:: Porkchop Serum ::

:: Thursday, October 29, 2015 ::

Assad is actually dead.

I wear his skin suit around as part of a plan to slowly destroy his regime through acts of lethargy and confusion. Assad is really good at Mariokart now. I challenge Fuckstick and Adam to come to my palace in Damascus. First to 100 wins gets to drop a barrel bomb!

My latest mission was to visit Russia and get Putin into a compromising position on camera. Wasn't that difficult and Vlad, you are one gentle megalomaniac.

Check it out at http://www.mykremlinboner.com

:: Sandy 9:35 PM [+] ::
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Frustrated:

The story of two beans and their quest to live their magically imagined lives.


Episode one: Pinto gets hopelessly wedged behind the wheel of his Civic and is forced to spend the night in a parking garage. Pinto calls his roommate, Soybean, who refuses to help, deciding instead to take a rejuvinating soak in the tub.

:: Sandy 7:58 PM [+] ::
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Cars that I would own:

Audi: 1992-1994 S4/1995.5-1997 S6
BMW: E34 M5, E38 7 series, E31 8 series
Mercedes: 500E AMG, 300E Hammer (W124)
Saab: 900 Turbo classic

:: Sandy 8:47 PM [+] ::
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How to fake one's demise:

Pick a beach of your choosing.. preferably one with noticable wave activity. During a period of time when the beach is closed/empty/nighttime, carry a set of SCUBA gear out beyond the waves and anchor it to the ocean floor (assuming that it is reasonable to reach withOUT SCUBA). Practice swimming out and finding the SCUBA gear during the day, during the night, etc. Arrive a beach with loved one, friend, associate (preferrably someone who cannot swim well) during the night... faint depression or dire circumstances..allow friend to bring you back down.. go for a night swim.. keep swimming... when you lose sight of the other person, dive to your gear. Put it on and clear your mask. swim laterally.. far enough to emerge out of sight of the other person. The rest is up to you

:: Sandy 7:45 AM [+] ::
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Grand Southern Americas Trip is starting off super sweet... with the loss of my debit card. Actually its more like I left it in the ATM before zipping off to the airport. I dont know if there is quite the word for the level of rage one feels when you're sitting on hold with your Bank, anxious to cancel your debit card because you stupidly left it the cardslot. its pretty much like wanted to hurl your phone and lodge it into someones skull

:: sandy 9:04 PM [+] ::
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Matt thinks he's gonna post in this shitz... we'll see. I'm gonna send him back in time to when he was dressed up as a shitslug in elementary school. Then we'll see who runs this party.

:: sandy 10:18 AM [+] ::
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Bring it one time!   Old ass template brings the REAL!

:: sandy 6:38 AM [+] ::
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Pump some life into this! Draw the syringe full from the porkchop beast once more before she withers and dies.

Some observations from tonight that must be catalogued.

First of all, trip 2's heads up is some wicked bad luck, especially when thats from pocket two's. Next time bitch.. hey, and werent you supposed to get something for 2nd place? unless you already had taken back your $10 bucks....

Medicine as we know it today will be a subject of amusement in the future as surgery still relies on the physical opening on the human body to operate. Invasive medicine will gradually die off with the improvement in preventative medicine, vastly improved screening pratices and the invention of nanoscale or microscale robotic minions which will be able to do repair work on veins, arteries, and most of the internal organs. Trauma medicine will be difficult to improve on as it is a factor of the method of injury which is most of the time out of the control of the doctor. Safer cars or robotic war machines (armor may improve for soldiers but weapons will counter as they always will) will have some impact of the rate of traumatic injury but it will still occur.

There was some discussion on animals, that is the cultivation of animals for human food. Cow, pigs, chickens, etc and that while it is even possible now to subsist on purely on vegetable sources of protein, i dont think that widespread vegetarianism will occur for a long time. Its not a commodity like oil that will probably run out at some point in time that will require us to change our eating habits or die of starvation. Although, it would be interesting to see if there is any kind of trend showing an increase in vegetarianism/veganism over time.

:: sandy 1:29 AM [+] ::
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BITCH!!!

:: sandy 7:05 PM [+] ::
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Strange Things that Happend to MATT on the trip:

- Matt and Andy stop at a Wendy's for some chow. After finishing up, Matt hangs back to take a leak. In the bathroom, Matt finds a severed head. For some reason, the thing registers visually but no emotional reaction is elicited in Matt. He is curious as to why this is. He pisses, and washes his hands, leaving the bathroom and the severed head behind. Driving on, Matt begins to notice, riding or driving in cars along side the Marquis, that same head but now attached to a live body. Not just one, but multiple people. As they get closer and closer to Minneapolis, the frequency of Head sightings increases to almost one in three. While the initial sighting did not frighten him, this development certainly did. He hadnt told Andy after Wendy's because he was still puzzled at his muted reaction. As Andy was driving, he hadnt noticed the appearance of the "head people". Were they headed towards a place of evil? Matt sat in silence trying to figure out a way to broach the subject without Andy pulling the car over again. Were they in danger? He couldnt tell. The sun was setting and the number of HPs were increasing.

:: sandy 5:22 PM [+] ::
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Strange Things that Happens on matts HOLIDAY road trip:

A "Bubble of Silence" was trapped for period of time inside the Grand Marquis. At first it sat in the back seat, waiting patiently for a conversation to erupt, preferably significant in nature. It waited a long time. It waited through a 30 minute discussion of fast food restaurant bathrooms and which of these were easier to vandalize. Matt had a lot of interesting insights. Matt then fell asleep. Suddenly, outside of Gary, Indiana, it happened. It wasnt gradual either. All of sudden Andy launches a verbal barrage at Matt which prompted an equally booming response. This was the Bubbles chance. First it enveloped Matt before he could respond to Andy's "What the fuck is your Deal!!" Licking his chops, Matt prepares a hurtful barb and lets it fly. Nothing. Andy see's Matts mouth moving before hears nothing. Wild guesturing and spittle to no avail. "REAL mature Matt" This goes on for a couple minutes until Andy cant stand it anymore, pulls the car over and the two pummel each other in the parking lot of an empty Walmart.

On a side note, something like this actually happened to me in a Chili's back in high school. Three of us sitting at a table and it was as if a bubble slowly passed through us, phazing the volume of everything in the restaurant in and out, high and low. and just like that it was gone. we all noticed it and were fucking wigged out by it.

:: sandy 5:09 PM [+] ::
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entrance to an undergroud city
light dim like a movie theater before the show
soft light
velvet
carressing breeze
smooth sheets
fading into darkness
gentle brush
starlit forest meadow amongst undulated grass
soothing hiss
draggin my hand against the grainy concrete i enter
pipes snake, waving into the distance
drawing me in like midnight waves
riptide
gravity
drift
float
slip

:: sandy 11:24 PM [+] ::
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How easy it would be to filter people like YOU off the streets by way of these human experiments.

"You fifteen similar looking and weighted men, line UP! You will all take new names! Numbers, so that you will all not know each others identity."

Each day you wake up, a little more dehydrated than the day before. take a little blood out to make you woosy and move you to a new room,.. or is it your old room. Further you decend downward, miles and miles. Each day and with each test they lower you to new rings and subrings, levels and sublevels and they all look exactly the same. are you really looking outside or isnt it possible that with display technology today that you could be staring at a concrete wall. The sun and noise piped down to place the subjects. are your minders the same or are they differnent? Perhaps they are previous subjects that have undergone radical reconstructive sugery including a generous amount of electroshock. Are you where you are? Are you under control? If you think you are, how thin is that membrane between banal reality and the horrible truth. Could you pierce it if you tried?

Perhaps if you turned left when leaving your room instead of right you may catch a glimpse. Pause for one second before responding to your minders (captures?) do you hear mummering? a foreign tongue? Maybe you could go into the wrong door as if your dehydration drove you there. What might you see? Death? A void? Another you?

:: sandy 12:52 PM [+] ::
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Can you bring something back from where you are? Not from the physical hospital and its confines but from the murky depth of your dehydrated psychosis. Maybe a gaunt, twitchy mouse or maybe a tapestry from hall where the moaning snake choir reherses. Scrape some grout with your fingernail and hide it within your beard. The best grout can be found in the undead library. You can try to leaf through the tomes there but most likely it will require water to dissolve the seals .. and you have none. Although, as you know the beard is also a good place to hide water. Perhaps squirrel so away from your secret water source. Climb to the top of the largest minaret and sketch the activities of the sad creatures below.

:: sandy 6:08 AM [+] ::
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A month without a word. 30 plus days of silence.

what if we could coordinate the whole world to stop talking at the same exact instant. could we notice? would it be only then that we would be able to hear the animals talking or the seas laughing. the clouds having heated debates about the moon versus the sun?

or how about the opposite. what if we could organize the whole world to scream at the top of its lungs at the same exact instant. an entire species speaking with one voice. rattling the mountains. maybe it would start earthquakes or split the ground.

i think we should try to make it happen. in the meantime, i'll be happy to crack my own little patch of ground beneath my feet or to converse softly with the squirrel above my head.

:: sandy 1:36 PM [+] ::
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I slipped around the corner, increasing my speed as if the world was falling away behind me. Afraid to look back in case it had, I collapsed against a dumpster, safely concealed in the shade. I emptied my pockets out between my legs and with a wimpering exhalation picked through my latest acquisitions. Meager objects meant to keep me alive for a little longer.

A long flathead screwdriver, chosen because all I could think about was how easy it would be to bury up to the hilt in an eyesocket. A handful of tiny LED lights. A roll of 12 gauge solid core wire. The last Maxim.

"Jessica Alba would join my team for SURE if she is still alive"

The hoot of the clown mob I had just evaded crashed into my ears like a bat. Fear pulled me up the fire escape and I hid, curled up like a little child, behind the lip of the roof. Clutching the flat-head, i squeezed Happy's red nose to calm my nerves. It still smelled of blood but I didnt mind. I had killed once already and it was my talisman.

:: sandy 6:39 PM [+] ::
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Fine! fine, i'll write something although its not going to be the bag filled with infant-insect hybrids like I promised. I've strung those pitious beasts together in a fine net created solely to chisel my footbutter from the tub.

no, i wasnt the one close to a fight with pizza guy, it was infact my buddy who apparently, upon calling for information on our tardy pies was faced with the "f" word from a manager. There was talk of beatdowns but my buds wife spied him before he left the house and put the stop to it.

Instead we watched UFC 56 which despite being a relatively ho-hum afair included a spectular knockout of Nate "the Rock" Quarry. Catching a full left jab in the face, went stiff as a board and fell to the matt, his right arm and leg raised and his toes and fingers curled in a sickening display of brain trauma. Awesome.

