Saturday, December 29, 2012
Why is my wifi so fucking good right now?
Cause I'm drinking in a hackers' spaceship underneath Berlin. Bitches.
Monday, December 24, 2012
Christmas insomnia
Sitting on the couch
Chillin by myself
Should I smoke weed
Or do something else?
Watching Home Movies
Laughin at the coach
Got no one to talk to
I guess I'll roll a roach
Wishing that my bros
Were here by my side
When I said what I was doing
I actually lied
Im really here in bed
Just trying to fall asleep
And sometimes writing rhymes
Will let me get a peep
I hope I slumber soon
And dream as light as snow
Because to be quite honest
This poem has n'where to go
It's two o'clock am
I took a nap at seven
Now I won't wake up
Til quarter of eleven
Tomorrow I'll be groggy
Opening my presents
I'm twenty one years old
Why the fuck do my parents still get me presents?
Chillin by myself
Should I smoke weed
Or do something else?
Watching Home Movies
Laughin at the coach
Got no one to talk to
I guess I'll roll a roach
Wishing that my bros
Were here by my side
When I said what I was doing
I actually lied
Im really here in bed
Just trying to fall asleep
And sometimes writing rhymes
Will let me get a peep
I hope I slumber soon
And dream as light as snow
Because to be quite honest
This poem has n'where to go
It's two o'clock am
I took a nap at seven
Now I won't wake up
Til quarter of eleven
Tomorrow I'll be groggy
Opening my presents
I'm twenty one years old
Why the fuck do my parents still get me presents?
Saturday, December 22, 2012
Idea
Ok so I'm riding in a car and Im looking at the moon. And I'm wondering if Jesse and Adrian can see this moon. Like what if the three of us all looked up at the moon at the same time from three different continents. Idk if it's possible but I think itd be cool.
One Night In: Budapest
It started with a harmonica battle.
--
Scott and I began our night exiting a lame blues bar, escaping the bad beer and the professional bowling on tv. We head down a thin cobblestone street in Budapest towards the metro, talking about how we were enjoying this city only slight less than Brussels (later expect a post called "I Spit On Your Streets: Brussels Edition"). It was then that a sound emerged, blaring from a window above. The distinct growl of a rock guitar solo was upon us. We followed it.
The lobby was white marble. Broken pianos, guitars and brass instruments lined the walls. Inside was a similarly styled cafe with a curious spiral stair case. We followed the music up the stairs, past a small bar into what would have look like a dark conference room if it wasn't for the tiny stage, colored lights and wailing 5 piece rock band. The mix of American rock classics ("Hound Dog"), Hungarian banter and Jack Black dance moves gave the show a messed up lounge singer quality to it. The flow of performance was only interrupted when a short man from the crowd walks on stage and picks up a harmonica.
The singer/harmonica player and his new challenger stand like familiar enemies. The drums count in. What took place after that can only be described as the most ferocious Hungarian harmonica battle that two Americans have ever seen that night. The legends will speak for themselves.
Back into the cold with new enthusiasm, we head to the metro. Empty and seriously confusing, the choice was made to sneak onto the subway. Successful, we were soon out in the cold again, this time a little more lost. Our route takes us into an abandon looking industrial area. We cautiously walked through the poorly lit street. A corner appears. Smoke rises off of a crowd in silhouette. Music is close. We've made it to the entrance INSTANT!
Instant: 1. an infinitesimal or very short space of time; a moment
2. A packed 26 room warehouse sporting a maze of insanely decorated hangout rooms, dance floors and bars; as if stepping into a drunk, horny modern art painting.
The first room we entered was the enchanted forest. Trees and small strange animals all underneath a giant owl statue with boobs. We grabbed drinks and wandered. The crowd was young and international. There was a fully green room, a room made of sheet music, two big dance floors with DJs and so much more. It's the kind of place where you'd expect to fall into a secret passage way. We settle at one of the bars and start to mingle.
A couple of college girls, a foreign dude, a few brief encounters, we're enjoying the atmosphere and diverse crowd. Then we spot two douchy hipsters directly behind us. One a stupidlooking French guy in a red buttoned down accented with white birds, the other in thick glasses and white thin 1950's styled collared shirt. We discuss the possibilities of fighting out of principle but the topic is dropped when Scott discovers his new favorite thing, Strongbow (a champagne drink in individual beer bottles). We decide to hit up the game room. Games and drinks later we emerge back to the enchanted forest. Looking for more people to talk with we spot the hipster with thick glasses alone. I jokingly mention to Scott the possibilities of punching him in the face. The next thing I knew Scott was furiously marching directly at him!
Standing intimidatingly close to him, Scott begins to talk. I started to walk over and already could feel the tension. I enter as the hipster, Jeremy, started telling a hilarious story about his friend walking off with a loud annoying American chick. Things eased up, we began to joke around and get to know each other.
Jeremy is a well traveled australian in the fashion industry. If I had to describe him I'd say "he's your friend who does coke": sketchy, amiable, generous and loose yet somehow unhumbled by his many missed steps. We drank and talked about our night. Jeremy tells us about three girls he met earlier at the ATM. They told him to meet them at a club up the street called Peaches and Cream. He wanted to go, we wanted adventure.
Posh is the only way to describe it. Pretentious, stuck up, rip off, posh. That's Peaches and Cream. We enter after paying a stupidly high coat and cover fee. All white walls and white couches, a dance floor population of 90% asshole and 9% stuck up girls (there was one girl dancing hip hop who was dope. She may have just gotten off the set of "Step Up 2 The Streets") and a staff all dressed in Santa outfits. We set out to look for the aforementioned girls. Out of the dance floor and to the bar and Jeremy has already spots all three, they are behind the bar in Santa outfits! Learning he was just marketed to and not hit on, Jeremy and our's mood turns to that of fuck it.
Jäger bombs and rum and coke. Back to the dance floor. The crowd showing their true colors, wanting nothing to do with three guys looking to have fun. Its all rolling eyes and disapproving looks from eastern european giants. We get bored on the dance floor. Scott decides to introduce us to three girls by throwing a pillow at them. The lack of humor is astounding. Fuck this posh bullshit.
Back to Instant! More drinking erupts. Jeremy and I spot two cute girls in the enchanted forest, one blonde and brunette. We say hello and start up a conversation. The brunette plays coy and knowing in flirtatious way, she and Jeremy talk. The blonde is honest and friendly with a great smile, we talk. They are Hungarian and have been friends since childhood. They go to different universities now but are traveling locally for a bit. The three of them want to smoke so we relocate to the smoking bar. The blonde pulls out a pack of cigarets with the word "freedom" written on it in big Sharpey letters. It's around 4am at this point so the finer details of the conversation have escaped me.
Meanwhile on the dance floor, Scott has been grinding hard with a hot little Spanish girl. After a few songs of intense dancing she pauses and points to the guy directly behind her. "This is my boyfriend" and she disappears. Scott then gets hit on by two gay men. They buy him three rounds of red shots called "blood of bitches". He appeared in the smoking bar after an hour, very drunk and a little shaken. The two Hungarian girls ultimately shut us down. I was denied a kiss with a very decisive "no". Jeremy settled for giving the brunette girl his email address.
Defeated and very drunk we finally exited Instant. Outside there was a small group of guys trying to fight with a blonde dude. They are trying to kick and egg him on. We decide to join in! Wanting to even up the numbers we jumped next to the blonde guy, get his back and get ready for a brawl. We started pushing and yelling at the other group who, after seeing the numbers even up, back down. The blonde guy laughs his ass off at the situation, he was the only one of a bunch of drunk guys who didnt wanted to fight yet he ended up smack in the middle of one.
We finally decided to call it a night. We find a tiny pizza place so sketchy they refused to let us inside. Instead they slide us pizza through a cracked window. Jeremy then invited us to go back to his place for wine. I could immediately tell that Scott's mind was also racing with possible terrible outcomes (doing coke and waking up in a tub of ice among them). Politely, we declined.
We walked in what at least felt like the right direction of our hostel. We come across a playground.
Somewhere in Central Budapest, 530am: Two drunk Americans laugh and yell as they spin endlessly on rusted metal playground swings.
--
Scott and I began our night exiting a lame blues bar, escaping the bad beer and the professional bowling on tv. We head down a thin cobblestone street in Budapest towards the metro, talking about how we were enjoying this city only slight less than Brussels (later expect a post called "I Spit On Your Streets: Brussels Edition"). It was then that a sound emerged, blaring from a window above. The distinct growl of a rock guitar solo was upon us. We followed it.
The lobby was white marble. Broken pianos, guitars and brass instruments lined the walls. Inside was a similarly styled cafe with a curious spiral stair case. We followed the music up the stairs, past a small bar into what would have look like a dark conference room if it wasn't for the tiny stage, colored lights and wailing 5 piece rock band. The mix of American rock classics ("Hound Dog"), Hungarian banter and Jack Black dance moves gave the show a messed up lounge singer quality to it. The flow of performance was only interrupted when a short man from the crowd walks on stage and picks up a harmonica.
The singer/harmonica player and his new challenger stand like familiar enemies. The drums count in. What took place after that can only be described as the most ferocious Hungarian harmonica battle that two Americans have ever seen that night. The legends will speak for themselves.
