Reflect 24

Yesterday I celebrated the 24th anniversary of my birth. I spent most of the day (hungover) taking care of a few of the responsibilities I had been putting off. Breakfast was good. I started feeling better, gaining momentum. I was generously offered a wild t-shirt from a friend which was aggressively pitched perfectly to me by two lovely old women shortly after walking into their modest consignment store (run-on, I'm workin' on it). I finally bought a few records to expand my current collection containing only one Lynyrd Skynyrd album and a few solid Rod Stewart cuts (but those are on loan). I fixed my folding bike which I especially fond of. I found myself alone for most of the day. I feel that this was good. I felt like it was how I was meant to spend my day.

My good friend and roommate, LDO, arrived home in the early evening and graciously took me out for dinner at Kramer Books. He had the lamb and I had the scallops followed with a mountainous sundae and peanut butter pie respectively. Still slightly feeling the effects from the previous night, I grudgingly stopped by Front Page with Luke for a drink. The US soccer team celebrated a victory over Honduras. We had a few friends join us. I was feeling my age and could barely stay awake. After a pleasant cab ride home I laid on our uneven carpet hallway while Luke completed his daily push-up quota. Birthdays are for reflection. I reflected upon my past year, perhaps focusing too much on recent events but exploring my world as a whole just a bit.

As I enter a new year, I want to express how grateful I am for all the experiences I have had in my 23rd year. I have met some amazing people and made friendships that I did not know were within my means. To be honest, I may not have made tons of lifelong connections or kinships. However, I would like to thank everyone for the lessons I have been given. I have made mistakes. I'm not sure I have ever been this selfish in my life, but I may not ever be able to appreciate that now as I do than in any other time of my life. Although I promise to keep myself first, I hope to incorporate others and open myself up to those that care when I have the opportunity. I look forward to the challenges that lie ahead and the love I have to share. Thank you.


Slow down old man

BME Pain Olympics

Most people have heard of the viral interweb video commonly known as 2 Girls 1 Cup. Many people have even watched this video. Some were disgusted, some were destroyed and some simply enjoyed it. This is old news. Perhaps what I am about to tell you is also "old news". I don't know and this is not my concern. Last night, after reading an article my compadre the Lonely Hero passed along, I decided to do some research on the topic of Dimethyltryptamine. According to Joe Rogan, DMT is one helluva substance. Great. Excellent. Good for him. It was interesting for about 2 minutes but mind altering drugs aren't really my thing. I'm not Joe's biggest fan and, to be honest, he seems like the sort guy that I wouldn't work well with (although, I do love his work on FF), but I digress. As I mentioned, this DMT really isn't that important to me. It was merely a step along the path to finding, what I now believe to be the heinous video I've ever seen, the BME Pain Olymics FINAL ROUND (please note: I am not posting a link to this video and I do not recommend you search for it either. I do not take responsibility for emotional damage or psycological treatment if said search is taken).

After watching/listening to Joe's ramblings on 5-MeO-DMT, 4-HO-DMT and how we are all just "bacteria", I noticed a link to his reaction of the 2G1C (or TGOC) video. I remember enjoying these videos somewhat and after listening to Joe's ramblings I thought I could use some mindless, grotesque humor. I had no idea what I was getting into...

At the end this clip Joe insists that his friend, Brian, watch the PAIN Olympics. I thought, "what could be worse than poop and vomit and some tongue kissing?" so I started my search. It didn't take long. I watched it. Alone (which I also don't recommend). I will be brief with my description of what takes place because I feel my personal reaction is what I really want to get at. The video consists of 1 or 2 men performing acts of self mutilation which, from what I can tell, go far beyond repair (post-viewing I researched and found that the consensus feels this is all fabricated; I hope this is true). I felt sick. I gagged. I wanted to look away, but I couldn't. I dry heaved. I thought I would never be the same. I was puzzled with questions about why someone would do this to them self, what had brought me to a world that would allow this, how could anyone explain this to another human being. Then realized it was just a video. I have come accept that what I saw was fake. It has to be. Otherwise nothing is real. (It still makes me gag)


Something to clear your mind, or perhaps just mine.

