branch down

they say the early bird catches the worm

but if that worm is squirming on a sidewalk shaded by a tree with a weak-ass branch that is just about to fall, then it doesn't make much difference if the bird catches the worm or not.

yesterday, I felt like that bird under the breaking branch...thinking, who gives a fuck about the worm, the branch is going to fall anyway. It was one of those freeing moments. I think italian bf and i were talking about a stat I read this week from the US Energy Information Administration stating that by 2030, the amount of consumed energy will be 50% higher than it was in 2005. that's a lot of fucking coal to be spewing into the atmosphere. good luck polar bears. good luck california native plants. good luck people.

we're gonna be toast. so let's not take life so seriously.

"ahh, the ramblings of a non parent," you say. Perhaps. But it's not like the parents of the world are collectively doing anything to make sure their treasured progeny are going to inherit a better world.

just another manic tuesday

It's six o clock already and I was just in the middle of a dream, I was kissing valentino blah blah blah I forget how the song goes....but no matter cuz it's just another manic monday... actually, it's Tuesday. and on the east coast and the rest of the world it's already Wednesday. my brother in ohio was joking that he was jealous that he doesn't get any email from our uncle in kansas city...and I said...well...all you need to do is create a situation where he thinks that you think that he might hate you...and then you'll get email from him. we laughed.

better buzz

better buzz than what? better buzz than starbucks? YES better buzz than beer? NO

house plant freak out

i was cutting through an alley in PB on saturday, on my way back to the car dealership to pick up the car, when i stumbled upon a blooming tree version of a popular schefflera houseplant. One of the nice things about living in a place that doesn't freeze is that "North American houseplants" get to freak out and do crazy shit like bloom.

and yes, PB is a neighborhood where people routinely put "inside furniture" like sofas outside. It's much more comfy to get drunk on a sofa than a silly patio table.

A "Dubya" to be proud of

italian cookies (and bf) arrived

one of those guys...

overheard snippet of undergraduate conversation:

I guess he's just one of those guys who cries when he gets drunk.

Larry Craig

just cuz this just popped into my head...Larry Craig singing this song while double dutching with knee high socks and corn rows:

fags in london
fags in france
not me...that's just a wide wide stance!

snail mail?

I just sent this email to Wonga, but as I was finishing, I thought it would be a good way to say:

Hey, are you intersted in getting the paper version of the xmas letter but you moved? Or maybe you didn't get it last year...either way, get me your snail mail addy.

hola dudalicious

i'm updating my xmas letter list.

what is your mailing addy?

:0)

d

ps: that nose was a typo. i just meant eyes and mouth...i'm not really into emoticon noses...but since it happened organically i'm cool with it. in fact, it's kinda cute.

Happy Birthday from Infinite Jest

Happy Birthday Matt! Wow, what a year you and Ches have had. AMAZING.

Here is what I read at the end of my yoga class tonight. I thought it would make a decent Happy-Birthday-Matt literary card...here goes...from pg 128 of david foster wallace's infinite jest.

The guru on the towel dispenser just sits there and smiles and doesn't say anything. They hunker, then, and grimace, and try to pull the bar down, but, like, lo: the overweighted shoulder-pull becomes a chin-up. Up they go, their own bodies, toward the bar they're trying to pull down. Everyone should get at least one good look at the eyes of a man who finds himself rising toward what he wants to pull down to himself. And I like how the guru on the towel dispenser doesn't laugh at them, or even shake his head sagely on its big brown neck. He just smiles, hiding his tongue. He's like a baby. Everything he sees hits him and sinks without bubbles. He just sits there. I want to be like that. Able to just sit all quiet and pull life toward me...

as Wall Street pepared to crash...

with only 45 minutes before the opening bell on Wall Street, San Diego lay wrapped in deep ocean fog, and David Foster Wallace...was he awake already?

Infinite Jest Author is Gone

David Foster Wallace killed himself. Bastard. We needed him around a whole lot longer.

Infinite Jest is one of those books that if it gets it's hooks into you, you'll never be quite the same. I never was, and I'm thankful for it.

i think he would have appreciated the story of the crazy xmas tree farmers in ohio that dug some ditches and raised Malaysian freshwater prawns near the town of Toledo. (Nice photo Gregory).

mental note: stop procrastinating

Seriously. It's gotten bad. I have deleted whole groups of voice mails without listening to them. Why? Bc there are a few that I waited too long to respond to...and then it was late, and it became "a thing" (at least in my head) and then I didn't want to have to listen to those voice mails, but I have to get through them to get to newer voice mails, which too became late. And it's a positive feedback loop (in a negative direction) that leads me to being an inconsiderate jerk. but before I continue flogging myself, allow me to come to my own defense. f*cking information overload. For real. Too many emails and voice mails. To much to respond to, and none of it feels real. it's all virtual in medium, even though the people behind them are real. I'm tired of living in such a virtual world. I want to get drunk with my neighbor on friday night just because we saw each other in the hallway and decided to hang out...oh, wait...that's what i did on friday night. Sweet! at least that.

nasal gazing

go f*ck yourself

the next time someone tells you to go f*ck yourself, tell them you'd be happy to, as long as they put up the $89.95 plus tax.

