how low can you go? this is the new low i've reached. jimmy's came back from europe tonight so i had to go rendezvous in irvine to grab him. i had no gas in my car. i had no money. so in effort to be a good responsible friend, i hunted for money. in the couches, in the little change piles all over the house, in my pockets and finally in my man purses. then i went to ralph's and exchanged my little ziploc bag full of quarters and other assorted goodies for real money. whoever invented that machine is a genius. you dump crap change in and beautiful cash comes out. they're making a nice percentage but hey, who cares? i got a new twenty dollar bill and then gassed up and whipped out to bring jimmy home to his mommy. when's there's a will there's a way i say.



btw. jimmy's hair is long. like almost mullet long. it's straight nasty. what do you get when you mix FOB boy with too many months in europe? yup, jimmy.

"Cinderella lied to us. There should be a Betty Ford Center where they de-program you by putting you in an electric chair, play 'Some Day My Prince Will Come,' and hit you and go 'Nobody's coming...Nobody's coming...Nobody's coming.'"

-judy carter-

loserville, usa. it occured to me this weekend, that taking my current life facts in a slightly different light, i'm a grade A loser. i live at home. with my mom. i'm twenty three, soon to be twenty four. i have no job. i have no degree. i have no clear goals. i have no short or long term plans. i don't have a bank account. i don't even have a credit card. the grandest argument for my continued existence is probably....ah i dunno.....nintendo? however. i try to spin all these things so that they come out like i'm a confused yet soon to be successful semi-talented person. it works most of the time. until i hear about some loser sitting at home, without a job, living with his parents. and i screw up my face and go, "loser!" but then i stop and think about it. "hey! that's me!"



luckily, me and victor decided that in this day and age, living at home isn't really that bad. as for that no job, no degree thing. nobody can really justify that. it was very interesting talking to chris yesterday though. gave me some perspective. from a wiser angle. i recently found an outline of goals that i made when i first got to new york. it was titled, "the inquiry and evolution of egotistical veracity." the purpose was for me to become a Responsible, Aware, Self Evaluating, Successful, Happy, Organized, Balanced, Logical, Respected, Ever-Growing person. so far, in two years, i've achieved exactly....none of those. but the list sure looks nice. maybe i'll print it out and frame it.



perhaps the most interesting thing about this realization is that i'm not really affected. it's like i see it all now. but it doesn't really motivate me to become that person. instead i'm still kind of content to muddle around and see what might happen. i'm damn good at muddling. big important things go in one ear, swirl around for a bit and then exit the next day. i'm very efficient like that.

question of the day: what do you do when the path turns unexpectedly into something both frightening and wonderful? how do you let yourself fall into the vast uncertainty of something which looks like love, but breathes like a flower and inspires like the hands of a masseuse who works for free? how do you mark something which boasts the bud of a rose not yet in bloom, as well as the thorn, thick and vicious with the persistence of a poem that will not be denied?



ie. how do you bungee jump without a will?

-staceyann chin-

A friend's definition of what a smart person is: smart is getting what you want. Knowing how to use your resources to achieve your goal. If this is the definition, am I smart?

posted by The Wizard



Hum. Well. Do you get what you want? Or does what you want only come about because you've lowered your goals and expectations? I think sometimes you're a bit too lucky and happy to be content with what's in your life. Maybe more lucky actually.

posted by Tin Man



I usually get what I want. But not really because I do anything. I don't put effort into many things. Stuff just happens and "works out." I'm on the high end of the cosmic karma circle. Everything comes up roses for me. Even in the darkest of moments. So I don't really know if I'm "getting what I want."

posted by The Wizard



This is a great definition by the way. Because all the intelligence, self control, stability and whatever else, doesn't do jack for you unless you know how to apply it to achieve something. That's a smart person. A happy person. An accomplished person. Don't you think?

posted by Tin Man



I agree. So again, am I smart?

posted by The Wizard



Crap. How should I know? Let's go with "no" so you have some room for improvement.

elvis has left the building. for the first time in a week. i'm alone. nobody is passing out on the couch. the guest room isn't full. scrabble boards, chess pieces, beer, bags, suitcases and DVDs aren't littering the house. and i feel empty. but that's natural. i need sound around me to survive. in lieu of people, i crank up the TV, bust out the CDs and try to pretend that it's light outside. pathetic. i know. but at least now i'll have a second to do some phone calls, return some emails and take care of adult type things.



james did some photo shoot stuff at the house yesterday. complete with cool lights and strobes and little gadgets. it'll be interesting to see how they turn out. we need to all gather our talents together and make something. because without creation, we are nothing. and plus, i'm tired of clubbing. give me a board game, some beer, friends and many many hours and i'm good to go.



gosh. i hate this "everybody gone" feeling. it's the pits. i think i'm only happy when i'm skirting responsibility and flying around from place to place, doing inconsequential social things. it's not much of a balanced life. but it's a life nonetheless.

my knee is wonky again. i can hear and feel it clicking every time i bend. shit. right when i'm finally able to play basketball again. i must have really offended some basketball god with my "skills." if this requires surgery again i'm gonna cry. hopefully it'll go away but i doubt it. maybe it'll just be cartilage flakes or something innocent like that.