I hope to do the same to Sean someday

Bad news is taht i wont be around for Rees' bachelor party. gay

:: sandy 7:56 PM [+] ::
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The sudoku twists me up and knot and desiccates my brain. Speaking of brains, went out with the crew tonight and heard a story that only could have come from the eighties. the scene, a bar. Maybe more than a bar as there was dancing. And as with all dancing bars in the eighties, the crowd formed a circle where burgeoning Fred Estaires were to enter and wow the crowd with mad skillz. The teller of the tale finds himself in the center of the circle, dances furiously building to a shocking finale. A back flip. Which would have been awesome had the slippery floor not doomed the move from the outset. This teller launches himself into the air yet makes it a scant halfway round and comes down thunderously upon his head. long story sort, a crack, visible in xray, from the upper right forehead to the top of the right ocular cavity, or whatever its called. all that for the chance to impress some shitheads at a bar.

Cody is a girly dog and i think that Chuck Norris automaton sidekick in Code of Silence was the inspiration for Robocop.. although no one would own up to it.

You're not reading this blog! I was shocked when i saw you "reading" it. Little did i know it was a sign of your coming insanity. I'll be out in the mews if you need me, pinching Landsbury's cheeks.

had a dream last night but not enough details remain. It was a nighttime scene with me having the ability to leap through the air like Crouching Tiger. But much slower and more deliberate. Moonlight on water. Glistening.

:: sandy 2:52 AM [+] ::
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dream

A game show premiere. Actually a reality show, with a premiere "unveiling" of the cast in a very dimly lit, shallow restaurant. The wall towards the street is full of glass and the candleholders on the tables twinkle from flickering lights on the wall. the crowd and cameras are outside, peering in. There is noise and music and flashes from the onlookers. And black cabling on the floor and piercing mini spotlights drawing out the cast. And i can't be there, i'm hidden around the corner, hidden from the crowd, slightly offstage. Have i been placed there? Maybe its because i can't tie my tie. I struggle with it. I watch the bright teeth of my castmates gleem in the bright darkness.


We all stand before a grand skeleton of a building, torn and eaten away by the acid of time. Its a moonfilled night, with a mellow luminous diffusion bringing all the details of our surroundings, minus color. cool breeze. comfortable like the fall in a sweatshirt. We gaze up at the building, our first test of the night. A blaze is cooking inside! we must put it out because i guess that is our mission. I take the scaffold of pipe and broken wall that snake throughout the brick shell. Climbing, ascending and i perch upon a steel wheel valve. I twist it shut and the fuel for the fire is closed off. My classmates yell and cheer. I've defeated this first task, or so i think. The fire still burns in a little pile in a small corner of some yesterday room. We all sprint this time but I still make it there first. Unfortunately, this time i spin and race around looking for something to put out the fire. A shiny container of something to stomp out this tiny little flame. I lose this race and a teammate sends a wave of anti-fire to finally end this building chapter.

We move to a one floor structure is that broad instead of tall. wide and low with a hole in the roof towards the the right rear. Still glowing in the moonlight, we all leap in through the rough opening into a strange small little room that reminds me of a kindergarten. all of the sudden i'm alone, struggling to unlock the code that will allow me access to the next part of the maze. Everyone else seems to have progressed yet i'm left to ensnare myself in some sort of plastic hose or snake that isnt helping much. I escape out a door only to realise that i'm outside again and I must go back in if i'm to progress in this race or game. I feel fear and panic as if the last place finisher will surely die. I vault upon the roof once more and come across three of my teammates, lined up abreast and heels to the edge of the roof. Still and silent, they look like they've been banished. Stuck in place like three maidenheads for all to see and reflect on. they are forever to contemplate their failures. I'm glad i'm not part of this shameful troika. I bound towards the opening for another go

:: sandy 11:35 PM [+] ::
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We coasted down into the Christine's parking lot, splish-splashing through slowly growing puddles. The brakes on my rental Opal let out a muffled squeal, weary from our trek out and back from Zweibrucken. I sat hypnotized by the wipers and the rain. Matt started to gather up the papers he had repeatedly referred to since we took delivery as "the dossiers" or "Devil's boil cheese" and other clearly related phrases.

"German music sucks nuts." I clicked off the radio and everything else.

Matt spasmodically faux-stabbed me. "Let me taste your blood, Mein Fuhrer!"

We now had names. Well, stage names. Hanswurst, Minnesinger, Narr, and Pickle Herring. Four clowns who according to Heinz in Zweibrucken belong to an organization whose roots lie in the 3rd Special Brigade of the German Army founded 1938. Freude Männer. The "Joymen". A fighting force so fierce and frighteningly effective they maybe have been responsible for the obliteration of an entire US Army batallion. A force of Clowns. Hitlers Clowns.

:: sandy 11:35 PM [+] ::
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face the truth. visit rottentomatoes.com, the site that averages the reviews of tens if not hundreds of film reviewer... Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines garners a 72% good rating. Hardly so-so. Some day, my friend you will know it and love it ... and watch it constantly. And by the way, did the Cure do a song for the Judge Dredd soundtrack because the credits are playing behind me and it sure sounds like the Cure. Wow, if thats not a death knell.

That was a blog a grand scale that we've not seen in a while. Studying its many foci, could you maybe have something as benign as ADHD? Perhaps a frustration with not being about to complete all the wonderful tasks you create within the span of a hour pushs you into the sour moods? I know its more than sour sometimes.. only you know.

I just had an interesting idea for the bad groundhog day. and it sucks. I think you are right. to show the complete vision of a bad groundhog day would be a monumental affair. Perhaps not a grand sweeping supernovel of all the possibilities that one could pursue, by maybe the petty pursuits of a morally flaccid member of the groundhog group and how it affects the rest. A casual murder here and there. cruelty. all erased by the groundhoggedness.. but remaining in the memories, stirring, rotting, festering.. Perhaps the thing that will pull the reader in is that a concept with infinite possibilities will get bogged down by the limitations of man.

find that focus and hold onto it.

:: sandy 9:48 PM [+] ::
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You're probably still working the last little bit of a fourteen hour day. that 60 bones in your pocket helps it flow more smoothly I imagine. So, while you toil away for the bookman, i'll hit it a little bit


What is happening in New Orleans is fucking incredible. Almost too horrific to have been conjured in a book or a movie, mainly due to the large numbers of people affected and the dark, evil cloud that has decended on the NO. A screenplay is definately in the works as we speak by someone somewhere. Perhaps the newsmen had played their juxtaposition game well but i was wholly sucked into the stories of anarchy, fear, desperation, violence and death visiting the city beneath the water. Roving bands of warring gang members, outfitted with guns and other weapons retrieved from once secure pawn shops or even run of the mill gun shops. You know what kind of anarchistic, rebellious energy that these people must feel. Much like the panic that the kids of Red Dawn felt yet at the same time, they knew exactly where to go. And so did these folks. Apparently milling about the town robbing people of food, shooting each other, shooting cops and helicopters. There are even reports of rapes. Police pleading with women to stay off the streets.

Meanwhile, high above the violence are little pockets of white folk.. prisoners in hotels and apartment buildings. Like rats from a ship, theyve perched themselves on the top floors, living the hours out on rooftop patios. From time to time peering over the edge until more gunfire rings out. dwindling food, water, and pet food for thier dogs, most are terrified to leave the roof and cant sleep at night with thoughts of interlopers climbing the stairs turning hairs gray. a few will venture out during the relatively safe hours of daylight to find that one pay phone that works. the fearless one, the one who smokes, ventures out to connect up with other "roofers" to compare notes, pool resources, swap stories, and commiserate.

widespread power loss, maybe a battery powered radio or tv here and there. a lone generator at the hospital is on its last legs. the nights are hot and muggy. its starting to smell.


Heres the opening from an AP article. Is it real? Could it be real?

"New Orleans descended into anarchy Thursday, as corpses lay abandoned in street medians, fights and fires broke out and storm survivors battled for seats on the buses that would carry them away from the chaos. The tired and hungry seethed, saying they had been forsaken.

"I'm not sure I'm going to get out of here alive," said Canadian tourist Larry Mitzel, who handed a reporter his business card in case he goes missing. "I'm scared of riots. I'm scared of the locals. We might get caught in the crossfire."."


http://www.nola.com/ for all things frightening

:: sandy 10:35 PM [+] ::
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i w g a w y s!!!!!!

This will be emblazoned upon my forehead for all eternity. but not my real forehead, my forehead in ScrewDriverLand. The place where all things happen. Every possible variation of events. For it is only in "SiDilL" that the concept of "Eew-gaw-wis" will flourish, sweeping the land, sleeping in the trees, plotting crimes with the Peregrines and obese Marmosets.

Yes, the 100 feet of walking lunges is a terrible thing. A very targeted soreness pervades the land of me. the middle quadricep muscle, rectus femorus, is mad sorry as are my glutes. very specific. interesting.

:: sandy 6:43 PM [+] ::
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You praise me with such kind words but i'm still human, still open to stupid human influence. Still willing to be diverted with just a glancing blow of reason attempting to deflect me. still able to fall into traps of horrible consequence with the equivolent reason of a squirrel. putting faith in those you admire. can you handle the mess? Yes, we almost got into a fight tonight. yes, we almost got the police called on us tonight. and why? i dont remember. am i like that? not really.

:: sandy 2:14 AM [+] ::
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Another dream from the depths of my fabulously fucked up mind:

It all starts aboard an aircraft. Clearly a passenger jet of somekind. I wrote down 747. Sitting in the back with a couple people onboard a full 747, destination unknown. Suddenly we sense that something is wrong with the plane. I look out the back (?) window, something like looking out the back window of a car and watch one of the engines flame out. I casually hold up three finger indicating that engine three just went out. I didnt seem so upset and niether did anyone else. I mean, there wasnt any screaming or anything. Just a palpable sense of impending danger. Meanwhile we're cruising some breathtaking deepgreen hills.. almost artificial in their homogeneity, like a very large fairway...

the pilot elects to crashland, and we all get the news without any perceptible communication. We just know it. At the base of an approaching mountain is a large opening or doorway, like a railroad tunnel. Somehow in the pilots mind this would make for a good landing site and BULLSEYES the tunnel opening, shearing off the wings and engines, turning us into just a fuselage careening down this tunnel (ooh, sexual connotations abound!! foreshadowning?)

The people filled sausage of a plane continues to slide down this tunnel until the nose comes gently to rest into an earthen wall. No harm no foul. Everyone's ok. Awesome pilot.

Everyone files off the plane and scurries off to their rooms to get ready. Ready for what exactly? We've all come to meet someone apparently. Aliens? I remember thinking that.. or knowing it. We had crashlanded out jet into this mountain so that we could meet up with a group of aliens. I didnt know about this but apparently so did everyone else.

