Monday, February 28, 2005

orpine cappuccino

i decided to make some mango chutney, to liven things up a bit and add some zing to my peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. every book, tv show, recipe, whatever clearly states *CAUTION*: WEAR RUBBER GLOVES WHEN HANDLING CHILES. yeah, whatever, you never see old mexican ladies wearing rubber gloves. well, i don't, but then again, i never see old mexican ladies, but still.....so i cut up the scotch bonnets without worrying about something as stupid as rubber gloves and proceed to make the chutney. yes, i washed my hands thoroughly. twice. with soap. so i mix all the ingrediants, simmer it all up for a while, then i have to cool it off, and i am not a patient kind of guy, having been raised on sesame street and taught that if it takes more than 50 seconds, it is old and time to move on to something new. so i decide to take the pot outside and wave it around to cool it off. if anyone saw me, they would think i am doing some wierd ritual, like a priest with the incense at church. there i am, holding a pot of something, turning around in circles, heat coming from the pot. then, mensa candidate that i am, it occurs to me that since i've been standing in this one spot, i've probably heated that spot on the earth up, and i should move to a cooler spot three feet away. so there i am, doing some wierd elaborate dance with a smoking pot, moving around looking for the really really cool spot in my small back yard, as if one spot is cooler than the rest of it, like the warm spot in the pool, only in reverse. i am a freak.

the stuff cools down enough to put in a jar and put in the fridge, and now it is time to take out the contact lenses. so, i once again wash my hands thoroughly for the third time, because when dealing with the eyes and contact lenses, cleanliness is important. i reach up to take out my right contact lens, and...
CHEMICAL WARFARE!!!!! i am on the ground in about a half of a nano-second, screaming, my eye has been doused with concentrated sulfuric acid. oh, wait, that must be some kind of residual capsaicum from the god damn scotch bonnet habanero, even though time and hand washing has happened. as i roll around on the floor in pain, i bang my head alternately on the wall and the cabinet (i have a narrow bathroom) so i am taking head blows as my eye continue to be burnt to a useless blob. i muster the strenght to stand up, and attack my eyes with water. eventually, i manage to peel off the contact lens that is fusing to my eye, and i stand there, eye still smouldering, red and puffy like i have been punched repeatedly AND have pink eye. my vision is blurry, my head hurts, i am crashing from the adreneline rush, and all i could think of is...."one more eye to go."

so i took a shower with my new lemongrass scented shampoo. i then used my coconut body wash. now i smell like thai soup. if i could only find chicken scented deoderant, i could complete the dish, and walk around making everyone hungry for thai food. why don't they just make pizza scented shampoo or roast lamb scented bodywash? that would rock.

Comments to original post

Saturday, February 26, 2005

the doom that came to retarius

today's blog entry will be written in the style of H.P. Lovecraft.


i awoke, not sure if i remained in the fantastical dream state, the light of the day piercing the inky blackness of my room. suddenly i shuddered, calling to mind the horrific dream i had of...but i must not say, for fear that the mere recollection of the dream push me fully into the realm of utter madness.

after morning ablutions, i made myself breakfast, a devilishly toothsome amalgamation of scrambled eggs and cheese, so delectable the slightest taste could drive one mad. and i also had some coffee.

i had to go shopping today. the sky was a menacing gray, hinting of a foreshadowing of upcoming terrors that may or may not actually happen. as i drove, i passed old houses, haunted by shadows and looming dark and melancholy, reminding me of a time in the northwest when...but i dare not say, lest in mentioning the foul deeds they return to haunt me evermore.

i arrived at the store, the front doors looming in front of me like some keepers to the gates of hell. as i approached them, they opened, as if sensing my approach and welcoming me to my imminent doom the way a spider welcomes a fly. i entered, and beheld a sight as no living man has seen, save in the phantasmagoria of opium induced fever: a sale on shampoo, the very item that drew me from the safety of my home into the unknown, into a maw that could very well end up with my very death. it was as if the old ones that have passed on into shadows, forever watching and waiting, spoken of in only hushed tones by elders, and spoken of as mere tales to frighten by the youth, knew that i needed some shampoo and possesed the managers of the store, the way demons posses those who invite them through dark rituals performed in secret.

as i drove back home, the sky had become a grotesque palate of grays, mocking the very sun. i had recently purchased a trance cd, filled with beats mixed by dj's as if satan, the great worm and father of lies himself guided their hands and handpicked the records from their milk crates. i imagined satyrs and bacchanals dancing and whirling insanely through seething abysses of clouds of smoke and light, the floor teeming with writhing bodies, teeth gnashing, eyes raised heavenward as if pleading for brief respite from the acrid smell of sweat and sickeningly sweet perfume. i was thinking....i should go to burning man next year. anyway, as i listened, enchanted, i suddenly became aware of a change in my surroundings. dammit, i missed my turn, so i had to drive a ways in traffic until i could turn around and return home.

i ate some lunch and played the PS2 for a while. as i played, i could not shake a chill i had, as if the grim reaper had taken a seat behind me and was about to make a call, his bony hand, reeking of rot and fresh earth, grasping my soul and wrenching it from my body, my screams the soundtrack to his last caress. it turned out the damn door was open.

it had become night, a blanket of darkness spreading across the sky like cancer, my heart began to beat as i....but i cannot continue....the mere mentioning of the terrible ordeal is too much to bear and threatens to cause me to relive the exquisite pain, driving me into the depths of complete insanity.

Comments to original post

a room with a deja view

i put some more crappy pictures on my photobucket, click the link on the side if you wanna see.

bum: hey buddy, got some change?
me: i was going to ask you the same thing.
bum: haha, good one. do you have any change?
me: sorry, i only carry big bills.
bum: c'mon, spare some change for the holidays?
me: everyday is a holiday my good man.
bum: what's a matter, you too good to give some change?
me: look... you are a free spirit, unencumbered by the yolk of societal norms and not enslaved, like all these walking zombies, by the empty lies of the corporate juggernaughts and almighty dollor. i could not, in good conscience, take that away from you and bind your wings, enslave you, cripple you, with the filthy poison of something as innocuous as "some spare change." but hey, that restaurant across the street has a help wanted/dishwasher needed sign right there in the window....
bum: fucking asshole


i think we should go back to carrying swords. they look cool, and if everyone had one, you could challenge whoever pissed you off to a duel. chances are no one will have a concealed sword, it is possible, but really difficult to conceal a sword, so you don't have to worry about plane hijackings or bank robberies or drive by slashings. and i think people in the states would be thinner and healthier, from all the duelling. the fat ones would die off pretty quick.

gang fights and duels would be fun to watch, and you don't have to worry about some innocent bystander getting killed by a stray bullet. people are going to fight and be violent, that is just nature. might as well make it safe and entertaining for spectators.

and the comedy would be non stop. imagine you amble on down to starbucks for an orange mocha frappachino and as you try to sit down your sword is hitting everyone in a two foot radius, knocking over people's coffees, tearing thier newspapers as they read them. then you can sit down, gaze out the window and watch morons getting out of thier cars with thier swords getting tangled up and caught or see some guy with a big suv look like the true stooge that he is as he tries to get into his car and sit down with the sword getting in the way. like one big buster keaton movie.

