friday night in la jolla

walking home from work on friday night i felt a bit anxious.

that friday night je ne sais pas!

and then the camera came to the rescue.

i turned the walk into a photo shoot.

dirtier mind than me

i am always pleased to be taken by suprise by someone who processes information in way that out-dirties me. This week, for example, I was engaged in a serious conversation about getting approval to pay a contractor at work to return to finish a job that, according to a higher-up, was not done properly.

to fix the problem was going to cost $1700 and would involve uninstalling some hardware and reinstalling it 1.5 inches to the left.

"Is it worth it to pay $1700 for an inch and a half?" he asked, paused, and then burst out laughing.

at that point, of course, I got it.

financial crisis or not, 1.5 inches for $1700 sounds like a pretty good deal.

54 people died in TJ last week

at least 54 people died in tijuana last week in gang battling over drug-entry-into-the-USA turf. and as my bro nicknamed (by me) "egg salad sandwich" pointed out tonight on the phone, "How many people have died from smoking weed?"

exactly...but that's what we're good at...putting people in jail and going to war.

and building roads we don't need...but that's another story.

where was I? oh yeah, italian bf bought a great nina simone cd that arrived in the mail this week and I can't stop listening to "who am I?"

but i have to be careful or i'll OD on the song and then it will be a long time till I can enjoy it again...i've done that so many times already...there is always a miniobsession...the other one right now is black tighty whities. yes, black ones. they are the shape of tighty whities but just black...so i guess they are really tighty blackies but that doesn't have the same ring to it. I was firmly in the boxer brief camp for ages and then italian bf bought me tighty blackies and I can't stop wearing them. It's like I've been taken over my an alien life form that demands this and only this type of underwear...for more on underwear...(not mine thankfully) stay tuned for the paper version of the christmas letter, in your mailboxes the second week of december.

"where did the last week go?" asked the beef.

where did the last week go?

i don't know.

Did I learn to paint and weld?

That list of to-do's...was it felled?

no and no

and still, last week, boy did it go.

the sun came up, the market went down

an extra 700 billion we miraculously found.

the world kept moving round and round.

and i sat here. ground beef. a pound.

a pound of ground, that's what I am.

not green eggs and ham, not sam i am.

I looked up from my whole foods case

into starring eyes on a la-jolla-lady face.

she chose a steak right next to me.

she didn't check the price. it's all about free.

when you have enough cash to never ask prices

and you hire someone to tell you what arborio rice is...

...silence...

how the hell do I know what she was thinking? she just starred into the case and pointed at a steak. And then she left. She walked over to the hot seafood bar, which if you ask me, stinks. I've been sitting in this case for the last year. Nobody buys me because I slink around at night and always look like the freshest meat in the morning, which means they sell the others in the case not me. I just hang out and watch the meat come in and out of the case. I don't have the numbers on just how much is sold and how much is thrown out...but the ratio ain't pretty. there is a lot of waste.

My favorite thing about life in the case is hanging out with the garnish kale. they always have funny stories they overheard from the migrant workers who pick them. One of them even managed to sneak in the sexy sprig of cilantro he was banging. Those two garnished like there was no tomorrow...for about a week...and then there was no tomorrow for them. they got tossed, like all the rest of them. I don't know why I'm able to look fresh every morning. But i'm not complaining. I'm just learning as much as I can while i'm here, and occasionally at night i'm able to sneak out and hop on the laptop back in the office and update this blog.

the word on the street is that Sarah Palin is a homophobic politician who wants creationism taught in schools. Now, I know i'm just a pound of beef. But it doesn't take a filet mignon to know that this is some fucked up shit. What right does she have to say that gay people don't deserve the same rights as others? And creationism? Are you kidding me? In this day and age? Just because I was grass fed doesn't mean that I think my former stomach's abilitiy to break down cellulose and turn it into something useful just popped out of no where on day 3 or 4.

i've got some serious beefs with Palin, and my beefs have nothing to do with my own beef identity.

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

Halloween is the new basement.

Halloween is the new basement.

I'll explain more over the coming days, after I return to my basement homeland in Silver Spring.

But until then, be warned: Peet's Coffee and Tea is already serving pumpkin spiced latte's for your autumnal pleasure...in San Diego where it was damn hot today and the surfed called out to her friends louder than a mamma sea gull calling out to her prematurely fledged offspring that can't figure out how to fly off of our balcony.

these are high in iron

In the dictionary according to me...

when you are in a public place and you want to stall so that the person or people you are with have the chance to see something (or more likely someone) that you find particularly interesting, you point to a nearby object and say...

