the man preferred by four out of five women (conviently dubbed "80cent" as in eighty percent). or as a fellow five put it, "four out of five women prefer him over me." as presented to you by jmz wang, whose talents are mine to display because he's too damn lazy to make his own site. without further adieu, for your viewing pleasure, b babb. posters, tee-shirts, phone numbers and other merchandise are available by special request.



and for the record, let it be known that babbs knows everyone in san diego. everyone. i'm not sure how one man knows everyone but it just happens. we are nominating babbs for mayor of san diego so get ready to make your voice heard at the polls. rock the vote. brian from michigan, mayor of san diego. it's happening.



i said i need a man who got finesse and his whole name across his chest

he may be able to fly all through the night but he can't rock a party through the early light

he can't satisfy you with his little worm but i can bust you out with my super____

i go do it - i go do it - i go do it - do it - do it

and i'm here and i'm there and i'm big bad B and i'm everywhere

let's get it percolating. remember those old math problems? about how to make the most efficient use of people's skills or talents? so that even if billy is best at everything, the world would be better off if he did the thing he was best at. so that even if joe wasn't very good at say, making peanuts, it would more efficient if joe made peanuts while billy made pears. because the maximum utility could be reached by using some formula cross referencing time and personal efficiency. there's a term for this, i know there is. but i can't remember anything pre-yesterday so all my education is lost on me.



so in lieu of finding something that you just have to do, the best thing to do in life is to find the thing that you do best and do it. wow. brilliant. award me a medal. i like to pawn off truisms obvious to all as my very own. next i'll say that love makes the world go round. but this "best" thing causes problems for some people. "what do i do best?" that's a common parlour question for our age group. right along with "what do i want to do?" but screw want, nobody gets what they want anyway. and we all know that wants can change willy nilly.



how to determine what you do best? everyone has skills and abilities and talents but how to determine which is the best? one might be inclined to say that the thing that you do "best" would enable you to make the most money. or allow you to have the most success. or allow you the most happiness. so that even if the best thing you do is take out the trash, the least you could do is make mad money sanitizing curbs and dumping stuff. i'm not talking about being "the best," just best. there are very few things that anyone can do to be "the best." but everyone has a personal best. like my best video game skill is the original street fighter two on super nintendo. me and guile will rock your world. so that's my best. and even if your best gets whooped by my best you have to keep plugging away with it anyway.



some people right now, are engaged in the process of finding out what they do best. they are working, they are learning, they are in school, they are going out and interning and applicating. some people already found their best. they are already actively engaged in their best. those kind of people impress me. golf clap all around. many of my best skills are totally superfluous so i'm engaged in trying to figure out what it is that i might be best at. actually, i'm more in my want stage because i feel like best will just come.



but that's kind of contradictory to what i was trying to bring up before. the utility of everyone doing their best. but my point has been lost to the wind. which has been happening quite alot, leaving me with not much to say. but oh well. the key thing to do in any situation is to find your role. your niche. niche is so cliqued by the way, isn't it? once you've settled into that niche everything else will happen correctly. at least that's what i've been told. and isn't it terrible when someone asks you "hey, what do i do best?" and you can't answer because you don't know? should your best be defined by you or by other people? i'm inclined to say you but in reality it may be better to rely on the outside world, they are after all, the people utlizing and recognizing your best.



"it is better to be silent and be a thought a fool than to speak and prove it." that's what i wrote to a high school friend in his yearbook. i think he got kinda angry. i think about this phrase and disregard it as foolishness. it's far better to spew shit out and hope for some gems among the crap. it's gotten me this far, why stop now?

whale rider. in a small new zealand coastal village, maori claim descent from paikea, the whale rider. in every generation for more than 1000 years, a male heir born to the chief succeeds to the title. the time is now. the chief's eldest son, porourangi, fathers twins - a boy and a girl. but the boy and his mother die in childbirth. the surviving girl is named pai.



this movie is off the hook. that's not even the right phrase. because using "off the hook" is not the correct way to impart what i'm feeling about this movie. it's just dope. that's not the right word either. in fact, my vocabulary totally fails me in every which way when trying to describe this movie. suffice to say, i liked it alot. the story was simple yet full. the acting was dead on real. the mixture of images, emotions and languages was entrancing. oh look, i'm trying to use my limited vocabulary to describe something i already said i couldn't do. that's me, ever trying to do the impossible. relatedly, trying to find a job right now, it's going great as you can tell.



