Ranting (excuse me)

Uh. The rec center was so busy. I suppose it was my fault for going at 4PM though. The new rec is like a spaceship, but I wish that instead of spending a million dollars to plaster every vertical surface with 3 foot plasma TVs, (in which to blast me with bad rap alternated with gawd-awful rap) they would have just put in twice as many machines. The only thing I value is my time.

Filled to the brim with pretty boys who were all e.nor.mous tools. (Read: “I am Carson Daly and I’m a massive tool.”) What straight man gels his hair, spritzes cologne, and dons the perfect shoulder-revealing cut-off shirt to go the gym to work out with other guys? I mean seriously. Why are you sitting on a machine for 10 minutes at a time (not doing a single rep) with the look on your face of, “Hm. I wonder how gay I can look and dress without actually doing guys?” I just wanted to shout, “You don’t realize yet, but all of you, yes all of you, secretly love cock.”

I guess I am spoiled. My mental image of a hetero man is my Dad. Working out in the same unfashionable non-descript gym clothes for 15+ years, having a hairy chest, and a medium sized bald spot that didn’t bother him one bit. Even though he could bench press 300+ lbs plus, he never took off his shirt—even in 100۫ weather. He could kick just about any of the student’s asses that ever set foot in the gym (including most of the football players—which most seasons, wasn’t saying much).

Blah, blah, blah

Busy but productive day so far. I woke up with a frickin’ killer caffeine withdrawl headache so I have been appropriately medicating myself all morning.

Black sludgey coffee= my drug of choice.

Mundane: After working out, practicing, physics lab, and homework I will be done with my obligatory protestant guilt load of tasks for the day.

Not Mundane: Tonight I get to see Craig, so I am uber-excited since I haven’t seen him since Sunday afternoon. Wow. A song lyric comes to mind: you're gonna have to face it, you're addicted to [Craiger’s] love.

Home Depot, Bed Bath and Beyond

Today I slept in then went shopping with Aaron for some home décor. More than once I made allusions to the fact that I was shopping for antiques with my life-partner. You, know. Old gays do that sort of thing. Aaron was not amused.

We spent ~90 bucks for 8 vintage magazine covers and advertisements and such for our living room. A very frugal and satisfying day I might say. Hopefully pics to follow.

Later this afternoon, I went to park on rock quarry to collect some specimens (oh! How smart do I sound?) for my Insect Diversity class. When I was a kid, I wanted nothing more than to become and entomologist. Although, I have different career aspirations now, I sure do like me a good bug hunt.

Caught about 9 species of Lepidoptera, 10+ of Orthoptera, 9+ Hymenoptera (I smooshed a bee just for you Ms Knees), and some Coleoptera, Hemiptera, and Diptera to round out the day. Ok, so I am a bug nerd. I know.

After I practice some, I am going to play poker with Laura, Anson, Aaron, and Craig—and then we might go to Shattered. I don’t know. I don’t know how much time we’ll have.

How much do I love postsecret?

This is kind of serious, read at own risk:

Last night after a late night run to the sto’ w/ Mands, (in which I bought, among other things, a discount ice-cream maker) I had a pretty serious convo.

While downloading season 1 of Queer as Folk (I don’t really like it—but find it amusing to no end), and being simultaneously chided by Craig—ever mindful of the superficial tripe that often characterizes young gay men, Manda said, “You think you are better than every one else.”

She didn’t intend for it to sound vindictive or mean-spirited, and I didn’t take it that way. But I realized that I used to feel that way, and I have matured a lot since then.

In high school (and some of college, let’s be honest), I was a total egotist (not an egoist, thankyou Ayn for inventing another word). I was smart and therefore felt isolated and different than most people I knew in the po-dunk town I grew up in. To compensate for feeling like a smart-freak, I negated everyone else’s existence because they didn’t satisfy my standard of self –worth: an intellectual meritocracy.

But after meeting some very open-minded people here in Columbia (like my good friend Rachel A) I have decided to amend my personal credo. Each person decides to aspire to their own standard of existence. And some people don’t find that a life of intellectual self-absorption is a worthy goal. And some people are at (to avoid sounding like a High School X-country coach I know) different places along their journey through life.

So I concede that it would be unjust to judge someone according to my own standards. Which is not to say that I am going to stop altogether being a judgmental-pompous ass. Because, after all, that is what I do. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I can appreciate other people’s desires and accept their value systems. So that is a good thing right?

Anyway, I’m so sorry for being so serious. How unlike me, shit!

I should just write another entry in the same shallow and jaded vein that has characterized my posts recently. I’ll write something about my tight, go-go “boi” underwear, my newest American-consumerish purchase, or my obsession with gay pornstars.

PS: updates on the fabulosity of my ice-cream maker. It even makes sorbets! Which I plan to concoct of plethora of, to cleanse my palate between courses of my college-student fare of bologna sandwiches and ramen noodles.

