Sometimes, when I am taking a shower, I like to take a bar of soap in my hand and squeeze it so hard that it just oozes out from between my fingers. Then I throw the mess on the shower floor, roar "AAAARRRG!" and shamble around like I'm a big, tall giant who has just crushed a car or something. Yeah.

I've always had a deep appreciation for the classics. Classical languages, that is. I enrolled in an Intermediate Latin class this semester to make sure I could still hack the grammar (its been a couple years). It turns out the grammar came back rather easily, and now I sit rather unchallenged every MTWF. I can't wait until August so I can get back to what I really love. Epic poetry. Calliope is the muse of epic poetry; she is my muse as well. While the translation is certainly tedious, I have not experienced anything in academia that equalled the triumph that I felt upon completing the Aeneid. If not Vergil or Homer, then give me their more subdued contemporaries. Horus, Catullus, or even silver-toungued Cicero (on my more "politically inclined" days), would do just fine. The dreck that we read in class is for pantywaists; I don't need to read about "Quintus" cavorting about Athens, fleeing from battle!

You'll have to excuse me; I just watched Gladiator for the first time. Good flick. That makes the second Ridley Scott film in two days (Blade Runner last night).

A shower, a shave. A new razor, and a new day. I think that a new razor is my harbinger for a good week.

I was reading the shampoo bottles. Things have changed! Pert...Suave...Pantene. Why have you forsaken me? All the idealism and lofty words that used to grace the anterior of the bottles is gone. Reading them in the shower as a kid, used to be the most entertaining literary exercise this side of the shower curtain. Not only did you get to try to say Methylchloroisothiazolinone, but just skimming over the other text made you feel great about putting the stuff in your hair.

"Caressed by forest streams, Vidal Suantene will open up the potential of your naturally beautiful hair."
versus
"Ideal for normal hair. Visit us at www.pert.com."

Call me a romantic, but that was kind of a downer when I read that. I know Pert is the shampoo of the common man (or that's how I think of it), but even Head n' Shoulders has better filler text (and we all know H&S is for "problem hair"). The only 'poo making an effort these days is Pantene. It's a damn shame...

That's another thing. Sure, I buy Pert in the store, and put the bottle in the shower like I am going to use it. But do I use it? Nay. I've got a nasty Pantene Pro-V habit that someone else in my suite is supporting. I hope they don't read this...

For the last few month's, I've been reading this guy's weblog. Let me know what you think of him.

This plane is definately crashing.
This boat is obviously sinking.
This building is totally burning down!

I told some bum on the street that he could take my soul the day that I linked to a Salon article. However, I think he is dead and this article is funny. Since I am a bleeding edge trendsetter among my demographic, it is fitting that I link to an article about me.

I don't see the point of trying to have a conversation with someone if you are walking in opposite directions. Usually (being the shy fellow that I am), I wait to see if the person makes eye contact with me. If said person eye connects, I will respond with a head nod.

Timing is an important issue when executing this manuever. It is generally OK if both parties nod simultaeneously; it looks as though you are complementing and reciprocating the gesture. However, great care must be taken to ensure that the nods aren't in the same direction. If the other person beats you to the nod, you have time to switch it up. Two downward nods looks silly, but more depressing than anything. The double up-nod is much worse because you look like baby birds stretching for worms.

You cannot respond to a hand wave with a nod. It will look like you don't give a crap about returning the gesture. However, getting (or giving) a wave, or better yet, a vocal greeting in response to a lesser gesture has the opposite effect. People like to think that you are really excited to see them. Which leads into the complicated territory of drive-by conversations...

First rule: Don't try to have the last word in a drive-by convo with a sorority girl. She will always win. This breed has tons of experience with vacuous remarks in passing and they are ready for pretty much anything. They hit you early with a bright "How are you?!?" If you are smart, you can put yourself out of misery and not ask a question in return. "Great!" or "Fine.." will suffice; you will keep your dignity. Otherwise, prepare to be left sputtering "wussup?" on the sidewalk.