but this movie. it was worth the nine twenty five. it was worth watching on the big screen. lynnchen said it was the best film she'd seen all year and i'd have to agree. not that there have been very many great movies this year. but still. high praise. the lynnjon movie review gives it two thumbs up. the damn movie damn near made me cry. that's two damns for emphasis. i can't recall ever crying in a movie. it just hit on alot of personal levels. some of it explainable, some of it not. but even without all the personal effects, the movie is just touching on a general plane. the little girl in the movie can emote man. go watch this thing. so worth it.

queer eye for the straight guy. following in the tradition of iron chef, trading spaces and punk'd, a new show has emerged as a must see. every man needs a woman but apparently a woman can be replaced by five gay men. at least from some perspectives. a new show on bravo, queer eye takes one straight man and allows him to be made over by five gay ones. the five gay guys are experts in the fields of grooming, food&wine, fashion, culture and interior design. every man woman and child needs these guys. they can work miracles. i've seen three episodes so far, all of them at least twice. the show combines the dramatic changes that we love in all makeover shows but also gives us hilarious moments and comments at every step. the intro is enough to make you start chuckling with laughter. the main dude, one carson kressley, is hilarious as all get out. and for you rent fans, jai rodriguez (of angel fame) is the culture expert. basically the show has the potential to change your life. they take some yokel and transform him into a dashing charming prince, from wardrobe to home, from hair to edibles. it's simply amazing. it's like butter. i want them to come over and give me new clothes, furniture and cds.



but alas, as i was discussing with a fellow straight guy, we are relating more with the gay guys. some of the straight guys they pick just have no clue. and not to say that i have much clue but i'm sorry, i have a clue. so i could never be a candidate for this extreme makeover. but this is a quality show men and women can watch together. families even. kids need this type of education from an early age, keep it real. arithmetic and academics are so variable, style lasts forever. to this end, helpful hints are tossed out at the end of every episode and every scene is practically a "how to be a stylish guy" epiphany. so i'm calling it now, queer eye for a straight guy, the best show on television.



oh look, my masculinity, floating away... i should add something in here about football or like, sausages or something. but why pretend you know?

catch-22. this phrase, meaning a situation where one bureaucratic regulation is dependent on another, which in turn is dependent on the first, derives from the 1961 novel of the same name by joseph heller.



yossarian looked at him soberly and tried another approach. "is orr crazy?"

"he sure is," doc daneeka said.

"can you ground him?"

"i sure can. but first he has to ask me to. that's part of the rule."

"then why doesn't he ask you to?"

"because he's crazy," doc daneeka said. "he has to be crazy to keep flying combat missions after all the close calls he's had. sure, i can ground orr. but first he has to ask me to."

"that's all he has to do to be grounded?"

"that's all. let him ask me."

"and then you can ground him?" yossarian asked.

"no. then i can't ground him."

"you mean there's a catch?"

"sure there's a catch," doc daneeka replied. "catch-22. anyone who wants to get out of combat duty isn't really crazy."



there was only one catch and that was catch-22, which specified that a concern for one's own safety in the face of dangers that were real and immediate was the process of a rational mind. orr was crazy and could be grounded. all he had to do was ask; and as soon as he did, he would no longer be crazy and would have to fly more missions. orr would be crazy to fly more missions and sane if he didn't, but if he was sane he had to fly them. if he flew them he was crazy and didn't have to; but if he didn't want to he was sane and had to. yossarian was moved very deeply by the absolute simplicity of this clause of catch-22 and let out a respectful whistle.



"that's some catch, that catch-22," he observed.

