I just finished the rough draft of a new song about the rise and fall of the gaucho pant trend, but only in the most superficial way. It is predictably called "Gaucho Pants (Rode Into the Sunset)." I haven't finished penning the lyrics, but when I do, I hope you will recognize that gaucho pants are just my personal metaphor for a certain force in the world (neither purely good or evil) which I do not know how to describe with words alone.

See, when I say "gaucho pants," it is my way of saying...well...

Forget it, you will never understand.
link to this post   1:40 PM by Trey | (1)
I'm not usually the type to drinking before noon, but I met Lindsay and Dana at Molly's this past Saturday morn at Molly's for a couple bloody mary's, and that shit hit the spot.

I am leaving Jackson. I quit my job.

I will be living with my father in our flood damaged house for the forseeable future. I forsee that it won't last too long.

My custom made road bike will be finished and delivered tomorrow. This marks the first time in several years that I will have a bike that actually fits me.

Things fall apart. Muscle tissue tears. Jobs and relationships end. Tears are shed, wounds are licked. There ain't much you can do except break out the booze Gatorade, fire up craigslist, and find a new job, a new apartment, and a new casual encounter. It feels good to just grab life by the horns and ride...
link to this post   6:38 PM by Trey | (0)
I just got back from Best Buy. I was returning something and decided to browse the sale DVDs. I picked out three: Monty Python and the Holy Grail, Reservoir Dogs, and T2: Judgement Day. I didn't even look at the total when I checked out (cuz I'm a baller); I just handed the girl my American Express black card. I did, however, look at the total on the receipt as I got in the car. It looked something like this:
Monty Python - $9.99
Reservoir Dogs - $7.99 - $7.99 discount - $0.00
T2- $7.99 - $7.99 discount - $0.00
Tax - (like less than a dollar)
Total - $9.99 + less than a dollar = $Boo-Yah!

I was so excited that I went and bought myself 16 items off the Dollar Menu at Wendy's. I am literally surrounded by hamburgers. I love beef. Dreams really do come true.
link to this post   3:25 PM by Trey | (0)
Trey's Dream Journal

Strangest dream last night. This is a welcome change to the ridiculously mundane dreams of last week. Who dreams of changing a flat tire anyway? So frustrating...Does it mean I question my manhood if I can't get the wheel lugs off in my flat tire dream? Nevertheless, this dream took me back to the salad days of high school, specifically senior year.

[A little back story may be in order. As a senior at Jesuit High School, I remember being very popular among 8th graders. See, I was a "Peer Support" leader, and rather than being all dour and serious about "Jesus" and "life decisions," I was the guy who would give it to them straight. They looked up to me because I was unnecessarily tall, older, and wielded an inexplicable power over the other dorks in the organization. They also related to me because I was awkward, immature, and just entering puberty. I was known as "The Goose," and when I walked past the 8th grade homerooms in the morning (as I often did), they would chant, shower me with gifts, and run along side me in triumph, trying to absorb some of my glorious presence into their sad little lives. I'm sure if their fragile shoulders could've held me, they would have carried me over their heads, four feet off the ground.]

The setting: some auditorium. An induction ceremony of sorts is underway, and a double file line of 8th graders is parading down the middle aisle of the auditorium into a very large bathroom, where an uncertain fate waits them. Manhood? The auditorium is filled to the brim with their parents and family, cheering. I am there, dressed as a P.E. coach. I am wearing a polyester windbreaker, a whistle, a moustache, and a strange expression that combines pride, excitement, and insanity. As the young men start their march, a familiar tune pierces the air: Journey's Separate Ways (Worlds Apart). From this point on, there is no sound in the dream, other than this classic power ballad. [This is way more dramatic if you can play this song or at least hum while reading.] In slow motion, I start running next to them as they walk down the aisle, cheering them, jumping erratically, patting their shoulders, windmilling my arms Pete Townsend style towards the bathroom, and acting pretty overenthusiastic about the whole event. I am making serious eye contact with each of them, singing the words to their faces. As the last kid nervously brings up the back of the line, I get in his face, screaming, pumping him up, and as he is about to enter the bathroom, we both slip (there is some steam coming out of the bathroom, and it has made the floor wet) and fall on our asses. I am up in a flash, helping the kid up, pushing him forward.


They are all gone. Parents mill about, smiling, shaking hands. My job as coach completed, I walk away from the cheering crowd, still proud, but sad. As I awoke this morning, I still heard that song in my head...

Though we touched
And went our separate ways

I am aware that this particular song might not be the most appropriate to symbolize the relationship between a coach and prepubescent boys, but I didn't pick the music. It is a just really inspiring song.
link to this post   9:13 AM by Trey | (2)
.: A Non-Objective Review :.

My Feet
They are obviously long, but artfully slender, favoring function over form in order to keep my immeasurable stature stable during strong gusts. The tops are overly veiny, but not unattractive to look at, perhaps even arousing. The toes are prehensile and strong, their grip rivaling that of a healthy toddler. The soles are rough, but clean; slightly calloused from marathon boku-maru sessions. Hair coverage is light and concentrated on the larger toes. The ankles are unimportant.

My Adolescence
Relatively uninteresting, based on comparison to colleagues, co-workers, lovers, and fictional characters. Fraught with angst. I did have some scattered brushes with danger (and of course my involvement with a street hockey gang) to spice things up. Not sure when it ended, if ever.

My Suntan
Although only recently acquired, my tan has garnered some unprovoked compliments from both sexes. Coverage is solid, but lacking in a few critical areas including: under forearms, inner and upper thighs, buttocks, and around genitals. Not sure how this will improve or detract from my social life. Light peeling at base of neck, but no one knows this except me.
link to this post   2:20 PM by Trey | (0)