic, powerful. Beautuful and scary at the same time. The sounds seemed to come from some where specific and everywhere at once. I quickly lost twenty bucks while explaining craps to the boys. They understood what they needed to know. The lesson was, don't bet on Big 6 and Big 8, and the casino will take your money anyway. At least I got a $20 vodka tonic out of the deal.
More wandering finds us glassy eyed at the pool. I was comming down hard. Crash was inevitable and all I wanted was a nap. That wouldn't happen till at least noon. The only other thing to do was drink heavily and avoid the crash. I sipped my twenty dollar vodka tonic. I confirmed with the group. Booze was the answer. The four of us sat at a table by the pool, staring at each other, contemplating the events that would unfold over the next 72 hrs. Las Vegas was our oyster and we haden't even cracked the shell.
"Whats the plan?'' I repeated, not wanting to make a decision, wanting someone else to make up my mind for me. It had worked so well last night.
Crickets. Well, not crickets, i don't think they live in the desert. The las vegas equvalent of crickets, traffic. The sound of cars rushing by, busy, rushing to get to their destination, bitter that they were off to work on a friday morning and we were busy stumbling from the mouth of a strip club.
Corry wanted to go back to the hotel. Ryan wanted to get drunk. Schad eccoed both their sentiments. So that was the plan, go back to the hotel, and drink untill we could check in, or until something better came along. But first Corry had to pee. We walked. Why waste cab fair in broad day light. The hotel wasn't that far, just in the worst part of vegas. Not the worst, we would find that out later, but not the glits and glamour of the strip, expecially at this ungodly hour. On the way we stopped at the nearest 7-11.
bing, the door chimed as we walked through. A rush of cool air blew hair from my face. Everything in vegas is airconditioned. This is the real genius. Everywhere there is AC there is gambling, this 7-11 not excluded; and it's so fuckin hot in the desert you have to seek shelter. Brilliant. Truly brilliant.
I sat at a video poker machine, just staring at the games it offered. They make little, if any, since. All I understand is that if I put in money, and press the right buttons at the right time, they give me money back, but most of the time, they just keep the money I feed them. My Left hand slinks into my pocket. I fish, out it comes, empty. Damn strippers. Right hand. I fish. Sweet, one dollar. Thats all i need, two trys. I push buttons a few times and the lights keep flashing. I must be doing something right. Corry returns.
"That was fast." I say, barely listening to myself as the game took over my brain.
"No public restrooms." is the grumble i heard from somewhere behind me.
I won. Not big, but I was up. I cashed out my five dollars and quickly gave it back to the man behind the counter. P-funk Menthol ultra lights, got to keep the party rockin.
"Lets bounce before Corry wets himself" and I motioned to the door.
I checked my cell, it was 620 am. This was going to be a long day.
A few blocks and under the freeway and we were back where we started, the entrance of the hotel. "Hey look!" said Schad, "there is another 7-11 right next door." Now what I wondered? With no plan and no leader we wandered. Amilessly. Lights flashed everywhere. The noise of the casino was like the ocean, rhythmic, powerful. Beautuful and scary at the same time. The sounds seemed to come from some where specific and everywhere at once. I quickly lost twenty bucks while explaining craps to the boys. They understood what they needed to know. The lesson was, don't bet on Big 6 and Big 8, and the casino will take your money anyway. At least I got a $20 vodka tonic out of the deal.
More wandering finds us glassy eyed at the pool. I was comming down hard. Crash was inevitable and all I wanted was a nap. That wouldn't happen till at least noon. The only other thing to do was drink heavily and avoid the crash. I sipped my twenty dollar vodka tonic. I confirmed with the group. Booze was the answer. The four of us sat at a table by the pool, staring at each other, contemplating the events that would unfold over the next 72 hrs. Las Vegas was our oyster and we haden't even cracked the shell.
Saturday, September 10, 2005
What happens in Vegas...
It was ten till 4am when the car came to a hault in the parking structure of the Palace Station. Being a Thursday evening, Friday morning, there wasn't much traffic at this off the beaten path casion. We parked, steped out of the truck and streched. Four better than average looking college men, dressed comfortably, eyes blood-shot from the Aderol, hot Las Vegas air, and 8 hour drive moved towards the casion door. The weekend was young and so we're we. Anticipation made me sweat more than the sicky thick air of the city.
The casion was dead. Big suprise. The only people that gamble at this ungodly hour, especially at this place, are depraved sickos. Our kind of people, we'd be joining them in nights to come. Hastily we pushed through the casino, still fuel by anphetamines and eager to participate in the degredation of Sin City.
As expected the loby was a bust. Our earliest option for check in was noon. At best we were eight hours from a bed, well, a bed we could call our own for the weekend. We were always close to a strangers bed. Stepping back into the steaming hot night Corry flaged a cab. The only cab. A portly hispanic man sat snuggly behind the wheel of a van taxi. My party situated it's self and with a thick spanish accent the cabbie asked "Where too guys."
"The strip" I answered matter-of-factly. And a grumble of approval came from the boys.
"A strip club?" repeated the cab driver.
Wide eyes with huge pupiles darted around the cab begging to see naked women. We all knew where we wanted to go, and we all knew where we should go. We started to talk it out. The strip or a strip club? It was 4:15 am on a friday. What was realy going on at the strip? We couldn't go to a club beacuse two of our boys were under 21. We could just walk and gawk. See the lights, kill time. Check in, then start blowing money. Or we could see some snatch. Maybe there are girls on the strip, we could go to their hotel. Party with girls with out the inconvience of a bouncer snorting hot fire as you toe the line between stripper and call girl.
