The Graduate

TAI-PAN JAMES CLAVELL

I was out riding my bike a lot last week, I thought about a few things that I should start doing there.

1) get a Michael Jordan chest piece of him dunking with his tongue out

2) Mimic the face as best I can when I’m doing something awesome on my bike

3) listen to more Busta Rhymes on pandora

4) Not be so afraid of bees. 

I’m pretty sure those were all terrible ideas. When you’re riding a bike it doesn’t really matter though. It takes a couple hours to get to that point, that instant where you start having wacky ideas and they’re all really, really funny. I think that’s the reason I ever started riding a bike, it’s the only way any of my shit makes sense. 

I finished a book today, “Tai-Pan” by James Clavell. I don’t know if you do this, but when I finish a book I instantly become the main character, or the main idea. My entire outlook suddenly changes and sometimes it stays changed. Normally it wears off in a couple weeks. I don’t know if this is a condition or something but I feel like I’ve always had that tendency to embody the message of a book or song or film I like. 

“Ah a 1904 Picasso, this is a clear example of his blue period, see how he has reduced the image to a few shades of blue and green?”

“Ah a 2009 Meier, this is a clear example of his Gilberto/Getz period, see how he is wearing a pea-coat, raybans, and has his button down tucked in?” 

I mean, I know I do this pretty badly, I remember when I loved rage against the machine and I wore che model UN shirts and volunteered. I would never do that without hearing “fuck you I won’t do what you tell me” over and over again in my head. In fact, every signifigant decision I’ve ever made relates directly either to the music, writing, or film I was involved with at the time.

“Chris will you turn off that Graf Orlock and please take a shower?”

“Chris can you pause that Sufjan Stevens and stop crying?”

“Chris I know you just finished “Elephant” but can you get out of bed so we can talk about this picture you drew?”

“Chris why are you building a storm shelter?”

I guess it’s good I’m not into slasher flicks. 

NO ASSASSIN NO PLANE AND NO VAN-MIER

I’ve decided to start using a web-calendar more, to increase my productivity.

“11 a.m. get up; 11:15 a.m. really, get up.”

I had a good weekend in Richmond, saw all my friends, did a bunch of fun things, it makes me wonder why people like Washington D.C. 

Richmond is laid back, fun, its easier to get a job doing something in Richmond, and the crowd is younger. Crime is no more of a problem in Richmond than it is in D.C. Richmond has a much better live music scene, as well as a few great park resources that D.C. doesn’t have. Richmond is far less expensive to live in, the traffic is no where near the level that D.C. traffic is on, and, as indicated by a recent poll, Richmond is a much friendlier place to live. I really could go on and on.

I think people are drawn to D.C. in much the same way Mid-Westerners are drawn to New York in a certain Fitzgerald novel. They like the idea of having power, or getting power. The notion that having it makes you more important. Which I guess is true, in that by having power you become more high maintenance. 

“The President is entering the hallway, copy.”

“Copy, the President is in the hallway, over.”

“The President is entering the bathroom, copy.”

“Copy, the President is entering the bathroom, over.”

I guess D.C. is a place where people can feel important should they need too. It’s a very serious place. While Richmond is a fun place that can laugh at itself, a place where you can hire art students to paint a mural on the side of your building depicting a deer-shrimp creature clutching a heart with arrows sticking out of it. 

AWKWARD GLANCES, FOLLOWERS AT A COFFEE SHOP

Hey there blog, I got offered a job yesterday.

“uh oh.”

I know our relationship has been strained lately, blog. Me making promises to keep and, subsequently, not keeping them. You silent, stoic, strong and abandoned on the internet, left to rot.

Alas, I can not take the job, which is a shame because it would move me to Richmond and all of my dreams would come true. except for the strings attached which I wont go into any detail about. Lets just say they’re more like chains or cables than the blue threads your grandmother uses for quilting.

Now that I’m thinking about it, have you ever had a grandmother who loved you enough to knit you something?

Because I do.

I’ve been thinking a lot about new direction, (which definitely isn’t code for “smoking a lot of pot”) so I downloaded instagram. Its great? I think, I have followers, before I uploaded any photos I had followers.

This post feels disjointed.

I’ve been drinking a lot of coffee lately, I’m big into coffee drinking and writing things down, I’m also big into people watching. Which is not to be confused with stairing off into space and typing at the same time. I don’t know about you but I don’t look at the screen of my computer when I type because I want to edit every word I misspell as I type it.

“What is he talking about? why does this matter at all?”

I’m thinking about what I’m writing instead of what I’m looking at, my eyes tend to wander, and all social considerations go out the window. I only snap out of it when someone makes eye contact with me, which is a nice way of saying; when someone lets me know with their eyes that I’m creeping them out.

