smells like persimmon. in a heated debate -- worthy of the immortal lincoln-douglas debates -- yesterday night, a finalized list of "who is the biggest bitch" was done up. fear not, there is no misogyny here, when we speak of bitches we speak of ourselves, the male protrusion. a male bitch is one who is whooped. to clarify further, a bitch is a guy who when under the influence of a girl(s), will do anything for her. this is something that just happens, guys get whooped by girls. it's darwinistic in its simplicity. when god made woman he gave her a whipping stick, wily guile and womanly persuasion (ie. they smell nice). males fall for this every time. so the question is, which males fall the most often and the most consistently? whom amongst us is the biggest bitch? yes, who is the weakest link?



with no naming of names the top contenders were easily identified. but then there were some sleeper bitches. some dark horse bitches. and someone even tried to finger a shady bitch, but that title never stuck. fueled by alchohol and late night ridiculousness the process of creating this particular list was hilarious as all get out. "how about that one time? dude shut up! i could call out so many blah blah blahs. and remember when you did THAT for her?! oh shit! YOU are two times the bitch i am!"



it's issues like these that need to be clarified in any circle of friends. guys just need to know who is the biggest, who is the best, who is the most capable. this is so that when a girl asks "who is the best at this?" there can be one conditioned response. interestingly enough, not everyone wanted to be the lowest bitch. although in general being a male bitch was construed as "bad," some people would of rather been near the middle because there is some attractiveness and heart associated with being at the beck and call of your womyn warrior. strange how you are a bitch up until the day you get married (or are very very serious) but then after you get married all bitch labels are dropped and you are just "married." maybe it's because with marriage you've suddenly become so much of the ultimate bitch that you've transcended all attempts at status and independence -- by choice of course, by choice. so with marriage, suddenly since you've found eternal happiness and have begun to toy with the burden of impending divorce, you are exempt from bitch status.



i so disagree with this -- the being married allows one to be a bitch philosophy. but moving on.



i know that i can be a bitch at times. never to a significant other but more to certain friends. but my reasoning for it all is that i want to be a bitch for these people, and it's on the level that i don't have to be if i don't want to and i won't feel any guilt or remorse if i suddenly don't do something. see, the difference between being a real bitch and a pseudo bitch is the remorse. if i've flaked out or averted some form of bitching, i don't exactly feel guilty or bad. for some of the bigger bitches, i feel like that's par for the course, to be obligated to do something is the key. thus, whooped.



dispute.

sting pong. the game is thus. play ping pong like a regular person. everytime you lose a point, doff your shirt and face the back wall. opponent gets a free shot at your exposed back (face front if you're a real man). hit, *sting*, repeat. sounds fun doesn't it? the unquestioned king of sting pong is mr hongshin pan. as with every racket sport, hong dominates all. after playing three opponents he'd scored dozens of hits while receiving maybe eight stings in return. i personally (i who sucks hardcore at ping pong) got him maybe three and a half times to twenty. the sound of a ping pong ball -- which can be hit surprisingly fast -- smacking flesh is quite rawkus. the welts left behind? quite mean looking. but the fun is really in the anticipation of getting hit. as you face the wall, you wait and wait to see if your opponent hits or misses. it's like facing a firing squad but maybe a bazillion times less lethal. but it still hurts. yeah.



the co-ed sting pong starts next week. girls, come on over.

it's where you're going, not where you've been. ambition. defined: an eager or strong desire to achieve something. goal: the purpose toward which an endeavor is directed; an objective. difference between the two? i think goals are something you set up as mile markers to achieve on the path to something. ambition is more broad, more of a bigger picture thing if you will. ambition is "i want to get home." goal is "reach the emerald city, get an audience with oz, kill wicked witch."



a goal could be to finish college, to work for three years successfully, to make a million dollars. an ambition could be to become a CEO of your very own toy creation company. or maybe ambitions are more dreamy. i like to think of ambitions as more dreamy. i'm not sure if this is the correct definition of ambition but for me that's what it is. not so broad as just "i want to be happy." but broad enough that it can encompass a large majority of your potential goals.