The cab came to a hault. An executive decision had been made with out our knowlage. Our drive, Jose, decided for us. As we opened the door the lights of Little Darlings turned everything around us a not so subtle shade of pink. The cab glowed as if it too was producing the pink hue. More than deciding for us, come to find out, Jose had decided for him self. He didn't want to take his last fares to the strip, too much work. He killed the meter and came in with us. I knew he would get a kick back from our cover, they all do. I think Ryan knew it too, but the underagers, I don't think they knew. This act of benefecince would be rewarded, regardless of my partys nievity. Jose was getting a lap dance and we no doubt paid for it. Good for him.
I like Las Vegas for many reasons, and many of them are always on display at the titty bars. One of the better reason, at least in my humble opinion, to like Vegas is that the insides of gentlemens clubs smell just like the outside. The entire city smells like smoke, booze, and sex. Just like any good strip club. I guess "good" is relative.
The bar tender had tatoos on his arms. The bartenders arms were covered in tatoos. The bartenders tatoos begain at his wrist and like the sleeve of an amazingly detailed shirt wove up his forarms and disappeared just past his elbows, where his actual shirt was cuffed. Cuffed but not pressed. It draped on him mostly covered by the vest and bow tie he also sported. Not that this was any classy joint, the tat's clearly prevented that, but it made me think, "Hey, this place isn't so bad, at least they are trying." He was a big man, not fat, just big, and solid. He could be an extra in Roadhouse. What was so odd is that he was clearly of asian decent. That in itself is not odd, but when combined with his sheer mass, impressivly thugish tatoos, and choice of employ, it seemed funny to me. We exchanged basic pleasentries, I collected my four sodas and quickly went to sit where ever the group had assigned me. I was not disappointed to find a seat available directly at the end of the stage with my name on it. Time to see some gash even if I have to pay for it.
I set my dollar in front and time and time again it was removed with out so much as a whisper. No "howdy cowboy," or "thanks Daddy." Nothing. Was I misunderstanding how things worked? Wasn't I paying for affection from a naked girl? I didn't care. The girls got naked in front of me, at this moment, thats all I needed. They knew it too. I was going to keep giving them money and they were going to keep taking it. That was the plan for the night. Corry however, was obviously reading a different book than me. The strippers we practicaly crawling all over him. No, the strippers were literally crawling all over him. I sat there watching as he grinned like a fat kid at Baskin-Robbins. Singles in hand he enticed girl after girl to hypnotize him with their body. He oozed charm. The girls smelled something on him. I know it wasn't money, or if it was, they were wrong. All of us were dirt poor and about to overspend as much as possible. It was his eyes. He watched them. He watched their eyes. They were like deer in headlights. Drawn to him, compeled to give him their affection. Corry knew. He was only 18 and could drop a stripper at 50 yards. We all knew how to do it, but Corry did it, and he did it consistantly. Maybe I'm jaded, maybe it's old age. I stopped looking strippers in the eyes a while ago. I've dated too many. I don't have any plans to date more. The last thing I need is to charm a stripper into stealing money I don't have. I was getting what I paid for, naked girls. Corry wanted more and he had sway. I began to think he was going to have bruises on his face from all the titties that were being smashed into it that night. But he was happy. All of us are happy. That is all that matters. Then the lap dances came a calling.
The casion was dead. Big suprise. The only people that gamble at this ungodly hour, especially at this place, are depraved sickos. Our kind of people, we'd be joining them in nights to come. Hastily we pushed through the casino, still fuel by anphetamines and eager to participate in the degredation of Sin City.
As expected the loby was a bust. Our earliest option for check in was noon. At best we were eight hours from a bed, well, a bed we could call our own for the weekend. We were always close to a strangers bed. Stepping back into the steaming hot night Corry flaged a cab. The only cab. A portly hispanic man sat snuggly behind the wheel of a van taxi. My party situated it's self and with a thick spanish accent the cabbie asked "Where too guys."
"The strip" I answered matter-of-factly. And a grumble of approval came from the boys.
"A strip club?" repeated the cab driver.
Wide eyes with huge pupiles darted around the cab begging to see naked women. We all knew where we wanted to go, and we all knew where we should go. We started to talk it out. The strip or a strip club? It was 4:15 am on a friday. What was realy going on at the strip? We couldn't go to a club beacuse two of our boys were under 21. We could just walk and gawk. See the lights, kill time. Check in, then start blowing money. Or we could see some snatch. Maybe there are girls on the strip, we could go to their hotel. Party with girls with out the inconvience of a bouncer snorting hot fire as you toe the line between stripper and call girl.
The cab came to a hault. An executive decision had been made with out our knowlage. Our drive, Jose, decided for us. As we opened the door the lights of Little Darlings turned everything around us a not so subtle shade of pink. The cab glowed as if it too was producing the pink hue. More than deciding for us, come to find out, Jose had decided for him self. He didn't want to take his last fares to the strip, too much work. He killed the meter and came in with us. I knew he would get a kick back from our cover, they all do. I think Ryan knew it too, but the underagers, I don't think they knew. This act of benefecince would be rewarded, regardless of my partys nievity. Jose was getting a lap dance and we no doubt paid for it. Good for him.
