Best Friends are trying

When we lose the person that we would never dare to call the best

and miss plopping down

on top of them

the reassurance

the unknowing but willing embrace

has been taken for granted

and shoved aside

for liquidation of grandeur

i often fail to remember 

that the present is present is present

Limpywimpygimpy Pt. 1

Deep in the chest of every human being, there lives a secret society of fighting ninjas. You laugh? What if I was to tell you these ninjas are gnome-like creatures who hide their identities beneath layers of black clothing and fluffy white facial hair? Perhaps you would guffaw at my ignorant confusion. Well, my friend. You would be wrong. Despite their somewhat concealed existence, in every non-robot, humanoid body, there resides a squad of fighting demons, capable of devastating destruction.

Last week my rib-dwelling ninja gnomes were attacked.

Two smugglers by the name of Mucuster and Phlegmy arrived in my lungs sometime during the weekend, let in by shabby security guards who were still trying to clear up the Assmar attack. Mucuster and Phlegmy cleverly disguised themselves in wafts of marijuana smoke and made their way to my lungs unnoticed. But no one gets past my rib cage. The gnomes soon caught scent of the potentially dangerous strangers and led a massive attack on the two, blowing them to pieces within seconds of their arrival in the lungs. This large of an explosion unfortunately led to a coughing fit that gripped my body and rendered me a gyrating zombie. The gnomes tried to run, but in my body’s confusion I broke one of their houses, causing it to collapse and kill one (Yosho, rib 4, may he rest in peace).

Now I am nursing a broken rib and painfully coughing up pieces of Mucuster and Phlegmy. I warn you: treat your ninja gnomes with love and respect or you may find yourself in a lot of psychological and physical pain.

This post is dedicated to the life and times of Yosho, the lung defending, rib-dwelling ninja gnome that was destroyed in the recent attacks. We will miss you. 

Fuck doctors.

What an unfruitful day. Waking up too late to even eat breakfast, smoking a quick bowl after allowing Josh to vent to me for a few, and then rushing off to a confusing maze of roads that ultimately spiraled downward into a dark, timeless place where the daunting smell of hospital chemicals overtakes every other bodily sense. Mcdonalds and some good music quickly cleared my pallet, so to speak. But it's still rainy and sludgy and I'm pissed at myself. 

The test has begun, please face forward and resist all ancestral urges to fidget.

I went to the experiment today. Quite a strange thing. I kind of wish i had partaken during a less i'm-getting-my-shit-together point in my life. recounting the amount of psychedelics, amphetamines, stimulants, solvents, and "the other" categories of drugs that i have allowed into my body during this short 20 years is quite an exhibition of that my downward slope. I don't think I regret these things or that I would have taken them back with the knowledge I now possess, in fact I'm sure that I would have partaken again and again if some evangelical NA leader gave me the chance to right the wrongs he though i'd done. Because I wouldn't be in the position I am in right now, and right now I am quite quite happy with my state, the state I am in at least mentally. I might wish for him to provide me with a bottle of pills, though, that revoke the damage imparted unto my frail ecosystem of a body. I must postpone, the boys are back with bottles of wine from which i will fruitfully fill my gullllet. 

i got drunk

the quietude of oneness versus the fake-itude of the masses.

So here I am. 

On the real. 

Tonight I went to a shitty theatre major party with Ryan. It was really anti-climactic, but its most entertaining qualities were gay banter and good weed. I'm similar to theatre majors in so many ways, but at some point in our evolution as human beings, we departed from likeness. For instance, dashing about in capes is acceptable. Er... sober. Sober cape-dashing. It's like drunk stripping only boring.

 Then I went to Corrine's, which is somehow like being in high school all over again. I swear she wears the same perfume/cologne as an old high school love interest (ironically now living in this town, I give you the great Zach Madsen!). Perhaps that explains the flirty attitude that inadvertently comes out of me every time I talk to her. We always have fun. She bought us pizza and we smoked weed, took shots, and shared beers. 

On the romantic side... I did get Verto to pretty much admit he's way into me, but he was too fucking drunk to do anything about it. Furthermore, he left and kept text-macking but ended up puking at Qdoba. So I heard. Obviously my romantic side is sick. Har har.