Second rule: If you expect a response from your greeting start early. Fifteen feet is good in a low-traffic area. Avoid extended confrontations if there are lots of fast moving people around. By the time you meet each other, the exchange should be over. Otherwise, you will have to keep walk-talking in a difficult backwards move. Some people can pull this off, but most fail miserably. Sidewalk suicide for both of you.

Third rule: Don't get the misconception that people actually care what you say. This will lead you in the deadly "People like me" trap. We would want you thinking that would we?

Fouth rule: When in doubt, pull it out! When properly executed, this move cannot be countered, except by the most skillful and deft sorority girls.

Wow...this was just supposed to be a few lines. It kinda blew up as I was writing it. To be continued...

If I was around when kids used to play Cowboys and Indians, I would've always wanted to be on the Indian side. In books and in movies, the "good Indians" were always portrayed as these tough-as-nails, aloof, resourceful men of the land. They had integrity in spades and almost every good qualilty imaginable. However, there was always that part of the book where the cowboy offers Flying Bear some "firewater," his integrity dissolves, and he ends up whoring out his squaws for a fifth of John Daniels or whatever. I think that's why I never liked cowboys.

Alison had a quote from Still Life with Woodpecker today, so I think I will continue that trend and raise her one. Two quotes, different books:

"What do you think of that? she asked brightly. Then she noticed that from the tip of the hair there hung, like a tadpole's baloon, a tiny telltale bead of fishy moisture. O Sweet Jesus, no! She released her grip on the crumpled toilet paper. It fluttered to the ground like a stricken dove. Her face heated as crimson as the hair, and then some. She could have died.

"What do I think of that?" The Woodpecker's voice was very very gentle. "I think it could make the world a better place."
(p. 100)

Nevermind, just one quote. I'll make it up to you. If you haven't read the book, read it. If you have read the book and own it, but can't find it, then I have it! Hahaha...

Not too much going on. I'm lonely because I haven't gotten any good email in two days. Pout, pout.

One of my small pleasures is to bite all the crust off of a Pop-Tart? so that I can separate the two halves and lick the jelly from the inside. It is similar to the Oreo Challenge? except alot harder and not as rewarding.

To ease my lonely spirit, I bought a new DVD?. One guess, one hint. HOO AHH! The first person who mails me the correct answer gets to go sailing this weekend. I will also give you five Oreos? and a contact lens. Also, I have many new CD aquisitions that you should consider. They are all pretty accessible if you like the rock. Napster suggestions are given after the album title if you want to listen first.

• Modest Mouse - Lonesome Crowded West (Doing the Cockroach, Convenient Parking)


• Modest Mouse - This is a long drive for Someone with Nothing to Think About (Dramamine, Breakthrough)


• Toadies - Hell Below / Stars Above (this one is being filtered I think, but trytrytry to get Dollskin. Greatness)


• Black Halos - The Violent Years (Some Things Never Fall)

My roommate is probably one of those kids whose house used to always be really cold. Jesus. The worst part is that his bed is next to the air/heating unit so I can't turn off the air without molesting him. I can't wait until it starts getting really hot (our air conditioner only "works" in the cold months) so that he is powerless once again!

What the hell is up with the recording industry these days? I went all the way downtown at midnight (Tower & Virgin, no links because they suck) to pick up some new releases (Toadies, Black Halos, & some others) and the CDs were priced in the $17-19 price range before tax. Most teenagers and their grandparents are easily downloading entire albums from the net and burning their own CDs for next to nothing (25 cents at most). The response is, naturally, to charge more for albums, effectively punishing those people who still give a shit. Instead, I bought 2 DVDs for less than $32. Maybe its just the supply-demand chain here. I've been totally blown away by the independent record stores in New York, Boston, and even Austin. I've heard very good things about San Francisco and the legendary Amoeba. New Orleans only has the Mushroom, which is only good for buying used indie CDs. I end up making most of my new purchases at Borders because the prices are lower ($11-15 usually), and they are great about special orders.

I'm pulling an all-nighter for no particular reason. Not school work, not work work, just for fun. Don't feel like sleeping. Oh, and I'm wearing a do-rag.