now that i'm part of the working world -- you like how after five days on a job i'm fronting like the poster child for the workers union? -- i see much more clearly that goals and ambitions should be laid out. once you are in a place where you have a title and a role, you naturally wonder where you want to be. what is the goal? to get promoted? to get out of here in a few? whatever it is, goals are easy to set once you're in a goal orientated environment. and naturally, with so many goals popping up before you, you gotta question where your ambitions lie. do i want to be here eight to five for two years? um no. where do i want to be? nobody has real answers to this question and i don't lament or worry about not having any answers. why are people overly pre-occupied with direction? where you go will happen. it maybe takes an effort and open eyes and ears but incessantly worrying about the future strips the present of any magic it might currently have.



after all. dorothy goes home, finds that shit boring as all hell and goes back to oz to live. if you didn't know that you need to read the entire oz series. the point is, the future never turns out the way you think it will so why put this huge ambition up as a measure of your success or failure?

that guy. we all know what "that guy" is. we've met him, interacted with him, described him, shunned him. here's the thing, you never want to be "that guy." never. that guy is a whole combination of things. there are different types, as many as there are barbies, and they are all unique and collectible in their own way. that drunk guy. that whooped guy. that guy who ends up liking all his female friends. that stubborn as a mule guy. that romantic as a rose guy. that really cocky guy. that asshole guy. that guy. but you see, somehow we all end up being that guy. it's unavoidable. life is too cliche and life's situations too generic to not allow for "that guy" status at some point.



what to do when you are that guy? you're screwed. you've become stereotyped and typecast. you are no longer yourself, welcome to the world of i am jack's thyroid gland or whatever. start reading "how to for dummies" and "dear abby" because generic advice will work fine as a solution to your problem. you are now officially we are the world.



i try most often not to be that guy. because nobody wants to be that guy. it's boring, it's claustrophobic, it's mundane. all things that i hate. but sometimes you are that guy. and then. you are screwed until you can somehow transcend "that guy" status. you can do this by going so out there that you're above that guy identifiers. in poker it's similar to going "over the top." when someone checks you, you come right back and raise them "over the top." this way they have to pause for a moment to re-think what they thought you had. this can foster confusion and mental instability in an opponent. it's a strong move and a courageous move, going "over the top".



there is also an element of danger of here though. since you could also be getting suckered into going "over the top" and be playing right into your opponent's hands. maybe they wanted you to go over the top, in which case you've just been fucked and become that i've just bent over and took it up the backside guy. so essentially you go from being "that guy" to another (worse) type of "that guy." like from malibu barbie to slut ho barbie. and then you are eternally doomed with no way out, last of the mohican where are the women style.

we conjugate verbs and constipate nerds.why use writing appraisal indexes? because they (1) reduce to simple formulas the complex work of writing (2) provide a convenient check and measure of the level of one’s writing (3) possess the glitter of mathematical exactness (4) can be calculated by word processing software. [link]



"the fog index is a proven method of analyzing written material to see how easy it is to read and understand." there are some other indexes, such as the flesch-kincaid grade level score and such. by using word and grammar check, you can get these evaluations for how "good" your writing is. heaven knows i have problems writing "professional" documents. my writing style is nothing if not the epitome of colloquial. so in trying to improve my "real" writing skills, i like to see what types of tools are out there to help. and the flesch indexes are already pre-installed with your microsoft word program. love bill gates for the smart man that he is. love him for turning uber-dorky into uber-rich. just love him period.



sadly most of the stuff i'm running through this flesch checker is at 80-90% readability and the fourth to fifth grade level. or rather, my blogs are at that level. which means if you are in the third grade or lower, you should not be reading this blog because it's too wordy and complex for you children. so unless you are a precocious prodigy, stick to dr seuss or something till you're ready.



actually, this particular blog entry is zero percent passive, 64.6 reading ease and not to be read below the eighth grade level. i'm already getting better, amazing.

taut like a tiger. i've found a new grammar thing to get into. oxymorons are so six months ago, tautologies are now. retro versus now-tro. tautologies are words that duplicate the meaning of a word or words already used.



basic principles, principles. hollow tube, tube. mutual cooperation, cooperation. personal opinion, opinion (my favorite tautology). exactly equal, equal. consensus of opinion, consensus. past history, history. ask the question, ask. still continues, continues.