Back into the cold with new enthusiasm, we head to the metro. Empty and seriously confusing, the choice was made to sneak onto the subway. Successful, we were soon out in the cold again, this time a little more lost. Our route takes us into an abandon looking industrial area. We cautiously walked through the poorly lit street. A corner appears. Smoke rises off of a crowd in silhouette. Music is close. We've made it to the entrance INSTANT!
Instant: 1. an infinitesimal or very short space of time; a moment
2. A packed 26 room warehouse sporting a maze of insanely decorated hangout rooms, dance floors and bars; as if stepping into a drunk, horny modern art painting.
The first room we entered was the enchanted forest. Trees and small strange animals all underneath a giant owl statue with boobs. We grabbed drinks and wandered. The crowd was young and international. There was a fully green room, a room made of sheet music, two big dance floors with DJs and so much more. It's the kind of place where you'd expect to fall into a secret passage way. We settle at one of the bars and start to mingle.
A couple of college girls, a foreign dude, a few brief encounters, we're enjoying the atmosphere and diverse crowd. Then we spot two douchy hipsters directly behind us. One a stupidlooking French guy in a red buttoned down accented with white birds, the other in thick glasses and white thin 1950's styled collared shirt. We discuss the possibilities of fighting out of principle but the topic is dropped when Scott discovers his new favorite thing, Strongbow (a champagne drink in individual beer bottles). We decide to hit up the game room. Games and drinks later we emerge back to the enchanted forest. Looking for more people to talk with we spot the hipster with thick glasses alone. I jokingly mention to Scott the possibilities of punching him in the face. The next thing I knew Scott was furiously marching directly at him!
Standing intimidatingly close to him, Scott begins to talk. I started to walk over and already could feel the tension. I enter as the hipster, Jeremy, started telling a hilarious story about his friend walking off with a loud annoying American chick. Things eased up, we began to joke around and get to know each other.
Jeremy is a well traveled australian in the fashion industry. If I had to describe him I'd say "he's your friend who does coke": sketchy, amiable, generous and loose yet somehow unhumbled by his many missed steps. We drank and talked about our night. Jeremy tells us about three girls he met earlier at the ATM. They told him to meet them at a club up the street called Peaches and Cream. He wanted to go, we wanted adventure.
Posh is the only way to describe it. Pretentious, stuck up, rip off, posh. That's Peaches and Cream. We enter after paying a stupidly high coat and cover fee. All white walls and white couches, a dance floor population of 90% asshole and 9% stuck up girls (there was one girl dancing hip hop who was dope. She may have just gotten off the set of "Step Up 2 The Streets") and a staff all dressed in Santa outfits. We set out to look for the aforementioned girls. Out of the dance floor and to the bar and Jeremy has already spots all three, they are behind the bar in Santa outfits! Learning he was just marketed to and not hit on, Jeremy and our's mood turns to that of fuck it.
Jäger bombs and rum and coke. Back to the dance floor. The crowd showing their true colors, wanting nothing to do with three guys looking to have fun. Its all rolling eyes and disapproving looks from eastern european giants. We get bored on the dance floor. Scott decides to introduce us to three girls by throwing a pillow at them. The lack of humor is astounding. Fuck this posh bullshit.
Back to Instant! More drinking erupts. Jeremy and I spot two cute girls in the enchanted forest, one blonde and brunette. We say hello and start up a conversation. The brunette plays coy and knowing in flirtatious way, she and Jeremy talk. The blonde is honest and friendly with a great smile, we talk. They are Hungarian and have been friends since childhood. They go to different universities now but are traveling locally for a bit. The three of them want to smoke so we relocate to the smoking bar. The blonde pulls out a pack of cigarets with the word "freedom" written on it in big Sharpey letters. It's around 4am at this point so the finer details of the conversation have escaped me.
Meanwhile on the dance floor, Scott has been grinding hard with a hot little Spanish girl. After a few songs of intense dancing she pauses and points to the guy directly behind her. "This is my boyfriend" and she disappears. Scott then gets hit on by two gay men. They buy him three rounds of red shots called "blood of bitches". He appeared in the smoking bar after an hour, very drunk and a little shaken. The two Hungarian girls ultimately shut us down. I was denied a kiss with a very decisive "no". Jeremy settled for giving the brunette girl his email address.
Defeated and very drunk we finally exited Instant. Outside there was a small group of guys trying to fight with a blonde dude. They are trying to kick and egg him on. We decide to join in! Wanting to even up the numbers we jumped next to the blonde guy, get his back and get ready for a brawl. We started pushing and yelling at the other group who, after seeing the numbers even up, back down. The blonde guy laughs his ass off at the situation, he was the only one of a bunch of drunk guys who didnt wanted to fight yet he ended up smack in the middle of one.
We finally decided to call it a night. We find a tiny pizza place so sketchy they refused to let us inside. Instead they slide us pizza through a cracked window. Jeremy then invited us to go back to his place for wine. I could immediately tell that Scott's mind was also racing with possible terrible outcomes (doing coke and waking up in a tub of ice among them). Politely, we declined.
We walked in what at least felt like the right direction of our hostel. We come across a playground.
Somewhere in Central Budapest, 530am: Two drunk Americans laugh and yell as they spin endlessly on rusted metal playground swings.
Friday, December 21, 2012
Back in the Homeland
Left at 2pm from my house in CT and arrived
in Buenos Aires, Argentina at 5pm the next day. Had to eat two really expensive
meals at the airport which sucked. The second one being Subway where the
footlong sub cost $12 (American), that’s a dollar an inch, almost as much as
what I charge when I do my prostitution.
Anyways, It’s nice and warm here. I met up
with some of my family last night and ate some empanadas (delicious). I’ll
probably be going to the casino tonight, playing soccer on Saturday, going to
my aunt’s on Sunday and going out every night. If anything cray happens, I’ll
blog it on Monday. At the same time I don’t want to post too much because
Adrian and Josh will be on the road trip soon so they will need to blog and
Jesse has be doing some great blogging as of late. THIS blog will be as packed
as my ass hole on a Sunday night birthday banger. Can’t wait!
Also, after reading Adrian’s blog about
positive psychology, I couldn’t agree more with what the guy said about family
dinners. If there’s one thing Argentina does well it’s family dinners. Sit
around some good food with some friends, family, and awesome old people and
just talk for hours. Absolutely nothing better. I’ll have a better blog on this
a little bit later but I just had to note how right the man was about family
dinners.
P.S: Love how much action the blog has been
getting lately.
something i learned the other night
i don't know if anyone else is aware, but apparently scott reads the blog everyday. talked to him the other night. he knew all about jesse's adventures. fucker hasn't posted shit since june.
anyone else as pissed as i am?
anyone else as pissed as i am?
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Looking Back
Looking back upon the events of last night, I still like smoking, but I need to be more positive.
I can still be a sarcastic asshole and still be positive, right?
I can still be a sarcastic asshole and still be positive, right?
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
Also
No Hate 2013 is a real thing.
We're gonna do it.
Or forget to and then remind each other every time we say something hateful and then repeat.
We're gonna do it.
Or forget to and then remind each other every time we say something hateful and then repeat.
I think I need to stop
I think I need to stop smoking completely now.
I like it, don't get me wrong. But when I'm left alone, I just think introspectively and I get stuck on myself. Feels bad man.
I think it's break time.
I like it, don't get me wrong. But when I'm left alone, I just think introspectively and I get stuck on myself. Feels bad man.
I think it's break time.
Read this blog last night, slightly relevant to us
http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/the-good-life/201210/awesome-e-pluribus-unum
Cool thoughts. Then I checked the comments. Apparently the dude who wrote this was a well-known professor of positive psychology. This was his last blog entry before he died unexpectedly 5 days later.
Has some other cool articles here.
Cool thoughts. Then I checked the comments. Apparently the dude who wrote this was a well-known professor of positive psychology. This was his last blog entry before he died unexpectedly 5 days later.
Has some other cool articles here.
Patrick
So I left Amsterdam after a night of raunchy sex shows and made my way to the quaint city of Bruges. Scott has a better story to tell but for me the highlight was wandering into an old theatre from 1905 and meeting the own Patrick.
An eccentric cinephile in his 50's, he appeared to be the sole owner and caretaker. When we wandered into his theatre at 10pm his single screen was playing The Hobbit. The lobby was littered with huge old 35mm projectors, Steinbeck flatbeds and a mess of other archaic displaced machinery. Patrick appeared out of the theatre confused as to our purpose in his lobby. We began to ask him about the theatre. He told us about the opening of the theatre in the 1905, how it was originally an open air lot with horses, how the theatre had been changing with the times, how it was used for soviet propaganda in WW2. Our conversation went on and we started talking about the theatre as it was now, how he chooses films, about the larger theatre outside of town, how the tourists have effected it.
After a while we ask if we could see inside the theatre. He brings us in. The Hobbit is playing. There is a single massive screen and an elegant theatre seating over 300. The room has incredible sweeping acres that span the room, he tells us it more beautiful with the lights on.
Just a quaint story in a quaint town. I'm trying to convince Scott to make a guest blog post, I think you might enjoy some of his stories so far.