"it's the best there is," doc daneeka agreed.

syncretic \sin-KRET-ik; sing-\, adjective: uniting and blending together different systems, as of philosophy, morals, or religion. is this a great word or what? i didn't even know a word existed for an idea like this. this could be my new favorite word. although using it in a sentence might be kinda difficult. but i enjoy a good challenge. plus i don't fear using words incorrectly. fyi, two people that i know, not to be named, thought cornrows were cornrolls and that bow-legged was bull-legged. funny people.



don't even start on that "infrared" shit with me. to pre-empt any "jon is stupid as stupid does" comments, i've been called out for my incorrect pronounciation of the word infrared. i still think that i'm right. but so far i haven't found any evidence to support myself. but fuck it, i can make up pronounciations if i want to. i blame my fob upbringing for my sudden lack of clarity. i am not from this country so back off.



there is a fox in hong's front yard. an honest to goodness orange fox with black tips. what the heck. where did that come from? she must be looking for a hound. awn, how cute. run fox run. it's definitely past my bedtime.

one warrior nation. we all remember the ultimate warrior right? that mysterious rope shaking adrenaline pumping wrestler who once defeated the indomitable hulk hogan? well, he's back on the public scene and now he's a political speaker. jim hellwig, who has now changed his legal name to warrior, was on tv the other day sharing his views on politics, life and philosophy. at first i was in disbelief. this gray haired old man was the ultimate warrior? but the caption said that the warrior was "former world wrestling federation champion" and nobody else would dare infringe upon that name so i had to believe. *rawr* the shocking thing was that the warrior was mad eloquent and intelligent. not to say that wrestlers can't be eloquent or intelligent but when you're used to seeing a guy body slamming folk, the last place you expect him to be is all up on your television screen preaching his conservatist beliefs. but as was pointed out, wrestlers are used to reading teleprompters and public speaking (yelling?) so they could, in some alternate universe, be excellent speakers.



the craziest thing was that i was feeling some of what the warrior had to say. he name dropped some rand, talking about how people should have a philosophy based on rational thought and not just some mish mash of crap pulled together into a churning hypocritical lifestyle. he addressed many issues that are facing young adults today and while i didn't listen to enough of the speech, the combination of his words and his past intrigued me enough to want to see what he had to say. so i'll have to keep my eye out for the warrior on cnn. the world is going crazy man.



are wrestlers as political pundits the newest thing?

so we're cleaning out our house and george comes across some very amusing and interesting items. for one, a diet plan conceived by her and her friend. terms were agreed to and they promised to "not violate rule of this contract." also some very helpful and good advice she received from one of her friends about how to deal with guys. now, we all want to know what was said to george so as a public service, i'm posting them here. so be prepared. also, go check out george here.





george,

remember that you are a person of great value and worth. don't forget that, okay? and no one, no matter how attracted you are to someone, no matter how cute a guy is, no matter how nice a guy is, he has no right to make you feel second best. it is then that he is the person of leser value. if he cannot respect you, then maybe he is not worth it!! also, you must prove to him that you are not his slave, that you have a heart and mind, and that you will not be taken for granted. don't you EVER forget it!!



ten commandments for love and friendship

1. thou shalt not be susceptible to the feeling of inferiority

2. thou shall not call him

3. thou shall not be harassed

4. thou shall be respected

5. thou shall not run to his beck and call

6. thou shall be the first to hang up on phone conversations

7. thou shall remain "seductively distant"

8. thou shall talk about other male creatures

9. thou shall not be his 2nd choice

10. thou shall be important to thy self

"getting in shape" rules by georgette and jennifer. this is a contract effective november 15, 1999, and applies only to both georgette yang and jennifer xxx. the expiration of this contract is indefinite.



1. no eating meals after 7:00pm. the only allowed foods after this time are fruits and vegetables.

2. limits on alchohol: one per occassion...no exceptions. (well holidays and birthday are the only exceptions...must be verifiable).

3. minimum work out time: one hour per day.

4. minimum days to work out: four days a week.

5. drink at least 64 oz (four bottles) of water per day

6. no empty calories, such as quivers, coffee, candy (gum is okay).

7. maximum junk food (fried foods/fast food): one meal per week.

8. maximum dessert intake: one dessert allowed per week.

9. dining out: we must split a main entree and dessert.