These are high in iron.

This all began at whole paycheck a couple of weeks ago when italian bf, his two friends who stayed with us for 17 days and I saw a super hot guy in the bulk food section who seemed hot enough and straight enough to be a potential suitor for our female friend emi. In order to stay nearby without being (too) obnoxious, we manufactured a long conversation about various items in the bulk bins. This, of course, wall all happening in italian. and my most proud moment of the stalling-near-the-hot-guy conversation came when I pointed to the pumpkin seeds and said "quests sono alto en ferro" which is my bad italian for "these are high in iron."

as I mentioned, "these are high in iron" can be applied for pretty much anything. For instance, I pointed to a box of tic tacs near the self-checkout at the grocery store tonight and told italian bf "look these are high in iron".

constipation discount

Banana Republic owes me a constipation discount.

I spend my hard earned money there?

And what do I get in return?

Un-necessarily hard caca.

Hold on. I'll explain. Let me just flush wipe the Preparation H suppository residue off my fingers first.

okay, that's better. This keyboard will never chafe my fingers, but otherswise, all is well.

Where was I? Oh yeah. The constipation discount.

I was in the flagship Banana Republic in Santa Monica a few weeks ago with italian bf and two old-school friends of his from pizza land. I offloaded an armful of to-be tried on sale-rack items (grazie italian bf), and located the nearest sales associate . I encountered a pair.

"Hi. Can you tell me where the restroom is?"

Pause.

Creepy-looking-Banana-Republic-sales-associate-who-looks-like-the-guy-who-you-pay- to-fix -your-computer...the guy who will fix your computer, but not before he copies all the porn you have stashed away on your hard drive...that guy calmly says "our bathrooms are no longer available to the public."

there is some back and forth ending with him telling my incredulous self that there is a Starbucks across the street.

Taking a shit in a Starbucks bathroom on 3rd Street Promenade on a hot August Saturday in Santa Monica, California? No thanks. I'd rather revisit an Ohio Interstate 70 outhouse circa 1985.

Besides, isn't part of the deal of buying overpriced sale-rack clothes made in China but woven in pizza land (whatever that means) is that you have access to a relatively clean bathroom? especially when you are travelling and you're experienceing that fleeting moment where your bowels have said, "alright asshole. It's either now or a week from tuesday. It's your choice."

and that's why i want a constipation discount. I missed the window of opportunity.

In fact, I did talk to the manager after I paid. And she offered me a "one time exception" -- access to the bathroom. but I declined. by the time I got the offer, I was already on the week from tuesday plan.

the new guy in my office is an asshole

The new guy in my office is an asshole. He doesn't take his sunglasses off, even at meetings.

and what's with those elf shoes?

He think's he cool. He finishes emails with 'cheers'. I don't think he's ever been to England. So why does he say "cheers" in emails? And if he ever was in London, I'm sure it was for work, and I'm doubly sure he didn't even go into a pub. He probably went somewhere dorky like a science museum.

And sometimes I hear him on the phone trying to talk some other language. He says ciao. who is he talking to? the pizza guy?

And rumor has it he wears two pairs of socks because his feet are sensitive. What a dork.

pool-io-lypic dilusions

a reverse two and half somersalts in the pike position.

it looks easy on TV.

i hope my speedo is tight enough. If it's not, I'll never win gold. And my competitors from the hosting country have bags and bags of shaved body hair to back up their claim that they are in fact 16 years old. It's true that one of the bags of "public pubic hair" that they put on display at the opening ceremony was in fact yak hair.

metal mouth

should I get a metal mouth?

well, a modern metal mouth, which is in fact not metal at all. It's invisible. and it's expensive. and the orthodontists say the 7K would mean that I MIGHT have my teeth longer when I'm old and g(r)ay.

In case you don't read comments:

Blogger Jenn said...

what is wrong with your teeth?

August 22, 2008 11:25 AM

Blogger Daniel said...

nothing right now...
its just that my gums are receeding faster than they should (on four on the front) b/c my bite is a little messed up
b/c of lower crowding
and so parts of my gums get too much vibration from my teeth hitting in a weird way
and this triggers faster than normal gum recession...
it's one of those things where they are like...

well...

if you spend the money now, you might be a lot better off later on, but we can't promise you that you won't be okay without fixing your teeth now...

and then chris said...


Blogger C.G. Barrett said...