Comments to original post

Friday, February 25, 2005

profanity is the crutch of the stupid, illiterate motherfucker

"There's no difference between me and everyone else. All it takes is one bad day to reduce the sanest man to lunacy. That's how far the world is from where I am. Just one bad day." The Joker.

that quote is so applicable right now, if it were people, that quote would be china and india combined. i will not go into details because, just like quantum physics explained in sanskrit, no one would really understand. also, just like last nights dinner, i don't feel like bringing it up.

the joker is my personal favorite super villian, and if i could be one, i would be he. so why is the joker so damn cool? is it cause of his punk rock green hair? is it cause of his purple pinstripe suit that would make prince and georgio armani jealous? is it his evil genius and horrific sense of humor? yes, to a certain extent, it's a bit of all those things. the main reason, though, is his pure insanity and hatred. ok, yes, he started out a criminal, so he loses points on that, but the fact that he was pushed over the edge and seems to realize it, the fact that he is so uninhibited, that is what is so damn appealing to me. right now, i am a green head of hair, a purple suit, a hundred points of IQ, and one more push away from becoming the joker. and so, probably, are you.

that was a bold statement. but really, the only difference between me, you, and a murderer (assuming you haven't killed anyone) is we know when to stop, pull back, and not go through with it. in NASCAR speak, we have our restrictor plates in place, they don't. there, but for the grace of god, go i.....

but the joker does not have the little voice telling him to stop. he is free to act against his [percieved] enemies in any way he chooses. he is striking back at the man without reserve. and let me say, yes virginia, there is a "the man." how frustrating it is to be impotent to defend yourself. but then i look at things from a detatched point of view, and honestly, i can see that things do not run the way we think they should, and there is a large gap between how we think things are or should be and reality. and how can reality be wrong?

if everyone is retreating, the guy who is attacking appears to be retreating, and is scorned.

so i have to accept things as they are. things could be a lot worse, and ultimately, i got what i wanted. i will end up where i want to be, but instead of taking the limo on the freshly paved road, i rode in the uncovered bed of the pickup truck with no shocks and flat tires, in the rain, along the potholed filled road, holding a large jar of sulfuric acid, without a lid, filled to overflowing, in my lap.

so the joker, he is my hero, and in a way, if i were to become a supervillian, i would emulate him. yeah, i could exact revenge, warranted or not, if i could just get past the inhibitor that reminds me "that's not cricket old chap". and what the fuck is a british guy doing in my head anyway?

Comments to original post

Wednesday, February 23, 2005

wholly shit/book review 8

so i wanna buy one of those christmas tree air freshners you hang on your rearview mirror, and hang in on the mirror on my motorcycle, i think it would be cool, and make my motorcycle smell fresh. also i was thinking of hanging some fuzzy dice on the other rear view mirror.

i was going to surmonize, but i think i shall save that for tomorrow. i want to let the ideas and words gel and coagulate and fully ripen before i pluck them from the idea vine and present them as palatable.

so years ago i read in a newspaper about people who would leave books for others to find and there was a website and all that. i forgot the details, but the idea stuck with me, so for a few years now i would occasionally leave books in various places, airports, restaurants, etc, for people to find. there was a note saying it was a free book, read it and pass it on. a few weeks ago (i think, i'm not good with time, it could have happened last week) i was surfing some blogs and found a link to www.bookcrossing.com, which was the site that had inspired me. so i joined. whree is all this going?

yesterday i "officially" released my first book, and when i got home, i logged on and it had been found and someone logged on to say so. cool! i don't know why this makes me so happy, but it does. so now i am looking forward to releasing another book.

i think it's a great idea, a world wide lending library, books circulating, being shared, it is so damn wonderful. if you subscribe to the belief that we impart some energy into the objects we use, then the books have all this energy in them, and it's kind of cool to think about that.


so speaking of books, yesterday i finished PETER AND THE STARCATCHERS by dave barry and ridley pearson, 451pp. it's the prequal to peter pan, it tells how peter pan became peter pan. yeah, it's a kid's book, but i liked it, it was bubblegum for the mind. it will be the next book i release.

Comments to original post

Tuesday, February 22, 2005

holy shit

hunter s. thompson killed himself. holy shit. read about it here

i forgot and couldn't find the html to open a new window. yeah, i know it is easy like ref=new, but not sure, sorry for the inconvienience (and not knowing how to spell that word or caring enough to look it up or spellcheck).

so yesterday i went snowboarding, it was ok. didn't much feel like going, but i went and the weather was nice. it was a new place, one big bunny slope really. whatever. i was bored so i was jumping around doing 180s and i fucked up and hit hard. there was a light dusting the night prior, and ice underneath. i nearly knocked the poop out of myself, literally. my ass still hurts. yeah, you wanted to know that.

i downloaded a free home virus checker program from avast (arrghhh, avast ye, matey, i am a pirate who will board your computer and fuck shit up!!!!) and it proceeded to fuck my computer up to the point of i wanted to kill it with a hammer. i finally managed to delete a whole bunch of crap but my computer is now dicked up. just like the rest of my life. what else is new.

i gotta go get ready for work and so shit. i got more to say, i wasn't going to write, but hunter s thompson pulled a hemmingway, and i felt like writing something. yeah, it's trite and cliche and cool to talk about thompson and say he influenced you, but i actually own a few of his books and read his biography and he actually did influence me. the blog thing i wrote about driving at night with night vision goggles on was a direct result of thompson. yes, i really did that, but i wanted to capture the tone and vitality he occasionally wrote with. he was fucked up, who knows how much was lies and what may have been truth, but still, hate him or like him, he was art. real art makes you think, talk, react, and he made people think, talk and react. and now he is dead.

and NASCAR season began. kick ass.

