my head is lead; i don't ever want to go to bed. i just want to be a horse.
for job interview tomorrow. new energies.
also, this morning after the crazy man:
getting back into j-pop and k-pop big time, in preparation for my upcoming dj gigs. hahahahahahah i have dj gigs! back when i used to want to be a dj that was a thing. anyway. this is funny to become one without caring. settled on calling myself dj vVv.
click for full-size, mothafucka!
(transcribed post barring.)
currently writing this at twilight cafe, a “charming” bar on powell’s and around 12th. perhaps “charming” is not the word most people would choose but it is “real” in the worst of (musical guest and accompaniment) ways, which i actually respect. i don’t know if this is what most bars in this here fine country are like but it is most certainly punctuated by musical guests that grace the (worst) album covers we receive, the kinda thing i listen to two notes of then press delete on instantly. ah, so this is where they go.
there are at least, from this vatnage point, three patron (saints) standing at sympathetic — or possibly even real — attention. there is also a guitarist in the band who consistently ends every song with some meadly notes that are not at all impressive — but their inclusion is incredibly amusing. also they evidently sell ladies underpants (the band, not the bar.) selling line: “guys, if you have any ladies in your lives…” reminds me of when dear old nathan, oh lovely nathan, got me some kind of red hots or some other cinnamon candy underpants (red, yellow string?). snap.
(now updated in the present, which is 12:29am…)
not listening to ssaliva’s “drugged out quest”, though not wholly sure what i think of it, though it is interesting right now…
i have tipped my book this evening into a bunch of ketchup. it is reeking of ketchup presentlyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.
sample notes from the bar i took (troy’s in italics):
beer selection is pup
that’s good! and? the napkin
HAS A MAZE
anyway not much more to say.
think i might quit the vow of silence early because i don’t really think i’m learning that much.
we’ll see, though; tomorrow is a fairly social day.
fucking winter, man.
fucking holidays.
sooooo fat.
diet!!!
diet!!
diet!
looking at my recent past page of posts, it seems like there’s nothing that’s not about metaphysical mumbo-jumbo. rest assured there are actually some posts about normal things; they’re just private because they’re about relationship stuff and i wanna keep it to myself in case my boyfriend actually reads any of it (i don’t think he is reading this, though, or even know what the url is, but if so, hi troy! or as sherry said tonight as we were eating dessert — why rot! but then again, now that i’m actually looking at the spelling, it’s like totally wrong! shit!)
i’ve been back in the bay for a little over a week this time, and i barely left the house. kinda barely left the house last time, too, because i get such shit for leaving unless i just don’t explain what i’m doing! in any case. so yesterday and today was pretty much my only time that i actually got to hang with people for an extended period of time (that wasn’t holiday dinner). drove to napa to hang out with gina (surprisingly only a little over an hour; i somehow thought it was just the furthest place and really had no idea where it was) and had lunch with her sister and mom, then went to a coffee shop and had lots of metaphysical conversation with her friend ???? who might move to portland (seriously good conversation), and then drove to san francisco like two hours and a half late (because the conversation was so good) for cam’s pizza party and had a funny crush on his roommate and ate really good vegan pizza (daiya is fairly legit) and made a banana curry pizza and no one really was into it and thought it was “weird” — so unadventurous, guys!!! — and crap and shit and then today woke up at 7:00am because i had to pay for the meter then but had no godamn change and also i wouldn’t have been able to get back into cam’s apartment without waking him up ass early since it was in a locked building, so i just decided to drive to sunset where i would be interviewing an artist (got mad lost along the way), did a whole bunch of eavesdropping at a coffee shop (see post below) that was interesting because most of the crowd was older people reading newspapers {{ just got briefly interrupted by a half-hour phone call }} and it was like, man: 1) where did all you old people come from; 2) how come you guys are all reading newspapers, that’s crazy?? fast-forward. did interview for an hour-and-a-half and it went very well, met up with karla for a really rushed meal of vietnamese curry and salad stuff at mangosteen — totally good — met up with cam, gina, and gina’s mom at haight-ashbury and got mega bored of thrift shopping because they have some stores that specialize in like 20s, 30s, 40s-era stuff and all of that is well beyond me in terms of tastes i am interested in but gina is very slow at shopping, then went to meet up with phil and josh at the ferry building and watched them drink coffee and eat cookies. drove back with phil to the east bay, ate dinner with the mom and the sherry, and met up with xinlei for dessert. so fat. ughhh.
other than the past couple days, what i accomplished this time was basically a lot of writing, including b o o oo o o o oo o oo o o oko ok. all i wanna do is write, really.
goals for the 2012 new year, coming soon!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I AM SO FAT.
at the top of that list will be like, get in shape, jesus christ. but that’s everyone’s list, all of the time, but this is absurd. seriously.
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San Francisco, CA @ Java Beach (www.javabeachsf.com)
This seems like a fun thing to start doing since I’m at coffee shops all the time and love eavesdropping. This is just the snippets that fly in to me as I’m sitting in the corner of the room, not including the things I omitted because I was doing something else while they were happening. Will eventually be posted at http://www.ilovesocialexperiments.com 
Favorite is EASILY the “$” man.
———————————————————————————————————————–
CAST:
# chinese guy 1 (in mandarin)
> chinese guy 2 (in mandarin)
@ barista 1 (female, 20s)
> barista 2 (male, 60+)
^ barista 3 (female, late 20s)
& customer 1
$ customer 2 (male, on phone, 50+)
! customer 3
* customer 4
+ customer 5
( customer 6 (dad)
) customer 7 (kid)
= customer 8 (female)
———————————————————————————————————————–
-DIALOGUE:
# “going to seattle is okay, it’s easy; going the east coast is tiring.”
& “i don’t recall seeing a hot dog under five dollars”
> “can she speak chinese?”
# “every year my house and mom’s house and sister, we look for a place and live together. this year, we went to cambria… christmas valley… yeah yeah yeah… very beautful… drive to school, not twenty minutes…”
@ “jasmine green tea?”
# “it’s okay, now they’re older. her friends are all chinese. my daughter’s friends are all white. it’s different.”
> “there’s no chance.”
# “too tired.”
> “your mom…”
# “yeah at home… taiwan… two year prior…”
@ “gina?”
@ “thank you so much”
# “yes, they’re anticipating they can pass the new year and then come… my two sisters…”
> “actually, she’s just… working…?”
# “she’s at a power supply…”
$ “talking about… so… gotta go to chicago… you gotta go to…”
# “uc berkeley. renovate their stadium. she began working at uc davis. transfer…”
> “she can ride the train…?”