(Mands: “Yes. Yes! I can taste the bologna much better!”)

pouty pirate no more

Today:
Opera was phenomenal, Craig made dinner, and played croquet with Aaron-Seestar-Matt-Lane. Good times was had by all.

Sorry I can’t go into details right now, but I just got *the* sweetest, most considerate gift from Craiger. I am so not worthy!

So if I look like, as bees likes to call it: "hammered shit", it is because someone (who shall remain nameless) woke me up at 7:30AM this morning and wouldn't stop touching me. But then this someone made a breakfast egg burrito (laugh it up Mrs) and all was well with the world.

Long day. (Mad props to Mands for the photog skilz.)

I requested the honey that comes in the bear, not the jar

Picture of me making said green tea smoothies. Here is the link to the recipe. Enjoy. (PS-my kitchen is totally white trash.) I needed some distraction after listening to my *foreign* physics TA take an hour and half to explain the concept of standard deviation. Uh. (And PS: Mands says hi...and "shut the fuck up". JK. Really.)

Rainy day, not much happening

Second day of school is over and I am already exhausted. I am picking out some awesome lit for this semester. Poulenc’s Chanson Gailliards are amazing.

Played croquet last night and then Craig and I went to a dress-up party at Nick-Nat-Kyle’s. My ensemble turned out to be sort of Agent Smith like. Very skinny black tie, white dress shirt, black skinny pants. It was fittingly emo.

Met some really cool people, and caught up with some old friends. Nothing will ever change: Nick, despite having *no* class, will always continue to amuse, and Natalie will continue to put up with his shit.

I am waiting on pictures to be sent to me, so you, yes you, shiver in antici…pation at the thought of actual photographs of me.

My mom also sent me a letter (my favorite thing in the world to get), and she is as crazy as ever. A close family friend just had twins, and so she sent me a letter updating:

“Whee! Babies doing great (basically term), Rachel VERY SORE (C-section—I remember after Rebecca—AACK! Not the preferred way to deliver)
XO
Mom


It is my mother’s duty to evaluate the quality of medical care received by everyone in the world, and that is why we love her so. Le sigh.

formula for success/recipe for disaster

2 gin/rasberrry vodkas + 2 LIIT + shot of orange something + Craiger= happy Ed

PS. school starts tommorrow, and I am going out Monday night. Underage drinking is, as flesh would say, "boss".

Ok, here’s a list:

I am *so* over U-singers. I am all about Opera Studio.

I am *so* over Batman Begins. I am all about Sin City.

I am *so* over Protien shakes. I am all about Green Tea smoothies.

I am *so* over calling men who dress as women ‘drag queens’. I am all about calling them ‘female impersonators’. Like in Victor/Victoria. That’s right.

Chorus Boy [#2]: If he's a Polish count, I'm Greta Garbo.
Admirer at rehearsal: [cooing] Well, Greta, whatever he is, I think he's divine.

Moonage Daydream

After a fiasco beyond my wildest fears, I finally got my pictures back. Since I took the disposable camera on my float trip, the pictures turned out sort of water damaged.

My film is like the water book in Peter Greenaway’s Prospero’s Books—a rendition of The Tempest. In the movie, the book contains pictures of water that move, and drops spill out of the pages of the book when it is opened. Layered water upon water.

I am off to work, then Rolla (ug!). Be back Thursday for some serious drinking.

a view of the sunset (it doesn't look it, but it was seriously fucking cold) Sad face. And I still got burned. WTF? 

the beach where I slept under the beach-ball balloon water tower on the first  

my first view of the ocean(gulf) 

fastidious/elegiac/restless

OMG. The Chausson piano trio in g minor is abso-fucking-lutely sublime. (The whole step chord progression at the end of the pas trop lent is spelled M-o-d-e-s-t M-u-s-s-o-r-g-s-k-y)
That is all.

drown me slowy (pleading: enclose me)

I had an ocean dream last night. In which I was over my head in dark gray sea at night, with no moon or stars to see by. I gasped for air, and struggled to the surface but the pull of the salty, icy waves and the song of the sea were too strong. But how bizarre, I’m so sorry.

Thick as stars at night when the moon is down,
Pleasures assail him. He to his nobler fateFares;
and but waves a hand as he passes on,
Cries but a wayside word to her at the garden gate,
Sings but a boyish stave--and his face is gone.


PS. I love moving. (and his face is gone)

nerd=ed

Is there anything better than lying in your bed in your underwear until noon, eating Breyers mint-chocolate chip ice cream, listening to Ravel and Chausson piano trios, and reading about Chromatin dynamics at DNA replication?

Salvation/torture/extasy

I don’t know if I have ever been up this early on a Saturday of my own accord ever before. I had my iced latte and I am fucking invincible!

What today holds:
Hardcore exercising
Semi-clothed iPod dancing
Ensemble shopping for tonight
Practicing/picking out new lit
Reading publications/The Western Lands
Donning galoshes and splashing around in puddles, all the while laughing manically
Falling (hard) off my caffeine high in 10 minutes

a giraffe, and a bathtub full of brightly colored tools

Since procuring an iPod mini on Monday (thanks Mands! Let me be yo managah!) I can’t fit enough of me dancing in my tight, gray, gogo-‘boi’ underwear to Audioslave, Madonna, and David Bowie in my livingroom. Just like in the ads.

