Thursday, January 29, 2009

Notes 1/29/2009

I want to punch this group in its nose. Hard.
-The Center for Consumer Freedom

Learn More About:
ALF/ELF Internationally
Crimeth, Inc.

Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Dream-Lou Ferrigno, Spurs Ticket, Jungle Survival

I had a dream about some different things.

I was with Gene Hackman investigating a crime. It was nighttime and rainy. There was a car in front of me and to the left, a large brick wall, presumably a building. Gene Hackman was looking in the car. I knew then that the victim was Lou Ferrigno. He had a hole in his head made from a projectile from a gun. We were suspicious that he had deliberatey made said hole in his head. He might have wanted to die that bad. Hereafter, Gene Hackman was replaced by Tom Hanks.

We aimlessely ambled around the scene. I felt that something was going to happen. If Lou had been murdered, I felt that the perpetrators were going to return. A Volkswagen drove into the parking lot. The VW was dark blue. It looked like a golf. It was old and shitty. The driver looked like Kurt Rambis. He sped into the parking lot and did a single loop. The ground was still wet and had a layer of leaves. The leaves had been there a while. I was nervous that this blue fucker would spin and hit me. That would make 2 dead bodies. Which is 2 too many.

The next step in the investigation process was autopsy of poor Lou. I materialized in the autopsy clinic. It looked like Club Photo, which is to say a photo factory. There were autopsies going on all over the building. I didn't think to estimate, but I would assume there were hundreds. I was working with two people at first. They were both adult females. One was wearing teal scrubs with a lab coat on top. The other, just teal scrubs. The floor was made of small white tiles. They were wet. On the tile floor was the body of Lou Ferrigno. His body didn't have a skeleton. The body resembled a manta ray in texture. In color, it resembled Bart Simpson.

The woman wearing teal scrubs sans lab coat, as it turned out, was the assistant. The lab coat meant, 'above assistant.' Doctor, I presume. The assistant reached down and grabbed Lou. The top of his head had been removed, naturally, to get to his brain and skull. Some of his hair was still present, his hairline and an inch. Eyes, gone. Teeth, gone. Nose, gone. The assistant grabbed the top part of Lou's head, and I could see inside the skin outer of his head. It was bloody but empty. The 'assistant plus-1,' or doctor, now approached Lou's body from his feet. He had butcher paper from his chest down. She pushed on his chest with two hands. Lou's mouth let out a noise. It was a mixture of a cough and a loud exhale. It sounded like Lou might still be alive. The noise told me a clear thing. The doctor had just emptied Lou's lungs.

The doctor walked off. She had more important things to attend to than Lou Ferrigno's remains, especially now that his lungs were empty.

As soon as she walked off, Lou began to twitch. He then began to slide around on the wet tile floor. I knew that this happens when people die. They twitch a little. Lou didn't want to twitch just a little. He wanted to twitch a lot. He twitched so much it wasn't twitching anymore. He was now doing full sit-ups. In between his sit-ups, Lou would slide around on the tile like a manta ray on a slick boat surface. Lou's eyes were back where they belonged. In his eye sockets. Or at least his eyelids.

While Lou was being mischevious, I thought about how unprepared I was to control an active cadaver, especially when that cadaver once earned the moniker Mr. Universe. The assistant's face was saying something when I looked at in dismay. It said, 'It's my first day and I'm unprepared to control an active cadaver, especially when that cadaver once earned the moniker Mr. Universe.' We were in agreement.

Luckily, at another autopsy station, there was a young lady who knew what to do. She was wearing coffee-colored scrubs. Her hair was black. She was beautiful. Her idea was to speak with Lou, or Lou's cadaver, and request that it/he follow the rules we had set for it/he.

Se calmo.

Se desperto.

"No te muevas."
No se movio.

No decia ni una palabra.

It worked.

After Lou calmed down, I fell through the canopy of a dense jungle. My estimate at the time was 100 feet. This seemed sufficiently extreme. I wasn't alone in my descension. In fact, I estimated that I had 100 fellow fallers. We all looked like shitty hippie kids. I was disappointed in the crowd. I was disappointed in myself as well.

I landed on the forest floor. The trees and shrubbery told me it was a tropical jungle. No one had jackets, and we weren't prepared for any of this madness. Some people had broken arms. Some people, legs. Others, dead. Still others, trapped in an interesting contraption.