^ “so we got two or something?”
! “do you have an um, spinach crossaint, too?
^ “is it heated?”
$ “knish! i think if you got it for five bucks, you cut it in half…”
# “’97 marriage… ’95…”
$ “fresh… fresh… fresh-roasted knish! that’s why it’s a fresh-roasted knish! so we can have a uh, whatchamacallit… okay, so how you’ve got the fresh-roasted knish… uh… you’ve got the uh…”
* “design versus maintenance… bay area…”
$ “fresh… oven…”
$ “you have a popcorn machine… pizza oven… popcorn machine… you have… i think that would be enough… and then you can always put… garden salad. what’s the garden salad? whatever you want… salad… side salad…”
+ “scan it in.”
$ “i don’t think that you should wait…”
$ “where i work… but i’m saying, charge five dollars… it’s four dollars… make less than…”
$ “make it look like a… you’re good at this, you’re… yeah! you’ll be… you’ll get… hit the hammer… hit the… “
^ “… nathan please?”
$ “why don’t you give that cup back…”
^ “kyle? large double latte for kyle, please.”
$ “got a lot…”
# “quick…”
$ “lot of people…”
$ “what’s next? you’ve got chili fries. chili dogs. in a little cup. french fries like that… it looks more…
> “…basketball…”
$ “and if you want a mcdonald’s…”
> “a… a… running player. so i participated… a few years… for five years, s/he ran three…”
^ “… nathan?”
^ “nancy?”
( “thank you”
) “… dad”
# “i went and have left for half a year…”
# “start a party…”
# “at boeing. is doing…”
@ “darjeeling?”
# “conversation. passenger size…”
# “him and his wife… same as me… marriage…”
@ “large double mocha for kyle?”
# “’84… at that time, i knew my wife. he and his wife met at work… i went to japan to play… he went to japan for a second…”
@ “two bagels for daniel?”
@ “berry tea”
@ “nicole? four shot large latte”
$ “after that it was all over. those two guys… yeah.”
# “before no. before, my sister… afterwards… when i lived with jeff…”
# “lauren lived downstairs…”
= “my uncle…”
^ “she’s no hazelnut hun. she’s no hazelnut! she’s a regular.”
ACTUAL DATE OF TRAVEL: FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 16TH, 2011.
SMALL PICTURES WERE TAKEN BY ROSE ON HER IPHONE; LARGE PICTURES ARE MINE.
—
DENVER, COLORADO AND ITS SURROUNDING AREAS
When you’re on a cross-country road trip of such brutal proportions, a day off — any day off — just seems like absolute heaven. Such was the case our first full day of not having any driving responsibilities — we had a day off, being chauffeured around by Kathy and Ed, in Denver and its surrounding mountain town areas. What wonderfulness!
This is apparently me sleeping.
Kathy and Ed’s kitchen. I’m always glad there are other people around to take photos (especially Xinlei for a lot of the trips I go on with her) because, left to my own devices, I focus too much one miniatures and could really seriously care less about anything else…
Breakfast was super chill. Kathy had bought a quiche that was heated up (she’s not horribly amazing at cookery), and I stole some of Ed’s cereal (a non-sugary kind I had wanted to try for a while… but was not impressed, no no)… we ate outside on the patio, and it was super nice… got a good view of some little prairie dogs. Haha. Cutie patOoties!
Then we went to a state park called Roxborough, and it was right next to the famous Red Rocks Ampitheatre (which seriously looks like the most awesome place to see a show — right there next to The Gorge, if not better). Description on a Colorado parks website describes the place as, “More than 1.2 billion years of geologic time are represented by the spectacular red-rock formations found within Roxborough State Park, which is located southwest of Denver. Ecologically, the park is highly diverse as a result of its location in a transition zone between the plains and the mountains. The area’s geological structure has resulted in micro-climates that have produced seven distinct plant communities in a unique mixture of prairie and mountain species. As a result, Roxborough is home to abundant wildlife, including black bear, mountain lion and deer.”
It was about a half hour or maybe more drive to get there from Ed and Kathy’s house (which is actually located in Littleton, Colorado, which I believe was the site of Columbine). It was actually pretty crazy… I wouldn’t think it would matter that Denver is a mile high, but I am apparently so out of shape that slight inclines were initially me wearing me out. My body definitely got used to it after a little bit, but initially I couldn’t catch my breath and I was seriously like, “WHAT THE FUCK!!! HOW AM I THIS OUT OF SHAPE!?!!” I mean — I guess I am still out of shape cause I probably shouldn’t have been out of breath at all, but the fact that it’s a mile high makes it a LITTLE better. Very little, though. Pathetic. The image below is one Rose took, of a view from a teeny tiny little lookout point that took like 1 minute to walk to.
Having traveled so much, places always remind me of other places, and geographic formations always remind me of other geographic formations. This one reminds me of the formations at Cumbe Mayo in Cajamarca, Peru, just a little bit. I guess in some ways it’s funny to no longer be astounded by beauty in nature in such an extreme way, but at the same time, it’s not that it isn’t remarkable — it still is — but it is no longer remarkable in a way where I feel it necessary to constantly say aloud, “Oh my god, this is so beautiful!” but sometimes I forget that other people haven’t traveled nearly as much as I have, and that as a result, they still do need to say these things… sometimes I need to remind myself of that. It’s like with Burning Man, where everyone was like, “Your mind isn’t blown right now????” and I was just like, “No, this feels totally natural to me.” And it wasn’t that I wasn’t impressed by anything that was going on — I was — but nothing felt so incredibly foreign that it was constantly astounding me… it was just like, “Well, clearly this is a environment where anything goes, and here it all is, splayed out, and it is just going.” I guess there is nothing in the positive realm of things that people do that really blows my mind anymore; the things that blow my mind are more in terms of things that exist in the universe, or the really truly horrible things that people can do. I don’t consider this jaded, though… it just seems like… tolerant. But maybe is my skewed view. But anyway…
Well, we didn’t see many animals, though we did see a praying mantis that was sitting real pretty and nice… which is pretty cool, since I have never actually seen one before… it was just sitting there forever. Such beautiful things!
Apparently Colorado peaches are a big deal. Or at least this is what they kept telling us.
We later on went to the mountain town of Georgetown. Small mountain town with cute little tourist shops, fresh air, etc. Think it was very much reliant on tourism, and one of the shop owners mentioned to Kathy that the reason was coming to an end because the days were getting drearier.