I am seriously considering moving around my time at work to fit some more said underwear dancing into my day.

Your time has come!

Le profond

Tonight Rachel and I went to Booches. When asked by the Michael Stipe impersonating waiter what I wanted to eat, I said, “I’ll have a Guinness”. I love buhr.

Later I’m going to practice some and then go riding on my bike into the dark. Or the unknown. “The unknown” sounds so much more poetic.

Suffragette City

So I have been a little incommunicado lately. Here’s the run-down:

When I woke up on Saturday morning, I heard a crow cawing outside my window. I hadn’t seen or heard a crow all summer, so I knew instantly this must be a very bad omen. A crow, really! How, biblical.

The power also went off on Saturday morning, so my computer was totally unfunctional and extremely fucked up. No internet makes nerds have *sad* faces. Should I blame XP or the power? Who knows, but since my bro works for the ‘great whore of Babylon’, aka Microsoft, I expect *heads* to roll. 4 days and $37.50 later, it works, but I am still bitter. Le sigh.

My car is also on the fritz. Battery or alternator? Hmm, I can change a tire, it’s true, but they ‘gheys’ aren’t too good with cars. So, I have to fix that before I can get my registration/license renewed. Which means, in the near future I get to deal with the DMV, or as I like to call it, ‘Satan’s asshole’.

I came home Monday to find my air conditioner leaking all over my kitchen floor, but the maintenance in my apartment fixed it within an hour, so after the week that I have been having, I was thanking god that there was someone competent left in the world.

Oh, and I hurt my hand working out on Tuesday, (and no Baron Flesh VonWintoor, I did not pull a muscle “pleasuring” myself, so you can get that idea right out of your head, you filthy Canadian hooker). So I basically couldn’t type, pick up things, or you know, do *anything* right-handed for 2 days.

A crow. The harbinger of doom.

Other than that, life is purr-fect. Craig’s 2nd wife is in town this week, and next week his 1st wife is town. And then his girlfriend is coming back to town. Good Lord, that pretty boy is a magnet for fag-hags (Ms Bees: stay away from my man or I will strangle you with your own pink fishnets).

So, sometime in the near future (I don’t even set deadlines anymore), I will post pictures from float trip, Kristin’s birthday, the house party at the brothel, my spring break, and naked sprinkler-soaked Ed pictures. Don’t hassle me about them, I already know that I am a Satanic lie-peddler, and will spend the rest of my life in procrastinator purgatory.

Love!

So, come up to the lab...see what's on the slab?

OMG. So much happening (none of it very exciting), but I am was too guilty to update because of me being a moron and repeatedly forgetting that I have film that the world needs to see. Here is some random musings:

Got my hair cut today, and listened to the old guy talk about “retards making violins”. He brought it up, because, being a good barber, when I told him I was a bio/music double major, he felt obligated to tell his one music story.

When people talk about music, it cracks me up. Basically because I think everyone’s taste is inferior because it isn’t mine.

Recent observations:
1)Haydn string quartets are more mundane than musak. I hates them.

2)Audioslave, although they will never be able to hold a candle to RATM, are all good musicians and made some pretty good material for their latest album.

3)Columbia NPR sucks a great deal of ass. KCOU (the pseudo-indie-college-emo station) however, is the only thing that keeps me from gouging out my eyes at work.

Craig and I have been talking about what we are going as for Halloween. He thinks that we should do batman and robin…for obvious reasons (I am kind of twinky and he is kind of Ken-doll). I have a much better idea though.

I think he should be Rocky, and I should be Dr. Frankenfurter. Unfortuntely, he does not like drag queens. [Edit: Alexis screaming "blasphemy!"]They don’t really hold a special place in my heart, but goddamn! Tim Curry has “nice stems”.

I see you shiver with antici…(say it!)…pation.

Later tonight, I am going to overcome my fears of swimming in quarries, as Craig and I will be skinny-dipping. The whole time I will be thinking, “This is the part of the movie when the gay guy gets killed.” Wish me luck.

Colorful clothing in the sun...

Tonight, after raucous dumpster diving, Rachel played an hours worth of Bach sonatas while I laid on her living floor looking through a clear plastic umbrella at the overhead light.

We were competing with the loud late summer cicadas whose screeching was a deafening roar outside her little house in the woods.

At particularly humorous moments, like a ridiculously prolonged sequence, or some surprising or unexpected harmonic progression, we both cackled like maniacs, clearly pleased with ourselves for finding Bach so entertaining.

I miss Rachel.

More updates soon, I promise. I am just waiting on pictures from my recent float trip, dumpster diving with Mirs, etc. Oh, and PS, I am getting my spring break pics developed, so you all can see my first view of the ocean. Or gulf.

Technicalities.