i am now aware of the funny humor deeply imbedded in tautologies and i will weavingly avoid them if at all possible. or use them willingly and laugh at myself and be amused by the always fun entertainment provided by american english grammar.



am i even tautologizing correctly here? no clue. someone with a better grasp of grammar help me out here.

if you've got time to lean you've got time to clean. you want to know the details of my work. yes. you want to know the details of my work. you want to know. you want to know. ok, whatever, i'm telling you anyway. so far at my job i have arrived early 100% of the time. that means i've been here early today and yesterday. and i'll probably be early tomorrow too. my doubters scuffle away in shame.



i've tried very hard to be on top of things. "jon, can you do this?" i do it asap. that is "as soon as possible." let no task wait. all those things my moms nags me about at home and in life? i'm doing it right here and right now. i'm trying to be super organized. i got folders for my folders, backups for my backups, post it notes for my post it notes. i am the organization king. then again i've only had maybe ten pages of things to organize so far but rome wasn't built in a day. i also make to do lists (for to do things) and up to the minute progress checks. i have what i creatively call my "daily log." i log my daily activities by time and duration. impressive eh? you want more i know.



so far today i've gone to the equipment office three times. once for report covers, once for stickers and once more for a rolodex. a rolodex speaks volumes about how important i will soon be. it has yet to arrive but when it does, watch out. i could be calling out your ass next. i've copied and hole punched and put together reports. i used an automatic hole puncher that is really the neatest thing since the toaster. why it only punches twenty pages at a time is beyond me but nobody said the best inventors worked in office equipment. i've also faxed some. used the phone some. oh and can i say that i am now a proud and password protected member of fed ex online? there, i said it. call me vip. that's "very important person" since you didn't know.



and the day is not nearly over yet. what more could happen? a trip to the post office? more office supplies? more organization? more "can i have you sign here please?" if the excitement of my life makes your paltry existence seem dry and shallow, well, so be it. live vicariously through me. don't date me because i'm beautiful. hate i meant hate. don't hate me because i'm beautiful. same thing i guess.

i'm here to pump you up. ladies. isn't it true that there is nothing more impressive than a man wearing a nicely pressed shirt? irons are the thing. wrinkled and rumpled are so out. smooth is in. given the choice, wouldn't you always go for the guy with the beautifully ironed shirt? yes, it's true. ironing says so much doesn't it? if this observation is wrong then i know nothing about women.

rip van winkle. there is much talking about sleeping recently. mainly because i stand on the cusp of changing my entire sleeping habits. tonight for example, i head off to bed at ten pm. an hour after i had originally planned. i am not one of those people who can operate on six hours of sleep. i need at least eight. but tomorrow is a six am wake up call followed by actually having to be somewhere alert and bushy footed at eight in the morning. i have laid out my "working" clothes (despite the iron not working) and i have packed my manpurse with all the essentials (candy, cigarettes, cold medicine, cell phone charger). the thing to remember then before i go to bed is: wake the fuck up.

if you're having girl problems, i feel bad for you son

i got 99 problems but a bitch ain't one

-jay z, 99 problems-



jay z is retiring. they even had a report about it on cnn. i'm not sure what the deal there is. jay z is going out "on top" at thirty three? he's not an athlete with a given shelf life. he's been given the gift of media attention. why squander it away? if he really wants to make a statement, change up the content of his lyrics, his vibe, his image. why retire? the inevitable comeback attention may be one reason. perhaps he's really just tired and needs a break. thus re-tire. but really, he can just keep quiet for awhile, no need to say "i'm not gonna do nothing again." it's a bit much for me. an artist announcing a retirement. what does he want? his jersey hanging from the rafters? has he run out of things to say? perhaps he wants to focus on his other companies but the man needs to remember which side his bread is buttered on. with the gift of a quick mind and verbal dexterity, he should be using it, not squandering it silently away. many have died before they were done speaking, he has the luxury of a platform and living breath. and now he just wants to retire? um, okay. we need to start a pool for when he comes back. i'm taking one year and four months.

