I was doing time in the Universal Mind

I've been fooling around with Photoshop and early on in the fooling I discovered the liquify tool. Basically, the liquify tool enables you to shrink, enlarge, pull, and distort images. It had me at hello. I began experimenting with pictures of my friends. It's fascinating how even the slightest alteration can dramatically effect one's features. And very funny. I still have a long way to go in learning all that Photoshop has to offer. Amanda said she'd give me a tutorial; she's been doing this stuff since I was in diapers. Ok, maybe not that long.

I've been practicing yoga for over a week now and can already feel the difference in my body and mind, which is to say stronger and more clear-headed. I was beginning to feel more unbalanced than I'd ever been these last few months and yoga was the perfect solution. Spira had been trying to get me to do it with her for years, but I wasn't ready. I hope I keep up with it.

It was a good weekend. Friday evening, Spira and I saw Pan's Labyrinth at the Somerville Theater. We both really enjoyed the movie, though the story was tragic. Thought provoking, to say the least. It reminded me of Cocteau's Beauty and the Beast, probably because both films were fairy tales with an adult edge.

Last night, we drove up to Penacook (or is it cock? I'm serious, I don't know), New Hampshire to attend The Kremlin and Becky's housewarming party. Jaegan (probably not spelling that correctly, but I'm close) and Moose , The Kremlin's big, black dog kept their mutual lust in check and no overt sexual displays were in effect, as they were that fateful night at The Kremlin's old house months back. For more details, reference my old blog at myspace. Leave it be, though, if you're not interested in reading about the interspecies Kama Sutra those two sick exhibitionist fucks were putting on. And if you're homophobic, you'll be equally grossed out that the sloppy sex was carried out by two males.


Not too far back, three people very close to me were in doubt as to whether they had serious illnesses, and were waiting to hear the final word from their respective doctors. Well, I'm happy to say two of them are illness free and healthy as ever, and the third I haven't heard back from. Crossing my fingers.

Well, that's it for me. I think I'm going to take a bunch of DMT and go have dinner at my parent's house. Sounds like the perfect plan to me. Of course, this will be my first time taking DMT, but what could possibly go awry?

I pulled on trouble's braids

I ate the tallest burger I've ever had tonight and I think, especially in light of the fact that I hardly ever eat red meat, that I better bring a book with me on my next visit to the privy. Spira was jonesing to go out to eat and I obliged for two reasons: first, Spira is a very enthusiastic eater---the joy she derives from a good meal surpasses sex in her book---and her enthusiasm is contagious; second, I enjoy her company over most other people's and don't often pass up on a chance to hang out with her. While tossing ideas around as far as our preference was concerned, Spira expressed the urge to consume a burger. So, burgers it was; we decided to check out a place called RF O'Sullivan's nearby.

As I mentioned, the burger was tall. I couldn't fit the damn thing in my mouth ( that begs a "that's what she said" remark, but as I'm a grown man, I've left that sort of nonsense way back in my past). For the record, my burger was of the mushroom swiss variety, and Spira had one with bacon and sorts of other slimming and nutritional stuff. And a pint of Bass to go along with it. Mmmmmmm. Good call on getting burgers, Boo.

Kreg stopped by the house later on, followed shortly by Luke Warm. Add Bob TV to the mix, an d you have a cozy little party. We watched the Celtics put in a valiant, but futile, effort against the mighty Spurs, and played some guitar and ukulele during the commercials.

After everyone left, I watched some of The Office (Uk) and witnessed some great comedy. I'll cap the night off with some Curb Your Enthusiasm. I hope all this comedy will make my dreams funny, because they sure need to laugh.

A Hitchhiker's Guide To My Sunday Night

I just got back from watching the Patriot's lose at Luke Warm's house. Ultimately, the outcome of the game has no bearing on my life in any way remotely palpable, yet I was left with a dour outlook for some time after the game. Until, of course, I realized how silly I was being. I live in the same geographic area where they play; that's my only connection to the team. I'm not going to waste one more minute feeling crummy about their loss, because I know for a fact they're not going to feel bad when I suffer a loss of some sort, though it would be nice if they would; I'm starving for attention.