We took a tour of a place called the Hotel De Paris, which was pretty interesting. We were not allowed to take photos inside, but the place had a really interesting history, with a founder (Louis Dupuy, though that was his fake name because he was running from the law in France or something) who knew nothing about architecture but a lot about business, and he did really clever things like saving money where it didn’t matter (in terms of striking visitors with a good impression) and spending money where it did matter. For example, he had these really ornate table legs on his dining room tables but when you lifted up the table cloths, the tables were just crappy wooden planks. Or he would get slightly mismatched objects that looked just close enough alike that no one would really notice unless they were really studying them in-depth. Clever dude. Also used a hotel to try and spread his ideas about good hygiene — through hand-washing, less people in an individual room, etc. Through the tour we learned that Coors Beer was founded around the same time and that they were contemporaries, and that Super 8 was also around at that time (but was much lower-class than this particular hotel). The lady who was giving us a tour totally had a crush on the dude posthumously — it was very obvious — and we all definitely got a kick out of that. Here’s a before and after shot of the place just because it’s interesting:
One of the shops, being hella senile and shit. I got a major, major kick out of the tennis balls. Major. Side note: As we were leaving this shop, Kathy destroyed one of Ed’s sunglasses, which I guess was like… the fifth one she’d destroyed in a couple months or something. Not sure how the woman even does it!
The Trading Post was a cute little shop there. The store owner was a cute little man. He got really excited about taking a photograph of us and dressing us up. This picture below frightens me a lot because I feel like I look like Yee-Ma. Lord fucking god.
There was this really cool antique shop and bookshop in town where I found an excellent book (I read the first few pages and definitely needed it; don’t remember what it was, but it was about travel and one guy’s adventures, basically, and it was a very, very old book…). I thought it was $15.00 or something, which was cheap, a splurge for me because I didn’t need it. Turns out it was actually $45.00, and the $15.00 was a leftover remnant. The shop owner said that they liked to keep those older prices of the books on the books because it spoke to the book’s legacy, and I really liked that. They had wonderful books in there. When I explained to Rose the situation and why I didn’t buy it, she said, “They didn’t honor that?” and I said that it made sense that they wouldn’t… and she said something like, “You’re a good person,” which is the strangest response to that thing because to me, that’s just what makes sense…
On the way back to Littleton, we stopped by another little town, but again, there wasn’t so much except for a little town and some shops. And apparently a pizza joint that is totally the jam, but we didn’t really eat at it (constant abstinence from food, I’m tellin’ ya!). Not sure what makes a Colorado pizza a Colorado pizza, though. I’d be curious to find out sometime. Then we went back to the place and ate some roasted veggies, bean dip, tortillas, etc. that Kathy had bought the previous day, and it was like, presto! Instant meal from a bunch of pre-made things! But it was good, and there was some fucking jamming queso, hah. NOMMMMMMMMMMMMM.
After it got later, Rose and I wandered downtown and just wandered. Here are some of the things we found…
13th and Sherman St. I’m not at all interested in this mural. What I am interested in (but we did not get to eat at) is this vegan and vegetarian restaurant right next door to it, called City O’ City… it was so nice-looking and so hoppin’… then again, Denver was just a hoppin’ place, in general…
This is a truck next to a show we walked by, which I knew Troy would kill me for not going to… George Clinton and Parliament Funk! AND IN DENVER? I’m sure it woulda been fucking awesome. Unfortunately, it was also like $45. A dude in line who answered my question about what it was insisted that we should go, and I mighta, but the price was just a bit too steep for the two of us.
Denver’s downtown area (pictured above) was just in general kind of rad. Here were some of the extremely large-scale installations found there, that again, makes stupid Seattle’s Sculpture Park seem just so dumb… (someday I’ll get over how much that thing sucks…)
After going downtown, we visited Gypsy House Café (1279 Marion St.) a bit north from downtown Denver. IT HELLA RULED. Man. If I had this in my town I would DEFINITELY go there everyday. I’m talking… normal bookworms, Muslim women, gothic kids galore. It was fucking fascinating. And they had hookah. And they had a super vegetarian-friendly menu. Shit ruled so hard. I think there was a venue attached to it in the back (where I suspect some kind of goth show was going on??) but I can’t really be sure.
Anyway. I eavesdropped on a LOT of conversation, mostly on our peer-aged Muslim gal pals who were talking a LOT about makeup, and one of them was talking about how she went canoeing fully covered but pulled her head veil back because, “A hijab tan is the worst thing ever.” I thought that was just the most hilarious thing… they also talked a lot about how people would welcome them to the United States after they said they were from Colorado, even though they were born in the States, just because people wouldn’t believe them. Bum deal.
This is a sign found in their bathroom. Fun one.
After working at Gypsy House Café for a good hour-and-a-half or something, we decided to go onto Larimer Square, which Ed had said would be a “happenin’” part of town… and it definitely was, though in a frat boy-y kinda way.
What we ran into on the way there was fucking Denver’s OKTOBERFEST! We were clued in by this really horrible metal-punk-Irish band, complete with accordion, but even more obnoxious than one might ever expect from a band like The Dropkick Murphys, even. God, that shit just doesn’t work for me and just never has, though I applaud their efforts… I guess…
My eyes were definitely popping out of my head when I saw these marshmallow treats, and I was definitely wondering, “WHAT THE FUCK!?! WHY DON’T OTHER PEOPLE USE OTHER KINDS OF CEREAL THAN RICE KRISPIES FOR MARSHMALLOW TREATS? GENIUS!!!” I mean, it’s not that novel of an idea really but it so is, too… I think I need to combine my newfound love for Peanut Butter Puffins (seriously, the best thing ever…) and make marshmallow treats using those… omg omg omgogmaogmoamgoagmoagmoamg. I am already pre-dying with taste satisfaction. RECIPE FORTHCOMING ZOMG. OMG AND I CAN ADD SOME BANANA TOO HOLY SHIT.
The rest of Oktoberfest is what one might expect: a bunch of drunken idiots milling about. But everyone seemed to be in high spirits, extremely friendly, and bro-y, but in a different way from the usual bro. They were all like skater-snowboard bros, which is a more tolerable kind of bro (and which, up until recently, I hadn’t really considered a bro, but they are bros in other people’s eyes, I guess). MM-HMM. Yeah, I’m kind of a boring counterpart to these kinds of things just because I don’t like, party. Or drink. So I just kind of sit, and for some people, it’s weird to go to a bar with me as I do not drink or whatever. 
