2010, We're Finally in the Future




2010, We're finally In the future!

Who will be the next Great Inventor? Who among us will give a blowjob to a politician and become famous? Who will secretly vanish from our lives, trying to get onto American Idol because they are trying to surprise us when we see them on TV, only to say they had H1N1 when they magically reappear in our lives because they failed?

What will the future bring? I’m a firm believer in understanding our past, in order to better understand our future. For instance, let us look at a past “great future way-paver” Sir Isaac Newton, the father of the laws of motion, calculus, and the 69 position as a means of understanding how to become a “great future way-paver.”

Cause I want to be one.

Isaac Newton's first thought after being hit in the head with an apple was the 69 position. He was out cold sleeping, head laying on the thick thigh like roots. He felt drops of rain on lips, filtering through the trees. He lay there unconscious, dreaming, about how Mother Nature would always sustain him, he felt connected with the world around him. This was the awe inspiring enlightenment he was looking for. He pondered History, Physics, Religion and Great Art of the Future and Past. He would no longer need to travel to the Orient to find enlightenment like so many of his contemporaries, who came back to the American Empire, explaining how Thailand had creatures who were of both genders. Woman on the top half, man on the bottom half. “Party on the top, even more party on the bottom,” one man wrote to Newton.

As Newton lay there with eyes closed and thoughts racing through his mind, suddenly a familiar taste ran by his lips. He opened his eyes to see large dog’s genitals in his face, like a red dangling slug, swollen with curiosity, as the dog relieved himself on Newton’s face. Newton lay there embarrassed as the dogs owner, caught a glimpse of a smile or a smirk on the passed out face of young Newton, as he received a stream of what Newton called "yellow nectar of the gods," as he once wrote in a journal he latter burnt. The dog’s owner, had an understanding that we all behave differently when alone, then when we are with other people. She understood the “otherness” Jean-Paul Sarte talked about.

She took out a yellow silk hand embroidered handkerchief to pick up her dogs excrement and went on her way, went about her day, telling every soul within a 5 mile radius about what she saw. And you got to give it up to her, back then, a 5 mile radius was a lot of unpaved road walking, yall remember her. A great pioneer in gossip, perhaps the great grandmother of twitter:

Becky_SoCal89: Newton1643 drank dog Piss LOL, you didn’t hear it from me though!

Becky_SoCal89: “Yellow Nectar of the Gods,” dude learn how to burn a journal better LMAO!

Newton would latter find out that the 69 position was old news to his Cambridge buddies. They found human fossils in that position centuries ago. The fossil information was in a book at the far end of the Cambridge library where a young woman would always study. Newton was shy, so he never went there. It was as if she guarded the book.
Newton also found out that one of his friends learned the position from his wife; before Newton got married with her of course. Although he didn’t wow the public with his sexual discovery, he did wow the public with his theories of motion and forever change the landscape of humanity.


So, with that in mind. What will you think of this new year as your head slams on the sink, or toilet as you are trying to throw up? What will the great oracles, and muses whisper in your ear? What images will they sketch in your mind? What will they bless us with as we lie unconscious in sweet concrete slumber in front of a totem pole bouncer? Or as we lay on house party sofa death beds surrounded by hyenas waiting to draw penises on our face?

Take care of yourself, and each other.

Lesser Known Christmas Stories


This story was told to me when I climbed the Himalayan mountains, by a wise old man who lived at the summit. He was a clever fellow, but kept a pet snake that bit him every night, he insisted that one day it would get tired of biting him, but it never did. Oh, how we laughed when the snake tried to bite through his coffin at his funeral! That's another story all together, but this is his most famous fable.

A kid gets out of the pool after an hour of swimming, and goes to the entrance of the pool where his and everyone's shoes are lined up. It goes

Pair of Shoes. Pair of Shoes. Empty Void of Concrete. Pair of Shoes.

Empty void of concrete is where his shoes are supposed to be, but they aren't.

He inspects the line up again, but it is quite evident to him that his pair is missing, like a front
tooth, missing from a smile.

He counts the shoes again, tapping each pair in the air as if he were playing piano with one finger.

When no one is looking he grabs a pair of shoes, walks off and clomps around in size 10 sneakers, the closet to his shoe size, all the way home.

The guy who owns the size tens does the same, and the person that finds their shoes missing next does the same until the last kid. The last kid has no shoes to take home.

The next day, the kids come back wearing each others shoes, they laugh at the absurdity, reconcile their short comings, and as they walk hand in hand to enter the pool.

They find that the pool is closed because of contamination.

The kid who didn't have any shoes, the kid who walked home barefoot, took an angry dump in the pool. The rage was aimed at no one in particular, and at the same time, at everyone, especially those with shoes.

I never knew what to make of this story, the old man said I wasn't "wise enough yet."