Comments to original post

Sunday, February 20, 2005

HEY KIDS......

the following is an excerpt from "you don't need your parents, they are annoying idiots: a cookbook for teens" ....

prehat the oven to 350 degrees. it sucks that you have to do this now because it takes so damn long to heat up. god, you could be doing something way better right now....anyway....

chop up and fry some onions in butter or olive oil until they are soft and see through (like that jerks who lie to you all the time), then put them aside, ignore them, the way your parents ignore your needs. they don't listen or understand anyway.

beat four eggs like you would beat your damn teacher who always gets on your case and plays favorites with the "popular" kids. add one cup of milk, or half and half, either way it doesn't matter. nothing matters. mix into the eggs with hate and rage and salt and pepper, and other herbs if you want to like dill (haha, dill weed! or basil...fuck, put what you want in there).

get some cheese, chedder or mozzerrella. shred it like your boyfriend/girlfriend shredded your heart by dumping you and being a total prick/bitch. remember the onions? (at least you didnt forget them like your parents forgot your birthday that one time. GOD!) check to make sure they are cold like the heartless fuck who dumped you (you don't want them cooking the egg and fucking everything up like all the idiots in your life you fuck up everything). add the onions and the cheese to the egg/milk and stir it around, mix it up like a mosh pit, yeah!

pour the mixture into a ready made pie crust that you buy in the frozen food section because you are a slave to the corporate overlords who don't give a fuck about the little man and would sell their grandmother for a science experiment to make a quick buck. fuck them! but get the pie crust first.

if you want to add things like mushrooms, bean sprouts, spinach, other cheeses, go ahead, do whatever the fuck you feel like...you know what you like and don't have to listen to anyone tell you how to make your quiche...whatever....

bake the whole damn thing for one hour while you chat on the internet with your friends or download some music or put songs on your ipod. do what you feel like, the world is unfair anyway....


get this and other easy and fun recipes by buying our book, available only from your friends at retarius industries.

Comments from original post

otaku represent, yo!

sunday sunday sunday.....

it's been rainy and crappy for three days now, i can't say i am liking it all that much. i can say, however, that i can bake some bread! if nothing else, i got that going for me....

tomorrow i am going snowboarding, i hope the weather is conducive to that sort of thing.

been getting into "atom and his package" a lot lately. i can't seem to get too into "velvet revolver" but i do like "jet." of course then there is GWAR and edith piaf, so there is that....

i took pictures of wonderboy's blue buddah in his house, which we call shiva buddah, that he has in his house. they are in my photobucket, if you want to see it, click the link on the side.


daytona 500 is today, the start of NASCAR season. i am a closet NASCAR fan, i admit it, i confess it. i am facinated by shiny objects, and i love to watch the pretty colored cars go around and around really fast. i have no idea why i like it, but i like it.

if you are dressed in a suit, and you ride to work on a BMX bike, and you pull a manual (wheelie without peddling), people look at you like you just peeled an orange and pulled out an apple. that said, i talked to some guy this weekend, i might be selling my bmx bike. i dont' really ride it anymore, and the bottom bracket is fucked up from dropping from various hights, and i want to pare down before i leave here. once back in the states, i dont' know if i will buy a bmx bike or not. probably not, i think i will go with the track bike. and i want to buy a digital video cam and a small lens that i can put on a helmet, and take video of me doing incredibly stupid shit and put in on the web on my very own website, where i will also sell "INSTANT JUSTICE MAN," "SUNSHINE THE HAPPY GOTH" and "AFRO-CAT" t-shirts.

speaking of quicksilver, as noted by deryke, there is a small video place nearby where i get videos now and again, and they always had quicksilver, i think i got it once but didnt' end up watching it. anyway, i decided to go check it out, and wouldn't you know it...it is no longer there. another instance of "get it when you see it, there is no going back for it later." this lesson keeps popping up.

damn, i had all these other thoughts and crap i wanted to write about, and now i can't. yeah, i'm tired of singing that song, but right now, it's the song that seems to be stuck in my head. and that is the only thing that is stuck in my head, all my other thoughts and ideas probably felt they were wasting thier time with me and moved to someone else who will act on the ideas and make them realities.

see, that right there is a story....thoughts and ideas who want to become reality, and get into someone's head, but he is lazy so they move into someone else's head who acts on them etc etc. there is something there.

think i shall do something else now.

Comments from original post

Saturday, February 19, 2005

saturday morning, 5:38 am, sun's not even up yet. why am i? cause my mind thinks if i lay in bed i might miss something, so i have to get up.

it snowed last night, there is a whipped cream topping on grass and trees, the roads are clear, but it looks calming and peaceful, at least from the quiet inside of my dwelling.

there are no right or wrong ways to live, we all end up the same, and life is a very temporary gig, no matter how long we think 80 years is. there are, however, admirable qualities and better ways of going about life, and sadly, i don't have them, or at least the ways i go about it don't seem to me to be the better ones. when i begin to feel overwhelmed, i shut down, i ignore, i back away, and i assume it's my way of controlling the overflow. when faced with an onslaught of things, if i back away and shut down, i can approach them one at a time, and not be outnumbered, however, this leads to a backup of things, because life doesn't pause, and i run the risk of letting something fall through the cracks and move on unaddressed. it would be better if i just dealt with things as they came up.

none of this makes sense. but it's what was on my mind today.

lately i have been thinking, dreaming, planning, fantasizing about getting a track bike. track bikes are the purest form of bicycles, no gears, no brakes, just a frame, wheels, handlebars, chain, sprocket and peddels. sleek, basic, it would be a zen master sort of bike, pared down to the bare minimum. there is no coasting on a track bike, if the wheels are moving, the pedals are moving. there is a lesson in that. riding a track bike makes you way more aware of your surroundings, you are more alert, you flow, not much stopping and starting, you are constantly moving and like water you find the best path and take it. many bike messengers use track bikes. i think the track bike is definately the way to go. perhaps i might hear god while i ride?

today i shall attempt to bake a loaf of bread. i will read. i will maybe do laundry. i should not ignore life, i should jump in and do what i need to do, but i can't shake the feeling that much of it doesn't matter. i call it "realizing the value and worth of an action" but really i am just rationalizing me being lazy and irresponsible. i know the person i want to be, but i don't want to be him hard enough to actually change and be him. hmmmmm.

Comments from original post

Thursday, February 17, 2005

soooooooo drnk

i am sooooooo fucked up rightrenow...
me and wonderboy

started with absinthe, went to neruotoxin venom sake,, then on to alcohol.....

can't type


i cant feel fingers,

cant type

wonderboy playig guitar

rock out with cock out

Comments from original post

Wednesday, February 16, 2005

BOOK REVIEW # 7/05

i just finished BLINK, THE POWER OF THINKING WITHOUT THINKING by Malcolm Gladwell, 254pp.

I would reccommend this book to anyone who would listen to me. It is an incredibly interesting subject, Gladwell writes engagingly and well, not one dull spot in the whole book, and i think you could, if you cared enough to put in a bit of effort, benefit from this book no matter what your job/role in life is.

This is not a self help book, not at all. This book talks about snap decisions, and uses so many examples, you start to realize how large a part of your everyday life this is, and how much you just don't realize it. the gist of the book, from what i got, is that although we are taught the more information we have about a subject, the better we can make a judment/decision on it, that is not always the case. there is so much going on in our minds that we don't even realize, quite often that "intuition" or feeling you get is your mind already processing the information and trying to guide you based off of the results.

another facinating bit was the part about the possibility of temporary autism, based off of being in an intense situation. this was well illustrated through a few stories of cop shootings when the cops were wrong. they could have sworn they saw a gun, but the person had no gun.

i really enjoyed this book. it was informative, entertaining, enlightning, and well worth my time.