With multiple people it’s fine, but with just one person, it’s sometimes like, well, might as well not.
Along the way back, we passed one of many marijuana dispensaries, but this one is particularly dope because it’s built out of an old gas station. Caaaamoooonnn. That totally rules…
Anyway, got sidetracked there. This was just a funny thing we happened upon walking by a tall skyscraper building… and both of us did a double-take — for good reason, obviously.
That was pretty much the end of the evening. Crawled home and back to bed.
ACTUAL DATE OF TRAVEL: THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 15TH, 2011.
SMALL PICTURES WERE TAKEN BY ROSE ON HER IPHONE; LARGE PICTURES ARE MINE.
—
SALT LAKE CITY
Woke up! Breakfast at home in Salt Lake City, where mom CSer made an awesome egg scramble (apparently the only thing she can really cook). God, I hate American breakfast, generally speaking! I just don’t ever wanna pay for that shit!
[ROSE'S TUMBLR CAPTION: "Bright n early, up n Adam" -- hehe, she said Adam...]
So, I’ve been ridiculously fascinated by supermarkets since Sherry and I started exploring the shit out of them on our international vacations, and domestic supermarkets are not exempt from this. This particular morning was spent stopping at many a supermarket (the first of which Rose did not visit because she was busy being sick-feeling? Or cranky? I forget). I should also note that here is where I first purchased a puff-grained cereal (an Egyptian grain largely unchanged since it was first cultivated — or so I read) called KAMUT. It wasn’t my first time purchasing KAMUT, but it became an on-going love because it is quite the texturally-satisfying food. That and we kind of evolved the word “kamut” to mean a million and one things… but mostly… you can say “kamut” with different influxes in speech and it will represent your different moods. BEHOLD, THE KAMUT!!
(Seriously, though… the texture is amazing! Imagine rice puffs but with a texture more akin to a marshmallow; it kind of melts into your mouth with your spit!)
This one is Emigration Market, the second supermarket stop. It was like, the most amazing supermarket ever, and we stumbled upon it while taking a weird route to the freeway (had Rose gotten her pipe dream of visiting an In-N-Out — as the chain had recently extended its bounds to Utah — then we would have missed it… buuuuuut she decided not to go because it was slightly out of the way, and so we got here ). [SIDE NOTE: I'm writing this in NYC's Lower East Side right now, at Jeanette's apartment. It is 4:45am. Man, there are the gnarliest sounds outside of here, always.]
It was a former local grocery store called Emigration Market which had been taken over by a larger chain called Harmon’s, but they kept much of the unique aspects of it intact (I guess).
And we were greeted by John, Chief Financial Officer, pictured below… who gave us a coupon for a free loaf of bread, which I voted we exchange for a white chocolate walnut bread which was FUCKING INCREDIBLE. They also allowed you to slice your bread in different widths (we went with a “10″, whatever that means) — and that was kind of the most incredible thing. Even more incredible, though, is that the store had JUST opened the previous day, so we were seeing it at the height of people being excited, super nice, and very, very busy! It was amazzzzzzzzing. That place is the jam. I would shop there all the time if it were in my town. It would be out all. No contest!!!!!!!!!! But yeah. John. He’s the jam and isn’t that portrait just the face of jolliness?!!! But seriously. I want a bread that I can slice to the #5 mark cause that’s just godamn incredible, bitches.
The salad bar at Emigration Market, which Rose was endlessly fascinated by because it had sushi. And who can blame her?
—
BETWEEN SALT LAKE CITY AND DENVER, PASSING THROUGH WYOMING
[ROSE'S TUMBLR CAPTION: "Approaching Wyoming on the way to Denver"]
As Rose was sleeping for the majority of Wyoming, she woke up to some boring parts of it and concluded that Wyoming is the most ugly state. I kept getting mad about this because Jackson Hole and Yellowstone are in Wyoming and I totally like the state. Plus we only saw the south end of it where nothing in particular is fucking going on, and it’s just stereotyping the poor state!!!!! I had to fight on Wyoming’s behalf many a time (which is probably inherently totally pointless because who needs to defend a state’s honor, really) before she started prefacing the story of, “Wyoming is really ugly,” with, “granted we only saw part the Southern part of it…” I WIN. (BUT NOT REALLY AT ALL.)
Perhaps the biggest bummer, for me, lied in this hilarious thing called Little America. There were signs for it like 100 miles out, and I had been driving like two hours, so I was desperately awaiting its arrival so that I could stop driving. Waiting, waiting, waiting. Finally it emerged…
[ROSE'S TUMBLR CAPTION: "Arriving at the much anticipated little America"]
Little America was oh-so-American. It was really just a gross little place that served a highly-advertised 99-cent ice cream cone (of the not-really-ice-cream-but-weird-flavored-ice-variety akin to that of McDonald’s), hamburgers, and hot dogs, and sold just the worst little knick-knacks and trinkets that you would expect from any Montana or Wyoming tourist shop; I’m talking instant soup mixes, emblazoned spoons, shaped rocks, and everything your grandma that loves to hoard newspapers could ever want.
[ROSE'S TUMBLR CAPTION: "Good ol merican lunch"]
The second building, though, was depressing in a wholly different way. Think a dimly-lit Midwest diner remnant lacking any of the pep and step that you would want in any diner; imagine a Shari’s but even more dimly lit, with the only patron — a husk of a man — sitting on a stool just barely alive enough to sip his coffee. A waitress who has lived long beyond her glory days mills about, wiping down counters that probably don’t need wiping, standing next to curiously saran-wrapped doughnuts that can’t possibly be fresh, displayed like artifacts under glass casings. And let’s not discount the equally worthless gift shop that was attached to it, with the combination of all of these things making even the most jaded of Americans a sudden patriot, because we’re not all this pathetic, godammit, Uncle Sam!
Little America was, I guess, named after some complex {?} some guy had established on Antarctica. I don’t know the whole story anymore, but it was something about how some dude had been freezing in the cold winter in Wyoming and it reminded him of being in Antarctica, and he decided he would come back and establish a hotel where people could be warm amidst such frozen Midwest tundras. I’m sure Little America was quite a glorious establishment in its time, but the glory hath since fadeddddddddd! Faded and given way to the most banal and messy gas station that we were afforded the un-luxury of seeing the entire trip.
I guess this stuffed penguin was some sort of artifact to commemorate the Antarctica connection.
Luckily, before we got into that building we had some fun with the statues outdoors… riding buffalos and chasing dinosaurs.