I met a dog today that was a real asshole. Spira and I were on our way to True Grounds to grab some coffee and scones when we came upon a woman with two dogs. One of them, the asshole, looked like a dalmation/lab hybrid, and who cares about the other one since it has no bearing on my tale (or tail. Get it? hahahahaha). Alright, if you must know, it lappeared to be a grayish labrador sort of beast and not an asshole. Satisfied? Okay, so we're walking by the trio and I make eye contact with the dalmation mix, and the jerk freaks out and lunges at me. Fortunately, it's owner had a firm grip on the leash because otherwise, there would have been a brawl.

My pride was a little shaken by the incident, I have to admit, because I'd gotten it into my head that because of my pure heart, animals are drawn to me. Not too shaken, though, because that dog had a bad attitude and it had nothing to do with me. It made me think of Serena, my beautiful husky/lab mix from a few years ago; the girl I was forced to give up because of her explosive temper. Ah, but she was a tender lass and so sweet with me and most of my friends. Sometimes I feel like I failed her, but when I really think about it I realize that because of her disposition, I'd have to give her up eventually. Perhaps in a different post I'll go into more detail about her. Boy, do I miss her.

I borrowed Bob TV's dvd of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy yesterday to see what all the fuss was about, or more to the point, to see whether, at this time in my life, it clicked with me. Not so much the movie, but the whole mystique that surrounds the book that it was based on. When I worked in a book store years ago, various coworker's of mine were infatuated with the book and ceaselessly badgered me about reading it. A few times, while on break, I'd leaf through the it, and I found some of it to be vaguely amusing, some of it clever, but I couldn't muster anything more than a passing interest. I really tried to get into it, especially when people around me were heralding it as a masterpiece, but it wasn't for me. My co-worker's never forgave my obtuseness. So, there I was yesterday, prepared to give Douglas Adam's masterpiece another shot, albeit in a different medium, and once again it's allure was lost on me. Hey, at least I gave it a shot.

I've come to realize that the Douglas Adam's devotees are much like Monty Python devotees. I once dated a girl who was obsessed with The Holy Grail. When she found out I wasn't masturbating over it's greatness on an hourly basis, she almost dumped me. It would have benefited me if she would have, because too often I'd be sandwiched between her and her friend on the couch, watching the damned film while listening to the two of them mimic the dialogue in stereo. At the time, I thought their behavior was excessive and probably rare, until I met other Holy Grail adherents. I'm curious to know whether Douglas Adam's fans are into Monty Python and vice versa. I'm guessing yes, but am only basing it on the fact that the humor in both is decidedly British and decidedly corny. However, I enjoy Monty Python much more than Douglas Adam's. Shouldn't that account for something? Maybe, but I'm way too tired to continue with this. I'm going to put Le Samorai in the dvd player and watch something I actually enjoy.

Too much coffee, no cigarettes

Whenever I have strong coffee, I suffer for it. Bob TV makes a powerful brew and every time I accept a cup, like this morning, I forget the beating it gives my psyche. I've gone from joy to despair to anger to joy to despair in the span of an hour. Thankfully, I'm up to the task of managing these zig-zagging emotions; mostly because I know why I'm experiencing them, and that makes the experience more tolerable. But still, I'd prefer to face the day in a steadier fashion. Damn you, Bob TV! The son-of-a-bitch is already on his THIRD cup of the day, and he's as mellow as a kitten. But he's had years of slowly and methodically building up his tolerance, where I'm still a babe in the woods.

Coffee buzz aside, my life lately has been on somewhat of a downward trajectory. I'm being generous by saying somewhat; I'm trying to maintain some positivity . I need Tony Robbins to come over and slap me around for a while. That's what he does, right? I thought so. Could be the winter doldrums, too, but Ive never really succumbed to them. My disposition is such that it thrives in this climate. Misery loves company.