People emerge from their rooms in fanciful dress and formalwear. I remember seeing Missy Elliot there with her Crew. Perhaps there were other notables around too? A celebrity tour perhaps? A hint of a soundtrack in the background and we all assemble in a huge hall with a fountain in the middle and the aliens come forth. Not very alien like, perhaps a bit feminine.

All of a sudden out of NOWHERE, HUGE firey boulders, perfectly circular globes of bright orange flame come bounding into the hall!! They're coming right for us!! As they bounce, they are enveloping, more like consuming within the people and aliens in their path. Just as soon as their engulfed, they emerge on the other side slumped on the ground, naked. I take off, hurry un a set of stairs to a balcony that overlooks this hall.. Im safe.

Safe until a firey declothing globe blindsides me. Im taken within and held weightless above the hall, seen now through orange tint. What follows next can only be described as a monumental, thunderous ejaculation. The slowmotion variety designed to liquify your brain.

end.

:: sandy 5:13 PM [+] ::
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I think i'm cresting a hill. I feel different. It could be endorphins. It has a lot to do with the fact that right now, my quads and hams are painful to use, my abdominal muscles hide a dull pain as well. my back is lifeless and sleeping right now while it recovers from today.. what it all means to me is growth. Im growing. lungs clearing. heart surging. i suddenly have a desire to eat better. to get up early. to clean my apartment. to push my body to a place it hasnt really been to in a long while. I welcome a nights sleep that has to start at ten because i know that without the rest, my body can rebuild itself.

I know this all sounds corny and cheesy and whatever. Commiting yourself to something. Following a workout program. Eating good food. writing poetry. sculpting. singing. archery. lockpicking. holding on to it like an addiction. anticipating reaching that next step. hitting that high note.penetrating that inpenetrable lock. finishing a workout in 10 minutes when last time you barely choked it out in 20. progress. growth. looking behind you and seeing a lesser you and looking forward and imagining how far you can go.

that is road to enlightenment. merge, baby

:: sandy 9:50 PM [+] ::
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Cant say that there is really anything interesting going on, at least in this dimension. Id like to think that somewhere is someplace, we're leaders of a ragged band of survivors struggling to save america from some sort of invader. Basically i'd like to live my own Red Dawn. They should update that movie, seriously. Now is about the time that the White House should be pushing propaganda movies hardcore. Moviemaking and screenwriting has, in most cases, become a lot more intelligent and subtle over the last twenty year. You will have to admit that the sophistication level of some of the better movies just stand head and shoulders above a lot of the past. Now that we've been able to move beyond the initial masturbatory use of CGI, modern directors are refocusing on the story. I think that Eternal Sunshine fits that bill quite well.

Marissas thing was ok. One facet that feel deserves some time is the seemingly high density of mad attractive chizzicks at Whitlows.. on a thursday night. On the hunt i can only assume given their ample TITS impossible corraled within just the tightest damn shirts on the planet. staring is fun. and what else are you supposed to do. Its almost an insult to NOT because thats why they bought them. you are wasting their money. stare at her breasts. please. it helps the economy.

You and your kind have pushed this thing to the extreme. You made mother nature get a sex change.

:: sandy 10:33 PM [+] ::
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I thought the party was tremendous if only for the present that Jimbo supplied. Actually, i would say that it was nothing more than just a regular party with one difference in that multiple groups of friend (of yours) were somehow corraled into a single back yard. Mixed more like the way that you would combine pebbles and acorns, combined but still separate. reflect on the varied characters in that hasty play of a birthday party you arranged..

I must say that i was less than impressed by your "speeches". Next time, something that makes a third of the people cry, a third laugh and a third shit their pants in fear of your sorcerer's incantation.. a difficult spell for sure but there are instructions in your book store i would imagine.

a dead body in the road at 3:30 probably encompasses all that was Matt's 28th birthday.

btw, no more promises about getting serious about writing.

:: sandy 9:55 PM [+] ::
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No one can beat my evite response, dont you think? I consider myself the best evite responder in the world.. best EVER. I should get in the papers and have a reality show made about me.... right now im talking to a navy crewman about his Everquest Guild and how he's going to get up at 6 in the morning so he can be around for this Everquest Guild meeting... im in a strange land where you participate in Seafood extravaganzas while the lights go out and I play dress up and talk shit to highly ranked officers while his underlings quiver in his presense. Wanna test my shit?

:: sandy 8:18 AM [+] ::
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The crows, or were they ravens, were monstrous and swift,
hunched and ragged inside bark shadows,
twisting and giggling above sad schoolchildren
and angry rodents

Shapeless souls with metal feet
doze despite the shrill winter white.
Cushioned upon cleaved hearts
pouring black blood and crying
about yellow eyes that scan

:: sandy 4:17 AM [+] ::
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oh my god. seriously. its been a while but yesterday i experienced a confluence of odd things for dinner and the Workout of DOOM that fucking destroyed me. I'm wearing my back like a lead carapace or cape. I shrug my shoulders and feel it slap against my rips like a goblin that has me around the neck. detached and horribly sore. from my lats to the small of my back. muscles so fatigued that i woke the next morning expecting to see tire tracks in my sheets. couple that with late night indian food that seems to be lingering in my belly. two of three miniature hindus with pikes, pressing into my gut. i took the day off.. for real. the whole day i spent in bed, existing halfway between odd, confusing dreams and the real pain and discomfort of reality. it was a surreal existance. Racked with fear that i could not complete an imaginary task. One that was ENTIRELY created and had no place in reality yet i lay there in a puddle, my mind racing, scenarios circling and folding in on themselves, repeating and revolving in a massive windstorm of confusion. and then, i finally came out of my stupor to realise that nothing i had been thinking about for the last couple hours had any place in the real world. I had been trapped in a mind-prison. And thank god because i was pretty damned convinced that i couldnt do whatever it was that i was thinking about.

although, i am confident that after going through such a traumatic workout, my back will grow and soon, will not be a weakspot. but damn, son. WTF

:: sandy 9:12 AM [+] ::
...

Glad you liked it. I hope it showed you a valuable lesson: burying yourself in booze to quench your pain or sorrow or anguish will only lead to you crushing your little brother on the front lawn. I know that its been tough lately but i still dont think it's healthy to let yourself get derailed so easily for so long. Not that what has happened is something you shouldnt feel deeply about, just that the solution appears to some a predictable one for you to fall into. One blasphemous, rowdy, tearfilled night perhaps but to break off for a week to look at the bottom of a bottle is excessive. Aside from the minor effect of screwing up your working out, preventing you from working at your job and interacting with people arent worth it in my opinion.

Glad that you're back in it, though. Todays workout would be a good one to start back up on.

Ten rounds for time of:10 Pull-ups, 20 Sit-ups, 30 Squats

Edit (later that day):.... that workout was a killer. took me 55 minutes to finish that bitch. damn dude. Pullups fuckin rock my shit. need to get that back together..

:: sandy 3:30 AM [+] ::
...

Matt studied the clinking cylinder intently.

It's sloshy remnents travelling along in a graceful arc, capturing his attention and holding it like an oncoming bus. Accelerating. Out of control. And then silence.

This brief love affair, intense with passionate focus lept from a dramatic precipice, repleat with foreboading clouds and a judgemental moon illuminating this uncomfortable exchange.

The staring wasnt quite gentlemanly and Matt knew it. At a loss for coherant English, he sneezed from the rain and belched from the OE, almost simultaneously, in a violent eruption that made his nose bleed. He didnt notice.

Nor did he notice the railroad spike sunk deep in his stomach. Sandy and the sledgehammer had long since departed. Two deep footprints were freshly pressed in the lawn down below, though. Andy was busy below, making a plaster cast without much success. He was a troubled child. Filled with irrational ingenuity. The plaster simply diffused in the gathering rainwater. The frustration dam showed signs of breaching..

Matt rose to his feet with blinding speed, silouheted against the field of ashault shingles by a magnificent bolt of lightening that oddly enough struck Sandy dead 4 blocks away from the Wixon household. Unbeknownst to the be-spiked Matt that his assaulter was now sizzling, he broke into a hellacious sprint, determined to avenge his wounding.

Drunk to such a terrific degree, Matt did not notice that he was still perched atop his parents house. Revenge was at hand as he bellowed into the stormy night.

Matt vaulted himself into the air, running and pumping his arms with purpose. Andy looked up, covered in a wet plastery mess, to see his flailing brother approaching with haste.

Softly, without anger, he spoke, " I hate you, Matt"

:: sandy 10:24 AM [+] ::
...

I love the idea of the eternal music... like a score to life. Calm music like DDDS keeps me in the peace when i return home.. the calm and tolerant. Mold in the cup? hell, mold in my head.. its all good. I'll just let the easy riddems soothe me into the receptive mindstate. i might try experimenting with the musics while sleeping but unsure whether i can fall asleep to speedddeaththrashmetal as easily as i can with the dizzzzzz. Adam and I had this plan during sophomore year to buy a set of Technics turntables and have them spinning excellent records ad infinitum... we'd return from class, scratch a little, break it down and chill on the funk couch with some Kart. Can you think of a better life?


sorry about your shoulder. sometimes if i sleep on it wrong, i'll wake up with it messed. hopefully its temporary. anyway, lost a day and half due to travel and all that entails.. but tried the last two workouts out of order the 20minuts of 7 handstand pushups and 12 "L" pull-ups.. that was pretty much an unmitigated failure as those two are very difficult.. (I almost killed myself in my hotel room trying to do a handstand up against the wall.. i ended up a crumpled, naked fleshpile (bonus imagery!!)) Today i did the 5k workout on the treadmill.. sub 30minutes which is cool but its easier on the tmill.. it actually feels nice to walk out into the natural sauna after such a thing.. the sweat bursting forth.

Dont fret in the inj.. just use your innate mutant healing factor and put that shit right.

be careful with the booze et roof lest you begin chasing the phantom "dome" Sean.

:: sandy 10:56 AM [+] ::
...

Blazing heat and deblitating jet lag equals falling asleep inside a belly dancer. Well, i guess i should say "approximates".

Its that kind of heat that basically is like a steam room. Cuz its mad hot and yes, its not a dry heat. I would describe it like intaking oxygen through some sort of gauze. And without sunglasses, you risk sunburning your eyes.

But on the bright side, the night life is pretty hot. There are tons of really expensive cars, i hear the shopping is excellent with the lack of duty

Who would have known that Namibia was so happening!?

:: sandy 4:53 PM [+] ::
...

I offer myself as a friend during your grieving. My condolences.

Apparently Seth green is attractive. Who knew.. I, on the other hand, find QT to be of the pinched and shrill variety. What strange warped sense of beauty you must develop down underneath the world.

