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Caliban - Bastard Son of the Obscene

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Just when I think I'm out, they pull me back in... [01 Sep 2004|09:36pm]
[ mood | tired ]

I told myself I wasn't going to spend any more money on concerts this year, that I'd do better to just keep socking it away so I can move sometime next year. Unfortunately, I'm an exceptionally weak-willed individual. So I've now got my tickets for:

Ill Nino & Soulfly
Lamb of God & Fear Factory
Queensryche (Only because they're doing the full Operation: Mindcrime album.)

And I see Type O Negative tickets will be going on sale soon. *sigh* What am I supposed to do? Say, "No"?

I suppose I can justify these expenses by saying at least I don't smoke, drink, or use drugs, and only occasionally hire prostitutes. Just kidding. I drink.

It's like the Uncle Sam "I Want You" poster...but more disturbing. [19 Aug 2004|10:34pm]
Sometimes I wish I had gone to medical school to become a gynecologist. Not because I think it'd be sexy or like getting paid to check out a woman's goodies. Pap smears, specula, and women in stirrups do not excite me.


No, I just want to be able to print up business cards with the slogan:

Your vagina is my business.

I think that'd be cool. And a great way to meet chicks.

I know the feeling... [17 Jul 2004|11:01am]
"So what did Ed say?" Hamlin asks, interested.

"He said," I begin, "'When I see a pretty girl walking down the street I think two things. One part of me wants to take her out and talk to her and be real nice and sweet and treat her right.'" I stop, finish my J&B in one swallow.

"What does the other part of him think?" Hamlin asks tentatively.

"What her head would look like on a stick," I say.

Of course, if I had to say it in my own words, I'd need only one: Fuck!

Clapton is God. [15 Jun 2004|01:07am]
[ mood | ecstatic ]

Just got back from the concert and, a few quibbles aside, it was fan-fucking-tastic. I swear, the stamina that man has...hell, I don't think he stopped for so much as a sip of water for the first hour. And the man is how old? But his playing is tighter than ever. Even after two hours he didn't look the least bit tired or winded. Hell, he wasn't even sweating! (And with those video feeds and jumbo movie screens, you could see every detail - from facial expressions to each musician's fingering - perfectly. Not that the view was all that shabby from 19th row, center stage.) I'm so glad I decided to get tickets.

I'd write more, but for now I must sleep.

(Vanessa - I started an email to you and will finish it tomorrow. Promise.)

But can I get it at the local Bed, Bath & Beyond? [12 Jun 2004|01:07am]
Spam has officially gotten too weird when it comes with the subject heading of:

"Necromancer bubble baths..."

I shit you not. I don't even know what the fuck that means, but suddenly "chicks with dicks" and "sluts fuck Mr. Ed's 34incher" are normal by comparison.

Necromancer...bubble baths...


"To thine own self be true." [02 Jun 2004|08:34pm]
[ mood | bitchy ]

I think I'm dancing along a razor wire between selfless, compassionate giver worthy of sainthood and pathetic, snookered fuckwit...

Eh. Altruism doesn't befit my misanthropic nature and the saints all got shafted in the end.

Because I know I don't say it often enough... [28 May 2004|07:46pm]
Let it be known that I do actually miss my friends. Well, some of you...and to varying degrees...but I miss you all the same and I'm admitting it, in writing no less.

Now I'm off to my dinner plans, followed by being dragged to the movies, as if there's anything worth seeing. *sigh* Were it not for the fact that I get to do a little reciprocal dragging to book browsing, I'd probably beg off.

I'm not dead. Hold the applause. [03 May 2004|08:35pm]
I'm entirely too tired to make a real post. (Working 60 hours a week will do that to you. And, idiot that I am, I've actually applied for a second job.) Instead, I'll just share the words of someone a thousand times more eloquent than I'll ever be.

"...the great longing of the unquiet heart is to possess constantly and consciously the loved one, or, failing that, to be able to plunge the loved one, when a time of absence intervenes, into a dreamless sleep timed to last unbroken until the day they meet again." ~ Albert Camus, The Plague

We now return you to your regularly scheduled lives.

The Best Part of Waking Up or How Folgers Saved Your Life [20 Feb 2004|10:03am]
[ mood | awake ]

I do believe that if not for coffee, I'd have to start every morning by stabbing or bludgeoning some hapless motherfucker just to get that little kick to start my day off on the right foot.