An eccentric cinephile in his 50's, he appeared to be the sole owner and caretaker. When we wandered into his theatre at 10pm his single screen was playing The Hobbit. The lobby was littered with huge old 35mm projectors, Steinbeck flatbeds and a mess of other archaic displaced machinery. Patrick appeared out of the theatre confused as to our purpose in his lobby. We began to ask him about the theatre. He told us about the opening of the theatre in the 1905, how it was originally an open air lot with horses, how the theatre had been changing with the times, how it was used for soviet propaganda in WW2. Our conversation went on and we started talking about the theatre as it was now, how he chooses films, about the larger theatre outside of town, how the tourists have effected it.
After a while we ask if we could see inside the theatre. He brings us in. The Hobbit is playing. There is a single massive screen and an elegant theatre seating over 300. The room has incredible sweeping acres that span the room, he tells us it more beautiful with the lights on.
Just a quaint story in a quaint town. I'm trying to convince Scott to make a guest blog post, I think you might enjoy some of his stories so far.
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Work (An ongoing struggle with authority)
Today I did inventory at the stage.
Third semester in a row. Shit is terrible.
Lifting, cleaning, reorganizing. Bullshit.
But bullshit = $$$
So, being the wiseass leader I am, I talk back to my bosses and make suggestion while also being self deprecating to show humility.
One of my bosses (the female one who shall go unnamed in case she reads this somehow) was being a bitch, per usual. I, being pragmatic and logical, suggested pure logical suggestions in order to make inventory easier and better.
Yes, I talked back, and yes, I despise her. But I did not break No Douche 2012.
I just got back from drinking with John and received an email saying that while I was a great help and it is appreciated, I am not needed for the rest of the week.
That's the nicest and meanest Fuck You I've ever gotten.
More on this tomorrow.
Third semester in a row. Shit is terrible.
Lifting, cleaning, reorganizing. Bullshit.
But bullshit = $$$
So, being the wiseass leader I am, I talk back to my bosses and make suggestion while also being self deprecating to show humility.
One of my bosses (the female one who shall go unnamed in case she reads this somehow) was being a bitch, per usual. I, being pragmatic and logical, suggested pure logical suggestions in order to make inventory easier and better.
Yes, I talked back, and yes, I despise her. But I did not break No Douche 2012.
I just got back from drinking with John and received an email saying that while I was a great help and it is appreciated, I am not needed for the rest of the week.
That's the nicest and meanest Fuck You I've ever gotten.
More on this tomorrow.
yo guys ima try blogging with more edge, hear that's what the kids like these days.
This picture needs to be Fucking blogged.
And here's the Fuck why. The reason Fucking why is because this is the best Fucking picture that's ever been goddamn taken.
Did you goddamn hear what I fucking said?
This is not just the best photo. This is the greatest art. This is the peak of the mountain.
Get the fuck off my dick, Picasso.
Not a good enough Fucking reason?
OK. OK. Well fuck. You know another goddamn reason why this picture has to be Fucking blogged?
Because right Fucking now, the bros are Fucking spread the Fuck apart.
Joe-bro is Fucking in Georgia? Oh NBD BROS because Adrian is in South-The-Fuck-America, and Jesse is Fucking in Amsterfuckingdam.
Scott?
Texas. As always that is all there is for me to say.
Josh and I are in Boston. But this is like the most spread-the-fuck-out we all have ever Fucking been.
Anyways, lost my train of thought here, but the point is that i really wanted to blog this pic. Sorry if I forgot anyone.
Monday, December 17, 2012
Jesse when are you going back to LA?
I was going to fb message you but I was afraid itd make your phone buzz and who the fuck knows when you're sleeping and when you're awake anymore.
Sunday, December 16, 2012
Stairwell: a story
(Anyone else see The Hobbit yet? Anyone else think that movie is only worth it for the second unit scenery footage.)
Today i saw The Hobbit and ate a great sandwich so instead of telling you about that i figured ill tell a story from earlier this week:
The people I'm staying with gave me a key to their apartment so I can come and go as I please. So on the second night in town I go out to the new film museum. They're playing Vertigo. Good movie but I had trouble staying awake with the slow pace and late screening.
I bike home. It's one if the colder nights in Amsterdam, a little below 30, so the whole time I'm thinking about a warn bed. I get the apartment and open the door into the stairwell. I turn the light on and walk up to the top floor. I put my key in the door, turn and push. The door doesn't budge. I try turning the other way. The same. I try the deadlock and the knob and still nothing. I try all 4 combinations of twists and it gets me no where.
I'm locked out.
Twenty minutes pass as I fiddle with the lock. It's now a quarter past midnight. I know they have to get up for work early but I decide the only thing I can do is wake them. I knock. Louder and louder and louder. I start banging on the door, the bottom of the start case above me, the walls. I just start hitting shit. Nothing.
A half a hour passes. New plan: the buzzer. I go back down the stairs. I find the buzzer for the third floor and push it. I can hear it going off from the bottom if the stairs. Bzzzzzzz! Bzzzzzzzzzzzz! Buzz! Buzz! Buzz! Fifteen minutes. Nothing. Fuck they are seriously asleep!
I go back up stairs to the door. Fifteen more minutes at the locks, ten more minutes bashing the door and its somewhere past 1:30am. I'm exhausted so I look down. What I see is a three by three square of floor in front of the door with a mat that reads "oh not you again!".
The lights are on timers so every couple of minutes they go off. Ten more minutes of knocking and I look down again. It's looking like the only solution. It's edging towards 2am so I would only have to no out here for another 5hrs or so. "I can sleep on the floor for five hours", I justify to myself.
I turn the lights on one last time as I begin to position myself on the landing. My shoes are now pillows. My jacket and sweatshirt are blankets. The welcome may is my bed. I curl up, first leaning in the door, then the wall, then my knees. Damn the floor is cold. I fall into a position with my face on the floor, inches away from the stairs and my feet against the door. I finally fall asleep.
(Fifteen seriously uncomfortable minutes later)
"Fuckin A, this sucks!". I wake up with my face itchy from the welcome mat. Waking up in that position has made me quite alert. The possibility of falling asleep again is slim. I sit up against the wall. My phone can access the wifi from inside the apartment so I put on a podcast and get comfortable. I sit for a good 5hrs in the cold, dark stairwell. Listening to movie podcasts and waiting. By the time my shirtless host found me I must have looked like a caged animal seeing light for the first time in days. Pale, clothing all over, visibly in pain, shielding the doorway light from my eyes, I might have hissed at him I can't remember. I know I looked bad enough that the first word he said to me were "are you okay?".
I go inside and zombie my way to my room. His wife brings me a heating pack and places it in my bed. I slip under the blissfully warm blankets and sleep all the way till 4pm. By far the most satisfying night of rest I've had all trip.
So that's my "sleeping in the stairwell story". Hope you enjoyed it! Join me next time when I go to a sex show with Scott and get arrested for pissing off the top of a castle in Bruges.
Today i saw The Hobbit and ate a great sandwich so instead of telling you about that i figured ill tell a story from earlier this week:
The people I'm staying with gave me a key to their apartment so I can come and go as I please. So on the second night in town I go out to the new film museum. They're playing Vertigo. Good movie but I had trouble staying awake with the slow pace and late screening.
I bike home. It's one if the colder nights in Amsterdam, a little below 30, so the whole time I'm thinking about a warn bed. I get the apartment and open the door into the stairwell. I turn the light on and walk up to the top floor. I put my key in the door, turn and push. The door doesn't budge. I try turning the other way. The same. I try the deadlock and the knob and still nothing. I try all 4 combinations of twists and it gets me no where.
I'm locked out.
Twenty minutes pass as I fiddle with the lock. It's now a quarter past midnight. I know they have to get up for work early but I decide the only thing I can do is wake them. I knock. Louder and louder and louder. I start banging on the door, the bottom of the start case above me, the walls. I just start hitting shit. Nothing.
A half a hour passes. New plan: the buzzer. I go back down the stairs. I find the buzzer for the third floor and push it. I can hear it going off from the bottom if the stairs. Bzzzzzzz! Bzzzzzzzzzzzz! Buzz! Buzz! Buzz! Fifteen minutes. Nothing. Fuck they are seriously asleep!
I go back up stairs to the door. Fifteen more minutes at the locks, ten more minutes bashing the door and its somewhere past 1:30am. I'm exhausted so I look down. What I see is a three by three square of floor in front of the door with a mat that reads "oh not you again!".
The lights are on timers so every couple of minutes they go off. Ten more minutes of knocking and I look down again. It's looking like the only solution. It's edging towards 2am so I would only have to no out here for another 5hrs or so. "I can sleep on the floor for five hours", I justify to myself.
I turn the lights on one last time as I begin to position myself on the landing. My shoes are now pillows. My jacket and sweatshirt are blankets. The welcome may is my bed. I curl up, first leaning in the door, then the wall, then my knees. Damn the floor is cold. I fall into a position with my face on the floor, inches away from the stairs and my feet against the door. I finally fall asleep.