Somehow a few people had been caught in cylindrical cages. There were at least two of them. The cages were hung horizontally, which is to say that the face of the base was perpindicular to the plane of the ground. The people were somehow suspended in a Superman pose through the middle of the cylinders, as if they were the central axis. Their hands were bound in shackles in front of their heads, and their feet the same. The bases were constructed of wood. The cylinder, of chickenwire. The contraptions looked like that from which one picks a bingo ball out.

We all got our wits about us. At least, those who were able got our wits about us. We then began to move. We were moving somewhat like a pack. A pack of shitty hippie kids. I didn't know where we were going. On the other hand, I knew where to go. In what seemed like a very short moment, we reached the edge of the jungle. At the end of the jungle was the beginning of something else. The something else was a backyard.

The backyard was fancifully decorated with shrubs. The shrubs weren't like most shrubs. They had been cut into familiar shapes. I don't remember any of the shapes that the shrubs were cut into. There was also a small labyrinth, with shrubs serving as walls. It wasn't hard to get out of. The proprietor of this home was standing on a platform, about 18 feet above us. He was wearing a traditional black tuxedo. The platform was a kind of back porch to his house.

At that point, I realized that he had us drop into the jungle for some sort of entertainment. I felt that that was a pretty evil thing to do.

Next, I was with my dad and brother. We were in a convertable car, talking but not driving. My brother's friend David Mills had offered me a ticket to a San Antonio Spurs basketball game. I had accepted the offer from David Mills. I was excited about going to the arena and seeing the basketball game.

As we began to drive, I realized something. I realized that David Mills and his Spurs game was in Pflugerville. This helped me realize that I was in San Antonio. I knew that Pflugerville was over an hour from San Antonio. Realizing this made me upset and I shared my anger with my brother and father.

I was in the passenger seat with my brother in the back. My dad was at the wheel. Our convertable was white on the outside and tan on the inside.

When I shared my frustrating news with my dad, he began to drive really fast. He was, of course, driving in reverse. We hurdled our way through a pedestrian mall faster than I felt comfortable going. Soon, I was terrified. Going in reverse was bad enough, I thought. At least you could slow down. Eventually, I was screaming for him to become more reasonable with his velocity, which implies speed and direction.

He didn't.

Before long, we hit a jump of sorts. In all likelihood, it wasn't deliberatly constructed for the sake of reverse drivers and their thrills. Regardless, it served as physics commanded, and we went flying. As we went over the jump, I realized that we were probably going to miss the bridge I saw in front of us. We did. My dad somehow made the leap, though, from the open convertable car to the safety of the bridge. I didn't make it. My brother didn't make it.

Can you guess what it is that we fell into? That fucking jungle.

My brother and I both fell through the canopy. He got caught in a tree with broken bones. I also got caught up there in the trees. I looked around and noticed a familiar face in the cylindrical traps. It was a teacher that I taught with at Allan Elementary. Her hands were out in front of her face, shackled. Her feet were in the customary place, also shackled.

Somehow I was able to make it up to where she was. I was now very close to the bridge that my dad and others were on. One of the others was my mom. They were peering over the bridge at me while I approached the teacher. I felt an unavoidable desire to comfort her. I didn't realize how silly this seems given the circumstance. Regardless, I reached in her cage and grabbed her shackled hand. It was exactly the way I remember it in real life. I bent down and kissed the top of her hand.

I knew that the people on the bridge appreciated that I'd done that.

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Funny Event

I got a tetanus booster this Tuesday.
The lady made me fill out paperwork.
I filled out that paperwork.
Truth was the name of the game on the paperwork.
I waited and wished I hadn't gotten the extra shot.
I had been offered an extra shot I didn't need.
She told me I should get it.
I wavered but caved.
The lady called my name.
I approached the counter.
She told me the cost was $54.00.
Then she told me there was an injection fee.
That fee would be $17.00.
I told her I would take the shot.
But I told her I didn't want the injection.
She made a screw face.
It said, "I'm confused."

Notes from 1/21/2009-School Stuff

Teacher Mex Connect-Jobs in South America

Field Roast Veggie Meats-Recipes and such

IDEN Network-International Democratic Schools

Thursday, January 15, 2009

New Word Press Blog

I joined up with my best friend, Praveen, and maybe some other people on a new blog.

The new blog is on Word Press.

Praveen and I started a media collective a couple of years back. I haven't contributed substantially in a while. For me, it's been a bit dormant, so to speak.