I like Las Vegas for many reasons, and many of them are always on display at the titty bars. One of the better reason, at least in my humble opinion, to like Vegas is that the insides of gentlemens clubs smell just like the outside. The entire city smells like smoke, booze, and sex. Just like any good strip club. I guess "good" is relative.
The bar tender had tatoos on his arms. The bartenders arms were covered in tatoos. The bartenders tatoos begain at his wrist and like the sleeve of an amazingly detailed shirt wove up his forarms and disappeared just past his elbows, where his actual shirt was cuffed. Cuffed but not pressed. It draped on him mostly covered by the vest and bow tie he also sported. Not that this was any classy joint, the tat's clearly prevented that, but it made me think, "Hey, this place isn't so bad, at least they are trying." He was a big man, not fat, just big, and solid. He could be an extra in Roadhouse. What was so odd is that he was clearly of asian decent. That in itself is not odd, but when combined with his sheer mass, impressivly thugish tatoos, and choice of employ, it seemed funny to me. We exchanged basic pleasentries, I collected my four sodas and quickly went to sit where ever the group had assigned me. I was not disappointed to find a seat available directly at the end of the stage with my name on it. Time to see some gash even if I have to pay for it.
I set my dollar in front and time and time again it was removed with out so much as a whisper. No "howdy cowboy," or "thanks Daddy." Nothing. Was I misunderstanding how things worked? Wasn't I paying for affection from a naked girl? I didn't care. The girls got naked in front of me, at this moment, thats all I needed. They knew it too. I was going to keep giving them money and they were going to keep taking it. That was the plan for the night. Corry however, was obviously reading a different book than me. The strippers we practicaly crawling all over him. No, the strippers were literally crawling all over him. I sat there watching as he grinned like a fat kid at Baskin-Robbins. Singles in hand he enticed girl after girl to hypnotize him with their body. He oozed charm. The girls smelled something on him. I know it wasn't money, or if it was, they were wrong. All of us were dirt poor and about to overspend as much as possible. It was his eyes. He watched them. He watched their eyes. They were like deer in headlights. Drawn to him, compeled to give him their affection. Corry knew. He was only 18 and could drop a stripper at 50 yards. We all knew how to do it, but Corry did it, and he did it consistantly. Maybe I'm jaded, maybe it's old age. I stopped looking strippers in the eyes a while ago. I've dated too many. I don't have any plans to date more. The last thing I need is to charm a stripper into stealing money I don't have. I was getting what I paid for, naked girls. Corry wanted more and he had sway. I began to think he was going to have bruises on his face from all the titties that were being smashed into it that night. But he was happy. All of us are happy. That is all that matters. Then the lap dances came a calling.
Sunday, September 04, 2005
It's my birthday bitches!!!
Well it's been a crazy few weeks with many a story to blog. I'm back to the same ol' same, working my Sunday shift and wasting time on the net. The good news is TODAY's MY BIRTHDAY!!! yeah. I actually made it to twenty three and haven't exploded, melted, been crushed, drowned, hanged, shot, mamed or generally harmed by myself or others in any directly apparent way. Cool. God knows I tried. lol. There will be a few blogs after this recounting some of my more recent efforts. And for now, the birthday blog.
Things that I have accomplished in the last year that I'm happy with:
(the order of events only reflects my warped perception and not any importance)
Ended a long term disfunctional relationship, a grew from the expierence. I love / have loved many people but this was the most intense. Almost two years. A big big step for me. Previous records we're at most 6 months. I learned a lot about myself and about how I deal with many relationship type situations. I think I have a better idea of the type of things that are important to me in a relationship and what things I thought were important but are actually just crap. lol. Baby steps.
Got a new car. I've been good and I've kept it clean and haven't jap'ed it out. I'm going to put my subs in but I already had them, they aren't a new purchase. Good job not spening money jake!
I've developed a very very green thumb. Insert pot joke here. In all actuallity I've discovered a hobby that gets me out side and relaxes me, not always an easy feat. I'm facinated w/ hydroponics and have been developing my own systems for a fraction of the price that they sell for on Ebay or at the hydroponics stores. I feel so handy when I make them and its a great way to learn about wires, plumbing etc.
I've held down the same job for a year and I'm not bored with it. I'm happy with my job, it's not something that I want to do forever but the flexibility and the money make it the most perfect college job I could think of. And i get to learn about cool cars with out getting greasy.
I joined and then became the president of NORML at UCSB. I've become a major player in the group and I'm helping develop and grow the organization. It took a few years of me playing with different campus organizations before I found one that I like. I like the people, and I like the cause. It's easy to get involved and I feel like I'm doing something good. In other clubs, greek organizations for example, I didn't always feel that connected to a cause. The goal was always got fucked up. Fun but not a focus in my life. Although there is a fair amount of substance use involved with the club, there is at the very least a cause to rally behind. What one does with the cause is up to the individual. I, being a person inclinded to take advantage of resources, have been trying to get our agenda passed and get as involved as I can. I have developed and begun implamenting a plan to do more community service and philanthropy, developed a system to grow the organization nationally, pushed for local legislation, and smoked a lot of the good stuff. When I leave, I plan on NORML being the largest club on campus, and taking lots of money from AS.
I've grown much closer to my family. This is a big deal to me. My brother an I have been talking more regularly, mom and I have been talkin lots more, and Dad and I rock out when ever possible. I've recently been lucky enough to have some new additions to the family. Step-mom Susan, her parents the Justice's, and Uncle Rod and Aunt Faye. All wonderful people and all welcomed additions to my life. It's so nice to feel like one is apart of something larger. And southern life suites me well.