"A man's moral character must be judged on the basis of his actions, his statements, and his conscious convictions-- not on the basis of inferences (usually spurious) about his subconscious."

request line. who needs to hear about more fun and games? not me certainly. but i cannot pass up this opportunity to talk about a great clubbing experience. last night set all records here. the combination of great music (tribe, digable, rakim, dee-lite......i could go on), nice place (the lounge in west hollywood), beautiful people (like seriously good looking people. of both sexes. very good looking people), macy gray and black eyed peas worked out well for me. i think i get star struck easily. taboo of bep was there. as was macy gray. and apparently the little asian dude from linkin park, but i don't know who they are so we'll pass on that one. anyhow. yes. black eyed pea and macy gray. i just like looking at famous people i've decided. like "wow, they're famous!" it seems to make my life that much more exciting. yesterday wasn't the best time i've ever had at a place. but it definitely will serve as one of the more memorable.



and to think, i wasn't going to come up because i was pooped from the whole week. i've been waking up at seven am people. for five days straight. seven in the morning. and i'm not even forced to get up like in china. go me. i can't believe i've only been back here for a week. i never want to leave again. never. too many fun things have been done this week. too many......

i'm peeling. i'm transforming into a better, smoother person. the tight dark skin of just a few days past has been shed and underneath i've found fresh pink skin. untanned fresh pink skin. meaning all those hours spent in the sun were wasted. i'm still pale. even worse, i'm pink. and i'm still peeling in random places. like the ears. and the neck. i hope i'm undergoing a literal as well as a metaphorical transformation. i kind of doubt it though. "i am a beautiful butterfly!"

how to immerse yourself back into life. after five weeks in china. have lots of people come and sleep over at your house. stay up late. wake up late. run around san diego having as much fun as possible. surround yourself with friends if possible. friends who enjoy your company, and vice versa. if possible.



i've been back for about five days. i've so far crammed in more fun than i can shake a stick at. geez. i can't even remember this past weekend. friday. there was an airport pickup for me. some jamba juice. some warcraft. some people from LA (susan, irene, ana). mixed in with some san diego people (james, victor, hong, adam). big empty house. no mom. equals lots of loud television and music. ah yes. it's coming back to me now. lost blitz chess to james. twice. passed out watching toy story 2. once.



went out for a nice italian dinner on saturday. at the cutest damn italian restaurant you've ever seen. then went out downtown after that. wasn't really feeling the spot. but the music was okay. the vibe and the crowd was too old. i felt like a high schooler. the girls were taller than me. the guys were huger than me (that's actually pretty par for the course i guess). i felt.....terribly small. plus, these big people liked to jab elbows into your back when you danced. and i think i got freaked from behind by too many random people who were freaking each other but since it was so tight, it looked like i was getting some play. "looked like" being the key phrase there. adam passed out suddenly. again. bringing us rushing home. that boy needs to stop drinking alchohol. black outs can't be a good sign.



then amit and mandisa came down on sunday. amit is now bald. very bald. like bald head slick and da click bald. it's pretty neat. i'm quite jealous. i now have a haircut that makes me look eighteen. i'm not sure how looking eighteen will make me more respectable in the business world but hey, it's too late to argue. it's annoying to have to use gel. but i'll deal with it. mandisa is taking surf lessons all week. she's going to become a surf diva by friday. we all eat breakfast at the dining room table in the morning. juice, milk, cereal, peanut butter, jelly, toast and english muffins. it actually feels really nice. to sit at the kitchen table and have some breakfast. even if i am barely awake. it feels family like.



went to the beach on monday. got absolutely fried. i don't usually use sunblock. yes, cancer. i know. but i feel like they'll cure cancer by the time i'm forty, so i'm not worried. anyhow. i fell asleep and forgot to flip over. my whole front side is red. my face aches when i smile. i feel like a little radiator. my teeth have never looked so white. it is a bit of a pain to be wearing clothes. but i'm moisterizing and aloe-ing. hopefully i won't peel much. fat chance.



then yesterday was sea world. i am now a sea world fun pass member. i can go as much as i want until december. i think i'm gonna go down there to stare at the big marine animals when i want to feel relaxed. the best part of sea world was watching two jamongous walruses come charging towards the viewing window. those things are fat. we went downtown to onyx at night and had a good time. i don't understand anything about jazz. or music for that matter. i've decided to learn. i like jazz, but i want to enjoy it at more than a superficial level. somebody who knows, teach me. the booths at onyx are a little small. but i guess jazz clubs aren't something designed for large parties.



so far i've had albertos, robertos, jamba, boba, in-n-out, oscars, claim jumper and rubio's. san diego staples all. i'm still waiting on sushi, islands and fat burger. but it's only wednesday. oh, and hong took us to an excellent little dessert place monday. it was extraordinary.

i'm off. me and my suitcase have a date with two responsible, multi-talented, finely tanned, studly hunks (and they're single ladies!). maybe three. if he plays hooky and comes out to play. see you all. i need to be juiced up. fat burgered out. and twenty-five cent cookied to the max. come to me western food...

super power number negative one hundred and fifty. superman has x-ray vision. i can tell individuals by the way they walk. from any distance. if i can see your silhouette and see you move. i can usually figure out who you are. no friends will be sneaking up on me in the dark! people have very distinctive ways of moving and rotating. it's quite interesting actually. the most obvious one of course is mrkylechen. i could pick out his walk from miles away. the rolling, almost sitting back in a chair, new york limp walk. i see you kyle. i see you. i'm damn good with phone voices too. but that's another negative super power altogether.

"the powerpuff girls represent abrahamic religion in its three aspects. the proverbial first-born, blossom, is judaism. the emotional, guilt-ridden, yet joyous bubbles is christianity. and the temper-mental, violent, and last-named, buttercup, is islam.



mojo jojo, that insane lab ape newly blessed with brains, represents¡ªappropriately if ironically¡ªsecularism in all its forms."



"the film that follows offers us a short history of world religion. the three girls romp playfully through a city in a game of tag. regardless of the damage they leave in their wake, they are destroying the metropolis through their frolics. we come to understand that the spread of the religions, their battles for supremacy, the sword-swinging missionaries, the crusades, the inquisition¡ªall these were merely the games religions play. yes, they left uncounted thousands dead, but it was all a misunderstanding! all they really wanted to do was love."