With this blog, it's back...with a vengeance...with interest...with a new look...and new goals.

Here it is:

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Lunch Today

Here's my lunch, ingredient by ingredient.

-1/4 can garbanzo beans
-1/4 can red kidney beans
-1/4 can butter beans
-1/4 can corn
-1/4 tomato
-1/8 red onion
-2 stalks asparagus
-1/4 bell pepper
-2 serrano peppers
-1/2 anaheim pepper
-1/2 pink lady apple
-2 slices canned beets
-1 avocado
-black pepper and a little Italian Dressing.
-5 carrot sticks
-1 cup 100% grape juice

I put this up here solely because it looks and tastes so damn fresh, healthy and good.

Sinatra's My Way Lyrics (written by Paul Anka)

The quintessential funeral/death montage song. The don, head gangster, rogue athlete, unorthodox doctor, drug dealer, Master P, Abe Vigoda, strom thurman, dj screw...they all work.

Frank Sinatra's My Way

And now, the end is near,
And so I face the final curtain.
My friends, I'll say it clear;
I'll state my case of which I'm certain.

I've lived a life that's full -
I've travelled each and every highway.
And more, much more than this,
I did it my way.

Regrets? I've had a few,
But then again, too few to mention.
I did what I had to do
And saw it through without exemption.

I planned each charted course -
Each careful step along the byway,
And more, much more than this,
I did it my way.

Yes, there were times, I'm sure you knew,
When I bit off more than I could chew,
But through it all, when there was doubt,
I ate it up and spit it out.
I faced it all and I stood tall
And did it my way.

I've loved, I've laughed and cried,
I've had my fill - my share of losing.
But now, as tears subside,
I find it all so amusing.

To think I did all that,
And may I say, not in a shy way -
Oh no. Oh no, not me.
I did it my way.

For what is a man? What has he got?
If not himself - Then he has naught.
To say the things he truly feels
And not the words of one who kneels.
The record shows I took the blows
And did it my way.

Yes, it was my way.

Vivisection Notes and others 1/14/2009

LD-50 Test, Lethal Dost 50
LC 50 Test, Lethal Concentration 50
Draize Test
AAVS-American Anti-Vivisection Society
Fixed Dose Procedure

PERSON (not related to veganism, rather philosophy/goverment/socialism)
-Pierre-Joseph Proudhon

-End Poverty in California movement-was an effort for well-known muckraking writer and former Socialist Upton Sinclair to implement Socialist reforms through California's Democratic Party during the Great Depression by recruiting supporters into the party and then securing that party's nomination for Governor of California.

Monday, January 12, 2009

Funny videos to remember.

Charlie Rose vs. Charlie Rose
Recite Trina lyrics.
Me tellin you muthafuckas off.

This list to be continued.

Notes-Read about Che's idea, The New Man.

Saturday, January 10, 2009

Great Quote laden with irony.

So, I'm at Bouldin Creek having a tofu scramble this morning, reading a book I just purchased.  The book is called, The Sociopolitics Of English Language Teaching, and it's a series of articles edited by Joan Kelly Hall and William Eggington.  The book is part of a series called Multilingual Matters. 

Here's a quote that I found in chapter II, written by T. Skutnabb-Kangas.  The chapter is called Linguistic Human Rights and Teachers of English.

"If you are an ESL teacher and/or if you teach minority children through the medium of a dominant language, at the cost of their mother tongue, you are participating in linguistic genocide.  You are killing the necessary diversity and the prerequisites for life on our planet.  Even if you feel shocked and angry at this accusation, it is your duty to know, and to find out about alternatives.  One tool in counteracting linguistic genocide might be linguistic human rights, especially in education."

The irony, of course, is that I'm here to work on a module of my TEFL online course.  I'm taking this course to get a certification to possibly work at a bilingual institution in Ecuador.  I've been very wary of these institutions since the idea came up, and I've since been justifying them since.  I don't know if it's working.  I'm very happy that my folks and friends have been supportive of my traveling before having nailed down a job.  In this way, I'll hopefully be able to avoid participating in linguistic genocide, similar to what I've dubbed 'linguistic colonialism' or acting as a 'linguistic conquistador.'

I hope that my Spanish fluency increases fast enough that I'm able to get involved in something that makes me happy.  Additionally, I hope that I have the conviction to be critical about the possibilities that I explore in Ecuador.  Stick to my guns, so to speak.  