10. keep track of progress (log days, times, and details of work out).



we, georgette yang and jennifer xxx, agree to the above terms and will not violate rule of this contract.

wombat wagon. victor was trying to introduce me to punk music on the car ride home today. punk as defined by...well, i can't really define punk and i would do a great injustice to everyone by me trying to explain what punk was based on one conversation. i listened to some "newer" punk, not the ramones or the sex pistols but stuff like lagwagon, blink 182, no use for a name and........ the names aren't important. what was important was me trying to look into a different type of music. i am, as we all know, highly addicted to hip hop and hip hop related music. so i rarely stray from that except to reminisce over music from the past. so opening my ears and trying to hear a new genre of music for the first time was very interesting.



first off, i couldn't understand a thing they were saying. i couldn't decipher the lyrics. lots of screaming and weird enunciations. or no enunciations at all. i couldn't quite grasp what was going on or what the song was "about." then the music. i liked the beginnings of most songs, with the guitar, the bass, the drums going on. until the drums started just going nuts and the everything started going nuts and everything just turned into noise for me. most of what i was exposed to today was socal punk so that's more the style here, and all punk is apparently not fast. i was surprised at how melodic punk was. i'm not sure what i expected but i thought punk would be more akin to metal or something. but i heard melodies in the noise and i could kind of feel it. i wondered if this was the sort of feeling people who hear hip hop feel when they say "it's just noise."



the emotions from punk is way different though. it's just anger anger anger, thrash thrash thrash. i'm overgeneralizing here. but punk to me seemed to just rev you up, with no way to release it. i can't imagine what one would do with punk. you can't dance to it. you can't groove to it. you can nod your head and get all fury like. i guess that's what moshing is made for.



so i've been exposed to punk for a second. i learned something at the very least. i can't say i like it. or that i dislike it. but it's not "me." but that maybe because i haven't listened to it much. but with some music i'm just like "that's me." like old school funk. i need to find more of that stuff. get educated about it. because i really like it. so that is my mission.



i am also a firm believer that looking at a list of the music that somebody listens to can be very revealing and indicative of a person. it's not like movies or books because as was talked about, music can go straight to the emotion. you feel it or you don't. so by perusing a list of the music that someone listens to, you can get a grasp of who they are. i know it's dangerous to overgeneralize like this but isn't it true, when you talk to someone, and you find out that you have a common band that you love, you are inclined to like them even more? maybe because you assume that both of you relate to the music on some level that you can share. so music is life. but we knew that already.

because i am his pimp and he has decided to never blog again, pictures of camping from jmz are available here. they are fine pictures. if overly big files. but the wait is well worth it. they went to colorado, utah, arizona and who knows where else. i was supposed to be the fourth contestant but there was some doubt as to my camping worthiness. could i make fire with my bare hands? could i "rough" it and sleep with complete disregard for my sanitary safety? could i handle the rough and tumble open skies? would the call of the wild make me scream like a child? could i paddle and bicycle down treacherous windy rivers/roads? these are all questions that were asked. but since i never went on the trip i could not prove my camping/road trip worthiness. but for the record, i am quite the camper. don't let this prissy obsessive compulsive exterior fool you. deep inside i have a bearded paul bunyan inside me. at least a little huck finn. we used to go camping all the time. i've cross country skied ridiculous amounts, i've canoed in the middle of a mild storm (mild meaning rain), i've slept on a beach with pigs, i've gotten lice from well, lice. i've hiked double digit miles. it may not sound like much, but it's more than you might guess, looking at me sitting on a couch, napping away. don't let the cover fool you, my pages are brown and dirty.

i left my heart in san francisco. what i did on my northern californian vacation. first off, i drove north. up from san diego. past los angeles. through bakersville. under a tunnel and through the wood, to tien's house we went. we unfortunately passed by a town named gilroy, that reeked heavily of garlic. gilroy garlic, get it? yeah, me neither. avoid gilroy at all costs. for your sanity if not your clothes.



tien lives in a house adjacent to her parents house. so it's like a guesthouse next to a house. or a house next to another house joined by a communal backyard and used by one family. a two for one if you will. pretty exciting stuff. in layman's terms this means the house she lives in is very close to her parent's house -- about five feet apart i would say -- but yet far enough apart to allow for freedom of lounging. did i mention her house has a huge television, a pool table and a ping pong table? yes. heaven is a place like tien's house. she had popsicles too. some of which were mistaken for banana flavor instead of tropical. people should not put images of bananas on the packaging if the flavor is really tropical. marketing folk take note, nobody likes banana popsicles. lord if i should die and am not slated to arise miraculously, send me to tien's house. thanks. you're the best.