So the dentist wants to make a gay guy's teeth straight?

Is he part of some radical, right-wing group of Christian conservatives?

Whatever you do, do NOT, under any circumstances, accept his referral to a urologist...

August 23, 2008 5:46 AM
************* chris, that is HILARIOUS.

the glass is half full

when I heard this poem on the radio today, I wished I'd written it. But i'm awful glad I'm around to hear it.

What We Might Be, What We Are

by X. J. Kennedy

If you were a scoop of vanilla
And I were the cone where you sat,
If you were a slowly pitched baseball
And I were the swing of a bat,

If you were a shiny new fishhook
And I were a bucket of worms,
If we were a pin and a pincushion,
We might be on intimate terms.

If you were a plate of spaghetti
And I were your piping-hot sauce,
We'd not even need to write letters
To put our affection across,

But you're just a piece of red ribbon
In the beard of a Balinese goat
And I'm a New Jersey mosquito.
I guess we'll stay slightly remote.

"What We Might Be, What We Are" by X.J. Kennedy, from Exploding Gravy © Little, Brown, 2002. Reprinted with permission. (buy now)

manual man bra

manual man bra...without a shadow of a doubt.

Nick Drake Remixed

Just as weekends can be a cruel taste of freedom for office monkeys like me, this link provides a cruelly abbreviated taste of a blissful remix of one of my favorite songs.

http://mp3.juno.co.uk/MP3/SF300536-01-01-13.mp3

here is an unmixed version of the same song:

venice surfer (LA not Italy)

Another one bites the muff

Add John Edwards to the list of famous people who let their mouths do the walking and willies do the talking.

I really don't care.

But...if you are going to waste my time by doing something that is going to clog up the media atmosphere for a good 24 to 48 hours, then we ought to get something out of the deal. Instead of reading a pre-olympics gymnastics story, I devoted my very limited internet news time to you John Edwards. And I want something in return. I want to know how big little john is.

From now on, I think all celebrity sex stories that break should be required to include specific anatomical details. Dimensions dammit. I'd also like to know the volume of a three day shot. Is that too much to ask?

coffee buzz

coffee buzz
oh coffee buzz
where art thou oh coffee buzz?

You wake my brain
You keep me sane
You taste better in the rain

The zipping neurons
Help me ignore the morons
And dig in and get my work on

When its you and me all morning long
It's driving with best friend and kick-ass song

two hours later

Oh f*ck, i'm coming...

down

dull thud in skull does grow
the caffeine buzz is going. dough!

dough! in homer simpson sense
not kitchen of white wife and picket fence

her loins

those red things on the right side of the photo above...they are "her loins"...according to italian bf. of course they are really "heirlooms" as in heirloom tomatoes...but somehow, italian bf started phonetically calling them "her loins" and i haven't had the heart to tell him until now. I think it's super cute when he gets words wrong...and it drives him crazy when I don't correct him...so I promised to correct him on most things...but not until I get a little fun out of the situation.

italian bf refered to them as "her loin tomatoes" to our Japanese friends last night. they didn't say a word and I just sat there and laughed on the inside. and then today at the grocery store, italian bf was like "no more her loins" and I totally agreed. I am SO not interested in her loins. The her loins in san diego this summer have totally sucked, and I'm not talking about the female eye candy at pacific beach. the farmers around here are growing really shitty her loin tomatoes and charging outrageous prices for them. I have been calling them "industrial heirlooms" but from now on they are "industrial her loins."

cheese vegetarians

in addition to becoming both my mom and my dad (in various ways both good and bad), I have also become one of the characatures I made much fun of in college: the famed "cheese vegetarian". This curious transient subspecies of vegetarian exists almost entirely on store bought tortillas filled with microwaved cheese and bagles draped in peanut butter. matt and I got a lot of mileage out of laughing at the absurdity of swearing off meat only to gorge on low quality dairy products.

look at last night's dinner party. this is a cheese vegetarian's wet dream. buffalo mozzerella surrounding a pile of burrata, which is basically fresh mozz on the outside and creamy dairy goo on the inside. it's amazing. and it was half price. why? because we bought it on the day it was set to expire. it wasn't discounted, but when we got to the register, I was like "this is going to expire today. Can I have it for half price?" they called back to a manager who gave us the green light. Four dollars saved. That's almost a gallon of gas.

this was at Bristol Farms, the absurd grocery store that only exists because there are rich old people whose only task in life is to burn their money. We went from bristol farms to Whole Paycheck, which by comparison, feels like a bargain. At Whole Paycheck, we found a hunk o cheese from near the northern italian town of Cuneo that gave birth to the Slow Food Movement. This cheese, too, was set to expire that evening. We got it for half price too. We saved $7.50 on a hunk o' cheese.

right thumb nail

I finally figured out why the skin under my right thumbnail is often irritated.

when i peel oranges, I often use the right thumb to dig in and puncture that skin the first time.