It’s not so much a problem when I’m typing in private, but out in the world it really messes me up. Right now for instance, everytime I’ve changed the subject in this post it’s because I am being interrupted by a woman’s scowl, adjusting the hem of her garmet as if they were saying;

“Hey, buddy, they only say its free to look if they’re trying to sell you something.”

Otherwise it costs you your dignity.

Speaking of which, an ex of mine found a video on the internet of me rapping karaoke.

POLITICS RAIN GOVERNMENT

Fearlessly, I drove. The rain driving down on the interstate like a wet dream comet hurdling parallel to the ground. The water stuck to the windshield, but it was no matter, windshield wipers moved swiftly across the glass shield. I drove quickly and to a destination, an address if you will. I did forget to look up a good place to park downtown, yet it was no matter, I had the intuition of a pointed and successful wolf, and the rugged good looks of a man wearing clothes fit for the 1950’s. I carried a briefcase that looked like it should have been handcuffed to me. With hair that said:

“Hey man, you can fuck right off.”

I took this mentality with me as well, I took it to the ground in front of where my interview was and picked up a wet twenty dollar bill that, as swiftly as a lion breaks a neck with his noble jaws, slid into my pocket. I took my mentality all the way up to the fourth floor of a rustic office building where I single handedly interviewed for a campaign coordinator position with a small, progressive issue’s based, policy firm. 

“Chris, why should I hire you?”

“Well, I’m personable, honest, and an able manager. Also, I’m extremely intelligent, if not modest.”

In my mind, caffeinated and strong, a audience began clapping for my performance, from my well selected briefcase, to my sharp, pomade’d hair, I had looked, acted, and executed the part of a well reasoned sane individual. A act that has become increasingly difficult with age.

TYPICAL

 

Hey blog. how have you been? I was looking through old pictures when I realized that I was much more awesome when I was younger. So I’m going to work on getting back to that. 

Also, Just figured out who Kate Upton is, why wasn’t I told? 

I had an adventure last night at a friends house. His house has a nice patio that looks over the potomac river. We decided to go sit in some chairs on the patio. I unstacked several and carefully chose a wicker chair. It was dark outside, around 830 p.m., so I sat down without thinking to check for stinging insects, all of which I am allergic to. 

Of course a fucking wasp is on the arm of the chair, going to town like a business man in Hong Kong, humping the fuck out of my arm with its tiny, and deadly, bellend. So I have to go to the hospital, and of course my friend had given me a ride to the place I was, so he gave me a ride to the hospital as well, since I objected to walking. We waited in the parking lot, waited for me to go into anaphylactic shock. 

“You know that the African wasps are spreading around the country now? and they’ll just sting you without being provoked.”

“Awesome, glad to have them aboard.”  

“Chris how did you find out you were allergic to bees?” 

“Well I got stung while I was riding my bike a couple years ago and I swelled up like  one of those dried sponge dinosaurs you buy from the dollar store. then my feet turned white and my hands turned blue and I thought “If only I had lived another day,” before passing out.” 

“Was that the first time you got stung?”

“No, the first time I got stung was in the cul-de-sac of a friends street when I was six or something. We were taking turns throwing rocks at a hornets nest and running away. I got bit on the arm a few times.”

“Karma, man.”

Shit, I hope that’s not how Karma works, or some woman is going to snip my manhood off and feed it to me intravenously.

Haha?

Also, I went to a music festival at william and mary, met the lead singer of the mountain goats, and interviewed the band that opened for him, which is here.

LOTTERY, KITES, SAMURAI

I bought 10 of those mega millions lottery tickets and extended my confluence over my friends and family as best I could. I tried to leverage my tickets against my friends in order to have as many chances of striking it rich as possible. I probably spent an hour total on lottery dealings. GOOD THING IT PAID OFF BIG TIME.

Actually after it was all said and done I am technically entitled to 4.6 cents (someone I was sort of in agreement with, by way of another agreement, agreed to the agreement with the person I had agreed to agree with, and won 2 dollars). 

I guess that’s the lesson the lottery should teach us; it doesn’t matter how much time you spend looking for a short cut to getting filthy stinking rich, you have to play the lottery at least twice to win.

I watched this movie at the National Geographic building Saturday after going to a kite flying festival downtown. I rented one of those bike share bikes and tore that mother fucker up. I looked like a pro mountain biker riding down hills on the mall and cutting through the grass. I did a wheelie on a monument, I rode against traffic, I ran over a kid. Excellence.  

The kite Festival was pretty cool, people were doing stunt kite flying to music. I felt like I was walking through a battle field though, children kept crashing their kites into spectators. I quickly became aware of this and had the sense to keep an eye to the sky. I did see this woman take one to the shoulder while she was talking on the phone. She winced from fear, paused, and continued walking. 

