"who knows"

I woke up a few nights ago in a room with 3 other guys. We were rooming together. It was for school, so don't get the wrong idea. It was about 3 am and it was the incessant bang of hail against the walls and roof that set off the alarm for me. It wasn't the noise that kept me up though; it was the fear. I'm not afraid of hail, or weather in general (any more) but I am afraid of broken glass falling on my sleeping neck. See, our residence was an odd place. It was a 50 foot pyramid of panels joined invisibly every few meters. Inside the pyramid was a 2nd ceiling, this one running parallel to the ground—also glass. It was very much like the pyramid at the Louvre, had it been designed by Frank Lloyd Wright. I figure it to be roughly a billion kilograms or so of very breakable glass just waiting to be shattered. The three of us watched out the walls as the hail reached cantaloupe size and began to destroy automobiles in the distance. The girls who lived up stairs came down and calmed our nerves with extra alcohol they had stashed for such an occasion. Drunkenness did little but confuse the situation for a few moments before our fear intensified. Glass began to explode, faces began to bleed, and it was all over. I was done, with this place, with this class, with the dangers, and ventured outside to find a more suitable experience. None such experience was to be found. I tried to take in a musical, but couldn't get a ticket. I tried to rent a hotel room, but forgot my wallet. I tried to return home but there was no home to return to…

Every car driven....yeah from hard living
Hang with Mariah, spent the night with Vivica
Every tabloid asking Cam "what you did with her"?
Just friends dog, "word to eveerything"?
YES, word to everything now focus on this heavy bling
Eat at Reyo's....Fettucini, Spaghetti things
Cheddy heavy so fuck being some petty king
Can't be nice right? Can't be arrogant
I stab a bitch over ice, "Nancy Kerrigan"
Slash Tonya Harding, see the mobster's mobbing
You don't like us right? We got ya momma boppin'
She look like Amy Fisher, "don't the Range be bigger"?
That's a baby mama car you can't game me nigga
My Royce a quarter mill, chain a half a mill
Earrings another 3 quarter mill, you ought to chill

I quote this not because of the profoundness of the lyrical content, which of course i totally admire and hold on an almost Christ-like pedestal. Its here because last night I went to a store that sold only Diplomats shirts. It was incredible. I've never ever thought that I would have a dream about DipSet clothing. Anyone that can figure this one out will get a burned copy of the latest Killa Cam Mixtape.

I left the store and went to see converge with 2 friends. I havent listened to the band in forever or had a dream about them ever. I think my brain is eating itself or something.

Easy Diver

its been a while. a lot has happened.
this following story too place a few weeks ago, but i've been thinking about it enough to repeat it now.

it was a nice day out, but i was broke and couldn't enjoy it. i really wanted to play street hockey at a school parking lot, but didnt have a mode of transportation. easy solution i guess? find the money to buy a motorcycle.

But where would i find that kind of money? i guess i could check couch cushions and hit up the coin star, but what i really need is treasure. And the only way to really find treasure is with a friend, a snorkel, and flippers. Lucky for me and "N217" we had all those supplies and easy access to a beach.

We swam out past the pier, where the water was still clear enough to see the sharks and alligators that were guarding what we were searching for. We filled up our pockets with coins, jewelry, and other artifacts long lost to the sea. It was surreal. We were mastering this so quickly. We've found what nobody else had in the past hundreds of years of recreational sea-searching and dreaming.

We walked out of the ocean like swamp thing, with our flippers flapping and the sun burning our backs. Straight to the internet where i bought a 50 year old red rusted motorcycle on ebay for the even amount we found. It was on my doorstep in seconds and Fonda and I were riding into the sunset with our hockey bags on our backs, ready to play all night.

"no title necessary"

laugh at this, watch it again, repeat.
______________________________________________________



watch this, take a deep breath, watch the first video again, forget this happened.

“If you aren't rich you should always look useful.”

On Christmas, 2 years ago, I was given a ticket to visit a recently uncovered, yet untouched, pyramid just a few miles outside of Hiawadolastor, Egypt. I had misplaced it during a move, then found it only after it had expired. I set it on a shelf and used it to remind me of the opportunity I had missed thanks to poor organization skills. I recently took a chance and called the travel agency. They understood my dilemma, apparently tickets to Hiawadolastor, Egypt are misplaced on a regular basis. I was allowed to go; no questions asked. When I got there I took on the task of excavating the site. I was allowed to keep the findings.

Heres a time-lapse account of my work. You can click to enlarge, or just break out your monocle.



It was the opportunity of a lifetime, and the treasure I found will be... uh... treasured... forever.

"I don't give a damn for a man that can only spell a word one way."

I don't know what it is with me and jobs. I got an internship the other night, along with everyone else in my class. It was about an hour from my house, and an hour and a half from school. I rode my bike there one day, and completed my shift. The shift was pretty much just orientation, and everyone remained very disoriented throughout. I washed some screens, and cut some construction paper out, all the while wondering what the point was.