(excerpt from metaphilm)

i talked to a friend once. about "i'll call you's" and "email me's!" about how these phrases are really just social out's now. he had difficulty with the idea that these phrases sometimes lacked commitment behind them. these phrases were just statements. like "good bye's". but friendlier. while many of us do use them with good intentions, they are often just tossed onto the end of meetings. to provide an avenue for future communication. nobody wants to just say "bye" and be done with it. we need cliff hangers. we need signs that we do intend to speak with each other again.



but the problem of course. comes about when these words are used as exit strategies. which we've all done. the non-chalant, "call me" and then never thinking about that person again. this is fine, because in most instances, you realize when they are non-commital "call me's." but as we remarked that night. it's kind of sad to have to use the bone to get rid of the dog. you know what i'm saying?

friends. can't live with'em. can't live without'em. oh wait. that's women. ah. whatever. same thing. everyone's undergoing this crisis right about now. not quite everyone. not quite a real crisis. but there are enough afflicted people to call it an outbreak. this "who are my real friends" thing. i find it interesting that this is happening to friends who are still in college. and to friends who are already out of college.



the first year, freshly out of school, you wonder "who will my friends be?" a year later, it's pretty easy to look around and say "okay, these people are my friends." even if "these people" actually denotes no one. i wonder if more people are wondering who their friends are, or if more people are enjoying their current friend(s)ship status. i guess it's all relative.



i've never gone through a full blown "who are my friends" thing. or even a mini-blown one. i mean, at the very absolute rock bottom. i still had george. and isn't that all anyone ever really needs? george? (this is not shameless posturing. thanks for the DVDs by the way) but beyond that. i've always felt that my people, whoever they are, will just be there. and i don't really think much about whether they'll "be there for me" or if "they know the real me." because i assume they'll be there if i need them, and when i need them, i'll go hunt them down. and if the "me" they know isn't the real "me"....who cares?....as long as they say they like me. i'm not that shallow. really.



what shocks me sometimes is when someone will tell me that we've drifted. and they tell me that they doubted our friendship. for whatever reason. and i guess it's because to me, 99% of the time, whatever depth we've ever reached as friends before, that's where someone remains. if we've frolicked together and hung out twenty four seven for two weeks and then never laid eyes on each other for years, we're still just as close as those halcyon two weeks. call me delusional. call me full of it. many people do. it's okay.



but i feel like, despite not being in someone's life all the time, you can still be amazing friends. the patterns change. the rhythms change. but the care does not. then again, there is an argument to be made here for, "if you care then why don't you see each other more?" well. i suppose it makes sense. "actions speak louder than words" i hear from an objection from the back. but i don't believe that's right all the time. each friend has their own method of operation. some people you need to be in constant contact with. some people, you see them when you see them. actually, most of my really close friends. i hardly ever see. and i would hope that isn't the continuing trend. but i think we understand if we aren't in constant email/phone/live contact.



i think that's what it takes sometimes. when undergoing friendship dilemmas. how much is it worth to you? to understand? to maybe give a little. or to just talk about stuff. even "why aren't we friends anymore?" it's not a fun discussion but hey. conflict builds character. and heck. if you hate all your friends. you're welcome to come to san diego and sit on the couch with me. i'll be your friend. for free even.

What happens to a dream deferred?



Does it dry up

like a raisin in the sun?



Or fester like a sore--

and then run?



Does it stink like rotten meat?

Or crust and sugar over--

like a syrupy sweet?



Maybe it just sags

like a heavy load.



Or does it explode?

-langston hughes-

my plans are changed. i'm coming back early. this friday i will be at the promised land. international arrivals. LAX. i was supposed to come back sunday but they had no more tickets. looks like i will be forced to jet early. oh darn. also, going to new york. august first. late at night. someone who doesn't work, who lives near laguardia, wanna pick me up? come see me. i have hair. actually i can just cab it. i'm a traveling man. i'm used to it. around the world in two weeks. phineas fogg was a pansy.

love potion number nine. i was feverish all weekend. my hands were clammy. my stomach was in knots. my throat ached. my eyes were dry. my head was vise gripped. the kidney portion of my anatomy was giving me fits. i had to run every few hours. not run as in run away. but run as in bowel displacement run(s).



in short. i was in love. tom hanks. meg ryan. i was sleepless. and i had mail. i feel you now. every third kleenex i used was dedicated to you.



i wondered the big questions like, "why do i feel this way?" "why does it hurt so?" "will it ever go away?" if love is supposed to be this painful. forget it. i'm done. i'm rain checking on love. (or wait, i did that already) i can't think rationally enough as it is. add in wooziness and dizziness and the inability to walk a straight line without stumbling, and i'm fifty times more idiotic than usual. that's "at least" fifty times.



but it's okay. have no fear. my world is soon to be rainbow colored again. because i am on the road to recovery. hooked on phonics worked for me. the grime covered chinese doctor probably had something to do with it too. he gave me twelve vials of liquid herbal remedy. and said i would be healed in five days. no less. if love, or the lack of it, was as easy to eradicate as a virus...we could all stop being cynical and cavort about and do the dance of joy. "cousin larry!"

victor had his baby stolen yesterday. not that baby. this one. help him. please. he needs your support in this difficult time. wait, is this some sick ploy so you don't have to pick me up from the airport? i need a ride man! find the car, find the car! i'm not selfish. really....

"To love man for God's sake--that has been the noblest and most remote feeling attained among men. That the love of man is just one more stupidity and brutishness if there is no ulterior intent to sanctify it; that the inclination to such love of man must receive its measure, its grain of salt and dash of ambergris from some higher inclination--whoever the human being may have been who first felt and 'experienced' this, however much his tongue may have stumbled as it tried to express such delicatesse, let him remain holy and venerable for us for all time as the human being who has flown highest yet and gone astray most beautifully!"