In fact, I'm proud of my opposable thumb overuse. I'm feeling very capable, in primate terms, tonight.

really?

really? it's been a week?

really? I just my mom a homemade birthday card for her 60th birthday?

really? One of my brothers wants us to present my mom with a $900 check so she can buy a sofa for her birthday that i'm sure she won't be happy with. And besides, she now has two grandbabies who come to grandmas house and want to jump all over the furniture. Is this the time for a new sofa?

Can you tell that I'm partial to the industrial dorm style furniture that has been in my parents' living room since (almost) as long as I can remember? I still remember when the brown plaid dude was the main sofa...if we could get new inner cushions for that, it would be all the rage in a retro thrift shop.

RSS Really (and finally)

Kelly has been extoling the benefits of RSS for years, but this week I finally converted. I'm working on a mega reader for work that tracks the activity off all the top university press offices, tech bloggers and major and niche media outlets. It's gonna kick some serious ass and save some serious time while keeping me seriously updated. can you tell i'm seriously stoked? seriously.

of course, I'm also setting up one for personal blogs.

i have to pee

when I was little, I had to "urinate"

when I got a little older, I had to "piss"

after a year or two of college, I had to "pee"

Ten years after college, I still have to pee

in fact, I have to pee right now.

Or do I have to piss?

am I butch enough to piss right now?

am I sensitive enough to pee?

am I sharp enough to know the difference?

rather than deliberate
I better just urinate.

sigur ros is coming to san diego

sigur ross is coming to san diego, and I want to go.

btw, I just finished teaching my yoga class this week, and I played sigur ros. true, we did shoulder stand before backbends (I done forgot). I also managed to steal the yoga mat of one of the students. he was in the bathroom and I stood on his mat and started the class. without saying a word, he just went to my matt...and 10 minutes later, I was like, "Jim, did I steal your yoga mat" and he was like "yeah" and everyone started laughing.

by the way, I'm still pissed at my high school...and I'm scheming...I'm going to figure out a way (I hope) to embarass Gonzaga High School in Washington DC. I gave them some money and sent in a class update in which i mentioned moving to san diego with italian bf. they cashed my check and proceeded NOT to publish my life update. the homophobic bastards. I haven't figured out what I'm going to do...but I think it involves throwing a huge bash in which people who are pissed at their homophobic high schools will all get together and have a big old party and raise a big ruckus and stir up some bad publicity for all the schools...but this is just a rough sketch...i don't know exactly what the plan is yet...

true, you could say that this kind of event could also make gonzaga look good in the eyes of the rich conservatives, the Pat Buchanons of the world who write big fat checks to their religiously oriented high school alma maters. but I think there is a way to make sure it's not all roses for the homophobpic bastards...yes, that's the second time I'm called them homophobic bastards, and this is the third (and fourth) time I said homophobic bastards. Why? because, in fact they are (fifth reference) homophobic bastards.

book

it has been one of those evenings when I actually feel like trying to squeeze out that book that intermittently percolates in my brain. but insead of jerking myself off with literary lallygagging, let's talk chicken. really. chicken dinner. The chicken dinner we had on saturday night.

it was no Stove Top selection, though it was all cooked on the stove top. Italian bf's friend who is in her mid 50s, Italian, and the mother of three boys (now aged 26, 22 and 18) cooked for us on saturday night as if she were cooking for her boys and husband. She visited us from Boston for a long weekend, no husband or sons in tow.

"I don't know how to cook for less than five!" she admitted as she transferred an entire cooked chicken from the blue enamel roasting pan to a glass casserole dish. She then poured the lemon/water/veggie bullion/garlic/rosemary/chicken juice onto the chicken meat in the glass pan. She truly was a mother hen feeding us like she feeds her babies. It felt really good. Moms are awesome!

cool music i've heard on KCRW.com

Your new twin sized bed, by Death Cab for Cutie

song: sour milk by Wild Sweet Orange

song: Crayola doesn't make a color for your eyes by Kristin Andreassen

Before It Gets Better by Earlimart...unfortunately, I can't find this track streaming on the Web...it's from the new Hymn and Her album. I scribbled down a haunting line from this song: "You can count all the friends who still really know you on just one hand"

album: Lost Blues and other Songs by Palace Music

tag chores

blue like the ocean water

marilyn, billy w., george and laura

marilyn monroe was here

some like it hot

george bush is not

is laura looking for a divorced former first lady spot? (I know this is super old speculation, but the Italian newspaper La Repubblica ran another story today...so I wonder if there is new dirt...)

la dolce vita

so these are the blueberries I already posed with here,

and complained about their non-east-coastness here.