tonight what i think i will do, for a change, is sleep before three am. i will sleep falling asleep on top of a book. as opposed to in front of the gray screen of the television. i will then be signing autographs tomorrow, after the feat is accomplished and dutifully recorded for all mankind.

strong enough for a man, pH balanced for a woman. we are almost done with felicity season one. it's been two months. so far the best part, or rather, the most unexpected part, has involved a crusher of felicity getting crushed by a bus. the sheer craziness of seeing someone get trucked by a bus on a show like felicity is really pretty genius.



to help explain to the masses why a show like felicity resonates so much with the male soul. this show is about relationships. everyone likes relationships, it's like ice cream. a show like felicity allows you a chance to "see the other side" or at least to get a sense of what girls might be feeling and exactly how crazy they are. a male show like felicity wouldn't really be the same because nobody wants to see a sensitive weepy boy on their tv screens. but you put a girl up there and everyone can relate. girls relate to her. guys want to relate to girls who relate to her. and then the line blurs, to the point where guys can experience the exact same things that felicity is experiencing. some guys don't like this stuff (if you object to the genre as a preference, i'm cool with it, but objecting to it on the grounds it's a "girls show" is lame) or are too far away to appreciate the beauty that is "shows like these". they are just confused and need to open up. embrace your feminine side. she'll hug you right back.



the roles in a relationship are rarely just male-female. they are more defined. hurt-initiator of hurt. pant wearer-whooped. flirty-jealous. sometimes for guys it's hard to admit that they have "feelings". so a show like felicity allows them to talk about it without really talking about it. see? they can see all these fictional characters tackling issues that they face themselves but are too wussy to admit. and therein lies the magic of the male attraction to felicity the show.



for the record, just as a test poll. who's hotter, more attractive, whatever....felicity or pink power ranger girl? please indicate whether or not you are a male or a female when answering this. if you are confused about the question, the show, the characters or your sexuality, feel free to guess. also please don't confuse the actresses with the characters. we are talking felicity and ex-pink power ranger here. not keri russell and amy jo whatever.

the truth is out there. so is lying underrated or is honesty overrated? sure honesty is always the best policy but as we know, the policy sometimes isn't best. this is tough to admit in a public forum but it's true, i lie. wow. the burden of atlas off my shoulders. i'm a liar. i lie. sometimes i even lie on purpose (as if there were any other way). it's tough, i know, to look at my sincereyes and believe that i'm a liar. but trust me, i lie.



so in going through the past few week, i've been trying to document how many lies i've told. everyone says "don't lie because it's bad." but after carefully reviewing my thirty nine instances of lying, i've concluded that oftentimes, lying is okay. many of the lies i've told over the past two weeks are of the innocent kind. like when a stranger asks you a question you don't really want to bother with. example here might be "can i have a cigarette?" sorry man, no cigarette. a few of these lies are not so much lies but more not telling the whole truth. "do you know where so-and-so is?" um, nope. but maybe i know where i think they are but don't bother to say it. a few lies are used to hide personal feelings that don't necessarily need to be exposed to the world. "so, did you like so-and-so? what did you think?" oh i think they were wonderful, fantabolous, can't wait to see them again. these are what i call quiet lies. nobody needs to know.



and of course there were a few lies which fall into the all important category of: lying to yourself. there's not too many of these over the past two weeks. one and a half maybe. but these are the most crippling. lie to strangers, lie to acquaintances, lie to friends, lie to whoever you want to. my research has concluded that it is a-ok. but lying to yourself, while okay, can be ultimately painful. but then again, if you lie, it's best to believe wholeheartedly in your lie. after all, the best liars don't even know they're lying.



and never ever admit, "yes i lied". until caught red handed or faced with hard evidence. even then, feign ignorance, fuzzy memory or insanity. it works for criminals, it can work for you.

yet some say that i am insane

is that not ironic? my soul not sonic

as i flow through the tonic, of life i find

that the strife behind, that pushes and pulls

and pulls and pushes me

into all of the bullshit that i experience from day to day

is the reason.. for my search, or journey, or struggle

to find.. the broken pieces of the sign

that combine, to form the crooked line

that we call.. peace y'all

-the roots, peace-

when you call somebody's house and you get their parents (this happens less and less nowadays, yet still surprisingly alot), what do you say? i've always been very direct. "hi, is so-and-so there?" i've been told that this is rude. especially when i know the parents in question. the proper thing to do is to say "hi, mr/mrs so, how are you doing? *amiable chitchat* is so-and-so there? thank you." i've never quite understood the point of this. telephones are there to reach people. if you don't want to talk to the parents, why talk to them?