Rose mentioned something about this thing being a cow. To which I responded, “It’s a buffalo, dude.”
This is the Sinclair gas station dinosaur!!! LOVE HIM!
[ROSE'S TUMBLR CAPTION: "Double teaming the Dino"]
Wyoming! And she calls this ugly! P’shaw!
At a gas station stop somewhere after Little America, there were a series of foothills and brush in the near distance that I really wanted to get all up in. Climbed it for a bit, and it was a bit reminiscent of the small hills at Capaddoccia — extremely tiered and very easy to climb. Same coloration of stone, too. I ambled through the brush as Rose stayed down near the gas station, and got pretty high — and would have climbed higher — but felt rude for making her wait. I would very much liked to have just chilled out there for a second, though, as it was the first time being able to get into nature for the road trip, and I just love to do a meditation atop a random unsuspecting rock formation… the last one I had done was in New Mexico, and it was ever a mystical time… but yeah, since I was alone and didn’t want to make her wait, I climbed to the top and barely got to soak it in before I came back down. Did see a TON of what I think were rabbit pellets, though. TONS! The brush was kinda high and I was slightly worried about snakes, but I think twas not the season for them anyway.
Some man was collecting horns in his backyard around where I climbed the foothills.
From sundown the previous night, in the park, Rose had gotten all of these mosquito bites… these are what happened after she scratched the shit out of them. For once, I got a couple and RESISTED from scratching the shit out of them!! And did not turn into potato arm/leg/face! I must say that I was quite proud of myself because resistance to scratching mosquito bites is not something I am very good at.
Before we got to Denver, Rose really was hungry and we stopped by a Mexican restaurant. I don’t remember what I ate, but I didn’t need it.
[ROSE'S TUMBLR CAPTION: "don't tell me what to do! If I want to choke to death I will!" -- yes, I did say that, as a sassy joke, though I don't know why anymore...]
[ROSE'S SUMMARY OF DAY THREE: "wilded out at a rad grocer & had quiche, lasagna & tortelini for breakfast.(yes I am half Italian). Wyommings interesting at the edges but otherwise has a likeness to the default windows 98 bkg. Drove past Denver, staying w some nice folks near the columbine shootings. Most surprisingly awesome goes to Utah, & the opposite title to Cheyenne. Can't wait for tomorrow, were taking the whole day off."]
—
DENVER
Finally arrived in Denver, rather later than initially anticipated. We were slightly out of it and I got the house wrong, and we knocked on the neighbor’s door. Could hear some rustling behind the door, the TV blaring, and a woman’s voice yelling, “Bobbbb? There’s someone at the door.” We waited a moment of the door to open, and it never did, so we just backed away… meanwhile, Ed said that he had happened to come out, saw our car, thought to himself, “This has to be them!” but saw no one around so he went back into his house, hyper-confused. We later appeared and solved the mystery for him!
Anyway, Kathy and Ed had a really great guest room with a king-sized bed, all made up for us and ready to go. We unfortunately got there way later than initially intending to, which was maybe inconvenient for them. Kathy had just gotten back from a month-long stint working at an army base in a nearby town (she is a military psychological counselor) and was super exhausted. It’s interesting — she basically takes people’s profiles in half-hour increments. But how much can you really get to know someone in half an hour? She said a lot of soldiers are just basically like, “I’m fine, ma’am,” and say nothing more, whereas others, I guess [?] say a lot more. But anyway. We just talked with them a little bit and then went to bed that evening. Big day ahead of us, of hiking (thank god, after two days of sitting in the car being glued to seats. Blargh!) But yeah, it was my first shower of the road trip, and that was, of course, quite a nice and lovely luxury.
… but i just slightly spooked. i was walking home from northside festival in brooklyn, to the lower east side of manhattan, around 12:30am. it wasn’t even that late, and there was plenty of thru-traffic. buuuut.
the williamsburg bridge splits into two parts about halfway through: one side for pedestrians and one side for bikers. towards the williamsburg end, the two lanes merge right now because of construction. i am walking in this section, ever slowly… and people are biking by in great number, generally ignoring me. some pay attention, though, in the form of one kissy face, complete with smacking sounds, and a couple who look me up and down. generally no big deal. then comes this dude. black dyed hair. gothic. scraggly. older. boombox attached to the front of his bicycle (??).
dude bikes by from the opposite direction, eyeballing me all the while. i see him slowing down as he is passing me, so i half-turn to see what he does. he flips around then gets off his bike. i see him look up and down the bike lane to see if anyone else is coming. there is another biker coming, but pretty far off in the distance. it just so happens we are in the section of the bridge where the pedestrian and biker lanes split once again. he gets off his bike and sits at the entrance of the pedestrian area, looking as though he is waiting for me. i mean. it’s kind of really obvious. i mean, EVERY move he’s made ever since he initially passed by me was really obvious, even though he probably thinks quite the opposite. he smells like alcohol; i smelled it as soon as he started heading towards the pedestrian area.
he lets two people pass; they don’t know each other but are walking extremely closely together. there are no other pedestrians for as far as the eye can see, and the eye can see pretty far at this point. i realize that if i am to now go down the pedestrian path, it could easily be just me and him for another mile. there is a great gap separating the bike and pedestrian paths, and most likely, no one in the bike lane would notice if anything were to happen anyway.
after the pedestrians pass, he puts on GLOVES. i don’t know what the hell that even means, but that may be the most chilling detail of all. all the while, i’m waiting in the bike lane to see what he does. i say aloud, “what are you doing??” to no one in particular, as i watch him from behind a grating.
finally, he comes to me while half-riding his bike, eyeballing me up and down again. he says, “no bike? no skates?” in an almost mocking, sneering manner. i say no. i then ask him why he is waiting for me, and he said that his friend was following him and he is merely waiting for his friend. i don’t believe him for a bloody second.
and i think this next action probably blew his mind, but i decided to defy all the “rules” and walk down the bike lane. he did not follow. i studied the face of every future biker to pass; i am quite certain none of them were his friends.
narrowly avoided catastrophe.
like i said…
i’m probably the least paranoid person ever…
but something was absolutely definitely 100% amiss there.
dee-sss-gusss-teeng.
i’m listening to… the zombies.
