The beginning of the end and what happens in between

Some people are like the ocean meeting the inside of a whale.
TAOISM.

example of a blog i do not want to write

Spring Concert occurred, so that warrants an update.
Spring Concert is the ultimate distraction. Here is a poem about it:

SPRING CONCERT
where
alcoholics
frolic

Good huh? Well it’s informative, which is more that you can say for lots of poems.
Now it is Monday and all work needs to be done, which is probably why I am writing this now. And that’s exactly the bit that I want to talk about– layers of distraction. Let’s start on the outermost layer. In this sense, SPRING CONCERT is the same as blogging– I participate in both as an explicit distraction from my piles of impending homework.
So, homework. I think that homework, at its base, is not a distraction. On the other hand, when individuals become so engrossed in the meticulous, grade-oriented elements of homework, we start to notice an element of distraction to their devotion. Homework, when it is not a distraction, is a valuable learning tool. On the other hand, when homework is not being used as a learning tool, it is often used as a methodical balm for the uncertainties of life. No matter if everything is going to shit, I can always sit down and engross myself in
ARE YOU DISTRACTED YET

Inverted Nipples

“Also called ‘invaginated nipples.’” Which I find amusing at least. I don’t think there’s any question that inverted nipples are an interesting topic and that this blog is inexcusably tardy in discussing them.

If you actually want to learn about invaginated nipples, I suggest exploiting wikipedia. For commentary, read on.

In my opinion, invaginated nipples are undoubtedly intolerable in females, due to lack of both aesthetic and practical value. For males, on the other hand, these nipples might be the best thing ever. I do not understand why men have nipples, and I would very much prefer if we could devise a sort of evolutionary advantage for men with invaginated nipples. It would have to be a sex-linked gene though, so women wouldn’t be stricken with the ghastly affliction.

i am kidding, women with all nipples are beautiful.

When the man’s got you down

Sometimes there’s no point in getting up

The thing about rich little liberal arts colleges

Turns out I love them. Or at least, the people that go to them. One girl goes to Princeton, and she’s– well she’s great. Thought I’d get that out of the way right off the bat.
The thing about our nation is, we’re in a financial crisis. And a cinema-quality presidential election. And there’s supposed to be debates today, if we’re lucky.
The bad news is John McCain is devoted to sitting in Congress and supporting bipartisan relations by obviously not pissing off Democrats who think he pulling an obvious political ploy to side-step debating the eloquent black man (oh, I said it) who’s the Democratic nominee. The good news is, this makes John McCain kind of like Davy Crockett, and Davy Crockett could grin down a bear, so that should make Stephen Colbert pretty happy.
Anyway, if the economy really does go down the shitter, that means rich little liberal arts colleges won’t have to worry about poor kids getting loans and ruining the party, so that’s you know, rad, bro.

Poetry ie Angst ie Abstraction ie love: A Series

Here are some poems about things that don’t exist.

Self-taught

I wanted to know, what
is the meaning of life?
so I swallowed three
pills
like fish bones.

I wanted to learn, what
does it mean to be alone?
so I wrote a letter
a lie
to the only people who loved me.

I wanted to discover, what
is empathy?
so I smashed your forehead
brainless
with my own.

what?

Creepy Crawly

Why is my lip bleeding?

Her leg was clammy
as if it were the hand of an unsavory gentleman,
which it was not.
It poked up translucent hairs
into my unbidden palm
which was dry,
savory,
not sweet.

I squeezed her leg because it was too
thin and
she startled up and kicked me in the lip.

Dorm music

I meant to hate Vampire Weekend, but I don’t.
I hate seeing them on the cover of Spin magazine looking like they just finished a Land’s End photoshoot.
I hate the idea of them, those Ivy League pansies, but I don’t hate their music.
Considering that I actually attend a rich little liberal arts college, it seems kind of hypocritical to want to hate them, but I can’t help it. I don’t think it’s a rivalry thing at all– I never meant to go anywhere but where I am– I think maybe it’s left over from Kansas.
Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter, because that’s some pretty good pop.