Dream 1/10/2008

I'm with Choi and Praveen and we're talking about what we want to do today.  We don red t-shirts and have decided, seemingly mutually, to go into what we're calling 'South-Central,' although the city or region is not more clearly described.  I would assume Los Angeles, but you never know.

I get the feeling that we are interested in gangs and gang violence and we'd like to spend some time with the bloods in this South-Central area of town.  Our motives are good, and our goals genuine.  We're sociologists of sorts.  I then begin to think of the gravity of our actions.

I begin to think about what it might mean for me, a white guy, Praveen of Indian descent, and Choi of Korean blood, to walk through said neighborhood, sporting blatantly the colors of a street gang, without having any more specific relationship with a certain click or faction.  We don't know any bloods, and it seems our choice was totally arbitrary.  

This begins to make me fearful, and I'm trying to talk myself through the stab wounds I'm sure to incur.  Choi and Praveen don't seem worried at all.  Finally, after much worrying, I make my sentiment felt among the triad.  I'm not comfortable with this, this is dangerous, maybe even stupid, why don't we consider being crips, etc???  

Team convincing not to go seems like it takes a mere fraction of the time it took worrying and fretting over hypotheticals.  We decide to go back - to where, I don't know - and regroup.  Of course, as luck would have it, on the way back, we meet up with a group of rivals.  Choi and I are still wearing the red shirts, a flag of our bloodness, and it's clear to our adversaries that we're in the wrong place at the wrong time, to employ cliche.  At this point, I start thinking about explanations (fashion coincidence, men's league soccer jersey, etc) but before I can pitch an option, Choi throws up the sign of the Bloods.  It's simple, unrealistic, but effective.  Four fingers pointed towards the ground with thumb hidden is just what our challengers need to approach, hollering, one-by-one.  

The first attacker goes at Choi, which seems fitting, and I'm not really worried about it.  I prepare to take on attacker no. 2, who is, as the classic knowledge goes with bulls, attracted to red.  We clash, and before it gets too real, everything changes.  I am in a totally different place, by myself, doing other things, climbing other mountains.  You see, I've been a pacifist so long, I can't even fathom what a fight looks like in first person.  It just doesn't happen, so I move on.

The second of the third is much more patchy, and for this reason, I'll be short.  I remember climbing around on a group of trees and moss, suspended above a lake about 25 feet below.  My sentiment was adventurous, but also cautious.  I seemed to know that a fall wouldn't be productive.  I end up at the bottom of a rope, hanging for dear life, when I see that there's a pool in the middle of the collection of trees.  When I say pool, I mean like an apartment pool, treated and with tiles.  I begin swinging on my rope, back and forth, until I think I can drop into the pool, where two strange girls await.  That's all I remember.

Next, I was near a large van full of people who had crossed me.  I don't know how or who they were, but boy was I pissed.  Evidently, their crime against me was something so heinous that I felt death was a possible castigation for each and every one of them.  I think there were 6.  Luckily, I had a machete.  I began slicing through the van's windows, which were very darkly tinted.  I remember picking out certain people whose windows I would slash.  I was making it a point trying not to hurt them, yet.  I just wanted them to know that I knew they were in there.  Assholes.

They finally all came out, one by one, and lined up by the car, facing me.  One of the dudes said something and I lightly tapped his arm with the machete.  Immediately, a line of blood appeared as if the machete had been dipped in ink.  This seemed to convey the profundity of my anger and the six began to cooperate.  

At some point, and this is very shaky, our production became just that - an act.  There was an audience around us, and our conflict took on a capoiera type of expression.  What's interesting is that a major part of the audience was my third grade class from Allan Elementary, specifically Damian, Kristina, and Mark, amongst others.  I got the feeling they were all there, of course.  They love their Mr. Cameron.  This was the end of this part.

I find myself walking around a renaissance fair with Ster, Mom, Dad, Kathryn.  I'm really preoccupied with taking photos.  We are seeing castle ruins and statues and all I can think about is getting my camera set up right for the picture.  Then, I'll switch to my video camera, and make someone hold my other stuff.  It seems to be much more work than usual.