—
i thought this week would be a piece of cake! i suppose it is in the conventional regard but i was telling robby, “oh sure! i can meet up anytime this week!” but that turned out to be a huge ball of lie as this week, which had seemed so very free, in fact was not… for starters there are like, three friends’ birthdays this week, one of which will probably be celebrated twice, and it’s just all around “aaaaaaaaaaghhhhhhhhhhh!!!” insanity!!
but you know, whatever.
there has been an all-time high use of that thing we call mary jane at our home because shawn is out of town on the east coast and austin is living in his place. austin is quite a fan of such, and rose and sarah have been coming over to hang, and andrew is quite a fan of such, too… so it’s an all-around… smokery mess… the household dynamic is ever-interesting. man. not gonna lie. been paying only minimal attention to all of the responsibilities i should probably be taking care offffffff in terms of redefine. i mean. i’m doing a bunch of shit but there’s a never-ending amount of additional shit to do which has been neglected ;s need more hours in the day…
anyway. i really want to not write right now because it takes time but i think i need to.
life is been unbelievable in terms of synchronicities this year, as i have already been talking about, but it’s kind of at an all-time high, particularly since i started realizing it. gawsh, i hope our minds are not literally just our minds and that all of THIS is not some elaborate fantasy. it’d be quite elaborate and quite fascinating that a mind could construct such butttttttttttt. yeah.
the past few days have been non-stop philosophical conversation, to the point of some serious, serious life reflection… in this… mind-numbing, all-of-this-is-way-too-big-for-us-to-possibly comprehend type fashion. the other night after watching “pi,” rose and austin and i were talking outside on the porch and they were totally on the extreme frOo-frOo spiritual side of things, making me feel like this scientific extremist even though i’m not. blake was passed out on the couch so he was not able to join the discussion which was too bad, because they were just like, “i feel so much!” and i was like, “what the fuck!!” i wasn’t angry, but it was a very like, involved discussion… but in either case, it was interesting because there were these points that kept coming up that they were saying but that blake had said other nights… for example… they were talking about how it would be great to change education in a way that taught children how to rely on emotions and intuition… whereas the other night, blake was talking about how it would be great to change humanity by teaching people to reason and think logically. so fucking weird these polarizations, and hearing both sides, and being essentially the mediator of these sides that stand in stark contrast to one another… it’s kind of maddening. actually, i think my body is pretty pissed at me and is really stressed out. i really want to stretch non-stop…
anyway, another portion of our conversation was brought up by austin, who said that perhaps a solution to some of life’s problems of extreme emotions was turning to this buddhist way of thought… by clearing the mind of thought so that one could think about nothing until an emotion passed… because emotions supposedly only last a short amount of time. to this, i was like WHAT THE FUCK THAT MAKES NO SENSE. and i was trying to argue it from the standpoint that firstly, you couldn’t clear your mind completely really, and even if you did… it would not be at all useful in a modern world because the thought that were bothering you would probably just re-emerge like 5 minutes later, and what could you possibly do? clear your mind non-stop every 5 minutes? it’s simply not practical.
(man… side note… i haven’t had the impetus or time to listen to ANY new music. it’s a fucking problem, seriously…)
what else did we argue about… back to the emotional teaching model of thinking… they were both saying how it would be great if we could teach people to properly emote because that would solve all the problems, and i thought that that was missing the point entirely; teaching someone to rationalize was one thing… scary potentially, yes, but more possible than teaching someone emotion because we have absolutely no grasp on emotions… the prospect of teaching people how to emote is WAY scarier than the prospect of teaching people how to think logically. i don’t know if it is was cause they were stoned (probably a contributing factor) but this line of thinking was rather maddening to me, and again, it was like, “GODAMMIT BLAKE WAKE UP CAUSE I FEEL LIKE AN EXTREME SCIENTIST WHEN REALLY I’M JUST PRETTY MIDDLE OF THE ROAD AND THEY ARE FAR FAR FAR IN LEFT FIELD!”
anyh00t. they were also talking about how teaching emotional awareness would lead to the solving of the earth’s problems, that humans would stop destroying the world around us and realize that we are all connected to everything around us and we should therefore take care of it… and i ended up taking this stance that everything is ultimately selfish, from every human to every tree that is struggling simply to live… and that the trees were not destroying things not because they didn’t want to but because they literally did not have the faculties. that they couldn’t even consider destroying everything because they don’t have godamn arms and shit. they brought up that chimpanzees were similar to people and that they didn’t destroy the earth like we do, and i had to say that they do, that they war and fight against one another, and would probably do more only they don’t have the tools to do so… that we destroy because it’s in our nature, to a degree, and because we have the faculties to do so… they seemed to take on a super pessimistic viewpoint, but only of humanity, saying that it is only humans who sets out to destroy all things, and that all other beings in life work together to help each other. austin talked about how there’s evidence that cells group together and work together to help each other and that animals do too (? i don’t know details and he didn’t say specifics ?) and i had to be like, “wtf, human beings do all sorts of great things and work together on all sorts of great things!” to which rose was like, “like what?” (?!) and i was like, “what do you mean like what? look at this fucking fence! it’s fucking great!” it ended up being a point in my argument that human beings, even with the best of intentions — even if instilled with love of the earth — intrinsically need to create and by creating end up creating waste… that we destroy the earth by virtue of being curious and having large enough of brains! i don’t know why this argument even needed to be argued! it seems like a no brainer!!! again, being stoned probably didn’t help them with their thinking, but!! aaaghhh! maddening!!!
MADDENINGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG.
other than that, went to sauvie’s island this past weekend with rose and blake for the first time, which was quite nice. ugh, i’m sleepy. it’s midnight-thirty, and i have oh-so-many errands to run tomorrow. i think i will actually be able to wake up early and get everything i need to fucking do fucking done, yo.
ugh. i actually wanted to write down a why-life-is-so-fucking-crazy-this-year type equation or list of events but this is going to take a while. i will try to summarize quickly.
january > sucked, essentially, haha. got better towards the end, but what-in-the-hell-ever.
febuary > started realizing some interesting coincidences and feeling a different kind of energy. horoscope lineups and all sorts of synchronicities. psyching oneself out on the amazingness of life, generally-speaking.