On my mind: I'm thinking of making a web portal for Tulane students. The Tulane web site is (and probably as it always will be) geared mainly towards the administration. Not that I feel a need to "give back" to Tulane students, but its seems like someone has to pick up the slack.

I am going to make a page dedicated to the two guys that live in my suite that never talk to anyone. The "Ben & Max Page" will be up soon.

I'm going to start using alternate OSes alot more. I'm in FreeBSD right now (like anyone cares). I also have Linux 7.2 and Solaris at my fingertips. Well, Solaris is at my fingertips only if my digits are about 2 city blocks long, but close enough. Woah, I almost made a dork joke!

Send all comments & suggestions on above ideas to me. It's about time I get a mail server running, so expect to see trey@dephex.org soon also.

I dreamed of a world or era where everyone on the planet worshipped this supercomputer as a god. They all believed that it was some kind of prophet because every afternoon at 5:05 pm it spit out a obscure equation that it was "working on." See the planet was dying, and as far as anyone could remember this computer was supposed to find the secret to their salvation. Each day, the computer grew one step closer to the answer. The computer had even requested to be "fed" human food and other mundane comforts so that it could better understand man's interests and modicums. The government, society, and religion of the world all revolved around the expectations borne of this machine. No one remembered where the machine came from or who had built it. No one even knew why the planet was dying. Except me.

Many things happened during this period. I entered adulthood, fell in love, and was exiled. Cut to the chase, I couldn't take it any more. Storming the central city plaza, armed to the teeth, I ripped open the back of the computer with my hands. In a fit of rage, I had decided to expose the only point of confusion our world. If I couldn't decipher it, I would destroy it. I was as shocked as anyone when I saw what was inside. It was, of course, a midget.

Most people, upon seeing their entire belief system shattered, quietly returned to their government-provided domiciles and unceremoniously commited suicide. The remaining dumbfounded officials allowed me and the midget (who's name was Otto, by the way) to return to banishment. The dream ended with us sitting on a verdant hillside outside of the city's protective enclosure, which was quickly sealed behind us. We were staring at the horizon...

Don't know what it means. I'm waiting for a good night to finish the dream.

The heiresses to the Hilton forture (yeah, the ho-tels) are these two bombshells named Paris and Nicky. I was reading up on the Hilton sisters on the net, and it turns out that they are chronic socialites and drug addicts. Big surprise. But who cares, because they are hot and rich, right? Anyway, there was an article in Vanity Fair about them that I was reading. The interviewer went to their house for dinner and pretty much let their conversations tell the story. It was uncomfortable to read since they talk like teenagers, but are treated like celebrities. The younger one was having her 15 seconds of fame when out of the blue...

"Suddenly Nicky shrieks. She jumps up and starts flailing all over the porch like a pony that's been shot with a BB gun. A dark beetle has landed on her.

Perfect; journalistic talent is running low these days. To the author's credit, the article almost made me feel sorry for them. But just that "poor-little-slutty-cokehead-rich-girl" kinda sorry, ya know.

My cousin Kelly has a long history of being cool. Not only does she have a much cooler domain name than I, but she obviously schools me in Flash. She tried to rub this in my face the other day in an email.

"Personally, I think you should put aside the whole web design thing for a masterful career in writing."

Maybe I am taking that wrong, but I interpreted it as, "Your website sucks! Give up on computers and be an English major." Anyway, she is working for some huge multinational megacorp while I am out here working "the streets" of web design. Visit her website if you like. I haven't seen it yet either.

We are so content to just stand in our room and strum Modest Mouse songs all night. Our other obligations (artificial intelligence project, architecture paper) seems to always take a backseat to our procrastination. Man, we love to hate that word...

Cras - Latin trans. = tomorrow
Crass - English trans., goes well with badass = arrogant & haughty?

While I was sitting in the cafeteria today, eating a very late breakfast, I started thinking about people. The people around me, the affluent crowd that attends Tulane, is so far detached from the "real world." Sometimes, I want to scream at them and flail my arms and tell them, "Hey!" After that awkward moment, I would explain to them quietly that all the ideals that consume their lives are not worth devoting themselves, much less attaining. "You are draining. Plug up your souls before all that juice flows out these holes..." I know they wouldn't listen.