on the other hand, certain parents probably recognize your voice so they would know if you were saying hi to them or not. and i suppose it would be a nice gesture to talk to parents and just say hi and a few amiable sentences. but i generally have a hard time talking to parents of any sort. much less on the phone. i'm just curious how often other people make it a point to greet and converse with their friend's parents. and whether or not that is a good thing.

wha' happen? city of sin? city of morons is more like it. vegas with all it's bedazzling lights is just too much. hordes of people walking the streets, drunk fools everywhere. people, traffic, people traffic. it's enough to make a man insane. and then the constant noise. cha-ching, bling bling bling, cha-ching. plus the air in the casinos -- albeit oxygen fortified -- just makes you swell up and your eyes itch. it's terrible. i could envision vegas being a playground for millionaires but when you're rolling in tens, it's not the same feeling.



the food though is great if you like buffets. if you don't like buffets, i don't like you, simple as that. buffets should be the norm. every meal should be "eat till you're about to blow up." the saving grace of vegas? my guys. yes without them vegas would be a pit of despair. i may not gamble drink smoke or whore but i do hang out. and what is better than taking in a shit town like vegas while standing next to your close friends whom you see every day? nothing. as always, not much was done but times were had. that's kind of the par for when we hang out, be it in vega, san diego or timbutku.



ameer started us off in vegas right with six flasks. he knows how to have fun in vegas. thanks ameer. we know how to have fun in vegas too. one change of clothes, minimal showers, no girls, lots of alchohol for the drunkards. it's a simple recipe but it works. [pictures]

panacea. ok. let's address this. why do people like getting drunk so damn much? ok. addressed. there are too many reasons to bother with. so instead here's what i will say about drunkenness. i don't get it. i don't get the whole getting drunk over and over bit. i'm not talking heavily buzzed, i'm talking super drunk. people are usually fun drunk. but that fun comes with a price. i'm unwilling to pay that price. but here to recount my best and worst drunk experiences. hold onto your panties because these stories will knock your socks off. why you would have to hold onto your panties if your socks are coming off is beyond me. but hey, you can never be too careful. especially concerning panties.



crescendo. beers beers beers. at a wilmot girls bbq many years ago i drank alot of beers. starting in the afternoon and continuing into night. i'm not even gonna lie and say i had some outrageous number of beers like twenty or thirty. because if i had imbibed that much i would have died instead of been drunk. there is a distinction, sometimes subtle, but it exists. the number i actually drank is probably closer to maybe ten in the whole day. so what did i do during this lurid drunken state? did i get crazy and dance on tabletops? did i eat beef until all the live cows ran in fear? did i entertain guests with my outrageous stories and stupid falling down drunk tricks? no. i spent the majority of my drunken time out on the balcony singing. as eric shih played the guitar, me and babbs and some other assorted people stood out there and sang. my head hurt so bad i couldn't open my eyes but i was singing my little heart out. i don't really remember if the quality of singing was good. but the fact that it was probably much louder than i normally sing means it was potentially that much worse. regardless, the singing was great. the drunkenness was great. somehow i ended up in the front yard and it was there that i passed out and was never heard from again. the end.



diminuendo. i puked in kyle's car. i am so sorry kyle. even to this day. two years later, this is still the last drunk experience i've had. i make it a point to never get to the point of drunkenness where i might accidentally empty my liquid bowels in somebody else's car. or any car period. anyway, i was sitting in the bitch seat (surprise) and i puked all over the back seat and over sher wing's shoes. they were such nice shoes too. anyway. the subway ride home was hellacious. randall had to walk me around and sit me down and watch me puke in a little plastic bag. i felt like complete and utter shit. you know the feeling. luckily randall is big and strong so he supported me emotionally and physically all the way home. somehow on the way home i ended up with a small hitler-like mustache on my face. no clue how it got there. the worst part is, i probably passed out on my bed all post-puke and nasty. i hope i burned those sheets. the dirty alchohol that got me in such a state? soju. now, when i even smell soju, i feel like puking. it's a delicious drink but it'll kick you like a donkey later. even during my drunken state i don't think i was that much fun since i don't recall much happening out of the ordinary. thank you again kyle and randall. and of course lisa and sher wing, the unfortunate passengers sitting next to me.