Ster looks up at an old castle wall and comments that it's amazing that it's all built with the same size blocks.  It's probably 40 feet tall.  I turn around and see that there's a moon bounce and some colorful shit to take pics of, so I abandon the wall.  I walk over toward the moon bounce, which is a castle, and see a statue that catches my attention.  It is very shiny and obviously not from the Renaissance.  It is actually a large statue of the San Antonio Spurs coyote, their mascot.  I'm trying diligently to get the bastard into the frame of my wide angle lens which I've laboriously attached.  Some dude acting like an asshole comes over and wants me to get him in the picture with the coyote, too.  I'm pissed at him and the situation.

I suddenly know that Praveen is there with us too, although not right there physically.  He's gone to the market, which is similar to the open air stuff at music festivals.  For some reason, I know that he's at a stand called The Amistad.  We (Mom, Dad, Ster, Kathryn, and my girlfriend-new to me) begin searching for Praveen and The Amistad.  We walk in and out of walkways formed by food and crap stands on both sides.  I am very excited about the amount of avocados I see people working with, but I never stop.

It's clear that we can't find him, nor The Amistad.  We've circled around and around, my girlfriend and I in one group and Ster as the other.  By now, Mom, Dad, Kathryn had moved on.  We decide to split up, and Ster goes up some stairs.  I tell my girlfriend to go in another direction, and I follow Ster.  The dream takes on a bit of a scary mood at this point.  I go through the little door which Ster traversed seconds earlier, and am faced with a choice.  There is a small set of stairs to my right going up which lead to a small door.  There is a set to my left that leads down to another small door.  I choose right, which is not to say correctly.

The door on the right, which is raised off the ground about a foot, and reaching to about three feet at its top, is very small and has a small slit window in the middle of it.  The view is blocked by a lab coat.  This moment is the height of fear in the dream.  I open the door and it turns out to be full of lockers, as if in a grocery store.  I know that it is for employees to change clothes.  The fear is gone.

I turn around and decide to check in the main hallway to see if Ster, Praveen, or my girlfriend has resurfaced.  Indeed, they have.  Praveen has a silly grin on his face, telling me quite clearly that he was no longer at The Amistad when found.  Rather, he had wandered off and failed to tell us.  So it goes.

We make our way out, the four of us, to begin the walk back to wherever it is we came from.  As we step outside, I realize that I'd like to change lenses on my camera.  I request assistance from my girlfriend, asking that she hold this lens, or that camera body, etc...She does this with great loyalty, and I really like her.  I gave her a kiss on the cheek to prove this to her.

As I'm putting pieces together, something isn't right.  Things are out of order, the lenses are all really dusty, and there seem to be way many pieces - some of them unnecessary.  As I'm dealing with this dilemma and getting more frustrated, I realize that Ster has moved on, and it's just me, Praveen, and my girlfriend.  She's also got a green shirt on.  

Eventually, after much tribulation, I ask her to hold one camera, and I accept that I'll be taking no pictures on our walk out.  I'll need the manual for this.  By now, we've picked up some more travelers.  Neil, Praveen, my gf, and my friend Peter from China that I met at the dorm now constitute the crew.  As we're walking, I'm still somewhat preoccupied with my camera, more looking in wonder than in practicality.  I look up and notice Tavis, from Moore Hill, and a big group of his friends have surrounded Peter.  Tavis is pushing him around a little bit and making fun.  I'm upset by this, because these dudes are both my friends.

I tell Tavis to chill out, and asks if he remembers Peter from the dorm.  We were all neighbors, for chrissakes.  He seems to remember now, and clearly feels bad, but chooses to continue his jesting.  I remind him of our triangle of friendship once more and ask him how he is doing.  It is clear that he doesn't want to talk about himself.  He begins to stare me down as if very angry.  I ask what he's been doing since he finished college.  This makes him very upset, and he turns and walks, posse in tow, into a building to our immediate left.  As he enters, I realize that it's a dorm, and from this I know that he hasn't yet graduated and is very upset about that.  

We decide to take a short break, we being Neil, Peter, Praveen, me, and one other, possibly my green-shirted girlfriend.  I reach into somewhere and pull out two picnic baskets full of warm food, which I immediately know has been given me by my mother.  I am hungry from all of this mess, and I can't wait to eat.  I pick up a piece of bread, about to go bananas, when I get the feeling my friends don't have what I've got.  I must share my bread.  

I tear off a piece from the first loaf, a piece which makes up about 35% of it, and hand it to Neil.  Peter comes next, with a comparable piece.  I set that loaf back into the basket, opting to tear from the second this time.  While I tear for Praveen and Number 4, I ask myself if I should give them less than Neil and Peter.  I decide not to, and they each get similar-sized pieces from loaf two.  We eat the bread, and I can feel the hunger subside, like the butter that melted on the hot bread that we're consuming...wait, butter?   Shit.  

