Haiku

Alien invasion or last night's ultimate Frisbee game? You decide. *pretentious clearing of the throat*

Flying discs abound
don't want to run anymore
oh, bitter defeat

Heart of Darkness.

It was hot as hell, and humid, but it was dark out. The thick canopy above and all around created an eerie sort of mid-day twilight. I was lost, I knew that now, and my utter ill-preparedness left me without map or compass. The only thing to do was to wander around aimlessly until I happened to stumble upon some sort of landmark that I recognized, or until I gave up from exhaustion. The heat was starting to get to me, the sweat dripped down into my eyes and blurred my vision. I was beginning to think that maybe I wouldn't make it. That's when I saw it, a vision of beauty itself standing before me. It was my front door, I was safe.

I was lucky this time, and I knew that if I didn't do something soon, I may not be so lucky next time. There could be no more denial, no more self delusions. I had to admit it to myself now before it was to late, before something went terribly awry. I had to admit to myself that I had a weed problem.

Now this wasn't your normal run of the mill weed problem. Oh no, this was something far darker. This was your typical mutant, genetic anomaly, freak of nature, glow in the dark weed problem and after the days events I knew that it was either them or me. So, I went down to my local hardware store and bought 2 bottles of round-up. For those of you who have used round up before, you know that it is serious stuff. Round-up is not just for pansies. It's for pansies, milk weed, clover, thistle and just about every other form of life unfortunate enough to find itself classified under the flora kingdom. So I figured that all I had to do was spray and wait as the jungle in front of my house withered and died. I was wrong. I emptied both bottles of round-up and still (after 3 days) the weeds persist and they look as healthy as ever. I WILL NOT be defeated however. These monstrosities will be stopped. Obviously I was a fool to think that round-up would do the job, next time I will go for the kerosene. I'll dowse the entire jungle with it and roast marshmallows until there is nothing left. I will win!!

Reverend, I see the light!!!

Can I get an Alleluhah! (Alleluhah!) I said can I get an Alleluhah!! (Alleluhah)! Ladies and Gentlemen welcome, the one, the only Reverend...... Horton..... Heat!!!! (Amen!! *cheers*). Or at least that how the concert SHOULD have started, complete with Gospel Choir and all. I'm not completely sure how the Reverend finally took the stage in reality, the details tend to become a bit hazy when one has indulged in four scotches on the rockses, but I do remember there being a killer stand-up bass, with red-stained wood flame inlays, an impressive collection of 1930's chrome microphones and a man with a greaser hairdo in a silver zoot suit with embroidered blue flames on the Sleeves. I am only an amateur Reverend Horton Heat fan, especially compared to some of the hardcore fans, but the concert was quite enjoyable. There was plenty of Rock-A-Billy swing dancing and moshing to go around. Sometimes even Rock-A-Billy swing combined with moshing, which, I must admit, I have never seen before.

The REAL reason I went to the concert, was for the opening Band the Detroit Cobras (<----- go buy their CD! right now!...... Do it!). I am a huge fan of these underground 1950's pop-rock revivalists and, to my delight, there was plenty of room to Lindy-Hop on the dance floor. To my embarrassment, however, after playing "Right Around the Corner" The lead singer, Rachel Nagy, refrenced K and I and said "Great dancing back there you two, isn't it a lot more fun than standing around, making fun of the band?" and, after a short pause, "That guy's definately getting fucked tonight." I just don't know how to react when someone points me out and says something like this to a rather large audience, it's a very akward situation. Well anyway, the night went on, great fun was had by all, and Rachel Nagy's prophecy remained unfufilled. Although I did get a lot of "Wow, nice dancing!" throughout the evening, none of these compliments were followed by "Hey I have an idea! Why don't we go back to my place for some hot, anonymous, borderline-deviant sex?" Oh well, there's always next time I suppose.

What kind of chip you got in there? A Dorrito?

Maybe its the result of too many summer days floating the Boise River or too many winters days sliding the slopes of Bogus Basin ski resort that have drawn me away from my nerdy roots. My techno-gadgetry collection has fallen into a sorry state of outdatedness and disrepair. My computer (or should I say door stop) is a shameful 6 years old and makes a strange sort of whinny sound when I turn it on, though it doesn't do much else. My laptop, although in a better state than my desktop, has a broken CD-Rom, a stolen network card, and a habit of mysteriously shutting down at inopportune moments. My PDA which, at its height of geekyness, donned the pocket version of Linux, no longer seems to do much of anything, I've tried whacking it many times, to no avail (I just realized how utterly WRONG that sounds, oh well, it stays).