the point of these two stories? what i'm mainly trying to illustrate here is that there is not much difference between drunk me and not drunk me. i do the same things, except for the puking. so really, why drink? i have just as much fun without drinking and the fear of losing complete verbal and emotional control keeps me on a tight alchohol leash. bad things happen when you drink too much. sometimes you say things you should never say, sometimes you do things you should never do. i usually define puking as drunken. i have puked maybe a grand total of four times in my life due to alchohol. so really the best and worst stories are really just numbers two and four in my "when i was drunk" repertoire. boy the exciting life i lead. maybe i should take up knitting with knives or something.

additionally, i'm contemplating a grassroots movement for a "bake not drink" campaign. it's missing a catchy rhyming slogan but don't you think the world would be a better place if the socially accepted thing to do to blow off steam and have some fun was baking instead of drinking? after a long week of work you go out and do some baking on the weekend. "wanna meet for a muffin?" sounds so much more interesting than "let's get a drink." less calories involved too i'd bet. i'm gonna need some help with this one people. slogans, i need slogans. so far i've only got "ba-ke not sa-ke", "baking makes you belligerent. not!", and "bake and drive, it's legal." catchy shit. i know.

humor eh? who knew canadians were so funny. this is my latest discovery. canada = fun(ny). it's a difficult equation to comprehend but apparently all that peace prosperity and universal health care cranks out some hilarious shit. tonight we watched a mighty wind. ever since i've seen best in show, i've been on the lookout for future christopher guest projects. this was it. i must admit, upon first viewing, this mockumentary is just strange. funny weird and strange. the acting is bomb, some of the lines are unforgettable, the characters are kooky to the point of hilarity but the plot was incomprehensible and the payoff seemed nowhere in sight. as the movie ended and the credits rolled i had this urge to watch it again with the commentary. (also, always watch the deleted scenes in christopher guest movies, these are some of the funniest scenes ever.)



the commentary provided a valuable piece of information: the way mr guest and his actors work is through improvisation. all the scenes are improvised and unrehearsed. mr guest writes a basic plot and detailed character descriptions and then his cast shows up and goes to work. this is amazing. i'm not sure how they handle re-shoots and mess ups but i'm betting there aren't that many. they just point and shoot and then out comes a movie. knowing that all the lines are improvised makes this movie a whole new ball game. it is hilar-e-fucking-ess. not quite as laugh out loud funny as best in show but upon a second viewing (and i'm guessing a third and fourth and so on), a mighty wind really reveals it's humor and all the little details that might have escaped your eyes and ears during the chaos of the first viewing disappear. it's straight unbelievable to realize that all the work you see on screen is improvised. is that incredibly crazy or what?



at first after the movie, we were stuck in limbo in our reactions towards it. it was funny but weird. we didn't hate it. we didn't love it. but after you start to get some back story on the process of making this movie then you start to watch it again with a new set of eyes. i have to watch waiting for guffman as soon as possible because i've heard that it's the best guest movie and so far the two i've seen have blown my socks off.



this is the type of movie humor that i like. forget austin powers. forget ben stiller (for the most part). forget jim carrey and his facial contortions. screw adam sandler and his childish antics. i'll take this stuff every time. if you can enjoy these movies, we can be friends. not otherwise.



also, parker posey. big fan.



and what is it about canada that produces funny shit? many of guest's actors hail from toronto's second city improv troupe. kids in the hall is canadian. who's line is it is canadian. canadian bacon, while not canadian, is another of my favorite "funny as a cracker jack" movies. canada man. maybe i should move there. they seem to appreciate intelligent humor of the non-flatulent kind. o canada....