I've started re-cultivating my love of politics. I've been activly contacting my legislatures and expressing my views. Specifically I've recieved letters back from Barbara Boxer and Diane Feinstein regarding the replacement of Sandra O'Conner to the supreme court. Although I'm cognative enough to know that my efforts may not amount to anything it does feel nice to be involved and I like being current on political happenings.
I'm constantly revamping my life plans, and I'm following through on most of them. I will be famous, exactly what capacity I'm not sure but I've been making myself available to and taking every oppertunity to advance this plan. I've been an actor in both plays, short films, and comercials, a model for artists and photographers, I've been developing my singing voice and trying to improve my chances of being "discovered." Workin hard to get what I want.
There are more things that I'm proud of accomplishing, these are just ones that jump to mind. I may or may not add to the list in the future.
Big plans for 23!!!
First and foremost I plan on graduating. It's been a long time comming. Some days I'm more ready than others, and I'm sure I'm going to have some emotional issues regarding it as the date gets closer but for now, I need to get this done. I am just postponing the inevitable and I'm ready to move on with my life. I've outgrown the college scene believe it or not. Time to take the next step.
I'm attempting to found a not for profit organization that will provide direcet disaster relief to college students from college students. Inspired by aid efforts surrounding hurricane Katrina, I want to help fellow college students. Who knows the needs of college students better than their peers. We (college students) have more to offer than we think and I've made it a personal goal to cultivate that knowlage and put it to good use. I think this is a great way to help those in need that will be in a good position to help in the future. I think college students are the core of future managment in the US and they will be an invaluable tool in the future. This is one more step to being well connected and making a difference. I will keep posting as things develop.
Make a decision about where I want to live after I graduate. Like so many of my goals for this next year it is very dependent on my graduating. I think graduating is a solid goal and realy everything else is excess, it's a lot to deal with. It will no doubt work it's self out well, but it's something I'm looking into.
I'm going to get a motorcycle and I'm learning to ride. I have a scooter and I'm trying to get it up and running. I've got friends that are going to teach me to ride and by 24 I will be rockin two wheels. With gas prices the way they are, and motorcycles being as cool as they are, I know this is going to happen soon.
Visit Matt in Taiwan and travel more. I need to get out of this damn country for a little perspective and I've been spending too much money on crap, it's time that i see the world.
I would like to continue to work on my weight and body. I know this sounds like a rediculous thing being as thin as I am, however, because of the career path I've decided to travel down this is and will always be an issue. My body is directly connected to my 'image'. I'm happy with myself but there are things that I could do to make myself more marketable and make myself more "attractive" by the industry standard. I would like to gain 10 lbs, and have more developed muscles in my upper body. Doable I just need to actually work on it. With dance being pretty much over I can focus on gaining w/o fighting the cadio daily. I would like to be a 32 waist and ripped by my next birthday.
Well, I think these are some healthy goals for the next year. I'm a firm believer in setting realalistic goals. Too many people set rediculous standards for them selves when it comes to New Years. I like to concentrate on the obtainable. Set real goals and follow through with them. These things will be done by my next birthday.
Things that I have accomplished in the last year that I'm happy with:
(the order of events only reflects my warped perception and not any importance)
Ended a long term disfunctional relationship, a grew from the expierence. I love / have loved many people but this was the most intense. Almost two years. A big big step for me. Previous records we're at most 6 months. I learned a lot about myself and about how I deal with many relationship type situations. I think I have a better idea of the type of things that are important to me in a relationship and what things I thought were important but are actually just crap. lol. Baby steps.
Got a new car. I've been good and I've kept it clean and haven't jap'ed it out. I'm going to put my subs in but I already had them, they aren't a new purchase. Good job not spening money jake!
I've developed a very very green thumb. Insert pot joke here. In all actuallity I've discovered a hobby that gets me out side and relaxes me, not always an easy feat. I'm facinated w/ hydroponics and have been developing my own systems for a fraction of the price that they sell for on Ebay or at the hydroponics stores. I feel so handy when I make them and its a great way to learn about wires, plumbing etc.
I've held down the same job for a year and I'm not bored with it. I'm happy with my job, it's not something that I want to do forever but the flexibility and the money make it the most perfect college job I could think of. And i get to learn about cool cars with out getting greasy.
I joined and then became the president of NORML at UCSB. I've become a major player in the group and I'm helping develop and grow the organization. It took a few years of me playing with different campus organizations before I found one that I like. I like the people, and I like the cause. It's easy to get involved and I feel like I'm doing something good. In other clubs, greek organizations for example, I didn't always feel that connected to a cause. The goal was always got fucked up. Fun but not a focus in my life. Although there is a fair amount of substance use involved with the club, there is at the very least a cause to rally behind. What one does with the cause is up to the individual. I, being a person inclinded to take advantage of resources, have been trying to get our agenda passed and get as involved as I can. I have developed and begun implamenting a plan to do more community service and philanthropy, developed a system to grow the organization nationally, pushed for local legislation, and smoked a lot of the good stuff. When I leave, I plan on NORML being the largest club on campus, and taking lots of money from AS.
I've grown much closer to my family. This is a big deal to me. My brother an I have been talking more regularly, mom and I have been talkin lots more, and Dad and I rock out when ever possible. I've recently been lucky enough to have some new additions to the family. Step-mom Susan, her parents the Justice's, and Uncle Rod and Aunt Faye. All wonderful people and all welcomed additions to my life. It's so nice to feel like one is apart of something larger. And southern life suites me well.