i could give a hoe down of what we did at tien's house but that might induce you to rush right over to go visit her. and she's far too important and busy to be entertaining other people aside from us. so i'll try to describe everything in as short a manner as possible. we barbequed. we ate exponentially. we triangulated and watched movies (spirited away is quite excellent even if i don't really get it). we frolicked amongst goose poop. we scavenged in berkeley with digital cameras. all praise digital cameras. more on scavenging later but suffice to say berkeley employs suspected child molestors in thrift stores. we shot the shit. we shit alot. we drank beer. we played kings. we learned jewish songs that have lyrics like "wherever you go there's always someone jewish / you're never alone cuz god made you a jew." refer to amit for the full lyrics and the melody. this song is quite possibly the funniest song i have ever heard. and i've heard some funny songs.



i visited some spots in the bay. i have some thoughts on the bay and perception versus the opposite of perception but those aren't coordinated yet so i'll leave them be. the weather in the bay was perfect and if the weather was like that all the time i might consider moving to the bay. but i know it's not always like that so this past week i've been living a lie. do i feel dirty? yes i do. but that's probably from the lack of showering. ah. i love suburban camping. brings out the funk.



i'm still up north so don't bother me. actually that's totally misleading since i'm really writing this on friday 4:10am from victor's apartment (we didn't quite make it all the way down to san diego tonight). so once again i'm entrapped in a lie. but see, since i put a place marker in my blog from wednesday so i could go back and talk about wednesday, i have to pretend it's wednesday even though it's really already friday. blog reality is all warped. but it makes more sense than real reality doesn't it?

beautiful, i just want you to know. awhile back, the idea came up of "accepting" versus "receiving" people. ask yourself, do you receive a friend or do you accept a friend? the reason it came up was because somebody had been trying to describe how they combined the strict negative christian view on homosexuals versus their own personal views and interactions. the answer that was given was that they "accepted" the part of a person that was homosexual and thus was able to accept the entire being. babbs however, posited that by using the word "accept," it implied that the part that was being accepted was, in a sense, only tolerated or allowed. it may seem like semantically splitting peas, but i thought that there was something to the idea that "accept" is not as fully embracing as it may seem.



in contrast to accepting, "receiving" an individual might mean that you take them all, lock stock and barrel. by receiving someone, you are looking at the whole and accepting everything as a single unified unit, as opposed to only taking in parts of them and then accepting the rest, like some piece of excess baggage. how much of a difference does this make? it makes a world of difference. receiving someone is taking all their faults, all their contradictions, all their insecurities, all their inadequacies together with all their positive attributes. accepting someone is picking bits and pieces that you like and tolerating the rest but perhaps hoping that the extra luggage could be jettissoned to create a better person. maybe it's a subtle difference in word use and language but it's something to think about.



in that same conversation, a question that i had always had about how homosexuals fit into a christian framework was finally adequately answered. at least for my peace of mind and rationale. the answer was simple, but nobody had broken it down for me quite like this. the answer was that even if the bible perceives homosexuality as a sin, it is no worse than any other sin. and if we are all born into sin, and accept christ to absolve those sins, then homosexuality is no different than lying or cheating. all sins are equal after all, in the big scheme of things. so if we are all sinners, there is no incompatability between what the bible says is wrong and what it's framework can accept. because if jesus is love, and his role is to accept everyone despite their sins, then homosexuals and homosexuality can find a place and can seek solace in god. and that finally made perfect sense to me.



in any case, i strive to receive everyone for who they are. and not to just accept. i'm not sure if i do this well or not, but at least now i can define what it is i'm heading towards in my relations with people and in particular, friends.

as i enter the room i absorb the mood

positive vibe supplied by a positive crew

and negativity exist and you must acknowledge

you can be intelligent and never go to college

'cause the way we live in society

it ain't really the way that it's supposed to be

and don't get close to me if you're contaminated

take a picture of your soul and get it laminated

put them in your wallet next to your money

money represents your whole and soul represents your honey

ain't got honey then you ain't got bees

and if you ain't got no money i'ma still mc

then empty l-o-v-e all over the track

once you r-e-d then you never go back

'til the end of studio with the peas as black

with adam, taboo, and alligator apl de ap

-black eyed peas, duet-

actually, it's kind of interesting. i've been doing a little figureskating. so eric’s been out here for a few days with us and it’s been bachelor craziness. sleep at dawn? wake up at two? eat one meal a day? basketball every day? play seriously competitive games of risk? ultra serious games of monopoly? xbox till the music stops? we’ve done it all. a young man about to get hitched should always have a week like this, one with the boys, doing manly male things.