-friedrich nietzsche, beyond good and evil, section 60-

to infinity and beyond. when buzz lightyear--he of the retractable wings, laser beams, purple and lime green space armor--pops into toy story, he is on a mission to save the galaxy. he has been chosen to save the universe from the evil nerf gun toting bad guy. in his mind and behind his plastic breathing bubble, buzz is sure that a grand adventure awaits him. and his own success is never in doubt.



only when he tries to fly out the window, does buzz realize that pragmatic and realistic woody was right all along. we're just toys. all of us. and you are too. as buzz comes to grips with the shattering of his imaginary world, he has to construct a new identity. from one of a kind, super powered space savior to millions of a kind, gimmicky child marketing.



this new buzz emerged at the end of toy story but is more clearly defined in toy story 2. he is now a mature toy, one who has come to grips with the fact that his world is much smaller and less important than initially conceptualized. the world doesn't need saving. or if it did, he isn't the one equipped to do it. with his fake lasers and his sturdy, yet ultimately, unfunctional wings. he even mocks the "new" buzz lightyear action figure, who comes bursting out of the shrink wrap, ready for intergalactic battle. at this point, buzz has realized that the only important thing for him in life are his friends. and he runs off to his save his best one. buzz is no longer caught up in high and lofty ideals but rather, has been tethered to the ground by facts.



is this what we all become as we go from twenty to infinity? as we're faced with reality things and useless wings? are we doomed to go from buzz lightyear space ranger to just buzz lightyear? everyone wants to matter in the big scheme of things. to have a glorious destiny. and we come flying out of our teens thinking this way. but in the end, who actually gets it? isn't that what this subversive cartoon is really saying? "know your limitations and live by them" i need another movie dammit, to see what happens when toy story stops. i demand disney stop putting ideas into kids' heads. from fairy tales for girls, who then turn into "idealistic" impossible to satisfy women. to "this is your future kids, and it sucks. so make some interesting sidekick friends" tales for everyone. fuck you toy story! keep the three eyed aliens though. those are nice.

Discovering the Land of Oz: An American Narrative

If there is one element embedded forever in the American temperament, it is the need - the essential need - to determine one's own destiny. Perhaps that is why, for example, the story of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz has been told and retold in different forms by American authors since 1939, at least. This course wants primarily to study what goes into establishing a contemporary American identity. It is pretty exciting to have new, creative texts written by different ethnic groups, different sexual orientations, different genders, different religions- all describing their particular America. It is the multitude of difference that produces what we think of as our personal America. So many Americas. Yet with all the differences, contemporary American literature shares a pride, often a disappointment, but always a will to make it better. In this course we will spend the term exploring the conflicting tensions inherent to those ideas.



Selections from texts primarily - not completely - will be chosen from the following: Jhumpa Lahiri's Interpreter of Maladies; Michael Cunningham's A Home at the End of the World; Toni Morrison's The Bluest Eye; Louise Erdrich's The Last Report on the Miracles at Little No Horse; Michael Chabon's The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay; Anthony Giardina's Recent History; Eric Liu's The Accidental Asian, Audre Lorde's Zami: A New Spelling of My Name; Myla Goldberg's The Bee Season; Gloria Naylor's The Men of Brewster Place; and Deborah Eisenberg's All Around Atlantis. BUT, of course, we will start off the term watching the film The Wizard of Oz. There will be a weekly written response and comprehensive midterm and final exams.

-university of michigan course guide, english 317, section 001-

posted by The Wizard



Wow, this sounds like a cool class. Makes you wish you were back in Michigan hunh?

posted by Tin Man



Yeah it does. Someone take this and tell me what's it's all about. Go. Register. Now.

mia maestro. this actress has the coolest name. i hesitate to say ever. but it's pretty cool. it makes her sound like a modern day superheroine. mia. maestro. and it doesn't sound weird enough to be a porn star moniker. bonus. i hope she gets famous.

Every finger in the room

Is pointing at me

I wanna spit in their faces

Then I get afraid of what that could bring

I got a bowling ball in my stomach

Got a desert in my mouth

Figures that my courage would choose

To sell out now

-tori amos, crucify-

i do alot of non-commital "hi's" here at the factory. and lots of "how are you" head nods. each time i pass a worker going up and down the stairs. in the mornings. at lunch. on the way to the bathroom. it's a rhythm of just saying "hi" and smiling and nodding. it's kind of nice. there's no strange moment, like at college, when you walk past an acquaintance and wonder whether the "hi" might lead to a little conversation. here, i just say hi and am done with it. i suppose i should talk to the workers more but they are off rushing to do their things, and i'm lazying around, heading to my little flute desk. i've been told my chinese has improved a little. but i think that's just because i'm talking more this time around. to the managers, to the handful of friends i have at the factory. i try to talk to the people who work on flutes next to me. but those conversations are usually along the lines of "how do i do this?" or "wow, how did you do that?"



i'm incredibly itchy.



there's an unspoken rift among the management and the workers. partly because the managment is mostly taiwanese, and the workers are chinese. and partly because the managers have their own bathroom, quarters and dining area. and the managers have AC. which my mom is changing, because she feels like the workers need some AC too to get to sleep on these hot summer nights. it's easy to forget sometimes that this here is a business. and that people are here for a paycheck. and it's easy to forget that the ties that bind are all monetary. i don't want to do that. to always be around people who are connected to me by occupation. reason #492 i don't want to do this. but i'm gonna make a grand push to be extra-social in my last week here. because hey, i'm a social being. or so i pretend.



all the giant trees surrounding my dad's memorial got torn down. they were brown and dying. from the winter and the bad sod. they are going to put in new smaller, healthier, alive, green trees. it looks very naked out there. a memorial park, without foliage to create the square.

i am the sixth result for people google searching "kristin kreuk in a swim suit." words can't express how proud i am at this moment. i wonder what sort of prize comes with this type of thing.

eight minutes to sunrise. oh baby now what are we gonna do? it's been awhile since late night continuing into early morning talks. we used to have so many of those. i guess that would entail a "we" since staying up by yourself sucks. and i can't really talk to my computer much. even if we do make it to sunrise together more often than not. here's a sign of maturity...going to bed at a halfway decent hour because you realize that you can always talk tomorrow. halfway decent is still four in the morning, but it's a start. another sure sign of growing up is assing out at three thirty in the a m while someone is still talking to you. that's adulthood right there. a metaphor for philodendron. that was the title of a poem i read the other day. a philodendron is a plant apparently. and the poem's about growing. or something like that. plants, growing, sun. it's all working out. there's something to be said for unrationality sometimes. not often, but sometimes.