I've started re-cultivating my love of politics. I've been activly contacting my legislatures and expressing my views. Specifically I've recieved letters back from Barbara Boxer and Diane Feinstein regarding the replacement of Sandra O'Conner to the supreme court. Although I'm cognative enough to know that my efforts may not amount to anything it does feel nice to be involved and I like being current on political happenings.
I'm constantly revamping my life plans, and I'm following through on most of them. I will be famous, exactly what capacity I'm not sure but I've been making myself available to and taking every oppertunity to advance this plan. I've been an actor in both plays, short films, and comercials, a model for artists and photographers, I've been developing my singing voice and trying to improve my chances of being "discovered." Workin hard to get what I want.
There are more things that I'm proud of accomplishing, these are just ones that jump to mind. I may or may not add to the list in the future.
Big plans for 23!!!
First and foremost I plan on graduating. It's been a long time comming. Some days I'm more ready than others, and I'm sure I'm going to have some emotional issues regarding it as the date gets closer but for now, I need to get this done. I am just postponing the inevitable and I'm ready to move on with my life. I've outgrown the college scene believe it or not. Time to take the next step.
I'm attempting to found a not for profit organization that will provide direcet disaster relief to college students from college students. Inspired by aid efforts surrounding hurricane Katrina, I want to help fellow college students. Who knows the needs of college students better than their peers. We (college students) have more to offer than we think and I've made it a personal goal to cultivate that knowlage and put it to good use. I think this is a great way to help those in need that will be in a good position to help in the future. I think college students are the core of future managment in the US and they will be an invaluable tool in the future. This is one more step to being well connected and making a difference. I will keep posting as things develop.
Make a decision about where I want to live after I graduate. Like so many of my goals for this next year it is very dependent on my graduating. I think graduating is a solid goal and realy everything else is excess, it's a lot to deal with. It will no doubt work it's self out well, but it's something I'm looking into.
I'm going to get a motorcycle and I'm learning to ride. I have a scooter and I'm trying to get it up and running. I've got friends that are going to teach me to ride and by 24 I will be rockin two wheels. With gas prices the way they are, and motorcycles being as cool as they are, I know this is going to happen soon.
Visit Matt in Taiwan and travel more. I need to get out of this damn country for a little perspective and I've been spending too much money on crap, it's time that i see the world.
I would like to continue to work on my weight and body. I know this sounds like a rediculous thing being as thin as I am, however, because of the career path I've decided to travel down this is and will always be an issue. My body is directly connected to my 'image'. I'm happy with myself but there are things that I could do to make myself more marketable and make myself more "attractive" by the industry standard. I would like to gain 10 lbs, and have more developed muscles in my upper body. Doable I just need to actually work on it. With dance being pretty much over I can focus on gaining w/o fighting the cadio daily. I would like to be a 32 waist and ripped by my next birthday.
Well, I think these are some healthy goals for the next year. I'm a firm believer in setting realalistic goals. Too many people set rediculous standards for them selves when it comes to New Years. I like to concentrate on the obtainable. Set real goals and follow through with them. These things will be done by my next birthday.
Sunday, July 31, 2005
Dillustions of grandure
I'm going to be famous. I don't know in what capacity but I know that my name and the word superstar will be synonamous. There will be an E! true hollywood story about me. At thirty two I will be arrested on PCH for possession of a controlled substance, ten to one it's coke, and probably a hooker or 5. I'll appoligse and go into rehab then I'll come out sober and more mature, my image will shift and I will no longer be young crazy Jake but older refined Jacob. I'll move from the Aston Kutcher roles to the Vince Vaughn, Harrison Ford, and Sean Connery roles. Progess will be made.
My current problem is getting to from point A, where I sit today, to point B, my drug bender in 10 years. I can see many many steps along the way but actually getting there is sketchy. I see 28-29 being the year that I win awards, a peak in my career. 30 to 32 is the valley. It will undoubtedly be spurred by midlife crisis. It realy is a great story, I know my biography will be more saught after than Heidy Flises' Black book.
One of the more recent attempts at fame has let me to the idea of Country Music Superstardom. I shall follow in the foot steps of the greats like Tobey Keith, Kenny Chesney, and my favorite Jimmy Buffett. Now that the laughter has died down I suggest you read my country music Bio. I was born for this shit. I Scream country song! So, here goes.
Born and raised in Bakersfield, CA. Home of country superstar Buck Owens, cotton and just a stone throw from Johnny Cash's famous incarserate Folsom Prison.
Moved to Colorado at 15, the great American west. Home of Buffalo, Indians (native americans), and of course the Denver Broncos. I mean does CO scream country star or what?
My parents are divorced. Mom grew up in Atascadero, CA (good luck finding it, it's country, trust me). Dad was Born and raised in Bakersfield.
Grandparents imigrated to Arivn and the central Valley durring the Dust bowl. Weedpatch hwy, grapes of wrath, I don't think steinbeck could do a better job writing this story. Grandpa died when I was young but he served in the military, Grandma just moved back to Texas w/ her sister.
brother (zac, a good biblical name) lives in fuckin Kansas and wants to be in the Air Force. 'Nough said, yall.
My new step mom is from Nashville. It really is the heart of country music. It's just a hop, skip, and a jump from Graceland!
And thats just my family, lets take a closer look at my life.
Growing up I had a dog, a lab, a good huntin dog, she wasn't but the breed is.