manly male stuff like revealing “what’s one movie that you would be embarrassed to tell your guy friends that you liked?” the answers ranged from a walk to remember, serendipity, beautiful girls, romy and michelle's high school reunion. and then bam, someone says "the cutting edge". and it’s over. this directly leads to a cutting edge dvd rental and an attempted marathon to see who could watch the movie on repeat the longest. i can almost guarantee you that no other group of guys on the planet will be quoting cutting edge like we will be quoting cutting edge. well what do you do, soak them in battery acid? do we know how to party or what?



i wish i had some way to get some video on here, because there was some fine music jamming last night that i caught on tape. gene and victor on guitar, james on keyboard, eric and babbs on vocals. delicious. hilarity ensued let me tell you. it’s kind of hard to describe this type of fun without the full use of video and audio capture. aniwaise.



board games? sappy movies? baking? chess? video games? singing? what kind of damn bachelor party are we throwing here? where are the naked romping girls you ask? where is the debauchery? where is the alchohol? where are the drunken escapades that can never be talked about in polite society ever again? well, we still have a few days left, and this sitting around doing nothing must wear on us right? oh wait, we have a copy of center stage to get to tonight. the debauchery will have to wait.

so i’m gone. out of the house, out of my mom’s hair. out of a job. out of lots of things. i am fully moved into hotel pan and my room is an organized mess of boxes and crap i don’t think i'll really need. the short story is also that people are visiting, my computer is in transit, my time is precious, and i must live my life, instead of blogging it. the feel of life has quickly changed over an independence weekend. especially when everything is getting boxed up and everyone’s telling you to “get your shit together!” but to that i say “nobody -- nobody can eat fifty eggs."



who am i kidding? i miss blogging. i miss my computer time. am i loser? or just another misguided youth being taken for a spin by my naivette and carefree charm? the answers may never come. till tomorrow speaks. peace.

baby got smack. i love love love it when girls talk shit. not like behind the scenes gossipy catty shit, but like up front make fun of you so everyone goes "ooooh" shit. girls who do that are cool. i feel like society suppresses the competitive nature of women. because it's not "ladylike" to talk shit. i could be wrong here. broad generalizations like this tend to get me in trouble. but i wonder why girls don't normally talk shit like guys do. for one, girls are probably more sensitive, they take things more personally. for two, it's deemed "not attractive" if foul things are coming out of a female's mouth. i however, dig it. i like it when girls get mean and have a little edge and wit.



another thing is that most girls, when they do talk shit about other girls, it probably tends to be very true and meant in a derogatory way. when guys shit talk, there's always a hint of truth but most of it is just for the sole purpose of making fun of somebody. but with girls, when they say something like "damn, you ugly," they probably mean it. and not only that, telling a girl that they ugly is probably far different than telling a guy. guys don't mind cutting each other down, or of being reminded that they are losers (unless you're way insecure in which case you have more issues than i could address here). but girls probably don't enjoy it as much. or if they do, they are more aware of the negative aspects of social shit calling. and so when they want to say something, maybe they suppress it. i'm here to say though, if you have mean nasty funny things to say, say it! scream it for all the world to hear. because damn, shit talking is fun.



only if you do it right though. and if you don't "take it there." sometimes "there" is too far. and some people don't quite understand that. but that type of stupidity is not specific to any one gender. that type of stupidity is an equal opportunity invader.



anyway, the moral of the story is that girls who are mad competitive or are full of shit talk equals dope.

and i was watching wimbledon (who knew it was wimbleDon and not wimbleTon?) the other day. watching serena and capriati go at it. i enjoy watching them play because both of them are just straight powerful. they are not your delicate flower type of athletes, they are built solidly and play with unmatched power and grace. and while i've heard some male friends go "damn, she's sick! ugh!" i rather admire all that muscle attached to a female frame. don't get all crazy now, sick is sick when it's espn2 women's bodybuilding but watching someone use their body for an athletic purpose impresses me. i had a grander point to go on here. something to do with women's bodies and the dynamic between having an extremely athletic body versus the "feminine figure" as exhibited in media, but i've completely lost it. maybe it'll come back. doubtful though.