Other times I feel like Travis Bickle. Not the pimp-slaying, drug-monger-ass-kicking side of Bob Deniro's character, but the confused, angry, and caring Travis. I sometimes think that most people are not worth caring for...they only corrupt the few good ones. After thinking that, I go hold my hand over the stove, do 200 push-ups, and talk to myself in the mirror. Then I go kill pimps. Hahaha!

Finally, sometimes I smile at everyone and don't think anything bad. Those times are always worth waiting for...

So it is settled; Melissa, Sonia, and I are living together in San Fransisco this summer. Our generous host is the man!

Thanks to Jare's ever-watchful eye, I have spent the last hour figuring out a CSS bug in Netscape 4.0. Since I planned this design to be modular and using includes alone, the change should be seamless. I will upload it all tomorrow (bleh). Now I remember the nicest feature of hosting my site on my own server. If a change it made, it is made instantly, without inconsistencies or alternate file sets.

Posts are going to be a little light for the rest of the week because I have a programming project/logic design/paper/lab report due. In the meantime, tell me how much my site sucks/rocks/makes you want you hire me...

How did it go from this to this (below) in 24 hours. It is the same shot, basically. I love New Orleans...

Someone who is important to me commented on my devil's advocacy post from a few days ago.

"There is a difference between wanting to be told you're right and wanting understanding, free of judgement. Most people don't want someone else to try to solve their goddamn problems for them, they just want someone to listen. Which makes the position of devil's advocate worthless at best, and at worst terribly harmful."

While this email didn't do much for my self-esteem (worthless? harmful?), it did make me think. I understand the role a friend must play when someone is dealing with something. You have to shut your mouth and absorb -- share their dilemma, not fight it.

I also made a new background for my ongoing project. If you like looking at my digital "art", you might like this because it is my favorite right now. It's the second one on the page. Dig it.

My mood does not fit the weather today. See for yourself...

Weather:


Me:
:-)

There ain't nothing like a new set of guitar strings! The pliable snap you feel as you stretch them out across the fingerboard. The anticipation as you hear them jangling against eachother while you tune. They are excited too! And the moment of truth...that first strum. Bright, clean, and trebly, as strident as the first robin of springtime. As refreshing as jumping into a chilly pool on the first day of summer. As excruciating as stepping on one of the string clippings that you left on the floor and having to yank it out of your tortured foot after you finish screaming bloody murder.

Sorry, did I ruin that moment for you? Oww...

I filled up the tank of my car and headed out.

As I neared the house, I saw the spinning lights and the red blurred the blue, which was all but blurred by the tears. I knew what happened, and I didn't need to stop to have that confirmed.

I drove past and reached the interstate. I almost just took off out of the state; I could've reached Texas by 2am. But the need to stay and think is greater than the need to flee. Something is missing now, but I don't think I'll find it by running.

You realize that you are more alone in this world than you thought you were. Tomorrow I ran until I couldn't stop running.

I'm going to the cafe...

I am doomed to play the role of devil's advocate. In conversation or debate, I can't help but point out the weaknesses of a plan of action. Sometimes people take it the wrong way; they think I am attacking their person. On the contrary, I am usually fond of the person and attempting to help them work through something. I assume that if people are telling me about something, they care about my opinion. Not true, and I can understand this myself. Most of the time people just want to be told that they are right...

I'm actually kind of proud that my site is the first listed for beastialities in all the major search engines. I can't help but think how disappointed the "pet fans" are when they find out that Fierce Beastialities is Melissa's umm...poetry. When it comes to original content, I am all about it.

This is a good weblog I've been reading lately. She writes with a refreshing conversational style that is fun to read. She makes me smile...cute too.

Scott, you had better get back here soon or the next time Abe comes in here asking for you he's going to take it like Missy did...

Missy! Missy. MissyMissyMissyMissy...
Theresa! Theresa. TheresaTheresaTheresa...

My Arabian friend Yssim Asereht is in town!