(Fifteen seriously uncomfortable minutes later)
"Fuckin A, this sucks!". I wake up with my face itchy from the welcome mat. Waking up in that position has made me quite alert. The possibility of falling asleep again is slim. I sit up against the wall. My phone can access the wifi from inside the apartment so I put on a podcast and get comfortable. I sit for a good 5hrs in the cold, dark stairwell. Listening to movie podcasts and waiting. By the time my shirtless host found me I must have looked like a caged animal seeing light for the first time in days. Pale, clothing all over, visibly in pain, shielding the doorway light from my eyes, I might have hissed at him I can't remember. I know I looked bad enough that the first word he said to me were "are you okay?".
I go inside and zombie my way to my room. His wife brings me a heating pack and places it in my bed. I slip under the blissfully warm blankets and sleep all the way till 4pm. By far the most satisfying night of rest I've had all trip.
So that's my "sleeping in the stairwell story". Hope you enjoyed it! Join me next time when I go to a sex show with Scott and get arrested for pissing off the top of a castle in Bruges.
Friday, December 14, 2012
Bike Ride (probably not interesting enough to read)
So I went to this micro brewery next to an old windmill, apparently the only one in this area of four to survive. The tour was okay but the beer was good and strong. I liked it a lot. So one hour after the tour I go outside to leave. Torrential rain. 39 degrees.
Now, let me back track. The brewery is way on the east side of town. I am staying way on the west side of town. That gives me a good hour to bike. I have not eaten all day so food is paramount. I ask a bar tender and he tells me to go to a Surinamese restaurant named Kam Yim.
So I head off with all the drunk power Holland's organic micro brew can muster. The rain instantly soaks me to the bone. I punch my bike into 3rd gear (there are only three), the speed picks up on the hills and it shakes so much it feels like the wheels are trying to escape the rest of my bike. I'm skid stopping inches from pissed off cars and passing sad blonde girls on pink bikes. I'm so in the zone I'm ignoring all traffic signs and going with the flow.
I stop to check my map and see I'm close to my destination. I find an open bike spot and park. My first thought as i walk away is "where the fuck did I put my bike". I keep going and quickly find the restaurant (what I actually found was a Chinese restaurant called Nam Kee not Kam Yim). I go in and order as I was advised in the bar. The waitress brings me a bowl of chicken, potatoes and string beans covered with a large tortilla. However I ended up eating this it was going to be an invention of necessity, it got ugly. Two women with a little kid get sat at the same table as me. The judgement is inevitable.
I brave back into the rain. I wander around for twenty min or so with no belief that i would find it. By shear miracle I find my red rented bike in the midst of all the local ones. I speed home with unfounded confidence. In no time at all I made it back and decided to write this story.
Now, I'm not totally sure this story is blog worthy. I will title it accordingly but if you do read the full story let me know if I've been writing way too much. This traveling alone shit has got me itching for human interaction so I've been blogging a lot. i might be over saturating it so let me know. Peace.
Now, let me back track. The brewery is way on the east side of town. I am staying way on the west side of town. That gives me a good hour to bike. I have not eaten all day so food is paramount. I ask a bar tender and he tells me to go to a Surinamese restaurant named Kam Yim.
So I head off with all the drunk power Holland's organic micro brew can muster. The rain instantly soaks me to the bone. I punch my bike into 3rd gear (there are only three), the speed picks up on the hills and it shakes so much it feels like the wheels are trying to escape the rest of my bike. I'm skid stopping inches from pissed off cars and passing sad blonde girls on pink bikes. I'm so in the zone I'm ignoring all traffic signs and going with the flow.
I stop to check my map and see I'm close to my destination. I find an open bike spot and park. My first thought as i walk away is "where the fuck did I put my bike". I keep going and quickly find the restaurant (what I actually found was a Chinese restaurant called Nam Kee not Kam Yim). I go in and order as I was advised in the bar. The waitress brings me a bowl of chicken, potatoes and string beans covered with a large tortilla. However I ended up eating this it was going to be an invention of necessity, it got ugly. Two women with a little kid get sat at the same table as me. The judgement is inevitable.
I brave back into the rain. I wander around for twenty min or so with no belief that i would find it. By shear miracle I find my red rented bike in the midst of all the local ones. I speed home with unfounded confidence. In no time at all I made it back and decided to write this story.
Now, I'm not totally sure this story is blog worthy. I will title it accordingly but if you do read the full story let me know if I've been writing way too much. This traveling alone shit has got me itching for human interaction so I've been blogging a lot. i might be over saturating it so let me know. Peace.
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Modern Art
Started my day with the Anne Frank House. Afterwards I was a little spent. So I decided to get on a canal boat and head to the art museum part of town, I was determined to get all the culture seen in one day. I ate a muffin.
By the time I got there I was a 1. So for me entering the modern art museum was like going into a weird ikea. I continued on and started to notice a particular painting, it was really creepy it was like it was looking at me. 2.
Then I approached a thirty foot tall by ninety foot wide wall with zigzag colors up and down the whole thing. I started to laugh and found it particularly difficult to stop.
3. Then there was the plad (4-
5) and a boat full of dicks (6-7).
Finally there was a three dimensional collage... It was a recreation of a bar in LA. You had to walk inside alone. They made you put all of your belongings outside the bar. Inside the bar all the patrons had clocks for faces. And they were all looking at you. Lost my shit.
8-8.75. Retreated to the cafe for hot chocolate, decides to write this post while sitting and eating my second muffin.
By the time I got there I was a 1. So for me entering the modern art museum was like going into a weird ikea. I continued on and started to notice a particular painting, it was really creepy it was like it was looking at me. 2.
Then I approached a thirty foot tall by ninety foot wide wall with zigzag colors up and down the whole thing. I started to laugh and found it particularly difficult to stop.
3. Then there was the plad (4-
5) and a boat full of dicks (6-7).
Finally there was a three dimensional collage... It was a recreation of a bar in LA. You had to walk inside alone. They made you put all of your belongings outside the bar. Inside the bar all the patrons had clocks for faces. And they were all looking at you. Lost my shit.
8-8.75. Retreated to the cafe for hot chocolate, decides to write this post while sitting and eating my second muffin.
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
being in the right place at the right time
means you get a fat-ass bowl of delicious ice cream for free. second time today that free-as-fuck food has been showered my way.
also im starting to finish all my shit. get ready to drink some cum.
peace bitches.
also im starting to finish all my shit. get ready to drink some cum.
peace bitches.
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Day 7
That's right guys, I finally did it! No one thought I could but it happened. I've finally made it to the Amsterdam Unofficial Museum of Cheese!
Monday, December 10, 2012
Day 6
First day on my own. I'm waiting to meet the Amsterdam sperling's at the train station.
For those who don't know, I'm staying with a couple with the last name sperling. My dad randomly met these people via email and now I'm spending 6 days in their house simply because we have the same last name. Something tells me I could do this for ever city I go to.
I spent today biking around Amsterdam. Which brings me to my weather update: it's fucking cold! Face = numb skin around my eyes. Other than that Amsterdam is a pretty sweet city so far. My plan for tomorrow is to make a plan so I don't spend my day aimlessly biking around. Not sure when I'll have the Internet to post this so this strange journal may end up being lost in my phone forever.
For those who don't know, I'm staying with a couple with the last name sperling. My dad randomly met these people via email and now I'm spending 6 days in their house simply because we have the same last name. Something tells me I could do this for ever city I go to.
I spent today biking around Amsterdam. Which brings me to my weather update: it's fucking cold! Face = numb skin around my eyes. Other than that Amsterdam is a pretty sweet city so far. My plan for tomorrow is to make a plan so I don't spend my day aimlessly biking around. Not sure when I'll have the Internet to post this so this strange journal may end up being lost in my phone forever.
Sunday, December 9, 2012
Day 5
Shows over, real trip about start. Gonna be staying with a total stranger for the next week. There might be some radio silence in the next week, don't worry. I know what I'm doing.
Saturday, December 8, 2012
Saturday Night with the Adrians
Adrians here. Trying our best to roll a j. So far Adrian's is better than Joe's first attempt, but still not passable. Adrian hasn't tried his hand yet tho so maybe he'll do a better job. We're using rolling papers from spring break 2011. The ones that Joe and Adrian bought. When Joe asked for "rolling papers for cigarettes please." As classic as it gets.
I'm Adrian, Adrian's Adrian, and we'll be here all night.
I'm Adrian, Adrian's Adrian, and we'll be here all night.
Friday, December 7, 2012
Day 3
I'm worried these earlier posts are gonna be boring (mostly workdays) so here's a series of word that describe my day:
snow, frank ocean, beer, matrix rave, Danish, blue, balls
snow, frank ocean, beer, matrix rave, Danish, blue, balls
Thursday, December 6, 2012
This made my day
http://boston.barstoolsports.com/random-thoughts/do-not-worry-about-ayla-brown-shes-starring-in-cowboy-spirit-next-up-hollywood/
Day 2
Lame. Work day, had to set up and work the show. Met with the Danish guy in charge of the hotel gear. Showed him all the stuff we broke. Danish people are too polite, he didn't even come close to bring angry he just acknowledged how shitty it was that we broke it all and moved on.
Watched 300 old people slow motion touch each others faces in the dark. Not the first time.
Watched 300 old people slow motion touch each others faces in the dark. Not the first time.