confessions of a blogaholic. my name is jon and i am a blogaholic. i have been blogging for over three years now and it has changed my life in unimaginable days. people make fun of me for my symbiotic relationship with my blog. girls mock me when i go out partying with my blogger t-shirt. my eyes turn red from a lack of sufficient blinking. sometimes i take my leashed computer outside on sunny days and walk around in an attempt to get females to stop by and say, "how cute, what kind of blog is he?" positive results are still pending. but despite all this i blog on, immune to the social party foul that is a blogaholic's life. chicks and girls may shun my bones but words will never leave me. [continue]

tag, you're it. preferred method of communication, outside of face to face. first off, does anyone not prefer face to face interaction with someone? do people actually prefer a less physical interaction? not accounting for weirdos and trying to avoid people or being terribly atrociously shy, do some people actually prefer to talk to someone online, via email or on the phone?



anyway. the advantages of the alternative means of communication, which for me breaks down to: phone, email and aim. if you think that aim is one word and not an acronym then you probably need to get to a computer. anyhow. the beauty of aim is this. you can aim while doing other things. you can aim while cruising online, you can aim while on the phone, you can aim while emailing, you can even aim while working. astounding i know, but it's true. i know some people who actually are at work but aren't really working. they are really aim-ing. shhhhhh. increase the peace, keep a secret. and you wonder why the economy is in total freefall. it's not the dot com bubble burst, it's aim. anyhow.



the thing with aim is that it's so anonymous and so impersonal that you can often discuss things that are difficult to discuss in real life or on the phone. all those long awkward pauses that can occur in certain conversations are totally eliminated. everyone can preview what they are "saying" before actually saying it. don't underestimate how powerful this is. it can make anyone seem like a genius, or give anyone a personality. i mean, say i'm trying to sound more intelligent than usual. i forget the particular word or idea i'm trying to use to make me sound smart. or i've forgotten the spelling. i can jump online and look it up and then type it out. all without the pauses. and the beauty of an aim conversation is that you can essentially fake anything you want. if you say "hey, did you read the review about such and such?" i can go google it up, read it and then confidently say "yes i did and i thought it was great!" see the power of aim? another underrated thing about aim-ing is the scrolling up to look at past history bit. in a real conversation aren't there always times when you go "man, what did you say an hour ago?" with aim histories you can check. this is great for an argument or a discussion. it's very easy to say "but you said this back here *copy*paste* so now you are contradicting yourself you hypocritical bastard." shuts'em up right quick. aim emboldens people, it's true. people can ask things on aim they would never ask in real life. try it.



the thing with email is that it seems very slow in comparison to aim. emails are faster than letters (who writes those anymore?) but there is still a significant time delay involved. you are rarely in an actual conversation on email. there is a chain of thought, but no immediate interaction. this can be crippling and wonderful at the same time. there are times when you just want to relate a thought, a story or an experience without any interruption or wondering if they are paying attention. but the hard thing about emails -- quality emails lasting longer than two lines -- is that it takes some time to do. maybe it's only fifteen minutes or whatever but sometimes the prospect of typing out a long email scares me enough not to do it. even if i really want to. email exists in this very versatile space between actual deep issues and trivial two lliner things like "so, what are you doing today?" and rarely do people just send a quick email to say "hi, bye." because that can almost be rude. because once you see the email in your inbox, you get all excited and if the message is a short one, it's sort of a letdown. or maybe that's just me.



the phone. ah, the old standard bearer of non-physical conversation. remember when portable phones were the shit? no mobile phones mind you. portable. the freedom to roam from room to room, even outside if your phone receiver was close enough to a window. that was the coolest. but i actually rather preferred to have a designated phone to speak to people on. my weapon of choice was a basic under ten dollar type that was plain and simple. with big buttons and tricked out aftermarket with a fifteen foot cord. that three foot crap is too restricting. the social image of being attached to a phone and curling the cord as you speak has been ingrained into us since we were teenagers. call me nostalgic but sometimes i miss the cordless phone.