I was once on the front page of the sports section in the Bakersfield Californian because my Dad let me ditch school for the opening day of dove season. People were outraged. Many came to my defense saying "it's better that he is spending time bonding w/ his Dad than doing drugs or what ever. It's a sick article.
I worked for my Dad when I was young. He was self employed, I chopped weeds, cleaned the shop, learned how to weld, was on location at countless farms, ranches and of course oil fields, god have I been to lots of oil fields.
How many times have I been to the kern county fair, I would say at least a hundred.
I learned to drive on my dad's pick-up truck, dulie, extended cab. It's about as big and truck like as you can get w/o having to call it a big rig.
My longest relationship has been w/ a girl from St. Louis.
I was a boyscout. For a long time too, I'm even in the Order of the Arrow. How american is that.
Crashed my car. Maybe this is a strech but every good country artist has a song about wreckin their vehicle.
now I sell car parts. working on cars to work my way through college, sounds pretty country to me.
Running this theroy past a number of people it was pointed out to me that there is one fatal flaw in my master plan. All country artists are God fearing. I have no fear of g(G)od. Currently not something that I'm exploring. However this works even more to my benifit when stated like this:
"I've got wild oats to sew and I know He'll forgive me in the end"
I'm going to keep updating this as I do more research. I know there was more when I first started thinkin about it but I was a lil' high and that helps me to forget these rants.
My current problem is getting to from point A, where I sit today, to point B, my drug bender in 10 years. I can see many many steps along the way but actually getting there is sketchy. I see 28-29 being the year that I win awards, a peak in my career. 30 to 32 is the valley. It will undoubtedly be spurred by midlife crisis. It realy is a great story, I know my biography will be more saught after than Heidy Flises' Black book.
One of the more recent attempts at fame has let me to the idea of Country Music Superstardom. I shall follow in the foot steps of the greats like Tobey Keith, Kenny Chesney, and my favorite Jimmy Buffett. Now that the laughter has died down I suggest you read my country music Bio. I was born for this shit. I Scream country song! So, here goes.
Born and raised in Bakersfield, CA. Home of country superstar Buck Owens, cotton and just a stone throw from Johnny Cash's famous incarserate Folsom Prison.
Moved to Colorado at 15, the great American west. Home of Buffalo, Indians (native americans), and of course the Denver Broncos. I mean does CO scream country star or what?
My parents are divorced. Mom grew up in Atascadero, CA (good luck finding it, it's country, trust me). Dad was Born and raised in Bakersfield.
Grandparents imigrated to Arivn and the central Valley durring the Dust bowl. Weedpatch hwy, grapes of wrath, I don't think steinbeck could do a better job writing this story. Grandpa died when I was young but he served in the military, Grandma just moved back to Texas w/ her sister.
brother (zac, a good biblical name) lives in fuckin Kansas and wants to be in the Air Force. 'Nough said, yall.
My new step mom is from Nashville. It really is the heart of country music. It's just a hop, skip, and a jump from Graceland!
And thats just my family, lets take a closer look at my life.
Growing up I had a dog, a lab, a good huntin dog, she wasn't but the breed is.
I was once on the front page of the sports section in the Bakersfield Californian because my Dad let me ditch school for the opening day of dove season. People were outraged. Many came to my defense saying "it's better that he is spending time bonding w/ his Dad than doing drugs or what ever. It's a sick article.
I worked for my Dad when I was young. He was self employed, I chopped weeds, cleaned the shop, learned how to weld, was on location at countless farms, ranches and of course oil fields, god have I been to lots of oil fields.
How many times have I been to the kern county fair, I would say at least a hundred.
I learned to drive on my dad's pick-up truck, dulie, extended cab. It's about as big and truck like as you can get w/o having to call it a big rig.
My longest relationship has been w/ a girl from St. Louis.
I was a boyscout. For a long time too, I'm even in the Order of the Arrow. How american is that.
Crashed my car. Maybe this is a strech but every good country artist has a song about wreckin their vehicle.
now I sell car parts. working on cars to work my way through college, sounds pretty country to me.
Running this theroy past a number of people it was pointed out to me that there is one fatal flaw in my master plan. All country artists are God fearing. I have no fear of g(G)od. Currently not something that I'm exploring. However this works even more to my benifit when stated like this:
"I've got wild oats to sew and I know He'll forgive me in the end"
I'm going to keep updating this as I do more research. I know there was more when I first started thinkin about it but I was a lil' high and that helps me to forget these rants.
Sunday, July 03, 2005
Hoe's hoe's every where
I'm sure I'm going to get in trouble with this fuckin blog at some point. Not this one specific but the concept in general. I'm going to forget about it and someone that I'm sleeping with is going to find in. Stupid google. Oh well, as for now I must confess my sins to the anomity of the internet and start the week with a clean soul. Yeah right, I'm braggin on some shit that I done. So I finally hooked up with Stacy. We haven't slept together yet but I'm sure it's going to happen, we will see. She's fun. As long as I can keep it like this then life will be good. If she tries to get serious or something I might have to push her down the stairs.
New neighbors all seem fun. We've started bringing the kitchen table outside and I filled up the BBQ tank. Much summer fun and drinkin is being done. Last night I made elk ka-bobs and mashed potatoes then followed it up with homemade chocolate and peanut-butter oreo icecream. Yeah it's over kill but man was it all good.