“Oh my god Sherry you would not believe what just happened to me, someone crashed a kite into my arm, it was terrible.” 

It was a good day, over all. 

Also, check out my friend david taking this awesome half court shot

PLAN A WEEK

So I’ve decided to stay up late to; A)beat myself up for hurting someone I care about B)make a plan for the week that includes efforts to correct A). C) make more pancakes. 

I had some pancakes today, they were phenomenal. I’ve decided that, as far as pancakes go, more is more.

I will no longer taunt myself with the thought of pancakes, I drive by an ihop almost every single day. Do you have any idea what kind of pressure that puts me under? I’m like a dog, begging for dinner. I literally drooled all over my shirt yesterday when I started thinking about pancakes driving past the quaint blue front of the 24 hr ihop.

In fact, the other day while I was in Radford we stopped at a little diner in the town. I ordered the pancakes and an extra egg. Casually, I ate the plate of pancakes, and the egg.

What I didn’t notice was the Chef coming out from the back of the restaurant, he took a seat at the bar a few spaces down from us and when I finished the last bite he came up and told me he hadn’t ever seen anyone finish the entire plate.

“Congratulations!”

Thank you chef, I think. 

FRIDAY MARCH TWENTY THIRD

In my room theres a sort of stucco mud finish on the ceiling. It creates these little sharp ridges so every part looks a little different. It’s a neat effect but it makes the ceiling look much lower. When you have different lights on in the room it looks like a different abstract picture is facing towards you. Right now, in the glow of a 60 watt incandescent bulb screwed into a lamp on my night stand, the ceiling looks inviting. the ridges look like sharp little details of poorly drawn images. It’s a lot like staring at clouds on your back in the middle of a sunny day, you make the clouds look like things even if they really don’t. That’s not to say I don’t see a snakes face, or a broken finger, or a clenched fist, but just because I see it, it doesn’t mean it’s there.

I often wonder what my ceiling would look like if I moved the lamps around just a little bit, just enough to shadow one ridge instead of another.  

LAW SCHOOL (AGAIN)

I’ve started applying to law school monies again. Meaning I’ve started the long and arduous process of garnering the support of complete strangers by way of recommendation letters and well worded essays about myself. I asked a professor to write me a rec letter;

Sure no problem, can you write a draft out for me?

Then I asked another professional association to write me a rec letter concerning my character;

Yea for sure, Can you give me some talking points?

I’m starting to see a theme here. It involves me, me, and more me. 

I love it.

I get to talk about myself, as well as possible, to people I don’t really know, which means I get to spend time reflecting on all of my accomplishments. Now blog, I know I’ve told you this before, but I am very, very self centered. I basically do this type of reflection already, and regularly. Now I have to write it down, edit it, and make other people sign it? 

I think I just came a little. 

Although, I do see one devastating draw back associated with this period of self reflection and self talk. While I get to talk about all the good stuff I want to do I don’t get to talk about all the real reasons I want the scholarship money;

So I can do what ever I want with my law degree

So I can go to Europe and start an English speaking Klezmer-electronica band

So I can chill real hard.

I guess putting on airs is just another messed up part of being a 21st century human. 

SEASON 2 

So blog, I’ve written in you a few times this past week, which can only mean one thing. 

I’m unemployed (Here we go again). 

Yes blog, I’ve come running back to you with the intention of writing in you every single day until I find a new job (while in actuality I will write in you maybe like 5 more times before going on hiatus to battle the impossibly large existential demon living in all the places I’m not looking).

So along with the blogging and not working, I’m also in Richmond, Virginia, for an unknown period of time. I’m meandering from couch to couch, occasionally from shower to shower, entrenching myself in the crawl spaces of my friends more productive lives. First I was in Radford, Virginia, I thought about renting a room for a month and staying, until the second day I was there. I then doubled back to Richmond by way of some po-dunk towns that write ridiculous tickets for minor infractions (I let the inspection sticker on my car expire). 

Remember your audience

Right, thank you blog. 

SEX, DRUGS, ROCK AND ROLL.

I’VE BEEN ON A 5 DAY BOOZE BENDER, I DON’T EVEN REMEMBER MY DOGS NAME.

I HAD A INTREPID SEXUAL EXPERIENCE IN A MOTEL ROOM WITH MULTIPLE PEOPLE.

I DROVE MY CAR ON GRAVEL ROADS UNTIL I FOUND A MOUNTAIN TO ROCK AND ROLL OUT ON. 

DISCLAIMER; MY BLOG MAY OR MAY NOT BE TRUE 

 (cue scream sound bite from “The Who” used in CSI Miami)