life in the circus ain't easy. but the folks on the outside don't know. the tent goes up and the tent comes down. and all that they see is the show. and the ladies on the horses look so pretty. and the lions are lookin real mad. and some of the clowns are happy. and some of the clowns are sad. but underneath there's another expression that the makeup isn't making. life under the big top, it's about freedom, it's about faking. there's an art to the laughter, there's a science and there's a lot of love and compliance.



welcome to the freakshow, here we go...



we live to hear the slack-jawed gasping. we live under a halo of held breath. and when the children raise up a giant shield of laughter, it's like they're fending off death and we can make somethig bigger than anyone of us alone. and then the clowns will take off their makeup and the people will go home. but life on the outside ain't easy. no sequins, no elephants, no parading around. yeah, the tent goes up and the tent comes down and they're stuck in this fucking town. you need a lot of love and compliance.



welcome to the freakshow, here we go...

-ani difranco, freakshow-

for the life of me i cannot remember what made us think that we were wise and we'd never compromise... a little breath of life was in effect last night. it's been awhile since i've been engaged in a conversation. like really engaged. to the point where things are clicking and i'm seeing things laid out for me clearly and i'm taking my philosophies out for a spin and explaining, adding onto it. i needed that type of moment and it was there and available. i really think work has killed my joie de vive, at least the late night one. not being able to stay up late and talk to people has made me a dull and boring jack. then again, the AIM conversations i've had at work have been priceless. what bored work people did pre-AIM is beyond me. oh by the way i'm done with work so i'm just bumming for the next two weeks. so fun is not only forthcoming, it's rapidly approaching. two nearly identical words used together to extend a sentence for no purpose whatsoever....so annoying isn't it? the thesaurus should of died when the meteor hit.



so last night we had an encounter with somebody. not a bum, not a panhandler, not a liar, not an entertainer, not a man down on his luck. not anything i could put a label on. mainly because i couldn't be sure what he "was," if one is ever able to label anyone in such a way and be accurate. he was singing some songs, doing a little bob marley, doing a little doo wop. we were feeling it, and it was a nice scene. then things got a tad strange. he got into a story about his situation and what he needed and so on. and that's cool. i mean, be who you are, what you got to do to survive. my philosophy on life is not supposed to include giving money to people. but that's a randian point i'm not sure i can come to grips with quite yet (my feelings on this particular topic is like five or six blogs). anyway, the situation and the conversation was long and interesting. we left him with sixteen, seventeen dollars, after forty five minutes of interaction and headed home. for the record, none of that dinero was mine, for reasons that would take alot to get into right now. aniwaise.



we go home, get into how we each perceived the situation, what we were all thinking. what moral, social, psychological issues were at hand. a bit of religion talk was delved into. but not really about religion. more about a few guys, sitting up to the break of dawn, trying to divine a little bit of what this here life is all about. using one incidence as a jumping off point and as a common experience to relate to. it's weird, it's cool, when three people coming from different places, perceptions, philosophies, can reach a sort of unimind, if only for a night, to facilitate exchange and education. it's been awhile.



there is too much to write about here. i wish i could go into every epiphany or moment of "oh, okay" that i had yesterday. but that would take pages. so it's better reserved for a conversation, or another form of expression. already, the memories, the details are fading. i hate that. i am going to implant my eyes with mini-cameras, like olhado from speaker for the dead. his eyes were metal and capable of recording video and audio. he could sit there and go over his recordings whenever he wanted, never letting memories be twisted by nostalgia or time. then again, he could never escape from "what really happened." would that type of objectivity make us better or worse? when the story can be rewound and fast forwarded, and copied for all to see?



on a related but unrelated note. it's so interesting to see people's reactions to things. people's reactions and impressions of events, situations or other people. it's not only telling of what you might be missing, but also of what the people you already know are like as people. it's eye opening sometimes. more on this whole bit later. ...and (n)ow we're guilt stricken sobbing with our heads on the floor.