Day 1
It's 3:30am here so ill make my post brief. My first day in Amsterdam went as follows: woke up feeling all the effects of 9hr time difference. Went into town that morning and hung out at a coffee shop. Then we proceeded to get the most amazing falafel I've ever had. Went into some swanky shops where various crew members mistook girls clothes for being European style men's clothes. Lost two people on our way back to the train where a man threatened to stab me because I had a camera. Then we set up the seminar show, we blew up four lights and destroyed a dimmer board (European power is weird). I've been reading the great gasby which is great but putting me in a weird headspace to be traveling in. Anyways more posts to follows.
Love,
Jesse
Love,
Jesse
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
Friday, November 30, 2012
How to tell if you're a loser
If you have nowhere to go because all the school facilities where you'd normally kill time are closed early because its a friday night and the school assumes that you are out doing something.....you might be a loser.
But that doesn't apply to me because they kept the lounge open.
:D
But that doesn't apply to me because they kept the lounge open.
:D
Monday, November 26, 2012
Insermnia; a short poem
I am just a man
Who wants to fall asleep
No matter how I try
I keep on counting sheep
I jerked off once already
And still cannot get sleep
If I jerk off again
Does that make me a creep?
Who wants to fall asleep
No matter how I try
I keep on counting sheep
I jerked off once already
And still cannot get sleep
If I jerk off again
Does that make me a creep?
Thursday, November 22, 2012
just read a bunch of our old school blog posts
shit was funny. i miss everyone. you guys are awesome.
a list of things i noticed
-i think this blog started before we even knew josh. wtf.
-what the fuck ever happened to joe's pipe from europe? jesse do you have this?
-does joe still check this blog? or scott?
-i think i was gonna say something else but i cant remember. i'll leave with the shit that made me laugh hardest; argentina's pre-apocalypse list-rant:
1) I actually hate all of you, especially adrian, joe, scott, and jesse.
2) I was trying to use you guys to get ahead but turned out that you are all idiots.
3) I'm gay and enjoyed it every time I got "raped."
4) L.A. sucks and i would never go there.
5) adrian is a dick.
6) jesse you are not a bird, you are not a sloth, SACK THE FUCK UP!
7) Joe you are an actor and you are of course gay dont try and say otherwise. Also, i put nuts on all your shit.
8) Scott you are from texas.
9) John, you are a whore.
10) Josh, i guess you are cool, i dont know.
--
anyways hope everyone has a good post-thanksgiving weekend. in the words of john, GDGF
Gay love,
Adrian
PS - as i was just finishing this blog, Staring at the Sun randomly started playing on my itunes. fucking memories and shit...fuck.
a list of things i noticed
-i think this blog started before we even knew josh. wtf.
-what the fuck ever happened to joe's pipe from europe? jesse do you have this?
-does joe still check this blog? or scott?
-i think i was gonna say something else but i cant remember. i'll leave with the shit that made me laugh hardest; argentina's pre-apocalypse list-rant:
1) I actually hate all of you, especially adrian, joe, scott, and jesse.
2) I was trying to use you guys to get ahead but turned out that you are all idiots.
3) I'm gay and enjoyed it every time I got "raped."
4) L.A. sucks and i would never go there.
5) adrian is a dick.
6) jesse you are not a bird, you are not a sloth, SACK THE FUCK UP!
7) Joe you are an actor and you are of course gay dont try and say otherwise. Also, i put nuts on all your shit.
8) Scott you are from texas.
9) John, you are a whore.
10) Josh, i guess you are cool, i dont know.
--
anyways hope everyone has a good post-thanksgiving weekend. in the words of john, GDGF
Gay love,
Adrian
PS - as i was just finishing this blog, Staring at the Sun randomly started playing on my itunes. fucking memories and shit...fuck.
Happy thanksgiving dudebros
Eat a lot of shit, drink a lot of shit, shit a lot of shit, and watch football.
Happy birthday, America.
Happy birthday, America.
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
Saturday, November 17, 2012
Sights and Sounds - Nov. 16th
Last night Adrian and I hit the town.
We began by purchasing some Congress supplies, and let the night progress naturally from there.
After a session of fierce vote-casting in the fens, we headed to allston to meet up with peeps at a battle of the bands.
While waiting for the T in kenmore, a rap battle of the whitest proportions began to unfold upon our ears.
Here's some Senator-Cam™footage of the proceedings:
Anyways we waited for the B line to come. One came but was full, so we waited some more.
This is when some Twilight Zone shit went down. Adrian and I are all the way down at the end of the platform, everyone else is concentrated in the middle next to the stairs. So this kid comes walking down towards our end, then walks past us. Then I watch him as he goes all the way to the end of the platform, looks back to check that nobody is watching, then proceeds to walk off the platform and back into the darkness behind the wall. And nobody fucking else besides me noticed this shit, and I am.
Eventually another B-line comes and this kids friends are all worried that he's still back there, and he comes out holding his pants all giggly and shit.
What ensued was one of the most crowded T rides I've ever been a part of, filled entirely with college kids. I realized that I'm now a senior, and all these college kids were younger than I was by probably at least 2 years. By appearance and what i could hear and see from the ones in my area, each of these kids was narcissistic and superficial as fuck. They were all just trying to impress the girl/guy they were with, didnt hear a single person crack a joke. I kept thinking about how these kids have probably had facebooks since middle school and grew up with twitter and the jersey shore and shit like that.
Anyways, after generalizing and judging the entire T super-hard, we got to allston. Our friends were presumably drunk as fuck when they went to battle of the bands, so they wandered into this random-ass house that had a band playing but wasn't battle of the bands. But the band was good, so we met them there.
The band was fucking sweet, three dudes playing perfectly in sync with each other, looked like they were improvising, sounded like clouds.
Later we went to chill at our friends'. Here's a snippet of an epic 10-minute beatbox jam.
We began by purchasing some Congress supplies, and let the night progress naturally from there.
After a session of fierce vote-casting in the fens, we headed to allston to meet up with peeps at a battle of the bands.
While waiting for the T in kenmore, a rap battle of the whitest proportions began to unfold upon our ears.
Here's some Senator-Cam™footage of the proceedings:
Anyways we waited for the B line to come. One came but was full, so we waited some more.
This is when some Twilight Zone shit went down. Adrian and I are all the way down at the end of the platform, everyone else is concentrated in the middle next to the stairs. So this kid comes walking down towards our end, then walks past us. Then I watch him as he goes all the way to the end of the platform, looks back to check that nobody is watching, then proceeds to walk off the platform and back into the darkness behind the wall. And nobody fucking else besides me noticed this shit, and I am.
Eventually another B-line comes and this kids friends are all worried that he's still back there, and he comes out holding his pants all giggly and shit.
What ensued was one of the most crowded T rides I've ever been a part of, filled entirely with college kids. I realized that I'm now a senior, and all these college kids were younger than I was by probably at least 2 years. By appearance and what i could hear and see from the ones in my area, each of these kids was narcissistic and superficial as fuck. They were all just trying to impress the girl/guy they were with, didnt hear a single person crack a joke. I kept thinking about how these kids have probably had facebooks since middle school and grew up with twitter and the jersey shore and shit like that.
Anyways, after generalizing and judging the entire T super-hard, we got to allston. Our friends were presumably drunk as fuck when they went to battle of the bands, so they wandered into this random-ass house that had a band playing but wasn't battle of the bands. But the band was good, so we met them there.
The band was fucking sweet, three dudes playing perfectly in sync with each other, looked like they were improvising, sounded like clouds.
Later we went to chill at our friends'. Here's a snippet of an epic 10-minute beatbox jam.
Friday, November 16, 2012
Thursday, November 1, 2012
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Bored as Ball
Balls would be too interesting of a way to describe my current state. It also implies something plural. In actuality im sitting here by myself. Lonely as ball.
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
Daily Break/Campus Live
Hello gentlemen,
So I have recently won $200 on campuslive and I called today and told me that I would be getting an email and would be sent the money in about a month. The question now is, what should I do with these $200? And don't say save it cause that shit is lame.
PLEASE I NEED ADVICE!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So I have recently won $200 on campuslive and I called today and told me that I would be getting an email and would be sent the money in about a month. The question now is, what should I do with these $200? And don't say save it cause that shit is lame.
PLEASE I NEED ADVICE!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
How was your day?
Today I had a bunch of shit to do on campus, but I decided to go for a run before I left my place. When I came back home, the water in my bathroom was turned off. It finally came back on at 5, and when I got out of the shower my dad was home talking about how he was gonna cook up the porkchops he had marinated yesterday. So I didnt get any work done today.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Yo Waddup Bros
Dudes. Waddup. Hows it hanging? Whats goin down? Ya dIg?
MM. mmmm. yo-yo.
Sizzeling ya dippas.
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Friday, July 20, 2012
Dark Night Rises
Just got home from the theater and wanted to know what y'all thought of it. im too tired to write up my entire opinion atm, but overall i'd say enjoyable but kinda disappointing.
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
"simply a product of the mind, senator."