march > everything everything everything seemed to go flawlessly, effortlessly well. mysterious energies, again, found in things like horoscopes, tarot, etc. interest in duality, stemming a lot from literature, in re-readings of vladimir nabokov, in aldous huxley and related things… slight bent on spirituality, though spirituality from a very concretely written point of view… not entirely frou-frou, but grounded in a pretty solid kind of way (other than baudelaire). all of these books which pointed in this direction were attained rather synchronicitously, baudelaire by random excursion into a borders bookstore that was closing down; aldous huxley by random trip to a bookstore in new mexico; etc. comparisons between baudelaire and metaphysics, symmetry in asymmetry, order in chaos… influenced my writing a lot, lots of pattern-based writing and careful attention to structures… as if i didn’t do that enough already, ugh, but baudelaire kind of contributed a lot more to that…
april > bit the butt in many ways. spent a month alone contemplating the concept of duality. every piece of literature i read — particularly charles baudelaire — began to shape my reality more and more, and interesting that i only probably became interested in baudelaire because of troy… and all the more interested because “it”: a) didn’t work out; b) gave me a lot of introspection in a period when i spent all my time by myself in california. timing could not have been better. seriously. picked up book by sartre, in the only place i could find it, which was the dublin library. read it and the timing was perfect. being by myself in california, had the occasion to begin writing my own book, highly inspired by sartre’s nausea… slightly philosophically, but more in structure and writing style. again, the whole troy thing lighting a fire under my creative ass…
may > began noticing dualities between metaphysics and spirituality… something kind of intrinsically felt in my life but difficult to explain as i barely know anything about either… kind of just a feeling. continue writing book. continue exploring such concepts through conversations. finding a close duality in another human being that makes for some senses of knowledge-completion. two sides of the same coin, both providing me with viewpoints — literature, one, with a focus on poetry; science, two, with a focus on philosophy… both equally abstract, but not to them… but very obvious to me, as a middle-of-the-roader, and the timing is just sheer insanity, and the parallels between the two even larger insanities. in addition to that parallel, though, it all just kind of clicked one night at a party, being sandwiched between a spiritual-minded individual and a science-minded individual, both with quite similar ideas, via different terminology and interpretations. but again. me = middle of the road.
june > conversations intensifying with themes of duality, but moreso this exploration between metaphysics / physics and spirituality… things practically falling into my lap. books being introduced which address the idea of parallels between quantum-level physics and spirituality, lectures and quotes coming up without my even looking…. and this month has only just begun. i resolved a couple days ago to begin dedicating myself, in a way, to studying this topic and trying to synthesize the information in a meaningful way because i know not what else i can do with these topics which keep coming up. i am trying to find the connection between intuition and rationalization — in what ways they are two sides of the same coin. errrf, i guess i am trying to explore the relationship between quantum-level physics and spirituality, via philosophy and literature. what.
hopefully these notes make sense. fuck.
probably will make sense to very few people.
the coincidental power… i don’t know what to do with it.
i think my body is not stoked. i feel suuuuuuuuuper stressed out, my thyroid is super swollen, and oh yeah, i think i can never smoke mary jane again. seriously. it makes me feel like shit — about myself, the universe, etc.
:>>> :>>> :>>>
but yeah here is the problem with studying this stuff; a scientist is largely isolated from religion, a religious person largely isolated from science. the idea is to find the cross-over… i am looking for patterns by loosely studying both ends, and then the goal is to interview the proper people to find more parallels and patterns. fuck. this seems fucking like a crazy undertaking… there are very few human beings to talk to about this, honestly.
—
lenny: (about above)
it makes sense
but i have a hard time relating that to the world i guessme:
i can understand that
i can barely relate
just kind of happened
as, if you believe in this kind of bullshit, happens..lenny:
like, what exactly happens to make you realize stuff like this exists
i dont even know what the stuff i’m referring to isme:
i dont know man. this year i just started feeling this really weird way like everything was working out really well
and then throguh books that were introduced
these ideas just came up
and then kept going
so i guess it started with intrinsic feeling and got solidified by knowledge shared by other people which vibed similarly with feelings i was unexplainably feeling
whoa.
this is a new idea i hadnt thought of.lenny:
im still pretty lost
what kind of ideas?me:
let me give you some quotes
ok so life was going really well
effortlessly well
in feb/march
to the point where im like… this is barely life… life cant be this easy
and then i read this book. and this quote kinda describes how i felthttp://hellomynameisvee.tumblr.com/post/4218407856/from-the-french-window-i-walked-out-under-a-kind
it’s like pseudo-spiritual, kinda, but not like super out there… pseudo-spiritual but in a really concretely written literary way
this was only a jump-off point
and from there i just read a LOT and all of these ideas seemed to like
converge.
and a lot fo the books i didnt even look for, i mean i kind of did by the sheer act of going to bookstores and looking at books
but they just happened to be there and appealed to me for whatever vague reasons
and then meeting two people who are very similar in many ways and i have very similar relationships with… yet are complete opposites of people in a lot of ways and opened up two worlds for me: (1) world of abstraction through writing and literature; (2) world of abstraction through philosophy
and also these meetings/intense connections being rather chance in and of themselves…
and fleeting
as though used only for the purpose of gathering knowledge
does this make a lick of sense hahalenny:
yeah the idea of it makes sense
like i get what youre saying
that recently youve been having these eye opening experiences and synchronicites in your lifeme:
yeah i mean i can understand how it’s hard to realte
like a year ago i woulda been like wtf
but that’s the thing with these weird kinda spiritual things
they jut like
… pop up
and then it’s like oh i kinda get it
or something
so they’re kind of hard to explain by nature
i re-entered the world with the phrase >>>
in all things : patterns
such a construct is artistic, and simultaneously mathematical and spiritual… a grouping of things i am constantly trying to balance.
my current situation being what it is — relative perfection — springs forth to mind so many thoughts. hell, i can scarcely believe that anything at all along the lines of what is happening is in fact happening, but beyond that, it all causes my logical mind and my emotional mind to conflict in this completely boggling way… as in, breaking down of the possibilities which ultimately govern the series of events… here are what i’ve come up with, on a strange spectrum…
> completely spiritually divine, to sort itself as time and circumstance deem appropriate;
> misplaced, not as accurately well-paired as it seems;
> right-place-at-the-right-time, where two people just happen to be on the exact same page at the exact same time.
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!
i’m listening to... crustation with bronagh slevin.
i have a million events to plan and such and i want nunnnnnaaaaaeeet. hard to pay attention. maybe it’s the weather… maybe it’s more general… dude, i have no idea… .. . i just know that i lit a fire under my own ass two nights ago and now it’s gone already… it’s just the whole… “i feel like i have it in the bag!” thing, only to discover that the bag disappeared. (the bag disappearing being fucked up shit with the event i’m throwing in new york… ughhhhh. cryptacize.)
—
[about last night...] >>> a draft which will be changed out later…
It was one A.M., and I was returning to my bicycle after a midnight lunch date with my friend Blake, who works night shifts. We had just had a deep conversation about ethics and the social responsibilities of individuals who wish to do right in the world, and I was feeling pensive. It took me a second to realize a man had abruptly emerged to my right, walking with me along my route. He apologized for his stealth and for startling me; I responded with, “It’s cool, man.” He in fact had not startled me, so lost in thought I was.