Comments from original post

Tuesday, February 15, 2005

my socks are made of meat

as if green tea kit kats weren't enough....there are also passion fruit kit kats, and let me say, they are super tasty...best thing going right now...

so today i went around and took a bunch of stupid pictures, they are in my photobucket, click the link on the side right over there if you want to see them, but i am telling you now, they are not worth the energy it takes to move your mouse and click....

what if you could get an IV or something with scented water, then when you sweat, you would smell like lavendar or rose or chocolate? if you eat a bunch of garlic, when you sweat it smells like garlic (been to korea? then you know.) well, what if you overloaded your body with something sweet so when you sweat, you smell nice?

you know what you never ever see? a cat with an afro. so, here is my three step plan to having fun and making so much money that just rose can write to all her friends from my villa in st. kitts (actually, you will all be invited, i just mentioned her cause she said something). first i shall go upon the line and do some digital shopping, getting what i need so, using the magic powers of photoshop, i can cut an afro off of one picture and place it seamlessly onto the picture of a cat, thereby creating..."afro-cat." next, i shall make a few one to three panel online comics starring afro-cat, saying witty things and such. finally, once i have a bit of a following, i shall put afro-cat on a t-shirt, with one of his cool catch phrases, like "smell my butt" or "hey, let me sit on that for you" and sell out to hot topic, who will also be carrying a line of t-shirts featuring "sunshine the happy goth." then you are all invited to party your collective asses off at my place. hopefully, some of the people at the huge non-stop party will be so drunk i will be good looking and interesting and they will let me touch them in bad ways (talking about the females here, sorry fellas). there will be a snack truck with refreshments, perhaps a dude playing bagpipes (must figure out how to hook up pick-ups to a bagpipe) and it shall be just grand.

of course, now that i said it, there will be cats with afros all over the damn interneto.

onward to mayhem

Comments from original post

Monday, February 14, 2005


she has a black cat named "rainbow." she plays bass for "Upbeatica," a band that weaves dark and brooding melodies with positive motivating lyrics. she is...SUNSHINE, THE HAPPY GOTH. created and brought to you by retarius industries.

Comments from original post

Sunday, February 13, 2005

the wind cries retarius

i really don't like changing guitar strings. i love the feel and sound of brand new strings, the lively and robust exuberance that emanates from them as they vibrate. but once they are more played out than the emo scene and saggier than grandma's tits, they need to go, and that is when i stop playing for a while. it doesn't take that long to change them, it isn't that difficult, it isn't taxing or tiring, it is just a nuisance.

so where am i going with this? what is my point? what witty observation will i point out?

nothing. i just hate changing guitar strings.

so i think i realize the beauty of american idol. it is reality, and teaches a beautiful lesson. as americans, we grow up with the awful lie that "you can be whatever you want if you put your mind to it and want it bad enough." it is a great motivator, and a great ideal and should teach kids to realize that if they work hard and persevere, they can often acheive thier goals. the harsh reality, that seems often overlooked, is that you cannot be whatever you want just because you want to. reality is...you have to be realistic in your desires. just cause you *want* to be a pop idol does not mean you can.

american idol tells these morons "you suck, you won't make it" and they get all upset because their "freinds" tell them they are good. if the people were truly freinds, they would say "you need a new dream." these people get all upset and think that just because they want it really really bad, more than anything, they are entitled to make it. well, you need what those in the biz like to call...talent. i am pretty sure that simon, the guy whose job is to sell these little puppets to the masses, knows what he can sell and what he cannot, and he is looking for something specific. if you dont have it, accept it and move on, don't argue because you *want* to be a star more than anything in the world.

american idol, as inane as it might be and i am thankful i don't watch it, is a great lesson, if only the people would learn it.

but really, i hate to change guitar strings.

Comments from original post

Saturday, February 12, 2005

peristaltic bum rush

mother fucker, i just wrote a bunch of crap and lost it because i think i hit the backspace button. gaahhhhhdammmit.

so it is 7 p.m. and after much sleeping and drinking cups of "tea of regeneration +2" i think i am almost back to full hitpoints from last night.

i have wondered for a while how important font is in book printing. some books seem to be printed in "read me" font, the words leap right into your brain without any effort on your part. with other books seem to be printed in "don't look at me" font, and reading each word is like skateboarding uphill on a gravelly road. this has nothing to do with content or writing, this has to do with the actual font.

so right now i am reading BLINK, the art of thinking without thinking. it is fascinating and kick ass, seems to be written in "Read me font" but also seems to possibly back up my wacky little theory. the book talks about how our minds subconciously pick up things that affect our opinions and attitudes, and ways we approach people, events, and things. so i wonder if subtle differences in font affect people's ability to take in information. not just the difference between large and smaller print, but the subtle nuances of how the letters are drawn, the curves and lines.

it shouldn't make any difference, should it? yet the font of a book seems to be part of the equation, along with storyline, content, etc, of how i take in the book. i wonder if the subtle differences of font can also control emotion, like if i wrote something in a certain font, would you feel a certain emotion regardless of content? could i write a treatise on colonial furniture in "erotica" that makes you horny when you read it? (dude! does everything have to be about sex with you? well, yes it does) could i write a cookbook in a "horror" font that makes you feel unsettled and slightly scared (i don't know why, but suddenly the thought of baked brie with carmelized onions is freaking me out)?


i know, from reading this book, that certain words can have an effect on us even though we don't percieve any change at all. so what if i could write something with words that effect your subconcious, causing certain emotions in you, and in a font that also causes certain emotions, making me able to manipulate your mood. what if some of the great writers aren't any better than others, they just use the right words and right font that leaves you feeling "addicted" or whatever. of course, using the right words is what good writing is all about, but i mean, inserting words in an otherwise crappy piece that makes you remember the book as wonderful.

anyway, time to drink more tea, read a bit more, and fall asleep early. yeah, saturday night, living la vida dull. of course, there is still a half bottle of absinthe......but i shall save that for, perhaps next weekend.