And the reason I titled this blueberry post as "Blueberries for Sal" is that I was fondly remembering this book from my childhood. Maybe this book is why I love blueberries so much.

Sarah, do you know this book??? anybody else know this book?

are we tourists?

"Are you all tourists?" a straight young latino dude with a stud ear ring in the shape of a five point star asked us as we made for the door to leave a North Park club last Saturday night.

"No," I said. "We're celebrating. She just got a job in Paris."

The latino dude gave my red-dressed Parisian-bound friend a high five and we left.

I love chatty str8 latino dudes...except when they are trying to sell me a car.

BTW, I like how the flash picked up the reflector on my shoes hanging in the shoe rack and the towel rack in the bathroom that you can barely see. And that's a damn hot side view of our (fake?) brushed metal Ikea clock.

and our smoke detector? lookin good. I wonder if that clock is a tourist. If so, is it always jet lagged?

indy show post script

I, in fact, did part take in fake texting before and during the show in order to fit in with the kids. Douglas had not yet read about my fake texting plan, so his resoponse to my "this is a fake text, check blog" was "huh???"

indy show pretext

and when I say "pretext" I really mean "pre-text" in that I am pasting the text conversation I had with a Web friend about the indy show tonight...thus "indy pretext":

Me: i'm going to an indy rock show tonight...people who used to be roomates with a college friend of mine...
Me: http://www.myspace.com/officialtillyandthewall
Me: what are u doing?
web_buddy: im at work, sorry
web_buddy: oh i love live music
web_buddy: ive got a date
web_buddy: : )
Me: a date! fun!
Me: where is the date?
web_buddy: to a dinner. we didnt decide yet.
web_buddy: someplace ethnic
web_buddy: : )
Me: cool. have fun. I'll be busy hanging out with teenagers at an all ages show in mira mesa.
Me: if they are 16 and I'm 32...then I could realistically be their dad...
Me: funny
Me: maybe i'll buy some cigarettes for my "kids"
web_buddy: omg. should be fun though. where is it? epicenter?
Me: yolp
Me: never been
web_buddy: its a good venue
web_buddy: id bring earplugs ol geezer
Me: good idea
Me: i want to be able to hear the kids telling me what kind of smokes they want
web_buddy: teeeheeh
web_buddy: you guys are going to love it
web_buddy: going with the BF?
Me: don't know if he is going or not
Me: i might be the old guy lurking by himself
Me: i better do some fake text messaging while i'm there so I look hip

lemon. totally.

I typed "lemon" into my email search box, and found an email from the big k, from which I have exerpted below:

Then we got the hottie blonde college girls from
Sarah Lawrence, dressed up in their aint-I-growed-up
tweed blazers and standard-issue 160 dollar jeans
with just enough make-up on to convince the average
dude that they'll put-out, but not enough to be
mistaken for a girl on the FAFSA doles. They're
probably taking about Kant but too ashamed to admit
that, in the privacy of the dorm shower, they touch
their own.

blueberries for sal

If you pay enough, you can buy local blueberries in socal.

song to write by

If you are wondering what I am listening to right now, follow the link to this Omaha band and then click on the song on the right called "The Freest Man CSS." I am currently trying to figure out if the Neely who is in this band is the same Neely that was in a band with my friend Jenn.

UPDATE: (THANKS JENN!!!!!!!!!!!) yup...it's the same Neely!!! and Jamie too, I think. Italian bf and i are going to the show...and we're dragging two other san diego transplants with us...now if I can only figure out what time they go on...doors open at 7...

venue: epicentre

mom's email as poetry

Dear Daniel,
I just took out the trash and admired our hydrangia and bee balm.
True to the name, the bees are enjoying the flowers.
It is hot and humid, but not terrible.
A good swimming pool day and snack bar day.

You may have heard the news,
Jaqueline and Patrick are having a baby.
I was surprised. I guess she feels quite nauseated.