"Blessed is he who makes his companions laugh"

-The Holy Koran-



Just a question...



What makes having friends so great?



Most people will say its for the companionship, the comraderie, the fact that you can be yourself in front of someone and they won't laugh or make fun of you. And some may say that its just cause people don't want to be alone in life...they need other people to survive.



I can dig all those statements...but how many of those people that you call your "friend" can you trust? How many of those people do you every now and then keep things from because you know they wouldn't understand? How many of those people that are your so-called "friends" have stolen something from you be it lover or property?



So now tell me whats the deal with having friends?



My opinion...very few people should ever have the privilage of being called a "friend".



When you call someone your "friend", in my opinion, you are almost calling them your brother or sister. They can often be closer than blood. You are purposely allowing them to have access to your deepest fears and desires. You are giving them a license to be real with you and to expose your insecurities to them. A "friend" is someone who you trust beyond trust.



Now how many of you can say that you have a "friend"



With the above definition many of you may be saying..."damn, I don't have nobody"...my next question is...



What does that say about you?



It says that you haven't thought too long and hard about the people that you consider "friends". Before you think I'm all high and mighty let me tell you...I have learned the hard way when it comes to friends. I am here to admit that I do not have a lot of friends...and frankly I don't want any more than I have. I like associates. Basically thats what most peoples "friends" are anyway.



I mean for instance if you can't tell your so-called "friend" that you are gay...then they are not a "friend".



A friend is someone who will stand by you through thick and thin. A friend is someone who is down for you and has your back...and will go through the fire with you. A friend is someone who will love you no matter who or what you are. And a friend tells you the truth...no matter how brutal. But more than that...a friend is someone who you are comfortable in going through these things with....and in the end...when the smoke clears...you still love that person and they are still considered your "friend".



The word "friend" like the word "love" has power. When you bestow the title of "friend" on someone you are giving them entry into your life. And there is nothing wrong with that. But make sure that you are giving someone who is going to live up to that title a chance before you give it to any old person.



Ultimately what I'm saying is be cautious....



Pick and choose your "friends" wisely...cause a "friend" of today...can be an enemy of tomorrow...

-forgot who i got it from-

top five "how to be social" questions

(or) mkc's love boat hell

where are you from?

where did you go to school?

what's your major?

how old are you?

are you single?

I think it may be time to take this down. The format is starting to lose its appeal.

posted by The Wizard



What's the difference? It's not like you can't just leave this up on the web and have it sit. It'll be like a webpage pre-blogger. You know how that works. Maybe if this dies, you can go to blogger limbo. How cool would that be?

posted by Tin Man



I'm thinking that I don't really need you to talk to anymore. I'm ready to be an entirely independent person. Life is a changing. I have much less free time now too. I would be sad though. This is one and a half, going on two years. That's pretty big. It's the longest thing I've ever committed to. How sad...

posted by The Wizard



Well. My vote is for us to stay. I mean, I could just pack up and leave, but then where would you stick all your random blog bits that you don't put on your other site? You will come back my son. Don't worry. I'm sure of it.

posted by Tin Man



My juice is starting to run low. I need to re-fuel. Talking to you. Talking to anyone. Is kind of taxing right now...then again, I'm sure I'll demand some attention in a day or two. I'm fickle like that.

posted by The Wizard



As long as you know which side your bread is buttered.

posted by Tin Man



Which side IS my bread buttered?

"stinky tofu" ever had it? another item in long list of weird things to eat. smells like shit. looks like tofu. quite a combination. it's quite a chinese creation. a little block of innocuous tofu, just waiting to challenge your ideas of edible and non-edible. i myself have never tried it. out of respect for my olfactory senses. not to mention my mouth. but this weekend, i was presented with the most horrifically pungent piece of stinky tofu i'd ever seen. and i was forced to "taste" it because one of the "gei-gei's" fed it to me, and one cannot refuse a girl who is willing to stick stuff in your mouth. be it grapes, socks or stinky tofu. the tofu tasted like....surprise!....shit. if you've never had ass, and who has really? try this. it's the same. probably better for you too. nutrient wise. it's soy, and soy is a healthy alternative to real food.



i had to down a glass of beer, a glass of coke and two cigarettes (in that order) to get rid of the taste. oh my goshies it was horrid. they should import this stuff to spread on bagels. or for people to wear as perfume, to remain chaste and single forever. it would make a killing in religious circles. oh wait, i am going to be single forever, who needs stinky tofu? seriously though. tasted like ass. take the pepsi challenge, try it. they wanted me to bring back a block to let "all of my ignorant american friends" try. but i assured them you guys were happy being ignorant and american. and if i brought back a hunk of stinky stuff for you to enjoy, we would no longer be friends. i swear the chinese could have driven out all the foreigner invaders if we had used this stuff instead of building a wall. stupid ancestors.



we did have nice fish though. piles and piles of sashimi and grilled trout. at a little restaurant by the lake, right after we tobogganed down from the great wall. at the lake, you could take your little bamboo stick, drop the hook and bait into the water, and then catch a trout to eat. these were the stupidest damn trout ever. hordes of them would flock over to investigate your hook. it was like shooting ducks in a barrel. bang bang bang. we caught fifteen in ten minutes. not a great feat actually, considering you probably could of hand caught a trout, there were so many. all fishing should ultimately be this rewarding. then i watched them gut all the fish, chill it and serve it right to the table. and nobody else liked sashimi much so i stuffed myself something silly. then they brought out the racks of grilled trout. and i stuffed myself silly some more. and then i was coerced into stinky tofu. you win some, you lose alot.