Well, Friday again proves to be the king of the weekend where it once was as exciting as wednesday. Im a bit perterbed recently. As i explore new groups of friends, Im noticing how my "Sandy-ness" seems to form in a manner that is noticeably diferrent than im used to. You sprinkle some wild, perhaps out of character, events early on and suddenly "Sandy" takes on a whole new meaning to person A than it does to person B. Yet, you ARE the same person, arent you? Is it that you then modify your personality to seemlessly flow from one group of friends to the other or is it that maybe you've managed to awaken a side to yourself that up until know was dormant.

Ah, if only to have a video camera and perhaps do a case study on yourself. Are you acting differently? Why? Within an already established group of friends, the "dominant" people have already formed. Not dominant in the traditional Silverback way but perhaps that certain roles and responsibilities have already been spoken for and to attempt to coopt them would arouse interest. With new friend groups, there is no such thing and with that window of opportunity closing ever rapidly as time ticks by, the chance to attain dominance fades. Perhaps this draws out the strange or "dormant" behavior.

:: sandy 2:24 PM [+] ::
...

I wont flood the PS with reims of text documenting my physical transformation into something approaching magnificent.. that will be obvious to all

whats wrong with talking about self improvement? Why does it always have to be mental? I know, it takes less physical effort to paint or write, is that it? are you scared to maintain a regimen.. to quit smoking.. to get regular sleep for most days of the week? And no, that doesnt mean a routine.. for Jesus Crossfit forbids it.. thats right

IT IS MY NEW GOD!!

Not really, but i feel better after doing the workouts


hey, check this out.. straight from the creator of the "Zone" diet... which is similar to South Beach and is advocated by Crossfitus Maximus:

"Get a piece of lean meat/protien the size of your fist, fill the rest of the plate with good carbs (fruits/ vegtables) and add some nuts or good oil. Eat 5 times a day. "

Not bad, huh.. seems pretty easy. Maybe you and your coldcut + salad dinner isnt such a bad idea after all. Just makes the ladies a little hesitant to approach. I had take-out Pho tonight from Saigon Saigon.. damn good

Friday is approaching....

:: sandy 11:24 PM [+] ::
...

Glad that you crossfiited yourself. you will know if you took it too easy with the squats in about two days.. if your hams,gluts and abductors are not screaming everytime you sit on the lou, you have to push it hard next time.

I agree about foregoing the tough olympic lifts although i'm slowing coming around to the clean and jerk (my wrists dont enjoy it and MAN does even a little weight.. like 85lbs, does it tax the crap out of you.. its that quick shit thats tough). This is something that you can most definately do at the RiverGym. The Snatch, however, is beyond me. I cant envision the flexibility in my shoulder region that would allow me to do that thing.. I can do one handed dumbell snatchs but dude, aint no way..

I know this is weird but I'd like to take a class to learn how to do those lifts.. Something about being blindingly quick and powerful. An ability that couldnt hurt in the long run.

Today was an off day but i still did a little something... I went to the pool and swam some laps.. Mostly breast and back. (i really like the power of the BS's stroke).. at some point we had to get out because the chlorine was too weak.. in the meantime, I did 3 x( 50airsquats and 20elevated pushups ) That got the sweat going. Got back in the pool afterwards and hit some more laps.. Maybe ate a little too much at dinner.. but i hit it nice and medium today.



Smoking is all you, bro.

:: sandy 8:47 PM [+] ::
...

Im going to do the rare two-sandy-in-a-row posting.. so disappointed in you. perhaps you decided that you like the liquid diet and extracted the rest of your teeth? i must admit, it does sound pretty simple.

some nutritional comments: I was talking with a guy im traveling with and we came upon the subject of fasting and its possible health benefits. he mentions that occasionally, perhaps once every one or two weeks, he'll fast, drinking only water. The thought being that it gives your body a break from metabolising food, allowing you to flush yourself of the remnents that always seem to lag behind. Sounds interesting in theory. I might have to do some research to figure out if it makes sense or not.

Am on day 3 of Crossfit training and its going OK so far. Tomorrow is a rest day. The first day was 4 rounds of run 400meters and 50 airsquats... my 400m's were slow and my airsquats were broken (pausing during the 50). finished just close to 22 minutes which if you think about it is pretty sorry. I followed it up with some swimming. nothing serious but deeeezam can i feel it three days later in my legs. Its JUST like the feeling of doing actual weighted squats, where if I'm going to try and sit down on a chair, i either need to use my arms to lower the last little bit or just fall. Day two was five round for max reps of body weight bench press and pull ups.. this was a bit of a debacle as i couldnt figure out how the cheap ass hotel bench could be put in flat mode so i did the first two rounds at 185 and i quickly found out how out of bench shape i am. Instead of pull ups as there were none, i didnt bent over rows with a bicep curl bar... not exactly the same area of the back but what was i going to do. today was wicked tough!!! 21-15-9 reps of 225 deadlift and handstand pushups... did all the deadlift albeit in broken sets and was forced to do regular pushups but at about a 40-45 degree angle.. i guess i could have put myself up against a wall but i dont think my shoulders are ready for that type of stress.. all in all it left me sweaty, breathing heavy and maybe seeing stars a little... but it definately stressed me out. was worried that i wasnt ready for so much DL but i just concentrated on my form and banged em out,,,,must remember gloves or wrist wraps for that next time.


had a dream... only remember bits and pieces...my mom and I (dont know why she's figured prominently in my last couple dreams) have been vaulted into the future... perhaps 10 or 15 years. We have no idea whats going on and find ourselves in a mall where we wander into an electronics/computer/video game shop and peruse the titles and attempt to access what appeared to be a much more advanced version of the internet for more information. luckily no one really had taken notice of us yet and we were in more of a gathering mode...interesting


saw Cinderella Man tonight.. Russel Crowe is one telephone throwin Motherfucker... you should see some times.. very good

excited about second saturday.. will send email to women's i know now..

:: sandy 11:24 PM [+] ::
...

no one ever comments our shit.. do we truly have no viewers? i hate our non-existant viewers anyway.

i wouldnt worry about the 486 number.. there are other blogs that i know about that have "1" post according to blogspot.

Did the Workout of the Day from crossfit.. damn. THAT is something that we need to keep doing. DEFinately hits you in a weird/different/harder way than anything else. and I was slow as shit compared to others that had done it

:: sandy 9:22 PM [+] ::
...

I can see posts all the way back to the beginning (march 12 2003, bitch) on the actual webpage version of our blog, so i think its ok. If something had been ruined in the middle, well, how to tell?

What if your face doesnt stop growing? I hear there is a danger of rodents taking up refuge inside paunchy cheeks. maybe those birds were lining up, gathering the components of a new nest. The little babies nestles inbetween the molars. Birds that close will whisper secrets and laugh at each others jokes.

:: sandy 5:34 PM [+] ::
...

I've figured out your ultimate plan you sick FUCK!!! has your quest for the Pitt Sheath driven you mad? Oh, dont be coy..

"what? i dont know what you're talking about you insane Tyler-clone!!"

Your anti-dentistry lifestyle -> your eating binges -> food in teeth -> rotten tooth -> removal of wisdom teeth -> liquid diet -> loss of weight -> sheath. God i hate you, you brilliant scaliwag.

Now, how am i supposed to one up you (because that is my purpose in life). Perhaps I should beat myself about the jaw, breaking it in many places (blaming it on a ego-enraged Fernando), and there you go!! Liquid SHEATH!!!!


I have a dream report. yes, i actually wrote down a dream i had:

Somehow a lot of my friends and family fell through the ocean and some sort of transparent barrier to be delivered to a bustling underwater city world. Then our luggage gets lost and i become really angry when i find out, telling my mom how that was our only ticket out. but after a bunch of yelling and anger, mom explains how candy selling is very lucrative and if Dan is still willing, we could make candy, above-world candy, that we could sell and make our way home somehow.


underworld city: the area we were was remeniscent of some sort of mall. Lots of amber undertones. The ceiling wasnt defined clearly, a thin wavy layer of vinyl, like a bubble. very crowded, with aisles and along one side was something akin to a deli counter were the "candy" was being solid. This is the below-world candy was. the city was dark as there were lights within the city, but the area above the ceiling was pitch black as we were deep underwater.

I found out our luggage was lost when my mom showed me a new trunk that she had obtained.. i instantly asked, "where is our luggage?" and she said it was lost, as if it the airlines had sent it to the other sea-city. I was furious as if I was angry at her but i was really angry and afraid taht we would be stuck there forever. I swiped at a really large bright white, shoulder high flower that was near by and it exploded into a cloud of white smoke/petals/flower-stuff.

somehow dan new how to make candy and that when my mom suggested the whole above-world candy thing.

In case it means anything, i ate a pack of skittles and watched Scarface before i went to bed.

:: sandy 8:49 PM [+] ::
...

I think one piece of the the puzzle that was uncovered last night is how precious a good stoop is.

You could have a deck or porch or something that appears on the surface to function in the same way, but only the stoop has that ability to put you right up against the precipice. No other spot can you both feel comfortable lounging on your own property and a shove a good friend into oncoming traffic or into a crowd of cocaine crazed octagenarians

This brings us to a briefly touched upon thought i had, the concept of spontaneously becoming young again yet retaining your memory.. but first i just want to say here and now that I want to be part of a blow-infused hoard of whitehairs, scooting around DC, defeating all challengers (whether they challenged us or not) with a blinding display of chemically infused walker-fu. Come up with a name for our gang

swimming was surprising difficult.. i guess i hadnt thought about it in such a long time.. the actual strokes that is. getting the breathing right to do breast stroke.. i was always in such a rush to clear the water away and didnt have enough time to inhale.. i just stuck with sidestroke. it was nice to do it though. i feel like a large rolling pin has drawn me out and left me warming in the sun. i do have a nice little tint goin. nice

Oh, i also got up in Snieecrash today. i think i have that guys car.

:: sandy 5:26 PM [+] ::
...

Been pushing it hard these last couple of days. Monday, started a 10K on the erg at a pace that was faster than i had been rowing recently... made it about 30min in before i had to stop. I was OUT of juice.. but it was a good workout. Sore today. Ran my usual 4 today, in the rain, at an average of 9:30 and 9:40.. faster than i have before today. felt good but my calves hurt.

Havent gotten to snowcrizzle yet..soon.

Dont die, Matt. Maybe just come back a little disfigured.

:: sandy 8:45 PM [+] ::
...

A study in Wixology

:: sandy 11:27 PM [+] ::
...

You made the first mistake of allowing me to infiltrate this other race of friends.. my goal is to consume your life into mine, the bottomless chasm.