They are excited.
Now I have a whole new set of worries and joys.

cantakerous can-canker-ous can-Kanka-us post

Sorry for being so gross, but I am so excited that my canker sore is healing that I had to share. I bit my lip while eating salad about 10 days ago, and the tiny cut inside my mouth ballooned into a big ole sore. And this one landed in a particularly tricky location, just external enough that when I close my lips, I hit the sore, which means every morning when I wake up, I have to peel my lips apart and the healing skin rips off the sore and we have to start all over again. But two days ago, I decided to cover the outer edge in a bit of neosporin, while still covering the inner part with Kanka as always. The combo seems to be working. I've been getting these my whole life, but ever since I started chewing with my mouth closed on a more regular basis (about 12 years ago), the frequency has dropped by at least half. (my working hypothesis being that chewing with my mouth open increases the frequency with which I bite my lip while eating.) I still remember sitting outside the main library at UNL with Matt and Chesley 12 years ago. We were eating pizza and Chesley was like, "why don't you chew with your mouth closed?" She wasn't being mean. She was really just wondering (or at least she was nice enough to make me believe that). And I was like "I didn't realize I was chewing with my mouth open."

...can you tell that I didn't date in high school????

On Saturday night, a friend suggested I stay away from cows b/c he says foot and mouth diseases is related to what I got. thanks. I always wanted to be a communicable threat to livestock.

Christmas in July

Christmas in July. Literally. I just got a Christmas scarf from Douglas in the mail. Grazie mille!!!

blueberries

would somebody please eat some damn good blueberries for me? Maybe mixed with some bursting with summer flavor local peaches? SoCal just doesn't have the blueberries you find in other parts of the country. How can you make a super cheesy red white and blue cool whip laden sheet cake art project to chase away the post July 4 blues without amazing blueberries???

La Prima Fava

La prima fava del nostra balcone era molto saporita.

4th of July

The Fourth of July. Yay! One of my most memorable fourths? Vomiting my brains out in the upstairs hallway of my parents' house on Glenville Road. Why? Because I ate the wrong part of the Chesapeake Bay blue crabs at the annual neighborhood crab fest. I still remember sitting there munching away on the whitish, longitudinal, flavorless soft parts of the belly of the crabs. I was 7 or 8, but my cognitive processes haven't changed much since then. I munched away...with a vague sense that something was not quite right, but that notion didn't stop me.

And boy did I pay the price. Although whoever(my mom, I'm sure) had to clean the crab puke off the wooden floor in the upstairs hallway paid more than I. Sorry mom.

school is cool

1.5 Marg-ur-itas

1.5 marguritas to send off a coworker to greener pastures (still irrigated by imported water from a non-sustainable source)...but greener pastures none-the-less.

and now I have Bruce Springsteen's My Hometown on repeat. But right now, it's not REALLY on repeat in that it is still on the first play. So the mantra has only started. My hometown has not yet obsessed me. But I did talk to two DC-area transplants today, one of whom still owns a 2BR place in capitol hill that has more than quadrupled in value since she bought it in the late 1990s. You go girl!

but talking about money and real estate is so boring and predictable, especially with regard to DC. The song just started it's second spin. My hometown. My hometown.

i went to a rainbow flag raising yesterday on campus. it was a sweet ceremony meant to mark some relevant flag/fag anniversary, but I am not sure which one. But it was not your average flag raising. The flag raising was performed by a hunky hot guy in a hard hat and jeans tight in all the right places. Why? Because the flag poles are supposedly drunk-asshole protected in that the place where you "do the mashed potato" with your hands in order to raise or lower the flag is 20 feet above the ground. That's the drunk-asshole-protected part (drunk-asshole-pole-jumpers not withstanding). And that means that when the fags want to raise the rainbow flag, they have to enlist the help of a hot hunky guy from the tree cutting crew who rides in a big white cherry picker. (Insert sex-related cherry joke here. Insert rides-something-big-and-white jokes here.)

the event was very nice, but also bizzare. From tremendous wedgies, to pleated pants from hell, to linen that should be forbidden, this was no Queer Eye back-up cast. I rode my bike to the event, and stood straddling my bike throughout the event, quietly reveling in the gentle tickle of my scrotum brushing past the bike's horizontal bar as my balls waved in the wind, seemingly synchronized with the waving rainbow flag overhead.

who needs a title?

i'm going to be in DC over labor day weekend!!!! i hope douglas can make it back from yale...but I don't know if that will be possible or not.