It's Finally Here!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This might be the weirdest post in the history of this blog. WHOA!!!!!



I've been a bit absent from this blog/website/recipe compendium as of late. My apologies on this front. On one hand I feel that I don't have much to say aside from pure conjecture and reviews of Foxtrot comic strips. (JASON HAS A DART GUN! AND HE SHOT PAIGE WITH IT! LOLZIEZ!). This drought of annoying proportions can be attributed to several factors.

1) Life's too good.
Days these days, end only one way. Sprawled in bed, limbs spinning out everywhere. Rejoicing in clean sheets while eating pizza in bed. Waking up the next morning with the wonder of why I am covered in crumbs. These champion thoughts! Far reaching triumphs of American Idiocy! Here I am! I don't care!

Call me crazy but it feels like enough. Smiling while falling asleep never grows old. Each day holds a passion, triumph, and sense of adventure that could forever be unparalleled. If my future self told me these were the best days of my life I wouldn't be surprised. Then I would ask him to take me to the future, whereupon we would be both be harvested as food for the Mongoloid race. (All HAIL KING CHEN!)

2. Respect for words

Words are a pretty hallowed thing for me. Lame as fuck I know, especially for someone dedicating so much of their time coming up with creepy things to write in the margins of library books.

I know a lot of people I love read this blog. I don't want to subject ya'll to 3000 word diatribes about my wiffleball performances. The only thing you'll get out of it is the lesson: don't fuck with rosebushes.

I've recently opened Oscar Wilde's "Portrait of Dorian Gray". In the work he spins a great narrative (not The Great Narrative, that's my future) in the form of abject philosophical thoughts and inklings of lust. The thing fits together like a puzzle, perfectly composed, challenging one to understand what it stands for. Given the artistic form of the novel, one is given an unabridged freedom. The thing that makes words better than pictures, movies, and slideshows, is that you can get into another's head. These other medium's allow an assumption. The words give a presence!

3. The NBA PLAYOFFS!

I've learned so much so quickly. My friends have recently gone forth with "the ultimate inspiration". Though I am wary on some levels, I know this is one of the few things that can build me up, turn me into the "Person I ought to be". This is a beautiful thing, a gesture possessive of all that love and camaraderie have to offer. However, I cannot marry this idea while the San Antonio Spurs are thriving.

For all intensive purposes the San Antonio Spurs have resemble a creative collective. Tim Duncan is the superstar. The piece de resistance that no one can ignore. Whether or not he is at the apex is of no bother, he will always be at the top, his name mere inches from the tip of your tongue. he is the silent brooding force, the be all end all. However, he is without ego. He steps aside letting (relative) peons like Tony Parker and Manu Ginobili take the spotlight. though these two play THE BEAUTIFUL GAME, I will never be able to appreciate them. they possess the soul crushing embodiment of a winner to the extent that it would make me content to be a loser. I don't want to dalliance for your attention or shape my work by your guidelines. I want to do what I want, in a great creative burst, shooting forth uncensored. How is that possible when the Nash/Amare artistry is rendered helpless by these cold hearted mercenaries of success.

Watching the Spurs, hearkens me back to the High School Scholarship Scramble. No matter how much it matters to you, me, or anyone. We cannot win. Not when the National Honor Society kids sweep in at the last moment and claim the prize. Who can blame them? They were born winners. They take the throne without pity. Let losers wallow!

In any case: a revolution is slowly forming. Art in it's finest form, fueled by friendship, camaraderie, and indulgence in ideas only we love. I get sat down for heavy handed lectures, inspired by the idea, but fearful of the Spur's corollaries. The Spurs give big shots to the likes of Oberto, Finley, and Barry, role players on the highest possible stage (though Finley used to be fantastic). I see this as the perfect model, but can not merge the idea with my abject hatred of the Spurs.

Also, I need to have a heart to heart with Chauncey Billups.

4. Finals Week

As a college student who has effectively shirked off the entire semester, I have no idea how i am going to get through it all. Sorry I ignored you college, I know you are a bastion of all good things, in the back of my mind I have always appreciated the idea of quiet submission to my chosen field. That being said, I feel my person growing to the extent that college cannot contain me. Too many ideas, so many possibilities, that I cannot possibly submit to you right now. I am sorry. Deep down, I love what you've done, but so invigorated by people and ideas I have no time for you. I just need to get through the rages of this semester and exalt in the freedom of being a human being with ideas.

What I need to do to get through the semester:

Medieval Civilizations:
Seeing as I don't know any of the material it is best that I submit my final on Medieval Parchment.

French: Seeing as I know nothing it is best that I dress up as a Frenchman for my final and be very argumentative.

Sailing: Fucked. Str8 up.

Sound: I have no idea.

I don't even know my other classes. Let's be people!

5. Certain Special People

:)

Apologies for pure drivel.