I lucked out with the whole tree thing. I was both the hero and the victim, at once, to be protected and revered. Admired even. For you know what, if I had known that the G man was talking his talk at me, I would have off-the-top-roped him. Such a move would have instantly won me every woman at the party so perhaps better i didnt.. i need to pace myself.

God, i want to know one thing... how far did we walk that day? And was it really necessary? Perhaps Aaron (sp?) and Gjuss-tin (sp?) were trying to lose you. My theory is that you were lagging behind, hoping to be sucked into a raging party that we had glided by mistakenly. You would have called me right? Although, the Beckwith(?? <- ??) house was bombdope. How i managed to actually fall asleep on the torturerack chair/ottoman combo i found is something to be studied and replicated... the mystery of insomnia resides within..

a sweet day and a half. I dare say it would have been impossible for the original plans to even approach those 36hours.

And i still want to flesh out my "police state" movie

:: sandy 10:36 PM [+] ::
...

was in a good location today to see the f-16s chasing that Cessna out of restricted airspace. We all instantly noticed that something wasnt normal about that jet roar overhead and sure enough there it was.. ( oh shit R Kelly Ignition the remix just came out.. you know this?!!!!).. a bristling spike overtaking a puttering little single engine plane.. he zoomed by and went into a heavy bank, spraying us with a blast of noise. At first we all noted it with a shrug, and then we walked alittle bit and then we looked back and realised there was another Falcon coming up behind the Cessna. the hair on my neck stood up as i realised this pilot, whoever he was, was slowly gliding towards some rather sensitive real estate. Might the Falcon pilot actually unload on this poor shmo? He was fully loaded for war, the anti-aircraft missles appearing to us as mere needles on his wingtips.. but some wicked ebola - slash - AIDS coated needles, ready to end you now. Apparently at some point, one of the f-16 pilots popped some flares to "motivate" the Cessna.. I think i would have shat myself mistaking the flares for a loosed Sidewinder.


so the second day without TV. Not sure i can survive.


a couple nights ago i was thinking about this greek or roman myth.. i cannot remember his name. I think he's actually connected with some sort of psychological syndrome, fictional or not, that involves someone who knows the future contains some sort of horrible event yet to come but is unable to warn anyone and thus goes insane with frustration. i was thinking, there must be a way to lay it out to someone, your vision of the future or whatever other truity that you just KNOW with enough calm logic that you could escape insanity.

What if the sun and the moon and the planets were all friends. They lived in the same neighborhood and saw each everyday. Where intimately familiar with each other. The only problem is this quaint little astronomical suburb is that the Sun knows something. But if he were to tell the others, they either wouldnt belive him or would think he was crazy. The Sun knows he's at the middle of the solar system. The rest of the planets are just that, planets. But the Sun looks out through his firey corona agast..

"oh my god. This is all centered around me!? Why?! why me? Im not anything special! I see that Star over there its more massive than me.. that one over there is brighter... so i know i'm not special.. but here i am!! I was placed in the middle for some reason? And when I die, what happens to this solar system? Will they just vanish? Will they find another star?! BUt I can't tell anyone, they would never believe me. Ok, so I wont tell them... but I know its true and its so fantastically, monumentally overwhelming when i think about it.... I can't.. i must stop.. just continue to live, talk with earth and taunt pluto. But I know! IS this whole Galaxy "centered" around me, stupid little yellow Sun? I want to know why? But there is no one to ask.. is there?"

I should have studied more metaphysics

:: sandy 7:59 PM [+] ::
...

the last paragraph is about someone walking in while you're pants-ed and taking a photo of your gutchild..

:: sandy 9:41 PM [+] ::
...

man, you are quite the hornery pig-fucker.

Hey, I have a great idea for a blog! Lets posts questions to each other and then have each other answer those questions and then we have them on the blog and everyone can read about the questions AND the answers!!! its so perfect. Its kinda like email but email is like 5 years ago.

suck it bitch!!! im better at galaga than you. and any attempt at mocking is just going to sound more pathetic. maybe you should get a tattoo of my three letter name above your three letter name!

anyway, the beck post was just a preliminary post. a rock thrown at you from an overpass, just to crack your skull. maybe ooze out some jew-sss

we need to take a road trip. like a long weekend to some where near by. while the weather is nice and after i get my car all back to norm it will be ripe for such galavaaaanting. perhaps we take another? maybe two? who is worthy? Worthy, James? I think he is busy forever. I vote for either Mickey Rourke or Johnny Depp.. what else could they possibly be doing. another thing, bryan was talking about taking another day trip up to chicago, maybe for a cubs game, maybe just to hang in chi-town. maybe look up kristin as she's already mapped out the city.

think about that as you weep. dwelling on scores that fall short. your ashen face as someone you love more than anything catches a glimpse of you engrossed in your latest venture... farewell M.W. PhD Scatologist

:: sandy 6:33 PM [+] ::
...

Beck might be the shit right now. Guero, my friend, guero.

:: sandy 12:34 PM [+] ::
...

today was a lost day. if fact, if my tombstone were to display my life in days, i'd rise from the dead to re-chisel that last digit. didnt realise that we could lose days, that so little could be acomplished that i might arise one morning and think it were thursday only to read the paper and think, "have i shot ahead in time?"

so this is what its like to work the nightshift, maybe.

:: sandy 8:45 AM [+] ::
...

the superpowers thing: this is what i was trying to get at. It may suck as an idea but it may not.
Try to envision a real life super hero.. or probably more like a super vigilante. Or a real life super villian. But the problem with most super hero stories is that they usually involve un-real super powers or something like that.. but how about a story a real super villian or hero doing so only with the talents he was born with, happening in real life, like walking down Joyce street or some shit but still managed on his own to foil the super villains or take down the super score. Is able to avoid the police and all other authorities.. i dont know, i'd like to see someones take on a super hero in todays world. no super powers.. no nothing.. just will power

and nice work writing posts from my computer.. but when i pulled up the blogger i was logged in as you.. i could have totally fucked up your shit.. but i didnt. props.

:: sandy 12:50 AM [+] ::
...

mabuhay

i smell burningrubberfrom the meltingtires in my mind... busy, tired, sick, hungry, sore,

:: sandy 12:00 AM [+] ::
...

Maybe we wont survive
Maybe we'll grow
we'll never know...


First post after a long time.
Seasonal changes are evoking memories of days past.
Perhaps because I drove King Ruth around the parking lot tapped into the past
I love that car.
I dont want her to die.


Tonight, i pass another stage of reintegration
Seeing the friends. all of them. together at last. too long.
drunk. happy.
still feel like i'm walking around, invisible.
out of phase with the pedestrians running or walking their dogs along Joyce
I just keep my head down and drive

we're just ordinary people
we dont know which way to
cuz we're just ordinary people
maybe we should take it slow

:: sandy 7:05 PM [+] ::
...

get a job bitch and not one that involves rolling around in my sheets screaming tori amos lyrics. i dont know how else to say it..

i will try to drop a story on your ass but time is precious and most of the time devoted to two main tasks... eating and sleeping.

seriously matt. i know you have built up some possible hinderances to employment along the way from va to co to mn to va but if you are serious about having a life beyond your parents house you need to start chipping away at the iceberg. deal with it. I want to meet you for happy hour on friday when i get back, and we can bitch about our jobs..

:: sandy 2:38 PM [+] ::
...

So much talk, so much criticism for so little product. Always suggesting, always wishing that the story had done this or that a gourd had been here speaking thusly. And what you really mean, under it all is, "I wish I'd thought of that on my own"

:: sandy 11:45 PM [+] ::
...

You are just now thinking of the Eels? I've been breeding my eels for years now. One that specializes in French Cuisine and one in the art of Rectal Kung Fu. Come on, test him. Believe you me, his finishing moves are feint-worthy. In fact, I've been in a mental ward for the last month or so recovering from his last unprevoked attack on this horrendously obiese homeless man. Oh the tallowy entrails!!! How they covered everything!!

:: sandy 3:40 PM [+] ::
...

shimmy shimmy ya
shimmy yeah
shimmy yay
gimme the mike or ima take it away
off on a natural charge
bon voyage
yeah, from the home of the dodgers brooklyn squad


RIP ODB

:: sandy 8:01 AM [+] ::
...

I think i like that. Something in the vein of The Big O or Aeon Flux, a modern city (or small country) contained within a protective bubble or enclosure. Outside of which is a medieval hell-land teeming with creatures and forces most unholy. Oh, if only the residents of Fuckville knew. I dont really, most of the time, intend to take these little snippets past the first post. I get an idea or a couple images and I run with it.

i think you should do all those jobs.

:: sandy 7:21 PM [+] ::
...

the rain is coming down in drops the size of grapes. the cacophony of a million musically inclined four years old battering on lazagna pans is the audible onslaught of water on automobile roofs. Every so often i see a person gaze skyward, perhaps to catch sight of the sky closing up. Their grimace betrays perhaps another thought. All these massive skyscrapers looming above the streets. Strong and square and wide. All day, everyday they stand chest out to the world. Even the sun must concede to their stark, sharp edges. But today, this little asian woman casts an evil glare at our neighborhood giants. This is all it takes to defeat you?, she must be thinking. I laugh at the thought of all these great buildings extending massive flat arms from there sides, covering the streets for sixty minutes a day in April. She must be having the same idea as me as she starts to smile, lower her head beneath her black umbrella and press on.

Gum, today's paper and the latest Economist. Six dollars. A wave to Julio inside the kiosk. A message from Wix. A change in plans. What else is new, I think to myself but i know that Wix is saying the same thing to himself right now.

Chew the gum, ditch the paper and keep the mag. Pays to be informed on the world is this life. I hail a cab and in I slide on the faux leather backseat. Inside a cab, for me, is like a recurring nightmare. Not that all my cab rides are horrible (well, that one time in Bangkok) but its the same Crown Vic with asundry loose parts clammering over every bump, the same combo of insents and ass, and the same feeling of truly, not being in control of your own destiny. Thankfully with the rain, the traffic (and by extention me) isnt moving at 8000 miles per hour. Through tunnels with big concrete columns or careening up massive flyovers. Down crowded side streets or past a throng of high schoolers from Alabama. Safe and sound we creep out of town and to the local commuter jetport. I hop out of my dream fifteen dollars lighter and make my way through the parking lot crammed with Mercedes and BMWs. This is where the city elite catch the company jet. Must be nice. It really is quite funny how in this place that caters to the uber-wealthy, they cater to only the uber-wealthy. No copy of People or EW in the wating lounge. No, just complimentary copies of a thirty dollar, what appear to be 18 by 12 inch, super glossy magazine titled Travel. Such extravagance of lifestyle summed up in one little, well no big, magazine.