Dressed in multi-colored layers of sweatshirts and vests, the man was quite obviously homeless. He dove right in, the first words out of his mouth being rants. But he stated them in a way that was more like a camp counselor animatedly telling tales than of complete nutcases screaming obscenities, and I felt no fear. Gesturing slightly behind us, he shared, “That woman is insane!” but I saw no woman behind us; in fact, I saw no one behind us. The question, then, was whether he had pulled a woman from his mind’s fiction, or whether he had encountered her quite long ago and bitterly sustained the memory until he was finally able to release it upon another unsuspecting soul. Unbeknownst to me at the time, that question would reemerge throughout the conversation, as I debated whether the events he described were truly myth or reality.
As we passed Powell’s bookstore, he discovered a clove on the ground and picked it up, all the while verbally announcing that he didn’t particularly care for cloves but wanted a smoke. He was kind enough to ask me if I was a smoker, though these were only slight tangents from his life story, which he simply couldn’t share quickly enough. Through his rapid-fire reveals, I gathered that he had formerly been a Merchant Marine who found it abominable that a ship was docked in the city’s port without the proper permits, the boat’s mere existence supposedly a threat to the health of the water in the surrounding area. He also mentioned had recently been picked up by the police for trespassing, and had subsequently been driven thirty miles out of town to a jail, where he had to pay more than two hundred dollars to leave. Everything he spoke of was tangential, like fragments radiating outwards to smaller and smaller ends. Continuity was minimal, each varying exploration into a different subject matter criss-crossing with any number of the others, weaving a stringy mess of webbed information that my brain could barely comprehend, much less provide proper documentation of.
I soon discovered his name was Shermann — with two N’s, as he was quick to point out. Shermann seemed a proper man. His mind was without a doubt deteriorating, but his spirit seemed intact. At no point was he rude — generally quite the opposite, in fact. He questioned me about myself as though he actually cared, and surprisingly, he remembered when I told him that I was Chinese and that I had an older brother. Humorously, he questioned how my brother would like me talking to a white guy, and I could only say, “It’s cool, man; we grew up in a white neighborhood,” and he replied, “Oh okay,” but later made the same ludicrous point, insinuating that my brother would probably beat him up for being a white man who was wasting my time. He incorrectly assumed — firstly, that I lived with my brother; secondly, that my brother would give a shit; thirdly, that my brother would at all think Shermann was trying to date me if he were to see the two of us together.
Shermann also apologized on numerous occasions for wasting my time. But though he would apologize, he would again resume speaking, perhaps because he needed to; at one point, he noted that he simply needed someone to talk to about his problems — though not in so many words. Instead, he chose to spend his word usage in ways my mind cannot even begin to comprehend or recall. Shermann spouted off so much advanced terminology that I was unsure of whether he was crafting new words on the fly or rehashing bits of knowledge he had explored in the distant past. By mixing in scientific — or pseudo-scientific — terminology with sociolinguistic garble and themes as widely varied as conspiracy theories, government figureheads, and space shuttle landings, everything was confused diction evading all dictation.
I was left baffled. What did I know concretely? Shermann had mentioned that he was a former Merchant Marine, that the government had left his veteran self without financial aid, and that he was trying to make his way back to Idaho Falls by way of a job he had just attained for moving concrete at a rate of $15 an hour. All of these things seemed unequivocally true, but the things he mentioned outside of himself begged one to dissect Shermann’s life.
After discovering I was Chinese and could read some Chinese characters, Shermann pulled a Chinese newspaper from his bag. Cigarette burns had burned off faces of realtors and other advertisers, but to Shermann, these faces he had burned did not belong to realtors; they belonged to political figureheads of Korean descent whom he had known personally — though they were clearly in a Chinese newspaper, their names Chinese, to boot.
He wished for me to decode the newspaper for him, but my skills were lacking. He proceeded to dissect the content for me. He had fashioned many a tale despite not being able to read the text; from the photographs, he had crafted fully-encapsulated back stories. A photo of a man swathed in military garb inspired a list of names — John F. Kennedy, Dwight D. Eisenhower, and so on — with hints towards conspiracies. He questioned me about the names by posing questions without roots; I had no idea what his goals were, but knew only that he was asking questions from the intonations in his voice. Being as ignorant of presidential knowledge as I am, I had little stock with which to answer to his gubernatorial inquiries, but I did vaguely catch one point, where he was, I believe, asking me whether it was a grand idea for one to sue the government for leaving veterans behind. But even this line of questioning was difficult to ascertain, for there was no clear end and no beginning, thematic continuity dissolving in his head just as soon as he spoke of it.
The culmination of narrative bliss, though, lied on the back cover of the newspaper. There, a full-color spread with plenty of photographs highlighted a space shuttle take-off. Again, Shermann barraged me with scientific and pseudo-scientific mumbo-jumbo, but there are a few points I sifted from the debris — about space shuttles flying upside-down and being powered by coals, about secret miniature robots emerging from asteroids during the FDR-era, about certain equipment in space shuttles being formed from liquid titanium despite resembling plastic to the layman.
All of Shermann’s impassioned ramblings led me to wonder what his past was truly like. Had he truly seen some insanity as a veteran? Had he once been a brilliant man whose mind had simply deteriorated? How much was fiction, how much fact? There were no answers here, though. No ends and no beginnings, for even if one wished to question Shermann about the roots of his stories, they would most likely be long gone, banished to a world where even the storyteller himself could no longer distinguish fact from fiction.
the means are certainly in place for a fantasy lifestyle, and a fantasy lifestyle is one i am whirling about in, entranced like a dervish, at once at the mercy of and showing mercy to all that is around!
actions to be involved in:
- traveling every other weekend;
- working only when necessary;
- sleeping outside under the stars;
- engaging in love affairs which burn deep;
- seeking dates which begin hours past midnight;
- studying the social dynamics of places not usually studied;
- partaking in every last creative whim;
- crafting innovative events which blend artistic disciplines;
- experimenting with natural derivatives;
- following intuition to its fullest!
i suspect i want only to date writers with a penchant for the surreal.
is that ridiculous?
it seems to be the only case.
the last two have opened up this strange world of fully-realized preferences.
fascinating.
the reality breeds doubt but the moments give faith…
i am looking for someone on the level; it is good to know he likely exists.
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