phone communication is usually the next best thing to a real actual conversation. you can say things like "oh, i can hear that you're sad" or for the truly sappy, "i can hear you breathe." the problem with the non-mobile phone was that it often provided no other outlets for entertainment. once you're engaged in a phone conversation you can't really be doing anything else. people take it offensively. there is no surfing the net, watchign tv or eating while you're on the phone. because it seems so personal yet tenous, having a phone call be interrupted by the other person's lack of attention is very annoying. this is made worse with the advent of cell phones. with the range of mobility available to us now, it is easy to perceive the phone as a communication device that should be picked up at all times. but this can get damn annoying. convenient but damn annoying. a phone conversation is supposed to be about undivided attention. but with it's simple charm and convenience it is often just an interrruption. you can never be sure if the other person is doing something important and if you're interrupting. the one good thing about the cell phone is that it's added new answers to the "what are you doing? where are you?" question. before it was usually "i'm home, doing jack shit, watching tv." now you could be anywhere. "i'm in nebraska! wow no way! i can't belive you're in nebraska! i know, it's nuts, i'm here just walking around. rad right?" this excites me. i know it excites you too. also one thing about the phone is that people tend to fall asleep while on the phone. rarely happens with aim or emailing. this could be a good or bad thing. your call.



so. my preferred mode of communication? i would at this point have to say....email. it's the right balance between potential small talk, potential deep talk. and it gives you a certain sense of anticipation. like "hum, i just emailed them, i wonder when it's coming back." (side note: does anyone actually use the send receipt option? so that they can keep tabs on when somebody gets their email? or is that just too 1984?) i have little patience for actual phone conversations nowadays. i have a few theories as to why that is but i can't go into it here. aim can get a tad too much also. with too many conversations going on. it's rare that i can sit on aim for a long time without feeling the need to be somewhere else. email is the only option left actually. sometimes the prospect of typing out an actual email intimidates me but once an email is in your box, you feel this obligation to return it at some point. so you think about it and put it on your to do list and then you do it. it's a very simple exchange system. i like that, simplicty and no time committments. wonderful thing.

i bare my windowed self untamed and untrained

dreams that hardly touch our complexions truest faults

if room enough for both my drowsy spirit shall fall

bold waves tumble to the season of my heart

where you have offended my faith and my trust

until all is lost into the beauty of the day



but there's something in the way you laugh

that makes me feel like a child

aspects of life they confuse me

you and your thesis amuse me

-jason mraz, after an afternoon-

kokopelli. known to some as a magician, he is known to others as a storyteller, teacher, healer, trickster, or god of the harvest and is often credited as being the "original" journalist.



believed to bring fertility and good fortune to whomever he met wherever he chose to roam, kokopelli, with his hunchback and flute, was always welcome.



kokopelli possessed a playful, carefree nature that seemed to be able to bring the good out in everyone. cousin to the mythical gods of the ancient world, kokopelli is believed to represent the fertility and the untamed spirit or nature. because of this and his sexy, joyous, uninhibited ways, his wisdom, magic, and simple nature have often times been overlooked. this masculine casanova is famous for his prankster ways and one is often warned to beware for he is likely to trick you. it is all in good fun, though, for especially in today's world, his humor is refreshing and delightful.



the stories may differ depending on the storyteller and tales shall be told for many, many years to come. yet through it all, kokopelli shall remain an inspiring figure with a passion for life.

leitmotif. often times in life we find certain themes reoccurring in our lives again and again. some are interesting, some aren't. "why do i always date the losers?" seems to be a popular lament. or the "i'm never gonna get married!" statement. these are words i hear every week or so, from friends who are twenty-something and not necessarily single. when this phrase comes from girls i don't believe them. because you see, woman was created from man's rib so she has this innate desire to be joined with another once again. so due to this auspicious beginning, women want to be married, even if they deny it. i don't really believe what i just said. or maybe i do. i'm still undecided.



but nevermind about this. i'm getting off track. the point is there are sometimes things that we have in our lives. symbols, signs, themes, motifs. things that are a part of us but not clearly visible. the solution i say? inscribe these things in permanent ink on your body. brilliant my boy, simply brilliant. and to that end, i have attached permanently the god of trickery, mischief, storytelling, harvest and fertility on my right leg. see the beauty of deciding to have a tattoo is the permanence of it all. it'll be with you forever. which is more than i can say for you, spawn of my rib.



oh, somebody else got a tattoo also. guess who?