As for school, it's not lame, it's not awsome, it's just present. It's work. It's no longer a treat to go to school. Not that it's punishment, I just have to physically drag myself to class and then all my will power is used up just getting there and I have no intention of focusing. I just sit there, quietly absorbing. Giving blanks stares and responding on occasion with "si" or "no se." The only two useful things I know in spanish. I suppose depending on the situation the knowlage of alcohol ordeing procedure could be useful too. Thanks to my current spanish teacher "Se llama Brian Fraiser." I can aquire marijuana in any number of countries and in any variety of forms. "Chocolate" is slang for hash, usually in cig form, mixed with tobacco and sold on the street in Spain. "Porro" and "Poro" (I may have fucked this one up) are Joint and Blunt respectivly. One of these is a derivative of the word "pure" refering to the pure mixture that would be rolled up. He also puts lots of questions on the test about dope. For example "Who in the class *blank* marijuana?" The blank "vender" congigated to vende, spanish for to sell. So incase the logic of the last sentance has bypassed you the reader I'll rephrase. Oh our midterm, my instructor asked the class who sellls weed. Brilliant, it's the only way he can get us to relate to the material. It's pretty funny. Apparently he dosen't smoke but I'm sure that he has.
This blog is great. I'm trying to do it for a number of reasons. I like to type. Thats awsome. I like to type way more that I like to actually write. Sounds weird but I can barely read what I scrall when I write at the speed that I type and so much is lost when trying to decifer what I was thinking. Also, I can barely write any more. In high school, thanks to debate I could shit out a 10 page paper in a matter of hours and it would be good enough for a "b" if i put some effort into it would get an "a." Well, in collge, thanks to dance, I can barely write my name before I get tired, or bored, or drunk, or stoned, or whatever. So writing papers is a chore. If I start writing more then it will flow better when it has too. I'm useing this as a streching exercise before I have all my GE's durring the school year. Lots of great papers. Lol.
Finally, the last lil thing i need to get off my chest. I'm going to get A's this summer. I know thats not normally like me. Normally I don't care that much about grades. Normally that enough. This quarter is going to be different. I've got one class at a time and I can do this. I know I can. I need to do this. My GPA sucks. My fault, I'm totally accepting responsibility. I drink and smoke too much. I smoke WAY too much. I need to go back to my addage "all things in moderation." I have forgot the moderation part and I've just been consuming all things. Not good. I've cut back the weed, out of necessitiy. No smokin before class, minimal smoking before work, and lessish weed at night. Part of my problem is that ALL my friends smoke weed. Let me rephrase, all of my friend smoke weed professionally. Morning, noon, and night I can find someone smoking. This is a problem because it's harder to resist when it's built into your social life. More on this later. So I'm cutting back of vices, and focusing myslef on school. This will not doubt be a hard tast but I'm sure I can do it. I have to do it. I need better grades if I have any intention of going to a half way decent grad school. I need better grades so that my insurance will go down. I need better grades so that the piece of paper I get from the University is worth something, period.
Ok, thats a lot of rambling, i need to get some work done.
New neighbors all seem fun. We've started bringing the kitchen table outside and I filled up the BBQ tank. Much summer fun and drinkin is being done. Last night I made elk ka-bobs and mashed potatoes then followed it up with homemade chocolate and peanut-butter oreo icecream. Yeah it's over kill but man was it all good.
As for school, it's not lame, it's not awsome, it's just present. It's work. It's no longer a treat to go to school. Not that it's punishment, I just have to physically drag myself to class and then all my will power is used up just getting there and I have no intention of focusing. I just sit there, quietly absorbing. Giving blanks stares and responding on occasion with "si" or "no se." The only two useful things I know in spanish. I suppose depending on the situation the knowlage of alcohol ordeing procedure could be useful too. Thanks to my current spanish teacher "Se llama Brian Fraiser." I can aquire marijuana in any number of countries and in any variety of forms. "Chocolate" is slang for hash, usually in cig form, mixed with tobacco and sold on the street in Spain. "Porro" and "Poro" (I may have fucked this one up) are Joint and Blunt respectivly. One of these is a derivative of the word "pure" refering to the pure mixture that would be rolled up. He also puts lots of questions on the test about dope. For example "Who in the class *blank* marijuana?" The blank "vender" congigated to vende, spanish for to sell. So incase the logic of the last sentance has bypassed you the reader I'll rephrase. Oh our midterm, my instructor asked the class who sellls weed. Brilliant, it's the only way he can get us to relate to the material. It's pretty funny. Apparently he dosen't smoke but I'm sure that he has.
This blog is great. I'm trying to do it for a number of reasons. I like to type. Thats awsome. I like to type way more that I like to actually write. Sounds weird but I can barely read what I scrall when I write at the speed that I type and so much is lost when trying to decifer what I was thinking. Also, I can barely write any more. In high school, thanks to debate I could shit out a 10 page paper in a matter of hours and it would be good enough for a "b" if i put some effort into it would get an "a." Well, in collge, thanks to dance, I can barely write my name before I get tired, or bored, or drunk, or stoned, or whatever. So writing papers is a chore. If I start writing more then it will flow better when it has too. I'm useing this as a streching exercise before I have all my GE's durring the school year. Lots of great papers. Lol.