This morning my mind was wandering in the shower. I came to thinking of how I never called Domino's to tell them I wasn't working this summer, and I felt kind of bad about it, because I liked the people I worked with. This got me to thinking about how I'm probably not going to work at JVS (the work-study place downtown where adrian and i always tutored) in the fall. The secretary over there is an awesome old black lady named Vanessa, and she was always excited to see me when I was there. It was kind of like having a cool black grandma. But anyways, I was thinking that since I'm not working there, I'm probably never going to see her again, and I should send her an email of some kind. I'm not sure exactly what it would say, I'm not very good with goodbye skills (hence the Domino's situation). Probably something to the effect of "I'm never going to see you again but it was really cool knowing you so have a nice life." I'd have to word it a lot better though.
I got out of the shower, dried my balls, and remembered that we were out of milk. Throwing on some flip flops, I walked outside and headed to CVS. In my pre-8am sleepiness I was walking with my head down and my eyes half open when I heard "Hey Adrian!" in a familiar voice. I looked up and saw Vanessa walking in the other direction. "Good morning!" she says. I smiled and had time to say, "Hey! Good morning!" before we walked past each other. As my mind tried to figure out what the fuck had just happened, I stepped into CVS and bought some milk and orange juice.
I got out of the shower, dried my balls, and remembered that we were out of milk. Throwing on some flip flops, I walked outside and headed to CVS. In my pre-8am sleepiness I was walking with my head down and my eyes half open when I heard "Hey Adrian!" in a familiar voice. I looked up and saw Vanessa walking in the other direction. "Good morning!" she says. I smiled and had time to say, "Hey! Good morning!" before we walked past each other. As my mind tried to figure out what the fuck had just happened, I stepped into CVS and bought some milk and orange juice.
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Training Ground
I just had an experience that changes the way I look on LA and the east hollywood area where I live. Here it is:
There is a taco truck about 4 blocks from my house. It's close enough that we could easily walk but I'm so used to driving here we decide to take his Prius. In between the taco truck and my there are three sets of traffic lights. In about a minute we're there. Once we're done eating we start to head back to my place. The first light we breeze right past but we quickly get stopped by the traffic in front of the second. We end up stop right next to an intersecting neighborhood street. As we pull up to wait, I see a white passenger van pull to the end of the neighborhood street facing up and stop. In the front is a very stern looking man and woman, both wearing blue sweatshirts. I look to the side of the van, an emblem reads "LAPD". The side door slides open and grey sweatshirts begin to drain out, trainees. First five of them, ten of them. Each hit the ground running to form two jogging lines. Fifteen, twenty, the light changes, twenty-five, we begin to move and the curiously small van is still parked with excited young people in grey sweatshirts running out in twos. (thirty, thirty-five, forty...)
We move on from the brigade and continue up to the third light.
Once again we're stopped, this time there are only a few cars between us and the light. I can already see my street. To our left is a liquor store I've ventured to many times at night. To my right I hear a very high pitched yell. I turn to see three little kids playing outside a rickety apartment building. The kids are eight years old. Supervising them are two dude, young guys both about twenty. I notice the two guys' attention is diverted across the street. I follow their eye lines' to three tough looking dude walking at a good pace, from the liquor store, across the street, right at them and the kids. I notice the one in front, wearing a large white t-shirt, has his hand tucked up between his shirt and belt. He's holding something grey and shiny. As they pass in front of our car I hear the two groups begin yelling in Spanish. PUTA! (the only word I understand) Suddenly the guy in white's hand springs out from his belt. A long silver shank jabs and hooks out at the two guys. They jump back and take off! Before I could blink, they'd sprint down the alleyway nearly shanked and out of site. The one in white hides his knife back under his shirt. The other two shoot a quick look down both side of the street and begin back towards the liquor store. As the first one reach the bumper time slowed, I image him sticking out his long silver blade, if I stuck my hand out towards him it would probably just reach enough to cut my finger. They jog in a triangle formation back to the liquor store. Light changes, air begins to moves again, we pull into the drive way, silence, "those little kids"...
In earshot of my house and one block apart, there are two groups of trainees.
There is a taco truck about 4 blocks from my house. It's close enough that we could easily walk but I'm so used to driving here we decide to take his Prius. In between the taco truck and my there are three sets of traffic lights. In about a minute we're there. Once we're done eating we start to head back to my place. The first light we breeze right past but we quickly get stopped by the traffic in front of the second. We end up stop right next to an intersecting neighborhood street. As we pull up to wait, I see a white passenger van pull to the end of the neighborhood street facing up and stop. In the front is a very stern looking man and woman, both wearing blue sweatshirts. I look to the side of the van, an emblem reads "LAPD". The side door slides open and grey sweatshirts begin to drain out, trainees. First five of them, ten of them. Each hit the ground running to form two jogging lines. Fifteen, twenty, the light changes, twenty-five, we begin to move and the curiously small van is still parked with excited young people in grey sweatshirts running out in twos. (thirty, thirty-five, forty...)
We move on from the brigade and continue up to the third light.
Once again we're stopped, this time there are only a few cars between us and the light. I can already see my street. To our left is a liquor store I've ventured to many times at night. To my right I hear a very high pitched yell. I turn to see three little kids playing outside a rickety apartment building. The kids are eight years old. Supervising them are two dude, young guys both about twenty. I notice the two guys' attention is diverted across the street. I follow their eye lines' to three tough looking dude walking at a good pace, from the liquor store, across the street, right at them and the kids. I notice the one in front, wearing a large white t-shirt, has his hand tucked up between his shirt and belt. He's holding something grey and shiny. As they pass in front of our car I hear the two groups begin yelling in Spanish. PUTA! (the only word I understand) Suddenly the guy in white's hand springs out from his belt. A long silver shank jabs and hooks out at the two guys. They jump back and take off! Before I could blink, they'd sprint down the alleyway nearly shanked and out of site. The one in white hides his knife back under his shirt. The other two shoot a quick look down both side of the street and begin back towards the liquor store. As the first one reach the bumper time slowed, I image him sticking out his long silver blade, if I stuck my hand out towards him it would probably just reach enough to cut my finger. They jog in a triangle formation back to the liquor store. Light changes, air begins to moves again, we pull into the drive way, silence, "those little kids"...
In earshot of my house and one block apart, there are two groups of trainees.
Monday, July 9, 2012
Happy Times
Last Friday I received an email from the folks over at the IT Help Desk alerting me that my password was going to expire in 3 days. As is my fashion, I decided to prepare in advance to prevent any Complicating Troubles and change my password now rather than wait for the 1-day warning. You see, Complicating Troubles are just not for me. To make an easy transition, I decided to change my password from Lennon1967 to Barrett1967. The deed was done, and all was well. I did some reading, took my lunch break, enjoyed Subway's $5 foot long of the month (buffalo chicken), and came back to work ready to do some mindless browsing de l'internet; however, this proved to be impossible. I soon traced the problem to my ECwireless password not working. I cross-checked my hypothesis by trying to log into ecommon on the work computer, and thus proved my theory to be correct. Assuming I made a typo, I proceeded to try anything and everything that resembled Barrett1967. Barret1967, Barett1967, Bartt1967, Brett1967, Barrett9167, Barret9167, Barett9167, Baret1967, etc. Nothing was working. I gave up, and went to the emerson password page and requested a password reset to be sent to my email. Shortly after, it occurred to me that the problem may have been caused by the fact that I was logged into another computer at media services with my old password. But if this was the case, the world will never know, as I had already reset my password. Unfortunately, the password reset email never arrived; I must not have had my gmail linked to that account. Even though all my ECmail forwards to my gmail? Oh well. The rest of the day was spent sans internet.
I went home for the weekend, since Adrian went to Connecticut, OldJoe was in New York, NewJoe was evicted, and I dont have any other friends. As you may or may not know, the prices of the T have been raised to new Bullshit levels. I looked up how much it cost to take the train home; the price had been raised from $6.25 to $8. I got on the train at Ruggles, and had to buy a ticket on board (the commuter rail ticket machine blended in perfectly with the regular CharlieCard machines, rendering it all but invisible). I told the guy where I was going, and he asks the other conductor how much it is to go to Norfolk. Before he gets a response, seeing the $20 bill I'm handing him, he looks me in the eye and tells me it costs "Eleven Fucking Bucks." Eleven Fucking Bucks!?!! Anyways there wasn't much I could do so I was forced to eat his bullshit and pay.
That night I went to Providence and enjoyed a nice night of pizza and waterfire with the GF. During dinner I discovered that the screen on my phone stopped working. I stopped by the Verizon store in the mall for assistance. After turning my phone off and back on again, the Service Expert informed me that the case was hopeless and that I needed a new phone.
While I was home I decided to grab a bike from my garage and use it instead of taking the Bullshit T (better known as the BST). This morning I prepared for the maiden voyage (not really; the bike hadnt been used in a while, it's one of those "Autobikes" that they had infomercials for a long long time ago. also, the only time i can remember riding a bike since i was a little kid was when i rode melina's bike around in boston a couple years ago. but i digress...). As I was saying, I was making sure I had everything; the lock for the bike, the keys for the lock, making sure my helmet fit, figuring out which route to take, trying to avoid any and all Complicating Troubles, as such things are not my style. I went on my way and successfully navigated halfway to school when I realized: I didn't have my Fucking Wallet. Chicken-Shit-Bullshit!!! I needed my Emerson ID to tap into the building I work at as well as the other places that I might have to deliver shit to. I took the next chance to turn around, and was quickly on my way back to the apartment. I couldn't call work to tell them I would be late because my phone was broken, so I had to hurry. I was checking my empty pocket again when I realized: I didn't have my God Damn Keys. Piss!!! I needed my keys to get my ID to get into work. I couldn't call Adrian to get his keys, so I just gave up and biked to work. Fortunately my manager had once introduced me to the security guard, so she knew who I was and let me sign in.