I just found out the other day that HBO has picked up the rights to George RR Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire books, and are moving forward with production. The books are a work in progress ---he's currently working on the fifth--- and each season encompass one of them. The nerd in me is absolutely ecstatic over the news. Martin is my favorite author, or to be more specific, A Song of Ice and Fire is my favorite series of books. The story is set in a medieval landscape, not earth, with a massive war building up between different families vying for the crown. Martin's characters are flawed ---there is no good and good evil---and he has no problem killing off characters, even ones that are central to the story. Most of all, he's just a damn good story teller. In my opinion, HBO puts out the best product on TV, and it's blowing my mind that Martin's work will be on the same channel as Deadwood---the best show out there---and The Soprano's, among others. Good to have something to look forward to, especially in the midst of a manic caffeine high.

A word from our sponsor

Over the last week, I've been watching The Office (US) , thanks to Bob TV, who exposed me to a website that hosts all of the episodes. I kept hearing from reliable sources that the show was very funny and that I should check it out. These days, I don't watch much television, and summoning the energy to remind myself to watch anything is a fruitless task. So, it took me a while, but I'm glad I watched it. Very funny; I didn't expect to like it that much, but I found myself longing for more after I plowed through the available episodes. I've watched some of the UK version, which spawned the US version, but I don't like it as much. Still good, though.

Because I'm so poor lately, my weekends have hardly been fun filled, and this one doesn't look like it's going to be any different. Fortunately, Luke Warm lives close by and Spira lives even closer, which is to say a floor below me, so I still have a social life, albeit a shrunken one. And speaking of something being shrunken, I need to get laid. It's been too long and it's about time, damnit! I'm not usually big on casual sex because of its resulting complications, but I'm completely game for some now. I have not done right by my libido; I have failed it again and again, to the point where if I don't satisfy it soon, I fear it may abandon me forever. Maybe I should go to a bar tonight and seduce a woman with a few in her, and hope she doesn't vomit on me.

Truth is, I'll probably just watch the Celtics game, perhaps with Luke Warm, and do some reading and writing. Fortunately, those are not default activities; I will find pleasure engaging in them and will only feel a small amount of guilt for not going out and being social. I need a girlfriend. I need to get laid.

Needs are constructs of the ego. I am beyond needs. I am like the lilies in the field.

Ok, enough! It's off to the bar, I go.

For Doug

I don't know the story behind these shots, but as y0u can see, they're pretty strange. I never realized hooves were this effective in balancing.

Black, you are my enemy

I should have stayed home last night. I was writing some thank you cards early in the evening when Luke Warm called and asked if I was coming over to watch the Celtics game. I told him I would after I took care of some things, chief among them calling Kreg back, because I wasn't around when he called earlier. Luke told me Kreg would be stopping by his place during the game, but I decided to call him anyway. We had a brief conversation and I told him we'd talk more when I saw him later on.

After wrapping up the thank you card business, I debated over whether I should walk or drive to Luke's place. I decided I would brave the elements and walk. Ordinarily, I would drive, but because I'd missed some workouts this week, I felt the exercise would do me good.

Besides the coat, which wasn't on the thick side, I had on jeans and two long sleeved shirts. No gloves. No hat. I didn't bother bundling up too much because I'd taken a walk earlier wearing the same clothing and I didn't suffer much for it. I took into consideration that it would be colder when the Sun went down, but figured because I'd be walking swiftly, I wouldn't feel the difference.

Most of the walk wasn't that bad, but by the time I arrived at Luke's, I was chilled to the bone. Well, at least I wouldn't have to go through that again, or so I thought. Right away, Luke informed me that Kreg wasn't coming over. Ok, not so bad; it wouldn't be a stroll through the park, but I'd manage the walk home. Kreg not coming over was the first piece of bad news; the second was that Tony Allen, one of the best players on the Celtics, ruined his knee not five minutes after my arrival, and thus put his season, and possibly his career in jeopardy.

He had just been fouled and the ref blew his whistle, but like a lot of players do, he continued on with the play and went up for a dunk. On his way down, he landed on his leg in a way that was painful to watch, and after writhing in pain for a few minutes,the end result was he had to be carried off the floor. It was obvious the injury was serious, and my heart went out to him.