I know in the dream that I've been a vegan for a couple of months and the bread is dominated by a flavor of butter.  That's a no-no.  However, given the mood of the occasion, I decide to stomach it, literally, and eat my share.  At this point, and it almost shames me to say so, but I begin thinking about Christ and how he shared his bread with his followers.  I never come to the point that I feel I deserve the same hype as Christ, but I begin to wonder if my deed here has been, in isolation, Christlike.  

Then I woke up. 

Friday, January 9, 2009

Identity As An American.

I've thought a great deal over the past year about my identity.  More specifically, I've tried to establish in my thinking the fact that I am, indeed, a racial, sexual, economic, and gendered being.  Unfortunately, this realization wasn't fully clear until this past year or so.  My failure to self-conceptualize in this way is in itself racist, sexist, classist, and pretty sucky in general.  

Upon realizing these things, things that people all over the world don't have the option of being ignorant to, I was quite shocked and a little bummed out.  On the other hand, coming to this understanding has provided me with an opportunity for dialogue with myself as well as with others.  My goal in all of this is to be perpetually honest about my identity with myself, utilizing this understanding as the lens through which I see the world and analyze situations.  As much as I'd like to be neutral, colorless, genderless, and without sexuality when looking at the world, this is not a reality.

Until yesterday, I had never thought very deeply about my geographical identity.  Being from Texas, I've encountered countless people who bring to a conversation their feelings about George W. Bush, their questions about riding horses to school, and their wonder at how I've maintained a vegetarian diet for nearly a decade.  As one might expect, these conversations happen generally with people who aren't from Texas. 

Having purchased my ticket to Ecuador this week, I began to think of my national identity.  Many of the things that embody the 'American spirit' I have disagreements with.  I'm not really fired up about our economic system, our racist and sexist history, and what's going on with LGBT rights nationwide.  That said, there are things about my whiteness, my straightness, or my middle-classness that upset me.  As I prepare for my life in Ecuador, I will be sure to feel more American than ever.   

Anyway, I am very excited to be able to explore my Americanness in a place that undoubtedly has its own national identity.  It will be frustrating and somewhat depressing, though I will surely attain a new level of consciousness in the end. 

Thursday, January 8, 2009

Tonya Harding Fantasy Number Study

These are all numbers found on Tonya Harding's Fantasy pagee, where people write in their fantasies about Tonya. I'd like to create a 1-100 list, so people can learn to count with Tonya.

Pages 38, 20, 1

"I want to play hide the salami as I bury 8 inches up your juicy twat."

"It’s like hotels using the first 3 letters of your name as the password for voice mail."

"Like "come here Tonya and do a triple flip on my dick" Plus hell after she was done sucking your dick you could rate her and then she would do it all over again to try and get that perfect 10."

"I still had 60 miles to go to get home."

"Somewhere around 30 minutes into our game‚ I exploded."

"Tonya had met me there at 3 o’clock in the afternoon and I propositioned her for five hundred dollars."

"At the bigining of this long 13 hour flight I had no choice but to strike up a conversation with Tonya."

"They were as close to a 69 position as could be while still skating."

"I could tell she was used to giving head even at her tender age of 15."

"After about 2–3 minutes of that she looked up at me and told me she wanted me in her ass‚ so she got ontop of the man and put him inside her pussy and then told me to come from behind and fuck her in the ass."

"about 15 minutes later she looked and said‚ "Its time for the part you’ve been wanting" and with that she inched her way back up until her hot pussy was hanging directly ove my dick."

"This went on for about 30 minutes and I told her 'My Turn.'"

"So I took option number 3; I fucked the hell out of her."

"the numbers come out 5.2‚ 5.3‚ 5.8. but I’m giving her a hard 7.5."

"It took no longer than 5 minutes before I came and she swallowed it down like sugar candy."

"After we finished our food‚ we went to a movie – where there was about 25 people there."

"I stiffened with the dread of things to come as a bus pulled to a stop 50 yards away."

"I'd been waiting for 20 minutes, standing silently by the sidewalk under dripping alder branches."

"She made a half frantic move to escape, slapped and clawed at me hard, dug into my shoulder with $2 nails."