she was the hypnotic, and potent as a narcotic

the bizarre logic of it all, is why the clock tick

pages of the calendar flip, we can't stop it

time will either tell the tale, or turn a love toxic

now was she real, or an illusion of this optical

confusion with the accent of ancient egypt

or could it be that she's the one i was supposed to be with

and together walked this twisted, staircase is somethin realistic

damn, her lips having me addicted to her presence

front page material on essence, a queen, imperial before her adolescence

and as she grew into a woman she became refine

i never knew another like her in my lifetime

so now i travel through a tunnel of space, without a place

on the face of this earth, with this pain gettin worse

drivin me insane, or release i'm touchin the brink, of sanity

to think of how i can link, or contact her

i was a fool before, but more wise after the fact

i'm analyzin how i'm wantin her back

and wonderin exactly where she could be on the map

i'm just sittin here spinning the world on one finger

re-occuring thoughts of this brown skin singer

yo, the psychotic, the hypnotic, yo check it out

the most melodic hypnotic

-the roots, the 'notic-



i've been looking for the lyrics of this damn song forever. the problem might be because the song is called "the 'notic" and not "shining star (remix)." damn kazaa.

there is a certain distance that comes with change, and i've grown to accept it as part of life. the acceptance of this inevitable fact is a sad thing we acquire on our way to adulthood. it is not the result of personal growth, but rather a resignation, an admission of defeat that we eventually lose what once we as children held dear.



it is a paradox of sorts - friendship's seemingly transient nature is intertwined with childlike resilience. the eternal pacts we make as children live on forever in our hearts, but not in the same tangibility in which we forged them.



some of us allow ourselves to be troubled by its fleeting substance, while some others place all hope in its resolve, but the key to understanding friendship lies in neither extremity nor its midpoint - it is found when we stand both perplexed and hopeful.

(excerpted from tribolum)

shot glass chess set. after seeing this, how can you not be happy to be a member of the species that merged such great functionality and design? wow. alchohol. chess. it seems so obvious in hindsight. let's make our own ghetto paper cup version and play.... here's another brilliant idea. personalized monopoly sets. so you can make your very own "boardwalk" and "park place." everyone, you know what you're getting for christmas. and it comes with a nifty tin box. tin boxes are unbeatable. hands down.



more to explore. the crusade.net is a site about the entertainment industry. haven't explored it much yet. but hey, i'll link it anyway. and finally, an online copy of the rolling stone interview with the bodaciously beautiful natalie portman.

i got yelled at by the lunch lady today. i had too much rice and food left on my silver cafeteria tray. i didn't realize that that was what the lunch lady stood by the dumping area for. to yell at ignorant foreign kids (wait, i guess i'm not a kid anymore). she was trying to shame me into taking less rice next time. she said "mister, look at how much food you wasted, don't you feel bad?" i wanted to cut her down to size with a witty retort like "oh...oh yeah!?!" but that didn't translate fast enough in my head from english to mandarin. plus, my salesmen friends were laughing. i'm not sure what was more embarassing, not knowing what to say at the crucial moment or leaving too much rice on my plate. next time i'll just starve. damn cheap-o chinese people.

first place: magic the gathering tournament. tenth grade. yeah i kicked ass with my red/white/blue, mana flare, earthquake, braingeyser deck.. yeah i beat up on little kids. yeah i won the title from a twelve year old kid. what of it?



tied for first place: sixth grade. limbo contest. against a four foot six kid. totally unfair physical advantage. sure, i was only four foot nine. but hey, he was still shorter.



second place: fifth grade. was the next closest guess for the immortal ¡°how many jelly beans are in the jar¡± competition.



third place: chinese school speech competition. placed in the medal round with my version of the ¡°i had a dream¡± speech. mine was entitled, ¡°why i like basketball.¡± but i get difficulty points for using mandarin. the doctor had nothing on me. name dropped larry bird and kareem. if i had mentioned magic too, i¡¯m sure i would¡¯ve gotten first.



fourth place: fourth grade. mrs anderson¡¯s class spelling bee. i was still outgrowing my fob-hood. beat out eighteen other native english speakers. i really should¡¯ve gotten a medal for this one don¡¯t you think? i probably misspelled something with an ¡°r¡± in it.



fifth place: flute competition. ninth grade. two hours drive up to la. two hours back. placed fifth out of eight competitors. highlight of my musical career.



most improved: jv tennis team. ninth grade. this is the award they give you when you go from super suck to just suck.



co-captain: jv basketball team. tenth grade. most humiliating moment of the season: shaking hands, during the captains pre-game introductions, with my friend from chinese school, who was the star player for our archrivals. then not leaving the bench. for the rest of the game. tried to fake a limp during the post-game hand shakes after our blow out loss. most explosive game: scored twelve points more than my season average in garbage time at horizon christian. season average up to that point, zero points. team record: 2-10. season average at the end of the season? 1.2 points.



acting performances: fourth grade. lead role as woodstock. snoopy¡¯s non-talking, lip-synching, chirping sidekick. also pulled double duty as donkey boy and street sweeper in next year¡¯s production of pinocchio. next big role: junior year. college. played the guy who stole heather during the skit portion of hong¡¯s failed bid for mr apa 1998. i¡¯ve tried to steal girls from hong in real life. never works. bastard.



highest videogame accomplishment: beat the original super mario brothers on NES. with george, who played all the levels except for the last one. because only i knew the secret pattern of the pipes. we did it in one life. never dying. always squishing. bet you can¡¯t do it.



that¡¯s the list of my accomplishments. in twenty three years of life. ninth grade was kinda big as you can tell. i¡¯m convinced huge things are in the stars for me based on past achievements. cower in fear teenagers and elementary school children of america, i¡¯m coming to kick your ass. and i¡¯m gonna take all of your girls too. whoops.