I came to work and was greeted by two managers trying to figure out some mysterious order that was missing information and was booked by me. They were also wondering why I was late. I also couldn't sign into the inventory ipad because my emerson password is all fucked up. But anyways, fuck everyone, fuck you, and fuck me. I've commandeered one of the laptops from work and I dont give a fuck. So like it or fuck off.
I went home for the weekend, since Adrian went to Connecticut, OldJoe was in New York, NewJoe was evicted, and I dont have any other friends. As you may or may not know, the prices of the T have been raised to new Bullshit levels. I looked up how much it cost to take the train home; the price had been raised from $6.25 to $8. I got on the train at Ruggles, and had to buy a ticket on board (the commuter rail ticket machine blended in perfectly with the regular CharlieCard machines, rendering it all but invisible). I told the guy where I was going, and he asks the other conductor how much it is to go to Norfolk. Before he gets a response, seeing the $20 bill I'm handing him, he looks me in the eye and tells me it costs "Eleven Fucking Bucks." Eleven Fucking Bucks!?!! Anyways there wasn't much I could do so I was forced to eat his bullshit and pay.
That night I went to Providence and enjoyed a nice night of pizza and waterfire with the GF. During dinner I discovered that the screen on my phone stopped working. I stopped by the Verizon store in the mall for assistance. After turning my phone off and back on again, the Service Expert informed me that the case was hopeless and that I needed a new phone.
While I was home I decided to grab a bike from my garage and use it instead of taking the Bullshit T (better known as the BST). This morning I prepared for the maiden voyage (not really; the bike hadnt been used in a while, it's one of those "Autobikes" that they had infomercials for a long long time ago. also, the only time i can remember riding a bike since i was a little kid was when i rode melina's bike around in boston a couple years ago. but i digress...). As I was saying, I was making sure I had everything; the lock for the bike, the keys for the lock, making sure my helmet fit, figuring out which route to take, trying to avoid any and all Complicating Troubles, as such things are not my style. I went on my way and successfully navigated halfway to school when I realized: I didn't have my Fucking Wallet. Chicken-Shit-Bullshit!!! I needed my Emerson ID to tap into the building I work at as well as the other places that I might have to deliver shit to. I took the next chance to turn around, and was quickly on my way back to the apartment. I couldn't call work to tell them I would be late because my phone was broken, so I had to hurry. I was checking my empty pocket again when I realized: I didn't have my God Damn Keys. Piss!!! I needed my keys to get my ID to get into work. I couldn't call Adrian to get his keys, so I just gave up and biked to work. Fortunately my manager had once introduced me to the security guard, so she knew who I was and let me sign in.
I came to work and was greeted by two managers trying to figure out some mysterious order that was missing information and was booked by me. They were also wondering why I was late. I also couldn't sign into the inventory ipad because my emerson password is all fucked up. But anyways, fuck everyone, fuck you, and fuck me. I've commandeered one of the laptops from work and I dont give a fuck. So like it or fuck off.
Sunday, July 8, 2012
My Friends
So I haven't blogged in a while and I thought that a couple of things that happened to me this week were blog worthy...
My friends from back home came up on Tuesday to stay for a couple of nights including the 4th of july. These friends are a little bit, I guess you can say, more bro(e) than us but they are funny, and cool fucks. Also they have a lot of money and they deal with grandma.
But whatever, so they got here Tuesday night and as soon as they got here we started drinking. They brought up two handles of gin and then juice. I had already had a beer and a half and my friend made me one of those gin and juice drinks. I tasted it, it was pretty great. It was basically orange juice. I took a couple of more sips, some time goes by, and I started feeling a little nauseous. Now keep in mind that I have thrown up once in the last 12 years so I'm not really sure what it feels like. I decide to go into my room to just take a breather and chill for a second but next thing you know I'm throwing up. FUCK! I just threw up on my rug and a little bit of my friend's laudnry basket which had all of his clothes. I immediately start cleaning up and shit while I start thinking about how im going to tell my friends that I threw up after one beer and a little bit of gin and juice and to tell them that one of the kids clothes was fucked because i puked on it.
A couple of minutes go by and I'm finally able to get their attention to make an announcement. The floor falls silent (just like when I'm in the senate) and i start, of course, with a list.
"First- the gin and juice are not working for me" I said. It got a couple of weird looks.
I kept going "Second- I legit just threw up two minutes ago" Now they start laughing
I try to get their attention again because the worst is yet to come. THey also didn't really believe me.
"Third. I don't know who but one of you is fucked. Whose laundry basket is in my room?"
Rosie (one of my friends, a cool dude). "The one with all the clothes in it? Don't tell me you threw up on it"
I said "Yep, sorry. It landed on only a couple of your clothes but I will wash them right away"
In the end it all turned out fine. Washed his clothes, we still went out that night and we all got drunk. They all thought it was hilarious though how I had to make a whole announcement about the event, but I just told them that I'm used to speeches and lists.
So then onto the july 4th (sorry this is so long). We were day drinking while walking through boston while carrying an 18 pack of roling rocks and brown bagging our beers. Fucking great! But then comes the night and we cant find a good bar to go to because my friend has a fake and the place we wanted to go to was fucing ridiculous with ID checking.
We go to Fenway where it turn out all the bars were closed. So we decided that we are going to walk back to the other bar (back in Boylston, definitely at least 1.5 miles away) and the kid with the fake would stay back.
BUT WE HAD ONE OBSTACLE...it was The FENS!
Now i had heard that there was some midnight fucking that goes on in there but I just thought it was a myth. So when I was presented with the choice of cutting through or going around the park, i chose the creepy trail.
We start going down it and it immediately gets really creepy. Just no lights and couldn't see shit. But whatever what's the worst that can happen, its 5 grown men, no one is going to do anything to us. We keep on walking and then suddenly, on my peripherals, about three feet away from me, I see a white man standing there with a hat and an alien looking face. I FREAKED OUT! Why was there a guy just standing there?!?! It's the middle of the fucking part, in between high bushes and trees with NO LIGHTS!! We all start going a little bit faster and now we see more people coming in out of the high bushes like it aint no thang. WTF?! We keep going but every guy we passed made it even scarier because you only saw them when they were 2 feet away from you. So we finally get out and then our friend researches on his phone what just happened.
It turns out the fens is known for being a place where gay guys go and fuck. We went right through it, so now we dont know if the people were thinking we were there to fuck or to do some bashing because supposedly that also happens like once a year (real fucked up).
W.e. that's up to you to decide.
I hoped you enjoyed this blog and didnt take away from other more important matters. HOPE ALL YALL ARE WELL!!
My friends from back home came up on Tuesday to stay for a couple of nights including the 4th of july. These friends are a little bit, I guess you can say, more bro(e) than us but they are funny, and cool fucks. Also they have a lot of money and they deal with grandma.
But whatever, so they got here Tuesday night and as soon as they got here we started drinking. They brought up two handles of gin and then juice. I had already had a beer and a half and my friend made me one of those gin and juice drinks. I tasted it, it was pretty great. It was basically orange juice. I took a couple of more sips, some time goes by, and I started feeling a little nauseous. Now keep in mind that I have thrown up once in the last 12 years so I'm not really sure what it feels like. I decide to go into my room to just take a breather and chill for a second but next thing you know I'm throwing up. FUCK! I just threw up on my rug and a little bit of my friend's laudnry basket which had all of his clothes. I immediately start cleaning up and shit while I start thinking about how im going to tell my friends that I threw up after one beer and a little bit of gin and juice and to tell them that one of the kids clothes was fucked because i puked on it.
A couple of minutes go by and I'm finally able to get their attention to make an announcement. The floor falls silent (just like when I'm in the senate) and i start, of course, with a list.
"First- the gin and juice are not working for me" I said. It got a couple of weird looks.
I kept going "Second- I legit just threw up two minutes ago" Now they start laughing
I try to get their attention again because the worst is yet to come. THey also didn't really believe me.
"Third. I don't know who but one of you is fucked. Whose laundry basket is in my room?"
Rosie (one of my friends, a cool dude). "The one with all the clothes in it? Don't tell me you threw up on it"
I said "Yep, sorry. It landed on only a couple of your clothes but I will wash them right away"
In the end it all turned out fine. Washed his clothes, we still went out that night and we all got drunk. They all thought it was hilarious though how I had to make a whole announcement about the event, but I just told them that I'm used to speeches and lists.
So then onto the july 4th (sorry this is so long). We were day drinking while walking through boston while carrying an 18 pack of roling rocks and brown bagging our beers. Fucking great! But then comes the night and we cant find a good bar to go to because my friend has a fake and the place we wanted to go to was fucing ridiculous with ID checking.