"I don’t even know how it happened or why‚ but now‚ some 20 years later‚ I know I’m glad it happened."

"You the one with the ’67 ’stang?"

"Hell‚ I must have spent 2 hours in that shop going over every little detail of that engine."

"Only having 35 minutes until I had to be back to the newsroom‚ I quickly conducted my interview. "

"In a lame attempt to make up for my blatant staring‚ I send over a 7&7."

"As I recoup for another go‚ they continue to sixty nine for 20 minutes straight."

"Traffic seemed to be backed up for miles on 405‚ so I decided to take the surface streets instead‚ maybe stop by Powell’s Books to wander around‚ clear my head‚ and let the traffic thin out before I headed home."

"It’s not mine… I mean it is‚ but it’s financed… don’t have full coverage… owe $20‚000… ran that red light… what the hell am I going to do?"

"As a strong young man of 18 I experianced my first figure skater fantasy."

"I was at the Lake Placid Winter Olympics in 84‚ and Tonya was there with her family‚ no doubt dreaming of the day when she would be skating in another Olympic event‚ far in the future."

"When I was first hired for my current job…7 1/2 years ago‚ I was shown The Tonya/Jeff Video…Nice Breasts Tonya!"

"I arrive first and spread around 10 dozen red roses all over the room."

Free Online Learning

Of late, I've been really excited about learning for free on the internet. I figured it would be appropriate to document some good places to learn about all types of things.

Here are a couple. This list is inchoate yet, but a nice start.

(Look up Van Jones)


Wednesday, January 7, 2009

Two Ideas To Pursue

On the way to work, two ideas.

One, I will conduct interviews with 10 fellas. We'll drink during this interview. Their choices are the following: 1 large bottle of wine, 1 small bottle of liquor, 12 or 18 beers, 4 pitchers of beers, 3 bottles of champagne.

The interview begins as the first drink is opened. It will be recorded. The point is not to focus on the booze, but rather the one-on-one conversation. The alcohol just provides a possible catalyst for interesting thoughts.

Second, I want to create some things from the Tonya Harding fantasy page. Something to do with either the first lines is one idea. Maybe poetry. Another possibility is to create a Good Writer's Guide which gives strong examples of the elements of a story (hook, climax, etc...)

There also could be a family of dudes numbers fest including the references to size in the fantasies.

Here are some great first lines from selected fantasies.

"Tonya is sitting at home relaxing with her feet up when SUDDENLY, the door breaks down and a band of Ninjas enter."
"I would like to take tonya to the nasa space camp, use the anti Gravity room to give her the most unforgettable night of her life."
"I don?t know how Tonya Harding wound up in ancient Egypt?"
"You know‚ it’s like it was yesterday."
"I raised my hand in class and waited for Miss. Harding to call upon me."
"Tonya and I were floating in the sea together on our raft made of turtle shells‚ reindeer mucus‚ and cans of Andy Warhol’s tomato soup."
"It was a cold‚ and rainy night on the streets of San Fransisco."
"I had a bad argument with my girlfriend and was in the mood to do some serious drinking."
"Tonya calls me up and tells me to meet her in the mountains."
"I wish I could have the chance to have sex with Tonya."

Zuni Bear Fetish

These words are not mine. They accompanied a Zuni fetish that I was given by my parents. They chose the Bear Fetish to gift me. I found them to be really interesting and never wanted to lose them.

"According to Zuni mythology, the Bear fetish is the Guardian of the West and has the power to heal and transform human passions into true wisdom. They believe that Bear is invaluable whenever you are faced with change and transition and that it can be your ally when you are attempting to resolve conflict, forgive yourself or others for errors of the past, or when you are faced with new challenges in your spiritual path. There is a particular kind of depression of the spirit sometimes associated with the deep introspective stage of transition and change. When this occurs, Bear is a reminder that there is a parallel between depression and the natural state known as hibernation, when involvement with the outer world is minimized in order to focus more energy on the inner processes necessary for a successful transition.

Bear reminds us that one of the great powers we have is the power of turning to solitude and introspection through which we integrate new experience and change. If you are feeling overwhelmed by events, Bear can help you meditate on the symbolic parallels between your present state of mind and the bear at the door of the cave. You may be reluctant to step out of the cave into the sunshine after a long period of hibernation. You may retreat into the cave again and return to a state of solitude. However, you may be assured that no matter what the circumstances, you can choose peace instead of the conflict or disturbance you are feeling.