Comments from original post

Friday, February 11, 2005

don't tell me shoes

masturbating bitterly, he grabs a handfull of buillion cubes to wash away the eggplants of his soul.

knock knock....
"hello?"
"retarius? hey, it's me, the green fairy, open the fuck up and let me in."
"glad you could make it, havnt seen you in a while, COME ON IN!"


that's right, i am drunk on the absinthe, again. been a while, but here i am. big deal.

i think a great idea for a service that is greatly needed would be the DCR, the "department of carthartic representatives." here is how it works. it is a small office of a bunch of guys, on the road all week long, they visit various corporations and businesses, set up a desk in a small office, and allow workers to come in and yell and scream and "vent" as if they are talking to the incompetent fucktard bosses who are so far removed from reality, the light from reality would take years to reach them. so, let's say your boss gives you the most worthless advice, which is completely idiotic, and you must comply with his nonsensical wishes. you contact the DCR and give them the name of the MENSA candidate you want to poke in the eyes, and they give you a date. on that date, you enter their "office" and they are sitting there, with the name of your evil nemisis on the nameplate on the desk. you go off like vesuvius went off on pompei, you rant, rage against the machine, say all you want, mention illegal sexual activity between his mother and various marsupials, whatever you need to get out. this guy takes it, perhaps offers weak resistance at first, to give you some kind of feeling of fight, and when you are done, you feel better and leave, to continue with your productive day. he changes the name on the nameplate and recives the next customer, and the serive goes on for those who need it, until everyone is done. the DCR packs up and moves on to his next call.

this service will be offered to any business, allowing the workers to tell their "bosses" how they feel without fear of unfair reprecussions, the bosses fragile egos are not threatened, the workers, who are the only ones who really know what's going on, feel vindicated, and everyone is happy.

i think it will work. if i wern't all fucked up i could probably explain it better. now it is time to pass out, possibly waking up in a puddle of my own sick.

Comments from original post

Thursday, February 10, 2005

fruit of the swine, work of human hands

it's late, i cannot sleep, my mind won't leave this world and venture into the uncharted depths of sweet unconciousness that my body craves like Namor, prince of atlantis craves salt water. i have smoked a half pack of cigarrettes, something i only do when i am trembling with the heady mixture of frustration and rage, with a pinch of fear.

it seems that the meek shall indeed inherit the earth, or more correctly, the weak shall band together to take down the (percieved) strong and make them impotent to escape to saftey. makes sense really, if you think about it. a bunch of hyenas band together to bring down the big game. those without band together to bring down those with. the rebel alliance brings down the empire and fucks up the deathstar (but they had a jedi helping). it is a balance. if they didn't, the strong would go around doing as they please, and even if they are benevolant, good will bearing strong, the weak see a threat, those with fragile egos and small penises see a threat to thier insignificant manhood, and the one is no match for the many, except if the one is bruce lee, which in this case, he isn't.

on a subconcious level, i know that no matter what happens, i will, much like gloria gaynor and later, cake, survive. but like the fighter who sees the kick coming and knows he cannot block it, i am anticipating the pain of impact, and my mind will not let it go, not even for a few hours in bed. so this is what jesus felt at the garden (not comparing myself to jesus).

yes, i did request the firing squad, and declined the blindfold and last cigarette. it is my self destructive nature, if things are going well i have to shake them up, i have burn the bridge while i am standing smack dab in the middle. conflict causes change which causes progress. i am sure there are happier and easier ways to progress, but i seem to tend toward the painful way.

parable of the scorpion. he wanted a ride on the frogs back across the river, the frog was like "fuck that, you will sting me." the scorpion is like "if i sting you, we both drown, so no i won't. halfway across, scorpion stings. as they drown, the frog is like "dude, what the hell did you do that for?" and the scorpion replies "it is my nature." dumb ass scorpion. why do i have to have his nature?

of course, i could be all wrong and worrying for naught, which would be fine with me.

but hey, at least i'm not on fire. that would suck and ruin my clothes.

time to brush up on epictetus, who knew how to handle such things. time for another smoke and another feeble attempt at sleep.

Comments from original post

Wednesday, February 09, 2005

kick ash wednesday

i long to lay in your dark embrace
kiss your blood red lips
you take me to that place
where only angels go
and devils pine
your legs around my hips
nails scratch my tattoed spine

what if you continued to have deja vu, and it seemed the more intense the moment, the more violent and chaotic the molecules in that time/space were, the more frequent and long lasting and closer to reality the deja-vu was? what if, life as you know it were actually only a shell, and we lived in memories, asleep. as if what we percieve as an intense moment, heart pounding, palms sweating, was actually our conscious coming to the surface, "waking up" to see as we really are, and the deja vu is not a misfiring of the synapses, causing the present to be catologued into the long term memory and rememberd as it happens, as believed, but actually a glimpse into time iteself. as i write this, i am having a deja vu, tell me, as you read this are you? so, am i just fatiuged, and brain weary, or did i honestly get a quick glimpse, did i come close to the surface, like someone trapped beneath the ice who can see the world above, mere centimeters away, yet an eternity, a lifetime, out of reach.

sweet, sour, salty, spicy, these are the things our tongues crave. add lime and peanuts, with some rotten fish liquid, and you have the makings of a tasty treat.

so today i embark on a vegetarian journey, and it won't be the first time. i use lent as the excuse, i use losing extra fat most likely caused by meat as the excuse, but really, i just feel like fucking with my body. they say (who are the "they"?) that if you eat nothing but celery for three days you poop clear. imagine translucent shit. how wierd would that be? i highly doubt you could, but damn, if you could, that would rock. i assume if you ate nothing but celery, colored red, or blue, or whatever, you would poop that color. imagine taking a huge yellow shit. if shit were a different color, would it still be disgusting, not counting the smell?

so today begins lent. for you non-catholics, and you catholics who don't follow along with the rest of us, lent is the 40 day period leading up to easter, when we celebrate the fact that jesus was crucified, died, buried in a cave, and emerged, risen from the dead, three days later...and if he sees his shadow we get two more weeks of winter. most people think of lent as a time we have to give up stuff, like booze or spanking it, or whatever. me, i start drinking and smoking for lent, cause lent is a time of sacrifice and denial, and smoking and drinking hurts me, so i get my suffering in, and i think that counts.

i am tired and need to sleep, today drained the fuck right out of me, it was right up there as far as bad days go. for anyone who reads this, sorry i haven't responded to your notes, please don't think i take them for granted, i appreciate each one, but i am just feeling a bit....stand-offish, a bit of a recluse, like the dog who is hiding behind the toilet and does not want you to pet him. i was not going to post but i felt like typing, so i did.

i've been thinking lately of a conversation i had with this way hot chick that i want to do. i told her i felt like i was in a slump, and she said somehting to the effect of "write what you feel like, be jackson pollack" and it stuck with me, struck a chord like kirk hammet or steve vai. so, what i kind of want to do is just....type stuff, free form, see what happens, make the screen my canvas and be a verbal jackson pollack. i kind of do that a bit now, i think, maybe i dont', but i shall, some day soon, just do that.