Operation Six Pack

(Not me, yet)

We all have an Operation going on in our lives, the operation is something that is an on going conflict, like Operation Iraqi Freedom. We know in our hearts we are battling something, reaching some toward goal, we feel that the goal is concrete.
Do we know if we have thought things through?
Yes.
Do we want to accomplish this goal?
Yes.
When will this goal be accomplished?
Your guess is as good as mine.

For some it is Operation Pay Child Support, others Operation Be Yourself, and for a lot of us, it is Operation Six Pack or some general form of changing our bodies. We want the change, but for some reason or other we always fall flat, we disappoint ourselves.

Again like a scientician, I'm trying to find the reason for my success at Operation Six Pack. I'm not there yet, but I bought a two year 24 hour fitness membership, got over my anxiety of going to work out in front of other people, hit the gym right after work at 9 and left at midnight. And the only change I can find is...

Age

I'm 27, I need that picture to put on Mypace of my six pack looking slyly into the mirror. All the other cool kids are doing it and I feel left out.
I've had a 2 pack before, maybe even the coveted 3 and a half, but never 6, and me want this bad.

So, basically, just wait for time to push you towards your goals, as much as I procrastinate, I never cease not doing something I want to do. Life goals are a lot like English papers, you wait till the dead line, do a half assed job; you fail the class, but next semester, next semester your going to show them.

And isn't there always a next semester people, isn't there always, think on that.

Take care of yourself, and each other.



Skinny Jeans Awareness Month




"Fail."

That's what Freddy tells me as I say, "I need to change my shoes" before we head out to play Football with a group of 6th graders.
Today, I'm assisting in a Young Men's group program, we were making snowflakes, but our males minds wander, we are too savage to make paper snowflakes out of florescent green, blue, and pink paper. We tap into our inner hunter, and some of the boys tap into their inner flamboyant gatherer (Hey guys! I found some nuts!) and we decide to abandon the project and play football.

Freddy is bigger and stronger than most of his peers, and in his vital stage of development he qualifies everyone because he doesn't know any better: she's hot, he's a nerd, and to him,
I am skinny jeans.
I need to run to my car and change out of my Dorthyesque red shoes, slip out of my skinny jeans that slink off my legs like pantyhose, and my cleavage revealing v-neck to put on my
XL basketball shorts
XL shirt that is torn at the sides to show off my solid shoulders and upper back muscles.
And my Nike basketball sneakers
To Freddy, I am that Asian guy in skinny jeans, that gets his haircut for 60 dollars at a Japanese salon, by stylists, that gives massages afterwards.

I'm going to have to show Freddy that the man makes the skinny jeans and not the other way around.

I remember not long ago, in a time before skinny jeans....
When no one queer eyed a straight guy, tight pants were known as "nutters" because they accentuated the male sack the opposite of camel toe.
I remember being on the Bart train with my black hoodie, black sagging size 36 jeans with my Jordans and du rag reading Shakespeare just to show them, that I would not stab them, that I was articulate despite my appearance. I showed them that
That we should not be judged on the content of our urban clothing, but on the content of our character.
Today
I'm going to show them that we should not to be judged by our deep florescent green V necks, but the content of our football skills.

So, after I do my superman clothes changing impression, I show my athletic prowess, which is amplified 10 fold because I'm playing with 11 year olds. I score touch downs with ease, block passes.

To me...

Skinny jeans is a statement, I want you to see my bulge, it's saying I'm out there, not out of the closet, because in the skinny jean world there are no closets, it's saying that woman I understand what you feel when you cant fit your jeans anymore girl, its saying I'm skinny and I'm proud.

I guess whatever stereotype we supposedly fit, we will always have an urge to prove that we are not like that, that we are more than our clothes, our hobbies, etc. Well always have a need to show them if we truly are the kind of people we want to be.

Take care of yourself, and each other.

Don't Stop Believing



I love this "Don't Stop Believing"cover, probably a couple months ago I would hate this because I would tell myself I'm not supposed to like this. I'm a straight 27 year old man, and this kind of reminds me of Barney and Friends.

As I watched this repeatedly, I felt no judgement. I didn't think about the plausibility of a wheel chair guitar player. I think about the plausibility of the singular act of a rendition of Dont Stop Believing, echoing throughout the segreted halls of Glee High (I don't know the name of the school), that manage to bring the different clicks together to stare into the air, looking at no particular object with a sense of hope like a Barrack Obama poster.

I think it's growing older that makes us more tolerant, but the last time I checked FOX news, there are plenty of angry old white men.

Or does this enlightenment come from a proper dosage of X pills. A correct amount, just enough to dissolve the animal part of the brain that was made to care about petty trivialities that create a void between peoples ( If we could ever dive into the minds of Dogs, we would hear all kinds of insensitive, bigoted hate speech towards cats).

Perhaps it is getting older, but in a more metaphysical sense, I can feel my atoms dusting off my body. Evaporating off me like hot steam when coming out of a long shower. The atoms catch wind, floating away from me like dandelion seeds, I can feel the crumbling wall between myself and the world.