Finally, the last lil thing i need to get off my chest. I'm going to get A's this summer. I know thats not normally like me. Normally I don't care that much about grades. Normally that enough. This quarter is going to be different. I've got one class at a time and I can do this. I know I can. I need to do this. My GPA sucks. My fault, I'm totally accepting responsibility. I drink and smoke too much. I smoke WAY too much. I need to go back to my addage "all things in moderation." I have forgot the moderation part and I've just been consuming all things. Not good. I've cut back the weed, out of necessitiy. No smokin before class, minimal smoking before work, and lessish weed at night. Part of my problem is that ALL my friends smoke weed. Let me rephrase, all of my friend smoke weed professionally. Morning, noon, and night I can find someone smoking. This is a problem because it's harder to resist when it's built into your social life. More on this later. So I'm cutting back of vices, and focusing myslef on school. This will not doubt be a hard tast but I'm sure I can do it. I have to do it. I need better grades if I have any intention of going to a half way decent grad school. I need better grades so that my insurance will go down. I need better grades so that the piece of paper I get from the University is worth something, period.
Ok, thats a lot of rambling, i need to get some work done.
Sunday, June 26, 2005
Things happen in three's?
Ok this blog is mainly for matt cuz he's realy the only one that will know about it but I'm going to write as if all you little pet-er-asses out there are reading what I have to say. Like I'm someone important or something.
"They" say that things happen in threes. Example: people die in groups of three, the day the music died. Well what ever. I'm keeping an eye out for number three. Not that I consider my recent events to be bad or anything just events that will have a big impact on me.
So event number one: Matt goes to Taiwan. Yeah Matt!!! super happy, this give me reason to go to Taiwan. I love places that can ealisly be refered to as "groundzero." It does however keep poking at me as a reminder that eveyone I care about is doing the things that I want and I, like always, am busy focusing on the tasks at hand. I never seem to be able to move forward in life. Oh well, some day my prince will come. lol.
Aside: I'm going to get fuckin Kirobiro!!!!! and you realy are lucky i didn't have crack or PCP hidden in him! Oh mark my word, you will rue the day so I suggest you start rueing so you get used to how it feels when I come make you do it!
Event two. Lost my dog, or how other people might say it, My girlfriend and I broke up. I don't know if it just needed to happen but I think she finally gets it. She brought the subject up, she says it's never going to happy again, she seemed realy pissed. Here's my deal, I knew this wasn't going to work the first time we brokeup, in a civil manner, and the subsiquet 12 or 15 other times we broke up. Thing just keep getting less civil and I know we aren't going to be able to be friends. My only solice in this is that I know it is not me, but rather her. I'm friends with almost all of my exes and the ones that I'm not friends with I could call and it wouldn't be a huge deal. London will be different I'm sure. She is not capable of having a friendly relationship and so has forced a nasty breakup ensuring very little friendly post breakup communication. Oh well, I'm over it. I think I'll go visit Kat at her new place in the LBC. Rock!
Event three: I don't have one and i don't think that one will happen. It's just what "they" say. It's further efforts by the masses to give meaning and control to their pathetic lives. Events in groups of three is pattern that we force ourselves to believe. They are just independent events and we tie them together because of their similarities to one another. Anything can happen in a group of three if you make the time table correct. Well, what ever helps people sleep better at night.
you'd better learn some damn chinese algebra, that is the standard for difficult tasks. It's always "Getting into bed with her would be harder than chinese algebra" or "That fuckin test was harder than chinese algebra" I think it would be nice to hear them in china saying "Damn, this algebra is harder that contemporary modern dance in the United States" But I'm not holding my breath.
"They" say that things happen in threes. Example: people die in groups of three, the day the music died. Well what ever. I'm keeping an eye out for number three. Not that I consider my recent events to be bad or anything just events that will have a big impact on me.
So event number one: Matt goes to Taiwan. Yeah Matt!!! super happy, this give me reason to go to Taiwan. I love places that can ealisly be refered to as "groundzero." It does however keep poking at me as a reminder that eveyone I care about is doing the things that I want and I, like always, am busy focusing on the tasks at hand. I never seem to be able to move forward in life. Oh well, some day my prince will come. lol.
Aside: I'm going to get fuckin Kirobiro!!!!! and you realy are lucky i didn't have crack or PCP hidden in him! Oh mark my word, you will rue the day so I suggest you start rueing so you get used to how it feels when I come make you do it!
Event two. Lost my dog, or how other people might say it, My girlfriend and I broke up. I don't know if it just needed to happen but I think she finally gets it. She brought the subject up, she says it's never going to happy again, she seemed realy pissed. Here's my deal, I knew this wasn't going to work the first time we brokeup, in a civil manner, and the subsiquet 12 or 15 other times we broke up. Thing just keep getting less civil and I know we aren't going to be able to be friends. My only solice in this is that I know it is not me, but rather her. I'm friends with almost all of my exes and the ones that I'm not friends with I could call and it wouldn't be a huge deal. London will be different I'm sure. She is not capable of having a friendly relationship and so has forced a nasty breakup ensuring very little friendly post breakup communication. Oh well, I'm over it. I think I'll go visit Kat at her new place in the LBC. Rock!
Event three: I don't have one and i don't think that one will happen. It's just what "they" say. It's further efforts by the masses to give meaning and control to their pathetic lives. Events in groups of three is pattern that we force ourselves to believe. They are just independent events and we tie them together because of their similarities to one another. Anything can happen in a group of three if you make the time table correct. Well, what ever helps people sleep better at night.
you'd better learn some damn chinese algebra, that is the standard for difficult tasks. It's always "Getting into bed with her would be harder than chinese algebra" or "That fuckin test was harder than chinese algebra" I think it would be nice to hear them in china saying "Damn, this algebra is harder that contemporary modern dance in the United States" But I'm not holding my breath.
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