Prior to all of this however, there was Sagan's screening at the library--an all around enjoyable experience that acquainted me with a whole new outlook on the colonizer phenomena through media, and furthermore made me laugh quite a lot. It's always nice to see Nathan and Paul... or... at least their presence doesn't disrupt my normal functioning. However, I'm perpetually disappointed in my own lack of ambition, and watching Sagan run her shit sort of bummed me out and made me feel inactive. It's whatever.

Even if I do look at this blog tomorrow and blush, cursing my drunk-high (drigh if you will) writing capabilities, tonight was good. Puking hot boys and self-constructed and construed world criticism aside.

The clock is analog and embodies something even more archaic

Will has been playing WOW in the living room for 6+ hours. I don't know how he does it. I don't understand how a human being can survive in a world that is nothing more than digital blips on a large and dangerously insecure screen. Tomorrow I start this experiment. The one that Rachel has already done, so in a sense I will be following in her footsteps, but in another sense, I am simply following in my own. I don't really have much to say. I got a parking ticket, showed two films to about 5 people and was really hoping for more to show up. It is despairing to think you've thought so well and have few people available to witness what may have been a little shit of grandeur. Someday, though, I will screen to 10 people and feel slightly less disenchanted. pop pop in a stop the atom says it is no shock but the body has another clue it's electrical current from me to you.

My horoscope for today/tomorrow says that my mind is on romance and my heart should be in it too. Tribble tribble tride and iddle. I don't know what to think of that. I tried romance a couple weeks ago and it was reinvigorated a couple of days ago to no avail. I don't really give a shit, maybe it just means I'll fall in love with the man who takes my piss sample tomorrow. I imagine it will go something like this "Here's my sample mister" i say. "Thanks, I just need you to sign here and go through the door on the right. Dr. Booze will be waiting for you to start your interview." he responds while keeping his eyes neatly turned to the label on the piss jar. "So you wanna fuck the pussy from which that piss was expelled?" I retort, my lids half shut from shock of verb choice. "The door on the right." he says and i shift my bag higher onto my shoulder. "Fuckin' puzzie."

i mean the art is in the word of the wind of the window of the blind and the blinds and the hammock is soaking wet.

I need to go to sleep to get the allotted 6 hrs. But i just want to drool on this format a little longer.

joel took my winter clothes and threw them over a bank where they sank to the mer-people who never owned such dense articles of prosthetics. 

what is the difference between ethereal and ephemeral? 

I will tell you now that I have the dictionary at my very hairy fingertips. 

ethereal: extremely delicate and light in a way that seems too perfect for this world. 

      ex.  The merman's fin was ethereal as it glimmered and danced over the barnacled sea wall. 

ephemeral: lasting for a very short time

      ex. The ephemeral sting that the bee injected into my forearm left me pining for more of his sweet sweet poison.

Maybe romance IS on my mind. The imagined romance of the dancing merman and the stinging bee. 

Holy holy holy

Tomorrow we will dive to the great reef and come back with clams full of diamonds. That is what we will do tomorrow my little Rew-mobile. We shall dance on the shores like the whores of our fathers with nye but a bit of booze in our gutters. 

Goodnight. 

Some dregs for the drought

Originated at Cambridge University, published in the UK.

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It's summer and we're molting.

Rachel and I have decided that we needed to start a new blog to eschew ourselves of Laura, the roommate that has departed and was never really there. We currently occupy moments in which we are contemplating the speed we need to employ in order to break smoothly into our adult lives. We've been walking, trotting, and taking long breaks, but it may be time for us to sprint. 

Fall semester we are going to be studying abroad in England. Rachel will be in London for a semester and I in Canterbury for a year. We are at the brink of lunging towards American 'success' or drifting calmly into the recesses of American 'failure' and complacency. 

This will be our final summer of 30 blocks at Lake Lemon and sleeping in until our phone rings. This is our last summer of pissing in the wind until our bladder is empty. After this, we have to do something with ourselves, we will no longer be children, we will no longer have the luxury of incomprehension. So we plan to enjoy it. It's going to be long, rough, and nostalgic. We will be writing here to record our revelations. 

Today, we start preparing!