I was trying to figure what might be the worst thing to say to someone. To really, you know, slander them! What to use when I get really mad and I just want them to feel really low and horrible. Like what would be the biggest insult imaginable?

posted by The Wizard



Well, for one, you might not want to use ¡°slander¡± too often. That word might implicate you as one of those wussy boys not tough enough to use real curse words. What¡¯s wrong with just using the ever-versatile ¡°motherfucker?¡±

posted by Tin Man



Eh. It¡¯s a little......done. You know? I mean, everyone uses it. It doesn¡¯t mean anything anymore. ¡°You motherfucker!¡± just doesn¡¯t do it for me. I would feel so trite using it. I need something more punchy, more original. I¡¯ve always been partial to ¡°you son of a motherless goat!¡± or maybe ¡°you son of a whore!¡± What do you think about those?

posted by The Wizard



Not so good. I feel like ¡°son of a whore¡± is really not directed at the person, but rather, it implies that their mother is a whore. Too roundabout and indirect of an insult. And c¡¯mon, people¡¯s moms can be whores. There¡¯s still love there. Don¡¯t hate just because they need some money. Didn¡¯t ¡°what would you do¡± really highlight the desperate financial plight facing whore mothers in our society? Plus it¡¯s so un-PC nowadays. To be calling people whores. You should probably go with ¡°call girl¡± or ¡°brothel brethren.¡± Also, using just ¡°son¡± is discriminating against women, and they don¡¯t like that. You really might want to consider throwing in a ¡°daughter¡± in there somewhere. I mean, you can hate, but don¡¯t discriminate. And what the hell is a motherless goat anyway? Is that even possible?

posted by Tin Man



Hum. I¡¯m out of ideas. What do you use?

posted by The Wizard



I like to use the more is better approach. Like combining all the curse words I know into one big insult. For example, ¡°You asshole sucking bitch motherfucking asshole!¡± It¡¯s got a nice rhythm to it¡­.notice the double down on asshole? That¡¯s important. You want to really make them feel bad, double down. And with all the syllables you have to scream out, you really work up a nice mouth lather too. That adds a nice effect. Bring a napkin though. All that slime is straight up gross.

posted by Tin Man



There really just needs to be a simple word to imply ¡°very ultimate hate.¡±

posted by The Wizard



Oh! Very ultimate hate! Not just ultimate hate? Wow.

posted by Tin Man



Shut up.

victor's pen%s on public display. wow. and that's hong's big backside in the background. i'm so jealous. not of hong. but victor....why's he so hot?!? oh right. hong, you're hot too. my bad.

ok. this is gonna be tough to take. but i've had to switch commenting systems. which means.....everyone that i did comments for, needs to switch. you'll know. your page will be all wack and people won't be able to make fun of your life anymore. so obviously, you're gonna want to throw comments back up as soon as possible. i switched to yaccs because it seemed like what other people used. so since i am sheep, i'm using it too. it's not as pretty as the other comment system. but you can customize it. and you can erase people's comments. that's a bonus. this does mean all the millions of comments i had before are now lost to the world. all those religion ideas? gone gone gone. it's a sad day. but tomorrow we start anew. so email me your userid and password and your social security number if u need me to install the new commenting system. or if you know html, go to yaccs and do your thing. but you have to republish your archives too. don't forget that. very important. and save a copy of the original code in case things go bad. this is what happens when you reuse the same comment code identifier over and over. you get busted and everyone goes down with you. ah well. tell me if i can help. cool. lates.

confessions of an ivory tower castaway. breaking it down for the masses. what your grades really mean. according to the world of jon.



(A) we don¡¯t see many of these in my part of the woods. i saw them once or twice, but all pre-drinking age. and i don¡¯t even drink much. sadly. come to think of it, all pre-dancing age too. damn those As. i may never see one again. maybe i should go back to school just to ensnare another one of these suckers. right now the ones i have hang like championship banners from my rafters. shit. kobe and shaq have more banners than i do. kill me. wait, i am going back to school. i could rise from obscurity to the top of the world once again, just like the patriots.



(B) ah, here is the real meat and potatoes of academics. the B. above average but not quite good enough. the worst is getting that ambiguous B-plus. what do you do with those? it¡¯s like rounding all the bases but then stopping at third for no particular reason. i¡¯m talking about baseball here. sickos. luckily, i avoided the emotional trauma of a B-plus by exclusively only getting Bs and B-minuses. life was much less stressful that way. a B shows potential, but also a healthy glow of underachievement. the B is a wonder to behold. rain down Bs on me and i could leave college life happy and sedated. Bs are so cute too. round and curvaceous in every way. voluptuous even. huggable in every respect. who wants one of those pointy ass As anyway? take your damn As and jam it onto my transcript! i dare you!



(C) average. you are average. on a curve, without a curve, a C means you are only as good as the person next to you. sometimes even worse actually. the Cs gather after the semester to mock the Ds and Es. the great meritocracy that is college, ensures that someone¡¯s always worse off than you. even if it¡¯s only socially. the Cs buy something at wal-mart and pretend they bought it at target. a C is comparable to a meijer run at four in the a m. totally useless but it¡¯ll get you through the night. a C is treading water. forever. a C is the ¡°pick up the still shrink wrapped book twelve hours before the final and study study study¡± part of collegiate life. throw in the occasional nap during those twelve hours and you get a C-minus. throw in some benevolent grader, C-plus. you really can¡¯t lose either way. a C says ¡°some effort was made here.¡± a C says ¡°slacker with a brain.¡± a C says ¡°hard worker lacking in fundamental intelligence.¡± a C is getting to be the butt double for john goodman.



the C was, needless to say, my pick and roll. it was my three foot jump shot. well, that close to the basket, it¡¯s supposed to be a lay up. but hell, i can¡¯t jump for shit. it¡¯s a three foot jump shot. the Cs rallying cry is ¡°i learned more from my extracurriculars than my academics and i¡¯m still a good person dammit!¡± william wallace was a C. the Cs don¡¯t make it onto resumes. they are hidden in the obscure corners of fancy paper and referred to as, gpa: available upon request. like that doesn¡¯t blow the cover right off the damn thing. a C is coming home again. comfortable, yet ultimately inanely boring.