What a stroke of bad luck! Multiple factors made this one of the most unfortunate and ill-timed injuries I've seen in a long time. Tony Allen had just been playing the best basketball of his life. He had turned around a poor start to his season by filling the gap left by the injured Paul Pierce with some magnificent play. He was at his peak when the injury sidelined him. It gets worse.

Tony was finally feeling whole again from a knee injury he had suffered a year ago. He's a young player; this is his only his third year in the league, but that first knee injury kept him away from the game for a long stretch of time and took away the momentum he'd built up. And to add to his problems, he was facing jail time due to his supposed involvement in a brawl outside a club.

And to literally add insult to injury, his eighty year old grandmother had come into to town with his mother so she could see him play. I read today that she went to see him in the hospital and consoled him as he cried in her arms. Oh yeah, and today is his birthday. To state the obvious, I'm sure it won't go down as one of his better ones.

Most of the Celtics are now injured. No one can remember a season as injury-prone as this one. These are dark days for the team and for the fans. And since I consider myself a fan, I wasn't thrilled as I watched the season go down the tubes, mere seconds after hearing my ride wouldn't be making the trip to Luke's house. If Luke had a car, I would have asked him for a ride.

After the game, I said goodbye to Luke and once again braced myself to face the elements. Luke offered his couch if I wanted to stay the night, but I declined. I'd bear the cold. How bad could it be?

About two minutes into my walk, I realized it was noticeably colder than it had been two hours earlier, but it still wasn't that bad, only a touch uncomfortable. My exposed head suffered the most. Strangely, my eyes began to feel like they were swollen and I struggled to keep them open. Still, though, I was doing alright.

Five minutes into the walk I decided I should step inside the convenience store that was a quarter of a mile down the street so I could warm up a bit. It occurred to me that it was the first time in my life that I found myself cold enough that I needed ---not desired--- to get indoors. By the time I arrived at the store and saw that it was closed, I realized I could be in some trouble if I didn't get home soon. I was half way there.

From then on, the walk became decidedly unmanageable, and I started looking around for any place I could seek shelter. There were none. My legs began shaking so badly, I could barely keep my balance. Breathing became a chore. I couldn't believe what was happening. A simple fifteen minute walk should not have found me in this state. It would have been comical if it wasn't so frightening.

I felt like I was beginning to lose consciousness and that's when panic set in. I pulled out my phone and thought about calling Spira so she could come and get me. She was probably asleep, but even if she picked up, by the time she reached me, I'd either be dead or at home. That was the way I felt, like I was going to die. I know it sounds crazy, or maybe it doesn't, but I was fading fast. I put the phone away and started running. I could barely feel my limbs at that point, but I ran. I started feeling better; the blood was pumping and I was getting closer to home.

I arrived several minutes later, and it took me over two hours for my head to clear and my body to stop shaking. Even now, the whole affair seems surreal. I think back to the point whenI thought death was upon me. Did my life flash before my eyes? Did I think of my loved ones and how I'd miss them? Did I mull over any regrets? Did I see a tunnel of light softly beckoning me to enter it? No. I was too out of it to think much, and the thoughts I did have were more like "I'm so fucking cold. How much further?" or " Shit, I'm going to die". I realize much of my account sounds absurd, especially given the circumstances. All this over a two mile mile walk? Yeah, I know it sounds like much ado about nothing, and I felt that way as it was happening, but nature can be a bitch, and last night she proved that.

Was I really close to death? I don't know. Probably not. I'm pretty sure the body can handle much more than what I went through, but it felt like I was in dire straits, that's for sure.

I should have stayed home.

Stay gold, Ponyboy

In an earlier post, I commented that there's nothing a golden retriever could do to frighten me. Well, take a look at this fella!I saw him hanging out on his lawn the other day and he looked like he was ready to maul me. I still found him to be as cute as a button and wasn't anywhere close to being afraid of him. Even though he's trying to look all gangsta in the photo, he's not fooling anyone. He went through a little routine of growling and snarling at me, but I disregarded it and started petting and kissing him. I held his chin up to my face and made baby talk. "Oooh, what a cute widdle puppy wuppy", I said. I couldn't help myself. He instantly dropped his tough guy act and returned to his jovial nature. We horsed around for a bit, and then I was on my way.