Comments from original post

kick ash wednesday

i long to lay in your dark embrace
kiss your blood red lips
you take me to that place
where only angels go
and devils pine
your legs around my hips
nails scratch my tattoed spine

what if you continued to have deja vu, and it seemed the more intense the moment, the more violent and chaotic the molecules in that time/space were, the more frequent and long lasting and closer to reality the deja-vu was? what if, life as you know it were actually only a shell, and we lived in memories, asleep. as if what we percieve as an intense moment, heart pounding, palms sweating, was actually our conscious coming to the surface, "waking up" to see as we really are, and the deja vu is not a misfiring of the synapses, causing the present to be catologued into the long term memory and rememberd as it happens, as believed, but actually a glimpse into time iteself. as i write this, i am having a deja vu, tell me, as you read this are you? so, am i just fatiuged, and brain weary, or did i honestly get a quick glimpse, did i come close to the surface, like someone trapped beneath the ice who can see the world above, mere centimeters away, yet an eternity, a lifetime, out of reach.

sweet, sour, salty, spicy, these are the things our tongues crave. add lime and peanuts, with some rotten fish liquid, and you have the makings of a tasty treat.

so today i embark on a vegetarian journey, and it won't be the first time. i use lent as the excuse, i use losing extra fat most likely caused by meat as the excuse, but really, i just feel like fucking with my body. they say (who are the "they"?) that if you eat nothing but celery for three days you poop clear. imagine translucent shit. how wierd would that be? i highly doubt you could, but damn, if you could, that would rock. i assume if you ate nothing but celery, colored red, or blue, or whatever, you would poop that color. imagine taking a huge yellow shit. if shit were a different color, would it still be disgusting, not counting the smell?

so today begins lent. for you non-catholics, and you catholics who don't follow along with the rest of us, lent is the 40 day period leading up to easter, when we celebrate the fact that jesus was crucified, died, buried in a cave, and emerged, risen from the dead, three days later...and if he sees his shadow we get two more weeks of winter. most people think of lent as a time we have to give up stuff, like booze or spanking it, or whatever. me, i start drinking and smoking for lent, cause lent is a time of sacrifice and denial, and smoking and drinking hurts me, so i get my suffering in, and i think that counts.

i am tired and need to sleep, today drained the fuck right out of me, it was right up there as far as bad days go. for anyone who reads this, sorry i haven't responded to your notes, please don't think i take them for granted, i appreciate each one, but i am just feeling a bit....stand-offish, a bit of a recluse, like the dog who is hiding behind the toilet and does not want you to pet him. i was not going to post but i felt like typing, so i did.

i've been thinking lately of a conversation i had with this way hot chick that i want to do. i told her i felt like i was in a slump, and she said somehting to the effect of "write what you feel like, be jackson pollack" and it stuck with me, struck a chord like kirk hammet or steve vai. so, what i kind of want to do is just....type stuff, free form, see what happens, make the screen my canvas and be a verbal jackson pollack. i kind of do that a bit now, i think, maybe i dont', but i shall, some day soon, just do that.

Comments from original post

BOOK REVIEW # 6/05

i dont feel like being witty, don't even bother reading, just move along.

OUTLAW LAND by Bradford Scott, 127pp.

the first western i have ever read, not counting the dark tower books or other western backdrop books. it was from 1962 or so, pure pulp. i guess it was ok. i feel like i am cheating, but i will count it as one of my '52 books a year' books.

Comments from original post

four wheeled tricycle

i can only assume it was mardi gras 1993, we went into the voodoo shop and i made a smart ass, snarky remark, something along the lines of "this is tourist stuff, where is the 'real' voodoo?". the guy behind the counter, whose name was jinx, looked at me with a wierd smile. i can only assume i was hexed, cursed, whatever, right there and then.
i am getting worn down, i am tired, i am about to give up, if i havn't already. in a way it is liberating, knowing that whatever i choose will be the wrong choice, that i will be screwed at every turn, that nothing will go right for me no matter what i do. i no longer have to care, i don't have to work hard, because no matter what i do, i will lose. every time. life will go out of it's way to make me the loser in any situation, regardless of what the outcome should be.
imagine if your job was to get kicked in the nuts, once a day. you knew, when you woke up, sometime during the day you would be kicked in the nuts, just once. for the first few weeks, you would think "the rest is great, i can deal with it once a day" but, after a while, you would dread going into work. you could wake up, have a great morning, but as you near your workplace, you would cringe, expecting, knowing, what was going to happen. you would come to dread going to work. but also, you would know that no matter what you do, you are going to get kicked in the nuts, so you could work hard and try, or you could go to work naked and piss on your desk, and the outcome would be the same. a swift kick to the nuts. and not from instant justice man either. it would be from instant injustice man, his negative.
the circumstances are hilarious, if looked at from the outside, not happening to you. but it is tiring. really tiring.
how do you remove a curse?

Comments from original post

our men, and women, are working hard, sacrificing thier freedoms, for us to enjoy our happy and safe lives. war is indeed hell.

Comments from original post

thinking of our troops during this difficult time, the hardships and suffering they must endure.

Comments from original post

Sunday, February 06, 2005

pastor of muppets pulling your strings

animals aren't "things"...they are little fuzzy people that we eat.

so whenever i get bummed and feel like a total loser i just remember...there are hundreds of marriage minded russian women who want to meet *ME*. there are also hundreds of marriage minded asian chicks who want to meet me, but really that does me no good.

i was feebly attempting to make won tons/spring rolls/whatever. the first two came out nice, but by the 6th won ton, they were just retarded and fucked up little pieces of dough with crap falling out of them. the downfall of a short attention span and little talent. what i need, and what i think i can make a million bucks on by supplying, are hundreds of won ton minded old asian ladies want to help you cook. i need a bunch of old asian women who can chop carrots and cabbage without losing flesh, and stuff and make wontons that don't look like they were made at the lighthouse for the incredibly incompetant. so i tried steaming them, then i deep fried them, then i baked them. they each sucked in thier own special individual way. perhaps i should just quit trying the wontons.

so, last year i read a book called "coffee and kung fu" by some filipina chick....yes, i read chick lit if it's good, and this was good. in it she loves kung fu movies, but also she reads westerns with her grandfather and makes a comparison between westerns and kung fu movies, showing the similarity. as i have said, i am easily influenced by what i read, and it made me want to read a western, having never done so before and blew it off as a wierd genre. so, now i am reading a western for the first time and i feel kind of silly and stupid for reading it, but i am looking at it in kung fu sort of light. also, i thought, i read sci-fi, which is a wierd genre, but to me more legit, as it has hard science, soft science, and is a bit more involved. a western is just a story of a guy with a gun who shoots other guys. big deal. but, i might feel different when i am done. i will post the review shortly.

so yesterday, monday here in the japan, i went snowboarding. joe mama said he was going a few days ago, i said i would go along. we went to naeba, conditions were great, it was a bit crowded, but overall, i wasn't into it. maybe a bit burnt out (oh my god no, can it be possible?!?!?!?) or a bit tired, but i just wasn't into it. i will lay off the snowboarding for a while. sorry, not pictures. actually i stuck an icicle i got off the bottom of a car up my nose, so it looked like a huge frozen booger, the picture is ok, but no, you will not see it. just imagine my mischevious grin with a large frozen booger hanging out of my nose.