And since I’m so ok with Vampire Weekend and their social status and their educational status, I guess it’s ok for me to make music too. Not that these are analogous situations, because I know nothing about music or Afro-pop, and I only wear polo shirts once a week.

But it’s the New Age of music (as always) and it’s coinciding with the New Age of my life (whatever that means), so let me present Three Good Men. The band name is supposed to be two jokes, one about gender dysphoria and one about Flannery O’Connor. I’m glad I explained it so it could still be funny. The album is (will be) called Famous Austin Goes to Town, because it is a children’s tape at heart.

Broken Toes and Racism

I broke my toes. Just two of them, the third and fourth on my right foot.

Luckily this has not yet impeded my dancing ability. I’m beginning to suspect that they are not in fact broken, but it is also true that my pain receptors do not work correctly.

This is not about my toes. This is about LIFE.

So speaking of things that are broken, I know this really great guy. Yeah, he’s really great and smart and a little obnoxious but funny enough that it’s ok. Anyway I also know of this really cute girl and she likes him, but he has said he won’t date her because she’s white, so they must be culturally different since he’s black. That makes very little sense to me. He grew up in the gol durn suburbs. He doesn’t even suck, usually.

So that’s kind of stupid, and if you are bothered about that type of thing, you should read “Brownies” by ZZ Packer. It’s good.

Or you can forget all that stuff and listen to Say Hi. Umm… don’t let the comparison to Nada Surf fool you… they don’t suck, ever.

Running Track: A Study in Masochism

In track, the best masochist wins. That is to say, rather, the most versatile masochist wins.

I am an expert on this because I just joined track, which means that I know all things about it.

Here are the two kinds of pain a person must embrace in order to win at track:
1) Sustained, throbbing, lifestyle pain. In addition to the nasty slogs of endless training runs, you must not forget that homeless, hungry ache of lactic acid in well-worked muscles. This is the pain that haunts you to classes and makes you wince when you walk down hills. It reminds you not to smoke cigarettes or drink carbonated beverages. It’s delicious for its reality, a comfort and a blight, like a beloved stuffed porcupine (cute!) with real quills.
2) Vivid, intestine-rending race pain. This is where classical masochists differentiate themselves from the pack. In the interest of comparative language, this basically feels like bullfrogging, except that it is self-induced, sans alcohol, with perfectly earnest intention.

And that, I think, is a fair summary of track. So why do it? Well…
1) It introduces great chemicals to your body/brain. Free.
2) Group showers.
3) Maybe you won’t be so fat anymore.
4) You’re a masochist.

As any logical person can see, the pro to con ratio here is 2:1. Which means that surfing the internet is rationally the wrong thing for you to be doing right now.

Dude, go.

Electrofailure

So when I switched states last week, I forgot my Zune charger and my phone charger. Not only does this failure add to the accumulating incriminating evidence of my idiocy, it also leaves me feeling really unprotected.

In the past, when I woke up every morning, I would make sure my Zune was in my side jacket pocket and my phone was in my back pants pocket. That way I would never be stranded. I could never be bored.

Now I am both.

Yesterday I went adventuring through uptown, and while I still brought my two favorite items, they were entirely useless. When you aren’t wearing headphones, it is distinctly more difficult to pretend that you didn’t hear the middle-aged sketcher ask for your number. When you can’t access your music collection, it is confoundingly frustrating to accidentally wander into a coffee shop with poor taste in music. Could I get a to-go cup after all? And frankly, it’s almost depressing to shop for music, knowing that it will be literally days before I can put the discs in my digital collection.

The phone is another issue. I am cut off entirely. I do not know if anybody wants to talk to me, but in my imagination I am wildly popular when my phone is dead. I’ve probably missed a hundred calls, and each of those individual callers probably hates me for failing to call them back. Now instead of being just an insensitive, over-assertive ass, I’m an elitist, insensitive, over-assertive ass.

This is just Perfect, to draw references to my previous posts.