Today, with fond memories of high-tech LAN parties in mind, I decided that I must take action. I went ahead and purchased a new HP pavilion zx5000 wide screen edition laptop, including all of the bells and whistles, with wireless photoprinter and docking station. Now I will be able to get my game on in style, no matter where I happen to be, AND it was absolutely free! ...... Well, absolutely free for 12 months. In fact they actually paid me to take it off their hands, yay for mail-in rebates! So, thanks to consumerism I am now comfortably further in debt (those suckers just keep giving me money). I better go watch "Fight Club" again before I go and buy something I REALLY don't need. Curse you eBay!! You make stylish retro-modern living way too easy.

I must have gotten the vaccine.

There is an unseen epidemic plaguing young Americans today and something has to be done. Everyday, 20-somethings everywhere are losing good friends. You think to yourself "Nah, it'll never happen to someone I know, we're all young, invincible, and carefree" but eventually the unimaginable happens. One day while you're minding your own business, rocking along to the Juvenile (yet strangely appealing) riffs of Tenacious D, you get the news; "I'm engaged!"

It happened to me, yet again, today in the form of an e-mail from my college friend H. My initial response was "*squeal like a school girl* congratulations!!" After all, that's what you do when you hear someone is engaged, but there was a sort of underlying sadness. Not because I was losing a friend (though I really should keep in touch more), but because I realized that those that fall victim to this epidemic are finding true love while the rest of us have love lives like something out of "Seinfeld".

So, to all of those people out there with healthy, stable relationships, I thought I would give you a little taste of what you are missing. Here are some of my recent answers to questions like "How'd the date go last night?" or "What ever happened between you and *insert name here*?":

"She's extremely antisocial."
"She's cynical as hell, by the end I was too depressed to move."
"She wouldn't stop talking about shaving her brother's legs."
"She's racist."
"She's too judgmental."
"She's both racist and too judgmental."
"She's perfect, just my type....... but I'm not interested"
"She's perfect, just my type....... but she's not interested"
"She's perfect, just my type....... but she's only interested in me when she's drunk"
"She's okay, but I'm really not into leashes, spiked collars and latex clothing."
"She always has someplace vague and mysterious that she must go to in the middle of our dates and said place does not allow for company."
"It turns out that she was actually 37 when she told me she was 26."
"It turns out she was fooling around with everyone in town that has an internet connection."
"It turns out that she is a compulsive liar. She said that she was getting help, but for some reason I don't believe her"

Finding someone that you can put up with for the rest of your life and whom, in turn, can put up with you is much harder than it sounds. So H, here's to you and to those that make it look easy because deep down we all know that its not. Congratulations and believe me, you aren't missing much!!

Better than ice cream??

I used to think that Sarah Mchlachlan's song "Better than ice cream" was really sweet (for those of you unfamiliar with the song check out the lyrics here: Better Than Ice cream lyrics. Read them and say to yourself awwwwww, that's so sweet.) However, it occurred to my last night, in one of the slightly drunken meanderings of the mind that I call thought, that "Your love is better than ice cream" is not really saying much. I mean I've had really lame conversations with complete strangers that are better than ice cream, let alone love. If you find yourself suddenly thinking "Hey you know what? Most of the time, I'd rather have a heaping scoop of Rocky Road than be in love, but for you I'll make an exception" then you must really have a dull love life (even duller than mine, if that's physically possible).

Who knows, maybe there is an ice cream out there that is better than love, or at least better than some love. If there is, I'd really like to know where to get it because it would probably be a lot easier to find than real love, and a whole lot less expensive too.

This is Just a Punk Rock Show....... Or is it?

This may sound odd, but nothing restores my faith in humanity like a good punk rock show. Sure, most of the time the lyrics are terrible (I know, there are a few exceptions here) and forget trying to have meaningful conversation with anyone (the music is way to loud for any of the conventional forms of communication). However, in my opinion, you will never find a more diverse and accepting crowd of people than the audience at a punk rock show. Nowhere else will you see a guy with a 2 foot tall blue Mohawk enjoying the company of a guy that looks like he belongs in a Banana Republic advertisement.

A lot of people believe that punk shows are just for kids, and perhaps adults that have a lot of growing up to do, but I really disagree. Sure, there is a lot of chaos in a punk mosh pit at its height of revelry and sure, things can sometimes go wrong, but I always know that at a Punk Rock show, if I go down, I am always surrounded by complete strangers that will instantly help me back up. In a world where a person will walk by another who is begging for help (even if it's just a dollar to pay for a hot meal) without even acknowledging their existence, I think there is a lot to learn from the sort of community that can be had at a good punk show. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy the philharmonic or the opera as much as the next guy but I know that when I am there, I am isolated, only in the company of those that I came with.

In the words of The Dropkick Murphy's "It doesn't take a big man to knock somebody down, just a little courage to lift him of the ground"