Later that day, I came across these two thugs who tried putting the fear into me, but I wasn't having it. What was going on? It seemed to me that word had gotten out to the golden retriever community about my feelings regarding them, and apparently they took offense. I understand: I used to hate it when people told me I was cute or that I couldn't hurt a fly. I so badly wanted them to know that I wasn't "cute", I was rugged; and that I could indeed hurt a fly or any other of God's creatures, and in fact had done so, many, many times. But as much as I rebelled against my nature, I've since come to embrace it. I hope those golden's out there I've offended can do the same, because they're so cute and fluffy and playful. And I want them to know that I didn't mean to insult them by my comments --- I wasn't suggesting they were weak or lesser than I was--- I was only trying to illustrate my affection for them. So what do you say, guys--- truce?

A river ain't too much to love

Lately, it's been tough keeping up with my writing here; I've been distracted by life's minutiae and more to the point, there hasn't been much I've wanted to write about. Sure, there have been a whole host of things I've thought about sharing, but since they involve other people who may wish to remain anonymous, I hold back. For example, last week I caught Luke Warm rummaging through Spira's panty drawer, sniffing the goods, but because he's a good friend of mine, I'll refrain from writing about it. Same goes for my friend Kreg, who I saw stealing the beggar's cup from a homeless person in Harvard Sq the other day. I'm not going to expose his ill deed to the world, but will speak to him in private about it. He's been a good friend; I owe him that much, at least.

I was a real party monger last night. I stayed in and read. That's right, I said it--- I read. Big deal! I had a great time, too. Think of me what you will, but I enjoyed every second of it. I managed to finish Flashman, which was a fantastic read, and also put a solid dent into Jacqueline Carey's first novel in her Sundering duology. It's basically The Lord of the Rings told from Sauron's point of view. Since high fantasy is typically known for it's rigid portrayal of good and evil and not much in between, it's refreshing seeing someone turn the genre turned on its head by illustrating the subjective nature of things. It's all point of view, baby!

As time goes on, I enjoy watching football less and less, but I'm going to watch the Patriot's play today since it's the playoffs. Or maybe I'll take a walk, instead. It's a beautiful day; may as well enjoy the fair weather while I can.

Old Boy is back in town

After having a strange dream involving the Illuminati, I woke up this morning with a dry, sore throat. Because almost every human being I know has been sick of late, I muttered a mute "uh-oh", fearing the worst. I drank some orange juice and once that was down, I tried a couple of dry swallows to find out if the throat was still sore. It was, but it's hold on me was fading, I could tell. Within minutes, I was back to feeling hale Another illness averted. Viva Kevin!
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I was thinking about shaving my head, but when I asked Spira if she would do it for me, she grew wide-eyed and shook her head slowly. " Oh, I don't know if you want me doing that", she said. I remembered her telling me about the botched haircut she gave her sister; maybe she still hasn't gotten over it. She added that my hair looked okay at it's current length, which is to say longer than I've ever had it. I told her it would be easy shaving my head; all she'd have to do is guide the beard trimmer over my skull until the hair that's left is all the same length. Of course, as I was saying this to her I began to have my own doubts, and put off the hair cut. What a Mary, I am. I'll probably end up going some place and paying someone too much money to do what I'd do at home for free.

I was walking to the White Hen earlier tonight and I had one hand in my coat pocket, fiddling with the forward button on my mp3 player in an effort to find just the right song, because "Cecilia" wasn't cutting it. As I was doing this, I noticed the people walking by me looked uneasy. I'm sure they figured I had a gun in my pocket and was about to rob them. I admit it made me feel more confident and self assured, having this implied power over people. I had to remind myself that power corrupts, and if I was going to rob these motherfuckers I'd better get on with it.