I piss, retrieve a shot of mouthwash from the dispenser (see what I mean?) and make my way out onto the apron where I find Wixon, still astride his motorcycle talking to one of the always attractive receptionists, outside on a smoke break. I'm just happy he's here on time. There must be something good waiting for us. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Wixon slaps the girl on the ass. Its time to get moving.

:: sandy 8:13 PM [+] ::
...

Dreams will rot if they cannot climb the hill.. slipping down everyday, sprawled in the goo of a million decayed desires. how do i know? I smell it everyday i walk outside. Or is it incinerated canine. Who can really tell. I think they both come from the same Smell family.

Write in the dark. Write in the mall on Christmas morning. Write on a midnight boat in the South Pacific. Weave in a New Years flood, sit indian style on the asphault and write. Ignore the swelling and cresting sea of skulls above you. Fuck everything but never stop writing.. for here it is, a tenuous frayed band, snaking through time. Tying together triumphs with Greater triumphs. I prefer to dangle from the mindLine, falling clumsily as I do in a great downy mountain of stupid sayings and nascent revolutions.

Fuck Yall
We walk along the wall
We dash
you crawl
Yesterday we Compose
tomorrow you scrawl
Win Debates with god
Lemurs wince at your drawl
Fuck yall
We walk along the wall

:: sandy 7:11 AM [+] ::
...

damn bro, so much to chew through. can't use up all my moneeeess on the PS just yet. i will. must catch up more. have you reach the peak yet or are golden arms pulling you down?

:: sandy 4:09 AM [+] ::
...

First 5K: 0:29:37.1

Average Mile Pace: 0:09:32

Pretty damn good. D distanced herself from me on the DOWNHILLs of all places. Need to learn how to do that cuz you can make up some time on those.

the WHOLE fucking course was hilly! especially the last mile. pretty much all uphill. Really happy that i was able to keep the above pace as it's faster than i normally run. The last mile point one really slowed up for me as D and I were keeping a pretty consistant 9:15 mile pace.
Good experience. More than a few attractive women. Recommend it to those that arent bitches.

:: sandy 9:30 AM [+] ::
...

Nah. See may 26 if my new piece seems crafted from nowhere.. My characters were born earlier.

:: sandy 1:46 AM [+] ::
...

I can't find anything that I'd like to write about. My scribe always writes the interesting stuff in invisible ink.

My younger self is pummeling my current self. Pre-pubescent Porkchop Serum contains some wonderous short works written by both you and I. I found this deep within, a village elder's words scribbled on a friend's hyde:

You've all missed the POINT!! No one wants read what you Grandma said today or who's house you threw up at this weekend. This is a chance to crack open your brain and let the word gaze in. Let them poke and squeeze and rearrange. Shine at with lights and pelt with stones. Mizzy: a new task for us. Dream documentation, expansion and development. Lets go deep and find that hidden aquifer that flows between all of us.

Here's something for the new.:


Stupid Tulip stumbled upon some forest opium, I guess. I spent all morning chasing him west over hills that contains empty cave-homes, long since vacated for the promise of Babylon.

I never believed the rumors, the mutterings and hysterical blabberings of a land of fantastic opportunity. Wealth and prosperity, debauchery and placidity. Misery well, I imagine. The sickly sweet blood of humankind diluted the blood of a sizeable portion of these people. Perhaps thats what drove them to crack open their nest eggs and march thousands of miles to the East, following after nothing else but a cragged line of peaks, mere knifepoints at this distance.

"Besmirch my honor?! Never!" Tulip chased the invisible over a hilltop without me noticing. I was still lost in historical meanderings when I heard a loud, frightened snort. I gave him no mind. He probably came across an imaginary pig roast or something. I shouldered my axe and stomped my way up to the top of a deep green, moss covered hill, common to this area. What I saw stretched out below me made my stomach flip. I squeezed down hard on my axe's handlegrip, the leather complaining in its unique way.


(see may 26)

:: sandy 10:27 PM [+] ::
...

I ran like the wind yesterday, dickwad. maybe in the 7's. In any case is was the bomb. Felt good and my calves are nice and not hurty

Go back in time and see our brains spurting and frothing onto the blog... we do need to bring it back. Care to start us off you whiney bitch? BTW, our blog started a couple days before we invaded iraq. crazy huh?

:: sandy 8:13 PM [+] ::
...

Oh, even more maddening than our Presidents inability to see beyond the prewritten factoids stuffed in his cookie jar of a brain (btw, side note. I felt kind of sorry for him when he started talking about North Korea. You could almost tell that he actually at some point took interest in this issue. When the topic came up, he was falling over himself to talk about it. It stood in such start contrast to the rest of his lines, and if Kerry had pressed him further about it, I think that Bush, this being the one issue of substance he knew something about, would stumble and misspeak and ultimately weep on stage) was the godawful spinning. Why are these people willing to put their obvious intelligence and talents in politics behind such a dolt? Whats the payoff exactly? Have they had to drink so much Kool-aid to reach this point that it actually makes sense now? I heard a lot of "it was the Professor vs the Regular guy " and because he didnt just totally tank and puke on himself in front of everyone, he did great. This makes me thing of the Fresh Air piece with Jon Stewart. I dont WANT a REGULAR GUY as my fucking president!!! Why would I want an "average Joe" taking on this "hard work" as W put it. I want the professer. I want the wonk who knows the issues, who not willing to farm out policy to his power grabbing underlings, whos not afraid to have press conferences because he doesnt have time to re-learn his talking points , who understands that we dont live in Biblical times and there is no Good or Evil any more.

And now, after a terrific win for Kerry, all we're left with is the right wingers picking through every line of his responses looking for inaccuracies or instances where he didnt get it quite right. Well, I'll let Kerry take it from here:

"You know, when I talked about the $87 billion, I made a mistake in how I talk about the war. But the president made a mistake in invading Iraq. Which is worse?"

:: sandy 5:26 PM [+] ::
...

The ocean is salty because the dinosaurs pee'd in the water

KARATE EXPLOSION!!!

:: sandy 9:34 PM [+] ::
...

Did it, sluts!!

Not a great run. I had to stop midway to, um, spike one. Strangely enough, ran into Des and Bryan as I was exiting my throne of power. That extra time to rest took something out of my form.. about 3/4 of the way home, it started to deteriorate. But in the end I did make it back. Ran my normal route which i guess is about 3 miles plus a little. And waiting for me in the lobby when i returned was the monday morning donuts and coffee. I grabbed a plain one for the drive in.. thats not to bad is it? fuck you then!!!

:: sandy 6:58 AM [+] ::
...

Tomorrow morning... 5:50... I begin a new regimen. An experiment in self motivation that I've been unable to complete (or even start) up to now. And of course seeing as how I'm a rotten, decrepit 27 year old, is it even possible to change anything now? I might as well blink and wake up a forgetful 87 year old.. dont even mention the keys thing. That scares me enough.

Nah, see, 27 is so fucking young.. it would be so easy for us to remake ourselves into demigods here on earth that to no would desire suicide (or murder.. I'll do you first)

But to wake up early and exercise... shit, to wake up at all that early feels like a huge nobbled (?) ogre is sitting on my chest. Can I push it off? We shall see

:: sandy 10:42 PM [+] ::
...

Jamaica man force me nearly dead with laughs
I watch the people rush the door like harbour sharks, come on
Sunshine is a good time for the Bus Ride
Fun time is a good time for the Bus Ride
Fun time is a good time for the Bus Ride
YO!!

I meant to mention your prior employments, but I hadnt quite squeezed (squoze?) out my verbal shit yet. So I kept rollin. I, personally, can't wait to float in your olympic sized hot tub, sippin scotch and slappin the hoes... But for some reason you like to deny all of us this destined future.. make it happen, Kunt.

:: sandy 5:00 PM [+] ::
...

Fear of success? Responsibility? That could be it. Like a fear that if you ever had a real job with real duties that some wild part of matt would die away and forever be lost. The fear that you could no longer steal away at four in the morning on a wednesday, drive to west virginia and do something naughty in a Texaco bathroom.. you dont do that do you. That was my attempt to thing of a "Matt activity"

Well, to all that above. Suck it up. Thems the breaks. I long for the day when we can all take leave from work and assemble in some town on the outskirts of Rome. Just for a week. Sipping wine and enjoying a nice slab of steak.

Sir, you can't jump from here to there. I know it would be great to do that but what fun would it be to chat in Italy, a couple of wissened Americans, plump with knowledge and experience and a lot of hard work behind them, if we hadnt actually gone through the rough muck to get there.

Whats a vacation without a life to escape from?

:: sandy 5:21 PM [+] ::
...

What is with the eggs. If you eat too many eggs, the clouds start to form. In fact, i look outside my window and see them . The clouds of sadness. They cry for the eggs of their friends that you gobble with glee and then pee them away into your perverted clear plumbing.

Imagine if someday that we actually have to disengage from Iraq. Not because we had lost but that our presense there was so disrupt that nothing could be accomplished that would move the country forward. We repair two oil pipelines and a third gets bombed. We hire 500 new police officers and the next 200 die in a car bomb attacks. What would that do to our country. Beaten by our own failed and malformed policy of preemption

:: sandy 9:47 PM [+] ::
...

why dont you just run full speed into a bucket of rancid ant dreams and collect clouds of sadness for marketing in the chinese underworld ping pong ball fetish clubs.

the weather is starting to push down into the chilly night zones... cozy

WRT Iraq: there are a lot of people who are super gung ho and are content if not exciting to power on into oblivion... really just so mezmorized by Bush's "fuck every one, lets just end this mess" that they can see the forest for the trees... Will follow him over the edge and are willing to subvert and repress in order to keep this train on the tracks. They muse, " damn, for how long have I been saying, 'if we had some balls, we'd just mobilize all our shit and just go in and end it'" like its that easy. Are we that cocky? We've been spoiled by the easy success of desert shield and storm and the amazing wizardry of our military technology that do we really blame them for thinking it would be easy? Sure, dropping a 2000 pound bomb from 35000 feet into a 5 by 5 yard box is possible now, but are our troops that more courageous or skilled than they were 35 years ago? Is the enemy less devious and driven and fearless and brutal? 2000 pound bombs cant clean out Falluja, 20 year old soldiers with M4's and M9's will have to. and then, lets say you do that? what will you have? an empty Falluja and full mosques around the world.

:: sandy 7:49 PM [+] ::
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Didst thou Burn thy self?

:: sandy 9:27 PM [+] ::
...

ah, man, wind like if from the gods has just pummeled this area today.. heavy, steady winds of like 30 and 40 mph gust types. And with the shear distances that you can see in these flatlands of Idaho, its really humbling...

Um, work duties have really curtailed any attempts at BAEing every day. Working from 6 to 8 is tough on the body and leaves me with not a whole lot left except a perverted longing for my hotel bed..oooh, how i want to slide around on its polyester spread as I watch canadians sprinters choke.