Comments from original post

magandaka

hey, how's it going? you look good today, but then again, you always look good. no, really, i mean it. i know to you it's just "this old thing" but you seem to shine through whatever you wear, you always look like a model to me. whether it's formal wear or jeans and a shirt, you wear your clothes like the sun wears light. face it, it's just you, you are beautiful.

i've been thinking about telling you this, i'm not sure, i don't want to ruin what we have, but i have to tell you, just so you know. you probably know i am attracted to you, with all my playful flirting and all that, but it's not all just playful. i want to....wow, this is so funny, here we are, adults, able to talk about whatever, but it seems that whatever words i choose don't fit. i think we should fuck. there, i said it. blunt, to the point, Hemmingway would be proud. but it means more to me than just that, i just couldn't figure out how to say it. i want to say "i think we should have sex," but that sounds so clinical, and i want to say "i want to do you," but that sounds so high school jock-ish. but really, i want to spend time with you, alone, naked, being intimate, inside you, two bodies as one.

yes yes yes, i know you have a boyfriend. so what? look, i am not asking you to fall in love with me and pledge your heart to me and leave him. he is a great guy and can give you what you need, and you are so good together, and he makes you happy, which i love. i love to see you smile. i’m not trying to take you away from him, i just want to spend one day with you. and i am not asking you to cheat on him. you cheat with your mind and heart, not your body. think of it this way...when you masturbate with a vibrator or dildo, are you cheating on him with those things? no, they are merely spices in the soup, adding extra flavor. so, treat me like a huge, living, warm, talking sex toy. use me for your pleasure. yes, i know for women it's different, sex is close and there is a giving involved, and quite frankly there is for me to. i know i appear cavalier about it all, but i just don't go around having sex with anyone, much as i want to. first of, yes, i am a loser when it comes to that, but also, a small piece of me does get involved, and i leave a bit of me, there is a small connection made, so i don't just go around scattering pieces of myself to the four winds, like you would a vampire after you stake him so he doesn't come back.
so yes, i understand that it might be more intense for you, but i would not take that for granted. and i know you have thought about it, if only for a nano second. you had to, you are female and i am male and we are both humans. we size each other up every day, as soon as we first meet. i have no idea what you assess me as, but you know me enough to trust me, and i am sure if we spent a day together i would answer whatever questions you had, truthfully and without hesitation or regret.

it's just that, you are so appealing and attractive. you are smart, beautiful, sexy as hell, and i can't help but wonder what it would be like to be with you. i can only imagine how it would be to lie next to you, kiss your neck and smell your skin, feel your nipple grow hard in my mouth, hear your soft moan of delight, or maybe a laugh when i tickle you. i want to run my hands all over you, your curves, your mountains and valleys, like an suv offroading and exploring. i want to run my fingers right along the outside of your lips, just to moisten them, like dipping them into the holy water font at church, just so i can taste you on my fingertips. i want to lick you, dipping my tongue into you as deep as it can go, making your legs come up into the air. i want to take you from behind, kissing your back and neck and ears as you push your butt against me with each thrust, you fucking me from in front as much as i am fucking you from behind. i want to look in your eyes when you come, and hold you close to me when we are done. i'll show you my tattoos.

maybe i do have more than just a physical interest in you, and maybe i do want just a small piece of you to keep with me wherever i go. can you fault me for that?
so anyway, i hope i didn't ruin what we had because i want more and made it known. please don't take this as some kind of ultimatum or challenge or something. i just want you to know how i feel. maybe you wondered, maybe you didn't' care, but either way, i am baring myself to you now so you never have to wonder. unless the uncertainty was the magic, and now that is gone, which would just be another page in my book of romantic failures.
hey i’m hungry, wanna get lunch?

Comments from original post

Saturday, February 05, 2005

Anatomic Localization for Needle Electromyography

lance boyle loved wood. his love for wood most likely originated when, as a child sliding down the wooden bannister in his grandmother's old victorian mobile home in the mountains of lousiana, he became sexually aroused to the point of full release. he spent a whole summer sliding down that bannister, and was the calmest kid anyone had ever seen, always with a glow and a lazy smile.

while all his other freinds were making Revell brand plastic model replica's of the nitro burnin funny car of "big daddy" don garlits or a tank or battleship, lance made balsa wood models of the red baron's fokker d-8 triplane and british spitfires.

when he was 14, while on a school trip to china town, he bought a set of wooden chopsticks, which from that moment on was all he would use to eat his food, shunning the cold, unfreindly steel of the fork and spoon for the earthy, silky feel of wood. he didn't do this to be pretentious or flashy, like the mornons who use chopsticks in thai restaurants because they want everyone to think they are cultured and "internatoinal" and they don't know thai people use spoons. he did it because he loved wood.

lance also developed an affinity for cellophane. not a kinky fetish interest, like you see on the internet or in wierd bars in washington d.c. on a friday night, but a healthy appreciation for the way the plastic would cling to the outside of a bowl and keep his leftovers from spilling out into his tiny refrigerator.

one day, while engaged in his favorite hobby, playing the jew's harp along with his cd of verdi's masterpiece opera, "la traviatta," the god's of the good idea smacked lance upside the head with the sacred two by four of inspiration, and lance had an epihpany that would rock the world....

lance went into his workshop in his garage, and worked and struggled for two weeks straight, barely eating or sleeping, not emerging until he had created pure perfection....lance had come up with the colored cellophane decorated toothpicks often found sticking out of cubes of cheese at ritzy social functions, weddings and bar mitzvahs.

the early days' were heady and wonderful, lance was on top of the world. his hand crafted, cellophane decorated toothpicks were everywhere, and in high demand. he was on covers of magazines, chicks were all over him like flies on meat, and he was riding high. people were dining "ala boyle" and once details of his life came out, there was a large increase in chopstick sales and use. but we must all wake up from the dream sometime, and eventually, all the tying colored cellophane around toothpick jobs were farmed out to third world countries for thier cheap labor. lance worked and worked, but he could not compete, and soon, the industry he created rejected him and treated him like he peed in the pool at the garden party.

lance boyle passed away, quietly, and was buried without even a service, with hardly any notice from the world he made so much better with his decorated toothpicks.

ok, yes, i made all this up, and yes, this was pretty lame, but it was nagging me in my head all damn day, i had to get it out.