Bear represents the healing power within every living thing. Many of us are unprepared to make use of the potential power we possess in our capacity for introspection and solitude. The wisdom of Bear can help you realize this power and use it during those times in your life when the change created by cataclysmic events feels overwhelming."

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

Nicest Purchase I've Ever Made.

Today, I bought a ticket for an airplane. It goes from San Antonio. It will arrive in Quito, Ecuador the very same day, nearly 12 hours later.

I have never been so excited to make a purchase. It made H20 come out of my eyeball.

Most Interesting Thing on the Internet.

Pardon my language, but this is fucking crazy. I don't know what the hell to think of it. It is really too damn much for me to wrap my head around.

This reminded me of another website from a long time ago that is close to as interesting. Really damn interesting. Goodness.


Thinking on the way to work about the following statement. I switched it up and I like mine better. It could be used in an argument.

"My goal is to get my kids to want to learn to read."

"My goal is to get my kids to learn to want to read."

Sunday, January 4, 2009

HIV Tests and Metal Detectors

In the process/shitstorm that is visa application, I've learned that an HIV test is required.  I will do well on the HIV test.  About this, there is no doubt.  I've not been in risky situations often, to say the least.  

However, as the thing becomes more of a reality, I've gotten an interesting feeling about it.  This is all very interesting considering the discussion about phobias I had with some friends at a potluck last night.  I thought of this on the way home from Praveen and Choi's house.  

The visceral fear/uneasiness/general discomfort I have with the pending HIV test feels the same as my clearing a metal detector, say in an airport.  To the extent my logical side knows I will have no problem getting the result I expect and desire from the HIV test, I know as much as one can 'know' anything that I've never carried a knife or gun anywhere, much less in an airport.  Regardless, I still am stricken with that same darned uneasiness that causes me to tense up all over; I guess my brain's way to thumb its nose at Cartesian dualism.  As sing the Garbage Pail Kids, 'We can do anything by working with each other...'

Anyway, I just thought it was interesting that these two situations which, on the surface, are quite different, likely have the same origin.  Over the next while, I'll be digging to try and find said origin.  

I would guess that part of it has to do with not wanting to be pointed out in jest.  At one time in my life, I was very destructively and distractingly self-conscious.  Over the years of this consciousness, the beast started to lose its connection to anything realistic or logical.  In the years previous to right now, I have been able to examine this sentiment critically and logically, realizing that It had lost all grounding and logical foundation.  I have mentioned before that this entity has a voice which still speaks as an advisor, albeit an advisor I no longer act on or place much faith in.  I would assume the feeling began simply enough, as a desire to avoid things like dropping books or tripping in the hallway at school.  The old, 'laughing at me, rather than with me' situation.  

Anywho, interesting thinking today.  

Related to this, somewhat, and to the idea of dualism and body and mind symbiosis, there were some really good quotes in The Last Temptation of Christ.  

Saturday, January 3, 2009

TEFL Teaches me Things.

My TEFL Course offered me these chunks.  They actually made it interesting this morning.

"Did You Know...

...that the 2 longest one-syllable words in English are 'stretched' and 'screeched'; that no word in English rhymes with 'month,' 'orange,' 'silver'; that 'dreamt' is the only word in English that ends in 'mt'; or that there are only four words in English ending in 'dous': 'tremendous,' 'horrendous,' 'stupendous,' and 'hazardous'?"

These are quotes found in the margins of lessons.

"Language is a process of free creation; it's laws are fixed, but the manner in which the principles of generation are used is free and infinitely varied.  Even the interpretation and use of words involves a procss of free creation."
-Noam Chomsky, an interesting quote considering the intricacy and concreteness of the lesson that preceded it.

"I have never let schooling interfere with my education."
-Mark Twain

"The best teacher is the one who suggests rather than dogmatizes, and inspires his listener with the wish to teach himself."
-Edward Bulwar Lyton

"Mistakes are the portals of discovery."
-James Joyce

"Silence will save me from being wrong (and foolish) but it will also deprive me of the possibility of being right."
-Igor Stravinsky

"When we study language, we are approaching what some might call 'human essence,' the distinctive qualities of mind that are, as far as we know, unique to man."
-Noam Chomsky

"Reading maketh a full man, conference a ready man, and writing an exact man."
-Francis Bacon

These are all interesting for me, considering the course and its structure.  Many of them couldn't be more opposed to the course in content and structure.