Please dont let drinking become some sort of default.. i mean, doesnt it require more effort to drive and go get booze than it does to sit and write about shit? bad, dude. you know where all this could lead. Tell the desire to drink, a think I call Barney, to shut the fuck up... FUCK BARNEY!!!!


I think you should come out here at some point.. a place in the US where the land is flat and grand of scale... watching the clouds and rain and feeling the wind when you can see clear our to the horizon in all directions.. its awe inspiring, at the risk of using a cliched phrase. the scale sticks you deep. feel it

:: sandy 11:42 PM [+] ::
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Damn you are a prolific mickyflick...

I think that this Sunday has defeated any attempts to do anything cool. Idaho Falls is a sleepy, sad little town where the Wendy's close at 9:30. Can you believe that. I think I would positively DIE in a town like that. But it was dark and rainy and I couldnt see for shit so I will withhold judgement till later

I happened to snag a nice 4x4 so just in case I need to scale the TEEEETons, I will

For some reason the weather is a lot worse than we determined and thus, i am cursing myself for not bring ANY KIND OF JACKET whatsoever... how fuckin great is that.. not getting above 70 the whole week and rain the whole time, and all i have is shortsleeves. This has forced me to locate a couple outdoor shops that i'll have to assault before my 0900 pickup time.

now, I must go. for it is 2am EST and I be ti-red. Steady rock

:: sandy 1:57 AM [+] ::
...

What is this. You are foolish to think that flooding the Serum with Matt-ites will somehow drive me out. I infest with the best of them, cordless and rotary. Occasionally miffed, rarely jovial and mostly intensly ravenous for Jones-bread.

So after years of running around, canted foward, arms flailing rearward, I've been pinned down. Tack through a trailing tendril, corraled like a mutt that has a penchant for chewing on three-year-olds. Carb-a-what? fuck it all with both hands. Do i really have to become best friends with little white fuck-er-nutters?


Complete your tasks . Is one of them inventing a new intestine animal? Those always sell well at concerts.

:: sandy 9:28 PM [+] ::
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Shall we knock the dust off?

Swimming in a sea of watch-me-live blogs, PS opens a mahogany box, removes a length of idle steel and trots off to the sharpening stone.

:: sandy 10:37 AM [+] ::
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It will be interesting WHEN, IF one day someone uncorks the Porkchop Syyyzzzurp and it spews forth all these shadowy blatherings, backroom tattlings.


Heres an idea,


Honey Death + Pims - worktalk + night + notebooks + the crowded Pentagon Row square - crowded, noisy clubs = creative BLEVE

:: sandy 11:21 PM [+] ::
...

Dont forget the honey death!!!

mania's help, but sometimes you can wake up a mania but typing that first word or pithy, homosexually fantastical comment. I suggest you try even when you dont think you can. Can't hurt, really.

:: sandy 9:49 PM [+] ::
...

Google is more greater now....

:: sandy 5:18 PM [+] ::
...

Man, I'm still just floored with how fucking good The Love Below is. At first I was replaying Prototype over and over and Now I'm replaying Valentine's Day over and over. Then I'll just let her play and you get to Vibrate plus the last rap song at the end. I would be thrilled if Andre were to keep on this track but I do believe, despire how good his half of the album was, he NEEDS to get back with Big Boi and just fuckin Destroy us all with one huge muthafuck of an album.

:: sandy 10:22 PM [+] ::
...

Sandy stirred on the linoleum. Articulating his arms and legs, he stayed flat on his back, keeping his eyes shut. Sandy felt safe inside the darkness yet a cold chill brought him back to the reality of his situation. Eye's still clamped shut from fear of what they would see, he was jolted by a bright orange flash and a stabbing pain at the rear of his skull. Sandy ran his fingers through hair matted with blood and over a golf ball sized lump.

"Fuck me", he whispered to himself. Unsure if he was alone of was being towered over by his captors.

Matt inched closer to the immobile Sandy, positioned himself and let out a wail, "CAROLLINNNNNEEE!!!" Sandy spasmed from fright, catching Matt across the face with his elbow.

"DUDE!!", Matt quickly subdued Sandy like one of those troubled teens he once administered.

"Open your eyes you little bitch. We need to get out of this place."

Sandy reluctantly sat up. His eyelids still slits, he blinked furiously, looked at Matt and swiveled his head to survey their surroundings.

"Um, are we in a fuckin coffin?", Sandy asked quasi-calmly.

"It appears to be. I've been trying to keep myself sane by singing Outkast to myself. I wanted to wait till you got up before I totally lose my shit." Matt was starting to twitch.

The two dazed captives were inside a ten by ten by ten room with completely barren walls. No doors or windows or any evidence that there was a way in or a way out. Even though they were basked in light, it eminated from ghostly fixtures. Either invisible or non-existant. In any case, the lack of any discernible lamps or bulbs did not weigh heavily on Sandy and Matt's minds. They were stuck. Perhaps with a finite amount of air. No food, no water. No nothing except the clothes on their backs.

They looked at each other.

"Oh Shit" they said in unison.

:: sandy 7:50 PM [+] ::
...

I'm really pushing my body. Tonight, after a fairly moderate chest workout, i returned home. I cooked some broiled salmon. Quite good actually. Just one filet with a mountain of rice pilaf sent me into an on-again off-again food narcolepisode to the Bourne Identity. My triceps and pectorals are still swollen. Trembloids still find a home in my upper extremeties, reminders that I did something correctly.

I'm left exhausted though. Its only ten and I'm headed to bed. This is the time when I would spit the venom onto the blog. I'm putting the phone next to my bed. Here I go. Decending...

:: sandy 10:11 PM [+] ::
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Urban Exploration is happening....

:: sandy 9:46 PM [+] ::
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I must concur with your musings on the body. All through the day, our bodies seem totally subserviant to our minds' will. Walk here. Pick that up. Type that. Today, a foray into the blurred realm when the body develops a mind of its own, threatening to burst free from its bonds and leave the upper mind alone and insane. Two things today brought clearly into focus this truth. First, I woke up this morning with an annoying sore throat that morphed into a cough and general haze inside my skull. Totally sucked. I will sleep early tonight. Second, despite my illness, I went to the gym and worked my legs extra hard. Four sets of eight on the squat: 245, 275, 295, 315. Followed up with three sets of eight on the leg sled: 3, 4 and 5 plates on a side. After that I went to the cable row and did three sets of ten: 120. 140 and 160. At this point I wanted to go over to the leg extensions and further beat on my legs when I started getting that awful feeling that only comes with a truly intense leg/back workout.. nausea. I might consider it something akin to dying almost... sit as still as you want but your body is like a cracked dam trembling before its explodes and floods the valley. It truly is horrifying to some degree. Remember that little boy from Poltergeist when he discovered that his sister was speaking to him from the television.. that was me.. trapped from fear, afraid to cry for help lest the demons decend upon me and pull me down to hell. of course I'm being melodramatic. I simply left the gym early, beat a swift retreat.. and eventually my body returned to my control, ransacked but stable, whispering softly to me," Don't fuck with me... don't fuck with me"


About your sleep issues: We have to look at this logically. the reason that most of us get up at 630 or 7 (me for example) and go to bed at 11 or 1130 is predicated on a normal 8 hour work day. 90% of the jobs out there conduct business during daylight, when people are most productive (note: most) so to stay up past normal bed time hours will cause problems during the workday. You, on the other hand, have nothing currently to wake up for. To force your self to get up early and then still stay up late, during which you seem to be most productive, makes no sense. You might as well keep your current schedule, just make sure, and I think this is most important that you dont sleep more than 8 hours a day. Stay up till 5am all you want, just make sure you get out of bed by 1pm at the latest. Its all about a regular schedule. You body will respond better when its in a rhythm..

:: sandy 6:29 PM [+] ::
...

I got fuck all on teh writing tip lately..
Stop writing about yourself you lazy fuck
I washed my car this afternoon and driving its slippery lines makes me happy
my dads dog died on friday
everyone is really sad, not so much at the actual passing as it was expected but i think more that they realised how much of a role that little dog played in their lives. we sat on out on the porch sipping red wine and we both suddenly noticed. silence. no jingling collar. no rustling in the ivy. they're planning on having her cremated and buried in their backyard. in common sadness, the family was definitely closer now because of it. yes, there is still the usual back and forth with rita and her parents but all three of them were linked together through that dog and together they are now linked in their grief.

another memorable weekend
gyros are traditionally good and or good gyros are a tradition
winter is receding finally
another awesome week at work is sure to come and now on the horizon is a glimpse of the next year and i'm excited at the propects
we like the moon, not as much as a spoon. but a spoon is more use for eating soup. not like a fork unless it has a lot of vegatables although you might be better off
in that case with a chopstick

we all have violent thoughts. i would like to know how close we all actually are to realising those fantasy's. is this barrier quantifyable? My guess is that matt is perhaps closer than the rest of us. It is noted that his results are most definitely skewed as the survey does not differentiate between types of violence and thus, self-abuse is logged at actualized violence, pushing his totals higher.

:: sandy 10:57 PM [+] ::
...

I concur, this weekend was cold chillin.. haven't stay up that late that many nights in a row in a while. A cool feeling except for the getting up 45 minutes before my Bic class. King Gyro revived me, nonetheless.

Still planning on getting back into the story. Perhaps tonight when i can sit and focus. So much work shi'ite floating around up there I need to make sure I keep everything straight.

I think maybe the coolest part of the weekend was lookin through those old pictures of the Martin clan. Kinda makes me wish that we all had had our own stash of photos to pass around cuz I know it would be very cool and VERY hilarious to see, like middle school Matt or for me to show off pre-school Sandy. I dunno, its sort of fun yet embarrassing about letting people get a glimpse into your past.

Car is really gellin with me. With the high speed wobble out and the warm weather back in town, just simple crusin on the highway makes me feel so secure. Kinda get the runners high. I guess it would be the drivers high. And its getting such good mileage too, around 19.4 mpg with those HEAVY ass wheels and like all my fuckin tools and shit in the back. I love it, dude, love it!!

:: sandy 6:24 PM [+] ::
...

Tonight was right. The bright, verbally adriot yet nor'easternly rooted tempest ventured forth, slipping free from a temporarily loosed bond to enjoy the pathetic pleasures of the uncoupled. Enjoyed it terribly yet the air is thick with gazes and behind my sight, a slippery barbed annoyance found an unprotected wedge of flesh to plunge into. Water strips away soil until one day a river flows, easy and calm, without tension or pressure. With this latest jab, it finds the same plot of skin worn and solid, accustumed to subterranean jibes and selfish pondering. Each stabbing pentration finds a smoother past than the last time. Unable to irritate as before, these vicious barbs slide harmlessly inside, consumed by dynamic conversations and mental acrobatics, unable to clutch at shreds of pink as before.