Comments from original post

Friday, February 04, 2005

obscene apostrophes

things are not as random as they might appear. let me explain.

ancient civilizations were not so much ruled as overseen by a group of scientists, philosophers, and artists, both men and women, who used their minds and hearts to govern and allow and encourage the civilization to flourish. under their guidance they formed militaries, schools, ways of worship, etc, and as their knowledge grew, so did their technology. in fact, their technology was so far advanced that there is no longer a trace of it. it was ergonomic, environmental, natural, perfectly in synch with the planet. our chemicals and silicon chips are crude by their standards. at one point they had devised an intricate system of levers and pulleys, made of purely biodegradable natural products, which acted like an ancient version of the internet, allowing civilizations the opportunity to share information crucial to survival and furthering mankind. this is why there are pyramids in both south america and the middle east. there were more, but they have eroded and are long gone, leaving no trace, like a granola loving hiker. the pyramids were, of course, ancient "airports" complete with shops and overnight accommodations for travelers with layovers, and not, as believed, tombs or some such nonsense.

people have been morons since the dawn of time, so the ancient ones decided to explore and colonize other planets, knowing they would most likely not be back, similar to the cool people having a great club and moving to a different club when the posers move in because it's trendy and they ruin a good thing. they left the less intelligent in charge, knowing things would go to pot once they left. but, being the benevolent beings that they were, they didn't want to leave things too bad for those who would be above the rest but forced to endure the dimwittedness of those in charge. knowing that people are naturally curious and are also easily bored as well as easily amused, they decided to orchestrate built in entertainment for following generations, kind of a consolation gift. using long lost, unfathomably complex ancient technology, they managed to rig things so we end up creating our own puzzles, to keep us occupied when we get bored. it goes like this.....

no doubt you've been somewhere, a house or hotel room or some building, where there is a switch or button or pull chain that is unmarked and doesn't seem to do anything. what do you do? you keep toggling the switch, pressing the button, pulling the chain, waiting, trying to see what the hell will happen. nothing.

no doubt you have seen a dog or cat laying down...they suddenly get up, walk across the room, then lay down again three feet from where they were. you wonder, do they think "hey, i wanna lay down over there, that would be SWEET!" or do they get up to do something and then all of a sudden think "gee, i think i will lay down." you have also seen a door open that you could have swore was closed, or a window. there are lots of little weird things that seem random or inexplicable....

Well.....those buttons are linked to things around the world. a button in denmark controls a dog in argentina. a switch in ontario opens a cabinet door in madagascar. so, on one end, someone is entertained by the seemingly useless light switch that doesn't do anything, while at the same time, causing a "random" act halfway around the world, which keeps someone else puzzled, occupied, entertained, what have you.

so next time a light is on in a room that you could have sworn you turned off, or vice versa, just realize that someone in a hotel in india was bored. and mindlessly flipping an unmarked switch.

Comments from original post

BOOK REVIEW # 5/05

Madness and Civilization by Michel Foucoult, 289pp.

This book sucked ass so much i don't want to write anything even remotely interesting about it. maybe i am too stoooopid to understand what the hell was going on, maybe they got the worst translator they could find, maybe the great thinker wasn't that great of a writer, but each word was a step on broken glass with bare feet up a mountain in freezing rain while carrying 100 pounds or live electric eels.

the book was supposed to be about madness, how it is viewed, what people did about it, etc, from medievil times till now or so. the book started off slow, picked up around page 98, then came to a grinding halt by page 99. actually, i think only one or two sentances in that whole book were worth my time.

Comments from original post

Thursday, February 03, 2005

i broke my pants

i am back, photos have been uploaded for your voyeruistic pleasure, story will follow, but really, don't hold your breath, nothing that exciting happened.

oh heck, since i am here anyway...

i joined a ski/snowboard club just to go on this trip, which was a well organized club trip. so, in effect, i crashed someone else's party. the club is mostly americans, i didn't know any of the other people on the trip, so i spent most of the time alone doing my own thing. as i recount my adventure, assume i am alone unless stated otherwise.

it was a five day organized tour, each day you could go sightseeing, skiiing, or do your own thing.

first day i was so damn tired, i don't know why, so i didn't go snowboarding. i am glad, i heard the conditions were crappy, it was wet, it sucked. instead i stayed on the bus and we went to the hokkaido natural history museum, to look at preserved acorns and small animal poop and tools and other stuff, all the way up to post war colonializatoin etc etc. i didnt' much care about any of this. sorry jason, despite best efforts, no ainu were harmed during this trip. after the museum we went to a huge mall, which was ok, and i ate some tasty ass indian food. then we went to a winter sports museum, and i stayed on the bus and slept. once at the hotel, i got my room and slept. day one over.

DAY TWO. went to Rusutsu Ski Resort, which is three mountains and so damn huge it's silly. it was blizzarding, visibility was about nil, it was mostly whiteout. like a retard, i snowboarded all day, not really seeing where i was going. i would stop to take pictures, my hands would go numb, my glasses, which had fogged up, would ice up, i had to board down the mountain without goggles and my face froze and i had icecicles in my eyelashes. good time. back at the hotel i went out to dinner and ate crab and drank the greatest sake ever, brewed in the norhtern most tip of japan. it was awesome.

DAY THREE. back to Rusutsu. they said it would still be crappy, most people didnt' go, the faithful were rewarded. it was sunny and clear and awesome. i boarded my ass off till i couldn't board no more, hitting fresh powdered black diamond runs and at one point, i swear my soul was about to burst out. i hit "that spot" when i flowed down the mountain like water, perfectly in line with nature, smooth, no effort, riding the mountain. it was truly sublime. that night i went to ramen alley for awesome sapporo ramen. it wasn't that great. the shops were all kind of empty, so i picked one that looked ok, it was a bit of a let down. i am sure there are much better bowls of ramen, but that was my once chance and i blew it. oh well.

DAY FOUR. we went toKiroro, which was small but nice. conditions were good, beautiful weather, great runs, hit a bunch of soft untouched poweder off the trails and had a great time all around. i hooked up with two others and we boarded together and had fun. the only thing i didnt' like about this place was lots of flat parts and one long gondola to the top. one run me and this chick ducked a rope and went off trail, making our own way, that was pretty good. for dinner we went to the Sapporo Beer Garden and had all you can eat vegetables and mutton that you cook yourself at the table and all you can drink beer. i don't much care for beer, but i ended up at a table with the people i boarded with, and we had a good time.

DAY FIVE. we went to Teine Ski Resort, i think they had olyimpics there or something. the weather was perfect, conditions were a bit icy but not bad. the great thing about this place was although there were wide groomed trails, once you got to the top, you could do whatever you wanted. i was with a chick and we spent most of the time off the trails in the woods just figuring out how to get the hell down and out of the woods. great time. we did some of the groomed runs, but mostly just blazed our own trails, going under the lifts, ducking ropes, etc. i was sore and tired, only went about four hours and then, back on the bus and slept. from the ski resort we went to the airport and flew "home" back to honshu.

i had a blast. my legs are tired and sore. hokkaido is beautiful, what little i saw of it. riding hard for four days in a row takes it out of you, i think. unless i am just a weak pussy, which is probably more the case. it is nice to be home though.

i might write some more about it, might not.

Comments from original post