One of the best fight scenes I've ever seen is in Old Boy. The fight takes place in a long hallway and is between Oh Dae-su, the main character, and about twelve thugs who are each brandishing a bat, knife, or some other nasty weapon. Oh Dae-su's weapon of choice is a hammer (which he had just used on a poor chap in some dentistry), and he proceeds to beat the shit out of every one of his opponents. As far-fetched as this sounds, it's pulled off with an amazing amount of realism. For example, instead of sounding like a sledge hammer crashing into an oil drum, the punches sound real. And the combatants actually stop throughout the fight to catch their breath. And no one flies (I used to work with this real cool bite-in-the-ass named Thom and whenever I'd recommend a movie to him, he'd ask me if anyone flies in it, and if I replied yes, he wouldn't bother watching it. I knew automatically what he meant about "flying" because this was around the time that Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon came out and between that and The Matrix, everyone was flying all over the place---on roof tops, in trees, in the clouds, etc. Thom liked Steve McQueen films and hated the fact that the laws of gravity didn't seem to apply to action heroes anymore. I didn't mind the flying, as long as it was done well, and felt his viewpoint was limiting. Years later, I'm coming around to his side of things. I sometimes find myself channeling Thom as I pass on a film because of it's flying factor.) At the end of the fight, after suffering dearly for being so outnumbered, Oh Dae-su staggers out of the building with a knife in his back and blood soaking through his suit. He barely makes it out to the street before collapsing. Poor guy didn't have much of a good time in this movie, but I did watching it.

Let's take the first bus out of here

This is the first time in days I've been able to write on this site. Every time I'd go to sign in it wouldn't recognize my user name or password. I was also denied access to my hotmail account, Google's home page, WEEI's website (sometimes I listen to sports talk to help drown out the voices in my head) , and portions of Myspace . After checking my internet settings and everything else I could think of, I went into Spira's room and reset our network connection. Worked like a charm; I just wish I thought of it earlier.

Spent New Year's Eve at Luke Warm's place and it was an interesting night. I'd like to go into detail about some of what went down, but by doing so I may end up portraying some people in an unfavorable light, and that's not what I'm about. Nothing catastrophic occurred and no one embarrassed themselves terribly, but there were a few there who were overbearing at times and ended up getting under some skins. But that's what happens at parties sometimes and , my good time wasn't ruined as a result of their behavior. Who can have a bad time when there's a table covered with almost every kind of cheese imaginable, chutney, delicious bread, and Thai potato chips?

Earlier in the night, our friend Pat arrived with a burned cd of Dennis Wison's two solo albums. He brought it because I'd been pestering him about playing it for me since last summer. The albums are out of print and I'd always wondered what they sounded like. Well, I found out, and it was damn good. Of course, it's hard to give anything a serious listen in the middle of a party, but I got a good taste.

Luke's roommate Michael had prepared some toasted bread with hummus and cheese and the running joke was that he had dosed it with ecstasy. That came about because when he took the finished product out of the oven he seemed a little too intent on having us try it. I asked him if he had dosed it, and with no hesitation he responded that he did indeed dose the bread, with ecstasy. Most people got the joke, but as the night progressed, there were whispers that the bread really was dosed with ecstasy. Apparently not many people were in the mood to "roll", because most of the pieces of bread remained untouched.

Around two thirty, the party was winding down and visions of sleep came to the forefront of my thoughts, which were muddled from following my bliss perhaps too much throughout the night. My friend Keith offered to take Spira, Kreg, and me back to my place, and only Spira accepted. Kreg and I opted to walk because, at least as far as I was concerned, the walk would be beneficial in that it would help clear my head and burn some calories from all the food I shoveled down my gullet. And it did help, though portions of the journey were tricky because of all the ice on the sidewalks. We didn't fall down once, which surprised me given the fact that our states were nothing short of altered.
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I'm thinking of watching Old Boy tonight. A few of us were discussing it at the party and it made me want to see it again. We also talked about Refused are Fucking Dead, a documentary about the demise of the great band. I had never seen it and lo' and behold, I found it on Google the day after the party. Overall, it was pretty good, but it was the performances that made the viewing worthwhile.