I found a forbidden emotion reclining on my doorstep this early morning. I stepped into it without a second breath yet when it spoke to me, i felt regret and remorse. Perhaps the goal of such IS such yet one still longs for a similar face to emerge from the mist. Someone to hold on to you tight and share warmth.

:: sandy 4:44 AM [+] ::
...

Sean bragged recently in an email, responding to the complaints that he doesn't respond to emails enough:

"so I spend it doing useful things like compiling westlaw points..."


Is this sort of like "Magic: The Gathering" for law students? Lets find out.

*********************************************
*********************************************

Setting: A late night at the Jacob Burns law library


"and I use.. THE EVIL GAVEL OF SCALIA!!! Take that you 'My Cousin Vinny' piece of SHIT!!"

The giddy future litigators gathered around crane for a better look at the offering from the self titled Seante of Torticus.

In unison they moan, "OOOOOOOOOooooooooooh!!!!"

"BRILLIANT!" "MASTERFUL"

Shouts of praise echo through the dimly lit athenaeum.

A fiesty 22-year-old, named simply "Fernando", gazes longingly at his older classmate. Clutching an annotated Barron's ConLaw, a gift from Torticus last semester, he whispers to himself, "And to think that tonight, the great Westlaw Point champion himself, will be letting ME fuck him in the ass!!"

:: sandy 8:13 PM [+] ::
...

Didn't get to the laundry.. ah well.. hopefully its a windy day tomorrow.

On the upside, I think I got the brake issue all straightened out. Apparently the key to the two-piece rotor system is the rotor ring and how it mounts to the rotor hat. The rotor "floats" on the rotor hat and even though the hat is secured to the ring with 10 bolts threaded into locking bushings, to tighten them too much prevents the rotor ring from doing it's floating thing. This creates excess noise, according to the Porsche documentation, which in turn, because the ring locked against the hat, perhaps unevenly, causes the vibrations I was experiancing. It's really a counter-intuitive peice of engineering. The bolts are only supposed to be torqued to 8 ft-lbs!!! That's possible without a torque wrench or any special tools.. Thats BARELY tight!! Yet because of the design of the bolts and bushings, the bolts wont back out and the ring is free to float and be happy and dissapate heat and all the things good brakes are supposed to do. In the meantime, I'm going to keep the new rotors off the car until I get my hands on some garnet paper. I would like to get rid of the pad imprints before reinstalling although I'm 80% sure that if I installed them now, knowing what now know, I believe I wouldnt have any problems.... Man, those Germans and their commitment to automotive excellence in engineering. Mad love.

:: sandy 11:30 PM [+] ::
...

I Like That!!! Shake yo tailfeather like a saltshaker or a polaroid picture.. fuck it, you don't know my name.

:: sandy 7:26 AM [+] ::
...

Sandy followed with his eyes as the caravan cruised past what he had thought, upon it's emergence from the horizon, was their ultimate destination. Set back from from the roadside was an immense power generation facility, the teltale hemisphere of a commercial fusion reactor gazed upwards from the parched red soil, staring forever into the heavens.

"Don't those things usually come with cities.....?" He thought to himself. It stood alone amongst a vast expanse of nothingness as if it were powering the desert itself.

The two Suburbans sped on. The odd plant had nearly slipped back below the horizon when both vehicles pulled off the main road, trailing a roiling blast of powdery dust. Sandy could only guess what would happen now and he didnt have much to go on. He peered out at the dilapidated Pueblo House, a long since abandoned rest stop, unable to see anything of interest except a bright red soda machine. His mouth began to water alas Coca Cola was a rapidly fading memory, a reminder of an America that once was.


Nothing was happening.


"Shit..." Sandy braced for... something. This silence was a bad omen, he felt. Each muted second that past, Sandy imagined a blade encroaching ever closer to his skull, hoping to plunge smoothly inside. Unwilling to move or speak for fear of disturbing his captors, Sandy scoured his memory for an appropriate song, a tune to prevent him from throwing open the door and sprinting off into the twilight. He settled on a particularly raucous oldie by Trillville. "YOU CAN NEVA EVA, EVA EVA.....!!!"

The driver lowered his head slightly and one of the goliaths in the back breathed a sigh of resignation. When Sandy was almost positive he couldnt bear another minute of sitting frozen in place, suddenly everyone sprung to live and exploded from each vehicle, yanking both he and Matt out onto the broken asphalt.

Briefly ignoring the activity in the background, Sandy studied Matt for a second and spoke softly to his compatriate, "What the fuck."

Matt was clearly detached from reality, even more than normal. He traced patterns in the air with his hands and muttered repeatedly, "Oooh, you fucked up now, didn't ya. I can read and write your schematica!!"

"Homes?" Sandy queried

Matt ceased his chanting to acknowledge his friend, "Christmas Jones!? I have found their BONE PHONES!!!"

"Snap out of it your cocksucker motherfucker!! We need to stay alert, here! We've come too far to not take advantage of this opportunity!" Sandy's motivational cries fell on chemically altered ears. He smacked Matt upside the head out of frustration with the current situation.

"GO!" Screamed one of the mirrored men. They stood encircling their two captured prey, bracing themselves.

An awesome metallic crack echoed into space. The ground shuddered and neatly cleaved itself into the shape of a large square, enveloping all three trucks and fourteen men, standing or otherwise.

"Fuckin A!" Sandy was close to pissing himself at this point. Matt continued to convulse to an invisible beat.

"We're sinking... fuck fuck fuck!!!"

Gazing up from inside a rectangular shaft, everyone watched as the hole left punched in the earth above sealed itself off, bathing the platform in absolute blackness. "Sit still", growled someone in the dark. "This won't take long." In a matter of seconds, just as had been predicted, the platform emerged from the dark only to reveal the most spectacular sight either Matt or Sandy had ever seen. They were now inside a cave. No, a chasm. A subterrainean space of such unfathomable magnitude, a tear dropped from Sandy's eye and nestled into the dust at his feet. This wasn't just some empty geological void containing stalagmites and stalagtites. They were decending from three thousand feet above a giant urban landscape stretching as far as the eye could see. It appeared to be nighttime. Two massive skyscapers waded amongst a sea of similarly lit smaller buildings, bathing everything in a gentle amber glow. Sandy couldn't believe his eyes. In a matter of minutes he and Matt will have gone from the desolate wastelands of the American southwest to the streets of a giant underground city the size of Manhattan.

Matt had stopped flailing and from out of the windnoise he spoke, "God, I just need a sweet bitch. You know sombody not to fast but not to slow!!"

Sandy glanced over at his friend, "As soon we get to our cell or holding pen of whatever the fuck they put us in... I'm going to BEAT THAT ASS!!!"

They sat in silence the rest of the way.

:: sandy 11:59 PM [+] ::
...

i need time.. the story continues.. soon.

:: sandy 11:52 PM [+] ::
...

You can NEVA EVA EVA EVA EVA EVA EVA EVA EVA EVA
Get on my LEVA
WWHHHHAATT!!
Get on my LEVA
WWHHHHHAAATTT!!!
Get on my LEVA!!!!!!

:: sandy 10:44 PM [+] ::
...

Oh, you don't understand you silly, flying ass-monkey. Tuesday night is not about TV, it is about having dinner with my Mom. Tomorrow night could be interesting, a chance to see our friends when they are not under my devilishly innocent hypnotic powers.

I've suspected as much about the Tyrannosaurus Doss, for as we all know, those of us who've explored the endless variations of cappuchino at Thunderlizard conferences, all dinosaurs are indeed the distant relatives of current avian species. The discovery of feather-like plumage in fossilized remains, the talon-like hooked claws common to many birds-of-prey as well as the more ferocious and carnivorous of the dinosaurs species, the propensity of many smaller predatory dinosaur species to travel in "flock" like groupings and, the clincher, oddities of the skull common to both dinosaur and bird. Taken together, this evidence leaves us no choice to warn the local crane population and lead a armed squad of dedicated nature watchers to traquilize, capture and en-cage the great Doss beast.

Don't you see? She must be stopped!!!!

:: sandy 9:59 PM [+] ::
...

**************
a Glorious time
**************

:: sandy 6:03 PM [+] ::
...

you Better bring it.

Poetical poltergeist, concise and coldhearted

:: sandy 7:28 AM [+] ::
...

What will it bring to the brickskeller?
A pillar of beer yet most fear to open up their root cellar
but this is where turtles keep their shells and massive
swells of saltwater knit sweaters for precocious nephews

Mere columns of foam won't support the unwritten
tomes great nights pen yet when lager purports to weave
the bonds of men they are hollow and false,
trembling beneath amber falls that glow dim

:: sandy 12:58 AM [+] ::
...

Sandy sat uncomfortably, alone on a black bench seat with flexcuffs digging ever so slowly into his wrists. He was surely stuck for the time being, staring foreward through a dust encrusted windscreen, attempting to log every detail of the caravan's route while at the same time trying to ignore the bull-snorts from the serum-infused behemoths seated aft. Sandy also began to discretely probe into his seats vinyl crevasse for anything useful when a noise, that to him sounded defeaning, threw a relaxed heart off it's rhythm. The ceramic blade he slipped into his boot earlier has dropped inside and stuck into the heavy, steel shank soles with a thud that he was sure everyone heard. Sandy repositioned his foot to secure the serrated killing tool and froze, fearing the two gorrillas in the back seat had been alerted. One of them spoke:

"I fuckin haven't taken a shit in four days, man..."

Sandy bore an odd expression that combined muffled laughter and roiling nausea.

"Lazlo must have fucked you reeeeal good then, huh?", the other quickly retorted as if he'd been holding onto that gem all week for a chance to drop it on his colleague. Having realised the mistake of confiding in another his gastrointestinal dilemma, the constipated gargantuan appeared to shrink and turn away as if this exchange had driven him to contemplate the current state of his life. Unfortunately for the "jokester", the "immense fag" had other ideas entirely and unleashed a vicious retaliatory blow, catching the chuckling giant square in his solar plexus, doubling him over in his seat. The two fiercely beat on each other yet stopped as abruptly as they had started when a pair of mirrored eyes from the front affixed their obviously terrifying gaze upon them. Sandy sat slightly more comfortably now, buoyed in that despite the perfection of a serum that can make a man almost impossibly strong, mental retardation apparently was still governed by the great game of chance that is genetics.

In the distance, what appeared to be a large building complex begin to ascend out of the red desert. Straining to see more, Sandy caught a glimpse in the rear view mirror of the second SUV, trailing closely behind.

"Wonder how his making on back there." Sandy pondered

:: sandy 12:28 AM [+] ::
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