You see, I stepped into a porn store this evening after dinner at one of my favorite restaurants in San Diego. And what for my wandering eyes did appear? A mold-your-own dildo -- i almost shed a tear.

For less than 10 10 spots, you can hit your own male g spot. You can have your cock rubberized. For less than $100 you're immortalized. For the Halloween costume boxes of your great grandchildren who may never know you...except for the raisinized shiveled up heap of a man who can't get it up despite all the viagra in the land.

According to the label on the side of the bucket (yes, bucket), you just stick your dick into a little somethin' somethin' for 60 seconds and then take it out and pour in the quick curing rubber. And in no time flat, you got something fat! Well, as fat as that thing in your pants.

And if you've still got a little itch in your pocket that can't be soothed with a little pool, consider one of these DVD buys:

Florida Erection starring Al Bore (and presumably George W. Bush...no name tweak required)

...if you were thinking about something a bit more international, consider the asian treat "Sticky Buns"

UPDATE:

So, I just googled the make your own dildo thing and of course it's all over the Web. I found a particularly fascinating quote on the testimonials page at makeyourowndildo.com

"I brought some kits to a friend's bachelor party. They were the hit of the night!"
- Ron L., Portland, OR

What kind of bachelor party was that? And why wasn't I invited?

Wonga, please provide illustration!

In a dream last night, Wonga and I cut across University Blvd in Silver Spring on our way to the pool. A cinderblock wall prevented us from cutting across the formerly wooded lot that eventually became a miniMcMansion suburban infill development. On cue, one of the offspring of the buyers of one aforementioned miniMcMansion showed up and led us through the hidden hole in the wall. On the other side of the wall? A poor neighborhood in Mexico. We spent the next hour scaling the walls of a shanty-town/political-compound made of light and flimsy foam board and other materials that might be used to make an architectural model.

Halloween is the new basement (part 2)

Halloween IS the new basement.

That's what italian bf concluded recently. And by that he meant that Halloween is my new official excuse for not throwing things away. The above photos are from my parents' basement in Silver Spring, taken over Labor Day weekend 2008. According to my mom's calculations, you don't ever have to throw anything away. You just put it in the basement. And this is an awesome plan, especially if you are her son, live 3,000 miles away and have a ton of stuff in that basement that you don't want to lose, but don't actually want in your own house/apartment.

But in said house/apartment, I am hoarding yogurt containers and their lids. I plan to cut them up and tie/sew/hot-glue-gun the pieces together and create some sort of Roman-armor-meets-guy-in-a-hot-dog-suit combo. My costume will be called "dairy queen" and it will be a big hit in West Hollywood on Halloween. That's the idea anyway.

nyc with the moms

The moms only waited 38 years for her return visit to New York. Her first was a honeymoon visit. At this rate, her next trip will be on her 98th birthday.

pocket pool

Perhaps I played one too many games of pocket pool. But whatever the reason, whichever the season, no matter how pleasin', I have ended up with a big hole in the pocket of my favorite jeans.

Even since the hole emerged, I manage to scare myself at least once a day. Like this morning, when a quarter I mistakenly put in that pocket slid down my leg, sending an oh-my-god-something-is-crawling-down-my-leg feeling up my spine.

I especially dig these jeans b/c I bought them at H&M in Berlin on my first trip to Europe. It was early April 2002. Ahh, riding in Mercedes Benz cabs on my employer's dime.

Happy Birthday Douglas

Happy Birthday Douglas!

I tried to pack up this Coast Guard cadet and mail him to you. But his coast guard knot-training also seems to have made him an expert at UN-tying knots. After an akward moment at the post office where he climbed out of the box clearly labeled "Baby Elephant" and asked why he was wearing just a jock strap, he was flattered to be wanted as a birthday gift (and he appriciated the water and snacks and portable DVD I included for his travels)...but he was not flattered enough to actully go along with the plan...oh well...at least I tried...your other present should be in the mail...mom had to send it since you were TOO BUSY to meet us in New York on Monday :) (It's okay, I understand)... happy birthday again! love, daniel