As I left, I rode my bike over a curb to cut through a elementary school parking lot. I was accosted by a busty but weathered middle aged teacher. She stopped me in my tracks, like a gatekeeper. She kept yelling. I couldn't understand a word she was saying, she threatened to call the cops. I still had no clue why. Then out of nowhere, the words cleared up. "Blah Blah Blah (30 seconds of silence...) FUCK". Did she really threaten to call the cops on me and then say "FUCK" in an elementary school parking lot in the presence of innocent ears? That was it. I was going to get this broad fired. I pounded on the locked door, demanding the security guard let me speak to the Principal. All-the-while she sat on the curb crying and begging for my forgiveness.

Eventually the front door opened, like the doors Xanadu for Charles Foster Kane, minus the theatrical lighting and sculptural collections. I was led down a long hall and told to go in "that door" where the principal was waiting to hear my indictment. He was in his late 30s, Ben Affleck's blow-bingeing twin brother I presume. He was short on time, it was casual friday and he had a happy hour to go to... and judging by the reminder scrawled up in left arm, he had a date. I make the assumption about the reminder being for a date because, honestly, why else would "blow me" be the sole entry in his epidermal calendar for this evening?

"Fuck" Screamer got fired. I had made a difference today. Not at work, but on the way home. Thanks to my act of good citizen-ish-ness the untainted ears of an entire generation of future leaders would not be subjected to such filth.

After all this is still managed to fit in some math problems. After a long period of working on it... I finally figured out that "If you work an 8 hour day, and you start at 5:15 am, (what time will you get off?)" you will get off at 1:15 pm. I was pretty shocked that after my long day i still had the reasoning skills to figure that one out.

5:15 tomorrow will find me tired from an hour bike ride and preparing to cut out more construction paper nonsense I presume. Saving the children can wait 'til a quarter after 1.

“Bad taste creates many more millionaires than good taste.”

I got another job the other day. This time it wasn't a dream job, it was completely out of the blue.

A few months ago I told people I was going to London for class this summer. At the time I wasn't excited and I just told people so that someone would be excited about my opportunity. And they were. My mom also through the idea out there that she may be able to hook me up with a job/internship across the pond when the class was over. It sounded good on the surface, but there were several underlying factors that led me to the quick conclusion that I could not take it. There was too much here to leave behind for that much time. There were friends I wasn't hanging out with, a girl that wasn't talking to me, and a lot of other things I wasnt doing; how could I leave?

Those people I told, the people that were excited for me, scolded me for not taking such a chance. What do they know? They don't know the people I'm not talking to, the ones who don't talk to me anymore, or the things I'm not doing. They couldn't understand what would be good or bad for me.

The job, the one I recently got, was pretty mysterious. Again, I didn't know what the job entailed. I did know it was in Japan… or Eastern Europe… or London; one of those. I took it. I packed my computer bag with everything that was important to me and set sail. When I got there a co-worker was to pick me up for the airport. He didn't. I was supposed to get a company car when I got to my new residence. I didn't. It was a nice residence. Some 80 stories tall, steel and glass, ultra-modern in an ultra-hip city. It doesn't get better than this. Only a big shot lived like this.

I spent some time getting to know the city. I ate at the restaurants with the most stars, I met the people with the nicest clothes, and drank the drinks for the top shelf. This is it. (Maybe they were right.)

I went to hop in my hot silver lexus and drive home, instead my coworker was parked in his hot silver lexus where my car was parked and told me he had been instructed to drive me home, and that from now on I would only be allowed to leave my residence for work or when I was given explicit written permission by the all mighty higher-ups. Uhhhhhh… this isn't what I signed up for. Wheres my car? Wheres my job? Wheres my check? My once apartment, now cell, had been moved my co-worker added. Just up the stairs. I was on the 41st floor, now I was on top. That couldn't be bad, right?

I grabbed my single bag of belongings and a half full warm beer and began the hike up the stairwell, the elevator was broken. I kept going; 67th floor, 68th, 69 (get it?)… keep going. 78th, 79th, 80. Home? No… one more floor on this supposed "80 story building" I was ordered. I opened my door and climbed a cold rusted ladder straight up about 8 feet. I entered my room from the inside of a rooftop HVAC vent at the top of the ladder. A stainless steal hipped roof. Seriously? My room was the roof? I set down my bag and scoped out my space. It was cold, windy and obviously very "open". Now I'm not interior designer, but "open" is "in" right? Post-modern, ultra chic, feng shui shit I guess. No, fact remains, I was moved to the fucking roof. I couldn't quit. I was locked there. Who knows when I would finally be given my work schedule, or explicit permission to go out again. This is it. (Maybe I was right.)