¡°whoa citizens!!!¡±



(D) oh, the nasty denizens of the deep. lurking in the back pocket of every gsi and professor is the dreaded D. used for ultimate humiliation. the beer bellied, ass cracking plumber of the grading world. yeah, you passed. *clap*clap* but here¡¯s a pitiful 1.0 to show for it. nice try buddy. getting a D will at least prevent you from re-taking a class again. but at this point, why bother? if you couldn¡¯t even cough up a C, you might as well have partaken (partook?) in some more late night tetris sessions and failed the damn thing altogether. that¡¯s my philosophy anyways (and it¡¯s a guaranteed good philosophy because i¡¯m a 87% accredited philosophy major). on the flip side, god probably hears more ¡°please please please gimme a D!¡± prayers than anything else from second semester seniors. except for maybe ¡°find me a boy/girlfriend god¡­.¡± actually, i¡¯ve never gotten one of these. surprise! which is good because i¡¯ve never had to pray to god or to get down on my knees in front of professors. to beg for a passing grade of course. sickos.



(E) get off the gravy train. we¡¯ve reached the end of the line. you¡¯re walking. for the rest of your life. if only a failing grade in class had as much cachet as a failing dot com on the resume. i would be a potential millionaire for sure. i¡¯ve gotten more than my fair share of Es. hey, i¡¯m a martyr. someone¡¯s gotta keep the curve down. someone¡¯s gotta take one for the team. if not me, then who? you? please. it takes a certain mindset to sacrifice for the greater good. i¡¯ve done it. more than once. that¡¯s re-martyring. like dying. and then getting up. and then willingly getting chopped down again. whoa. glorify me.



there really should be a prize fund distributed to E students. at the beginning of each semester, everybody puts in a fiver, and the Es get to split the pot at the end. the path to a high curve is always paved by the snores and drools of E students. it¡¯s only fair to reward them now for a career at mcdonald¡¯s later. damn, at least buy me a drink or something. although, for the record, there¡¯s absolutely nothing wrong with being a forty-five year old mcdonald¡¯s assistant manager. it¡¯s the american dream in super sized portions. actually, this far down the academic ladder, i hope you used all that free time to learn something useful and socially productive. like knitting. or sewing. or defending a zergling rush. if you¡¯re like me, you¡¯ve gazed deeply into the mirrored surface of your toilet water as you pissed away a $150,000 education. liberating isn¡¯t it? feel light and free? no more kidney pain?



there is something worse than getting an E actually. it¡¯s not proper to mention it in civilized circles, but since i¡¯m broaching all topics today, i feel the need to say it here. the dreaded ¡°double E.¡± that¡¯s failing the exact same class. twice. to break it down. because some of you good students might not grasp this concept at first glance. it¡¯s like failing a class once. retaking the same course. with all the same books. with all the same stolen photocopied notes. with slightly different tests. and then going down in a glorious flaming mess again. anyone ever been cursed by a double E? yeah, uh, me neither. i¡¯ve heard rumors of a triple E. but at that point they should really just drag you out to the diag and have you drawn and quartered. it¡¯s the only humane thing to do. even i¡¯m not that bad. three times!!! losers.



(W) the big bad leather wearing bikers you see at the bar down the street. just one is hardly significant. two might hurt you. but get three or more together and you best run for your life. withdraws are a birthright. every man woman and child gets one free ¡°get out of jail¡± card. i read that in the bible somewhere. honest. sometimes you just have to toss the gun, ditch the ammo, throw up your white panties in arm flailing surrender and bolt for relative safety. eat the damn W. it¡¯s not so bad. a W adds character. who wants to achieve every goal they set anyway? not me. if you haven¡¯t withdrawn from a class, you haven¡¯t really lived. so says the super super senior with no degree in sight.



(I) oh shit! i was still registered for that class? when was the final? three weeks ago? when was the midterm? when was the class? um. whoops.



let me tell you, you could get some mad crazy triple letter scrabble words with my transcript. you¡¯ll never run out of consonants with this bad boy. there¡¯s a few vowels too, sneaked in for good measure. that would be a fun game. spell the biggest word you can using the letters on your transcript. bet i¡¯d win. is icbicacebabbecew a word? it should be. anyone wanna guess my gpa? fifty bucks says you can figure it out counting with only one hand. that¡¯s all i can say. i¡¯m sworn to secrecy by the disgraced ghosts of my ancestors. and i¡¯m kept silent for fear of my mom finding out. i can say no more. save this post people. show it, along with my two figure paycheck stubs, to your kids when they hit college age. if that doesn¡¯t keep them on the straight and narrow. well. there¡¯s always mcdonalds.

ok. anyone have any idea why the comments don't show up numbered on archived pages? i'm using tecknik right now, and that's what i've put on everyone else's pages. but i just realized the comments don't show up on old archived pages. annoying. someone smart. figure this out. please.....

everyone always says, "i have the greatest friends in the world!" does anyone ever do the opposite? come right out and say that their friends suck? or even if they think their friends suck, do they admit it? i suppose it would be much simpler, if indeed we hated all our friends, to just say, "i have no friends. stop bugging me." do people ever wish for a whole new set of friends? like trade all of them in, lock stock and barrel, for a totally different crowd? one that seems possibly more fun or more interesting? or i guess, in weird cases, less fun and less interesting? this is a phenomenon that needs to be explored.



what if you feel like your friends are flawed, or not good enough? and dammnit, just not worthy of being your friends? do you consciously start going out to gather new ones? and then slowly slip away to hang out with them while leaving your old friends to listen to your voicemail greeting? does anybody do this? or know anybody that does?



or maybe we all just think we have the greatest friends in the world because if we didn't, wouldn't that reflect really poorly on ourselves? i mean, it's cool if you don't have many friends you like in middle school, but by the time you hit post-college, if you still don't like your friends all that much, don't you have to entertain the possibility that the problem is possibly you?

everyone's taken the purity test. but hey, maybe it's been awhile. take it again! and then email me your result. or you know, just give me the first digit... if anyone gets 20% or less. we are no longer friends. and stay the hell away from my stuffed animals.



and heck since we're at it. a story about gaydar. if ideas like this make it to the market, how come we can't get rich guys?