Dreams

Last night I had two dreams that I vaguely remember. I'm still laying in bed, trying to record them for the benefit of all dreamers out there.

Dream 2. (Much better, likely inspired by my viewing of Terminator this past weekend)
I find myself in the death chair, which is outside on this particular sunny day. The death chair is where they kill the murders, rapists, the scum of society. Evidently I killed a cop. Trying to protect some damsel or poor soul from thieves and vandals I shot wildly and struck an officer in the FACE. The most memorable thing about my dream was that when the needles were inserted and the poison was released I didn't die. My arm went numb (I think I was sleeping on it). They took me into a room to rest, my mom was there. I told her I wanted to escape and we did. It was easy, like walking out of someones backyard (apparently the prison had been built for a movie and was then transformed into the tiny fortress that held me).

I ran for a bit, one of my fellow prisoners escaped by my side. I'm not sure who he was but I think he looked like a younger version of Jim Hauer. I remember being caught, walking down Florida Ave. They swarmed the street with police, taking me by surprise. I refused to cooperate. My arm went numb again. I woke up.

Dream 1. (Bugs)
I had a dream where my face was covered with bug bites. I fear this may have not been a dream. I have yet to check.

TUES Nov. 11 Summary

0800: Out of bed. shower. and ride.
0845: At work early as requested. Worked diligently for the next 4 hrs.
1300: Walk to zIpcar and off to AGS (Waldorf, MD).
1400: WaWa hot dog, jalapeno pretzel and thanksgiving turkey sandwich (you know, the one with stuffing and gravy and all that jazz) plus an AZ iced tea.
1430: Begin packaging of student labels. Listening to Rod Stewart, Rolling Stones and Ryan Adams. Dancing (a little).
1830: Leave AGS.
1835: WaWa hot dog, jalapeno pretzel and AZ pomegranate iced tea (+antioxidants).
2000: Back to office. Work not so diligently.
2100: Nap on couch.
2115: Back to work. Internets slow so I leave.
2150: Say hello to GW.
2215: Chinatown with Andy. There is an insane semi-homeless man shouting some violent form of poetry at the top of his lungs while gasping for breath after every line.
2230: Atlas district. Sticky Rice. Karaoke. Tecate.

0100: Home.

B.I.G.

Yeah, this album is dedicated to all the teachers that told me I'd never amount to nothin', to all the people that lived above the buildings that I was hustlin' in front of that called the police on me when I was just tryin' to make some money to feed my daughters, and all the niggaz in the struggle, you know what I'm sayin'?



Birth name Christopher George Latore Wallace
Also known as Biggie Smalls, Biggie, Frank White, Big Poppa
Born May 21, 1972(1972-05-21)
Brooklyn, New York City, New York,
United States
Died March 9, 1997 (aged 24)
Los Angeles, California,
United States

Items Stolen on October 4th at Shell Station in NE DC

1 bag, MacGregor, maroon, gift from W.E. Tomlinson
Containing:
1 pair of Converse All-Stars low-top, natural color,
2 pairs of low-cut socks, never worn,
1 pair of Cheap Monday jeans,
1 Kenneth Cole belt,
1 set of Apple headphones,
1 t-shirt, vintage,
1 book, 'Chasing Che' by Patrick Symmes (I was about half-way through),
1 pair of FTL underwear, medium size,
1 hooded sweatshirt, heather blue, property of Andy Fountain,
1 digital camera, Sony DS-W80,
1 2-gig memory card for previously mentioned camera,
1 black-wool, knit cap,
1 toothbrush,
1 tube of Crest Pro-Health toothpaste, nearly full (just bought less than a week ago),
1 contact case containing one set of contacts,
1 small bottle of contact solution,
1 moleskin notebook,
1 pencil,
1 pen,
2 ties, one black and one blue/pink stripped,
and 1/2 a pack of Marbrolo 27's.

Quote from Hollywood (housing status unsure)

It's one or the other. I mean, you're either going to the hospital or you're going to jail.