We go to Fenway where it turn out all the bars were closed. So we decided that we are going to walk back to the other bar (back in Boylston, definitely at least 1.5 miles away) and the kid with the fake would stay back.
BUT WE HAD ONE OBSTACLE...it was The FENS!
Now i had heard that there was some midnight fucking that goes on in there but I just thought it was a myth. So when I was presented with the choice of cutting through or going around the park, i chose the creepy trail.
We start going down it and it immediately gets really creepy. Just no lights and couldn't see shit. But whatever what's the worst that can happen, its 5 grown men, no one is going to do anything to us. We keep on walking and then suddenly, on my peripherals, about three feet away from me, I see a white man standing there with a hat and an alien looking face. I FREAKED OUT! Why was there a guy just standing there?!?! It's the middle of the fucking part, in between high bushes and trees with NO LIGHTS!! We all start going a little bit faster and now we see more people coming in out of the high bushes like it aint no thang. WTF?! We keep going but every guy we passed made it even scarier because you only saw them when they were 2 feet away from you. So we finally get out and then our friend researches on his phone what just happened.
It turns out the fens is known for being a place where gay guys go and fuck. We went right through it, so now we dont know if the people were thinking we were there to fuck or to do some bashing because supposedly that also happens like once a year (real fucked up).
W.e. that's up to you to decide.
I hoped you enjoyed this blog and didnt take away from other more important matters. HOPE ALL YALL ARE WELL!!
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Monday, June 18, 2012
Friday, June 15, 2012
I just took a really smelly shit at work
Smelled like old dirt had been sitting in my intestines for eight years. Hope nobody here uses the mens room for the next few days.
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
In Case of Emergency
Just in case the world goes to shit, I would like to suggest that we use this as a hub of awesomeness in the end of days. Just in case a Zombie Apocalypse occurs or any other such disaster, we should check in here just to make sure everyone is alright.
It's not the Apocalypse yet right? Because no one posts here anymore.
Am I the only one left?
Dear God, what has the world come to?
Friday, June 1, 2012
A Blog Post
Days there were
in times now past,
blog posts for
the fuckers cast.
Fuckers here
and fuckers far,
and sometimes blogs
were up to par.
'Fore those times
of fuckers' posts,
things weren't seen
like they were ghosts.
Things untold
and never read,
and never heard
I shat my bed.
What was that?
Oh, nevermind,
no shit hit bed
from my behind.
So please forget
the words i wrote,
do not say,
and do not quote.
Instead just post
another blog,
to cover this
like under fog.
in times now past,
blog posts for
the fuckers cast.
Fuckers here
and fuckers far,
and sometimes blogs
were up to par.
'Fore those times
of fuckers' posts,
things weren't seen
like they were ghosts.
Things untold
and never read,
and never heard
I shat my bed.
What was that?
Oh, nevermind,
no shit hit bed
from my behind.
So please forget
the words i wrote,
do not say,
and do not quote.
Instead just post
another blog,
to cover this
like under fog.
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Fuck You
Hey guys,
I miss y'all.
How are your summers so far?
What are you planning for the rest of it?
Did I mention I miss y'all?
Fuck You,
Josh
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
GOD DAMMMMMNNNNIIIIITTTT
I DONT WANT TO FUCKING DO MY GOD DAMN FUCKING HOMEWORK RIGHT NOW. I DONT GIVE A FUCK THAT I JUST NEED TO WRITE ONE MORE DOUBLE SIDED PAGE. FUCK IT. IT SUCKS. FUCK YOUOU. FUCK COCKS. FUCK DICKS. FUCK STICKS. GET STICKY.
FUCK.
FUCK.
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Orange: Poison or Fruit?
Found this little gem on my computer. Written a while ago, this is unedited, I wrote this down while stoned.
Alright. I have to write it down.
Adrian, eating an orange…
Half way through orange…
“Oranges have interesting texture and taste”, Adrian says to himself…
“But remember, you are very stoned”, Adrian says back to himself…
“Ah yes Adrian, this orange could be rotten…”
“Or it could be perfectly fine, and I could just be paranoid…”
“Better to get an outside opinion…”
Adrian askes Jess to try orange…
“ Is it good or bad?” Say Adrian…
Jesse takes bite and is astonished
“It could be either”, he then concludes in astonishment
Conclusion: Orange could be either good or bad. Unsure because neither one of us has ever eaten an orange while stoned. Parallels to early man first discovering the orange, unsure as to whether poison or fruit…
Friday, March 2, 2012
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Reel Feedback
I just cut together a new reel. This is still a rough cut, there are a few things I have in mind that I still want to change, but I figured I would get as much feedback as I could before I do a final.
I'm in Orlando right now and soon I'll be in DC so it'll be at least 2 weeks before I can do another cut. Any and all feedback is, as always, appreciated! If you want to show it to someone who doesn't normally read our blog that would be cool too. The url is:http://vimeo.com/37164501. And the password is: DPREEL_2012
I'm in Orlando right now and soon I'll be in DC so it'll be at least 2 weeks before I can do another cut. Any and all feedback is, as always, appreciated! If you want to show it to someone who doesn't normally read our blog that would be cool too. The url is:http://vimeo.com/37164501. And the password is: DPREEL_2012
Friday, February 3, 2012
What?
Kulig got me involved with this company called Royster that does videography work, mostly for corporate events. I didn't interview. He recommended me. Already I'm scheduled to go to San Diego, Orlando and Arlington. They pay for everything plus a nice fee. WHAT?
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
what i was going to tape to the bathroom mirror...
...before i started panicking that i had a lot of work to do on my project in a very short amount of time tomorrow
--
great job, men. agent scott did us proud by finding enough toilet paper to last the department for months. but that's not the end of our agenda. below this sheet of instructions lie two empty containers of soap, and i will be god damned if we cant fill them with free soap from bathrooms on campus. now agent scott is off covering another mission on campus, so it is up to US to make this soap happen. here is what we must do:
on the knobs of the bathroom cupboard are two plastic bags. you must store the soap containers in these bags, and store these bags in your backpacks. once on campus, we must find a soap location that is both bountiful and under the radar. private one-stall bathrooms may be found on the first floor of the ansin building, as well as the fourth and fifth floors of the walker building.
good luck, gentlemen. and as always, call papi if you need to get caught in some gnarly shit.
godspeed,
chief johnson
--
great job, men. agent scott did us proud by finding enough toilet paper to last the department for months. but that's not the end of our agenda. below this sheet of instructions lie two empty containers of soap, and i will be god damned if we cant fill them with free soap from bathrooms on campus. now agent scott is off covering another mission on campus, so it is up to US to make this soap happen. here is what we must do:
on the knobs of the bathroom cupboard are two plastic bags. you must store the soap containers in these bags, and store these bags in your backpacks. once on campus, we must find a soap location that is both bountiful and under the radar. private one-stall bathrooms may be found on the first floor of the ansin building, as well as the fourth and fifth floors of the walker building.
good luck, gentlemen. and as always, call papi if you need to get caught in some gnarly shit.
godspeed,
chief johnson
Friday, January 20, 2012
The Story of the Lighter
Once upon a time there were two lighters. They were identical twins, and for some reason whenever one of them used his fuel, the other would lose the same amount of fuel. But anyways, the lighters' parents always preached the danger of starting forest fires to their children. The lighters' uncles, on the other hand, loved starting forest fires, and were always telling the young lighters how great a thrill it was, and that they too should start forest fires. One of the twins believed his parents were right, and viewed his uncles as crazy madmen. The other lighter saw things the opposite way, and began going all over town starting forest fires. Well when police searched for their suspect, they found one that fit the exact description, and was running pretty low on fuel for such a young lighter. Unfortunately, this was the innocent lighter, and he was forced to either accept his fate in lighter-prison, or use up all his fuel to stop his brother from starting more forest fires. Even more unfortunate was the fact that this would lead to the deaths of both lighters, even though the true lighters to blame were the uncles who told them that starting forest fires was fun.
But who are we to impose such moral affiliations upon an imaginary race of lighters? We know not their needs or struggles. Perhaps starting forest fires for them is the equivalent of writing a book for us. Perhaps the uncles took pride in their work, while it was the parents who were trying to suppress the arts to create a weak and tame underclass of lighters. Perhaps we will never know. What we do know, however, is this: the life of a lighter is not as luxurious as one may like to have linger in one's lazy imagination.
But who are we to impose such moral affiliations upon an imaginary race of lighters? We know not their needs or struggles. Perhaps starting forest fires for them is the equivalent of writing a book for us. Perhaps the uncles took pride in their work, while it was the parents who were trying to suppress the arts to create a weak and tame underclass of lighters. Perhaps we will never know. What we do know, however, is this: the life of a lighter is not as luxurious as one may like to have linger in one's lazy imagination.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
attention all senators
be forewarned: an RCN technician is scheduled to arrive at our apartment some time between 11am and 2pm this saturday.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
It is Adrian's Birthday
Happy birthday, Adrian. I will buy you birthday alcohol from Choice upon my arrival.
Friday, January 6, 2012
i miss everyone
can't wait to see you guys. i guess excluding jesse, just cause i don't know when i'll get to see you next. but my original point stands. i miss everyone.
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