Speaking of Foreign Affairs and Hot, Slanty-eyed Bitches [18 Feb 2004|11:12am]
Well, I finally decided to inform the people in South Korea that I'm no longer interested in teaching opportunities abroad. Or, more correctly, I told them that while I'm still very much interested in the opportunity, I'm simply unable to pursue that course of action at the moment. I've been stalling on it for weeks now and I really hated having to make this decision. I had already turned down three previous job offers - mainly because I had tickets for shows I was unwilling to miss, but also because I was struggling with my mixed feelings on the whole thing. What appealed to me most about the prospect of teaching English in Korea was the adventure of being completely immersed in a foreign culture. To just pick up and relocate, leaving all things familiar behind...and delving into sites, smells, tastes, and textures unknown. There's something about that idea that's so exciting and exhilarating, in the same way that it's rather terrifying and intimidating. And, yeah, the opportunity to maybe find myself a lovely little Korean girl didn't hurt either. I love those Asian girls... Mmm. Ahem. However, in the end, I realized I'm not entirely comfortable with the thought of committing to a full year in South Korea. Not presently. (I kinda want to wait till I wear out my welcome at the paper, till I really piss someone off and am left with no choice but to tell them they can all go fuck themselves with the pointiest sticks they can find. Then, when I'm unemployed with no real prospects, I'll ship off to Korea.)

And where the lovely young Korean girls are concerned...well, I'm practically obsessed with Asian women (as some of you well know) but I know I'd never be happy with a sweet little Asian nymph - or a woman of any origin, for that matter - that I couldn't clearly communicate with or relate to. What sort of relationship can you have with someone who doesn't speak the same language? Or who hasn't shared an even remotely similar upbringing? What sort of relationship can you have when there aren't any shared experiences? What do you talk about - assuming you can overcome the language barrier - when you haven't read any of the same books, seen the same movies, or listened to the same music? I mean, on the surface that sort of stuff seems pretty superficial and insignificant, but it's not. Where's the common ground that would serve as a strong foundation for the relationship? I've tried to convince myself that those things aren't really that important, and I've even half believed it on occasion, but I have this looming dread that if I did take a teaching position over in Korea, especially if my decision was motivated by this crazed love of Asian women, I'd quickly come to regret it and spend the next year utterly miserable.

Of course, some small part of me still secretly believes there are no teaching jobs in South Korea and that the whole thing is actually some elaborate scheme to get marginally well-educated American citizens into Korea, away from the U.S. government, so they can be sold to North Korea where they'll be smuggled across the border, promptly beaten and tortured until their wills are broken and they become mewling submissive babies, whereupon they'll be brainwashed and enlisted in the North Korean army, ready to fight and die for the glory of the New Korean Empire...or something less melodramatic, like used as slave labor in the rice fields, or, with the women and the prettier men, turned into the exotic commodity of American prostitutes in the Korean slums... Or...or... Then again, it's highly possible, and certainly more probable, that the Koreans seriously just want to learn English and they make these offers to native English speakers because who's more qualified than people who have been speaking the language their whole life? And I'm sure they know teaching Korean children is infinitely preferably to teaching these spoiled, snot-nosed, punk-ass American bastards. Then again, that torture/brainwashing/forced military service thing sounds pretty good when compared with the notion of teaching in the public schools of America.

In any event, I apologetically declined future offers, being indefinitely unavailable, but wisely left myself the option of pursuing South Korea at a later date, should I be so inclined, by ensuring them that I was definitely still interested in the opportunity and would let them know the instant my situation changed. In the meantime, I'll continue to look for hot Asian bitches in the U.S. (Preferably ones that haven't been too corrupted by western society. I mean, I want them to speak English, but I don't want them talking ebonics and spelling the words "boi" and "grrl" or shit like that. It's bad enough Americans do that. And, quite frankly, if that shit keeps up, I may willing and happily enlist and serve the New Korean Empire or any other tyrannical fascist regime that vows to cleanse the world of those fucktards.)

Quote for the Evening [17 Feb 2004|11:29pm]
[ mood | sore ]

"You're the only misogynist I can talk to without feeling awkward around or like you're going to beat me to death with a lead pipe." ~ Perch

My friends say the sweetest things. If that's not a ringing endorsement, I don't know what is! (I've often wondered how many of my female friends have worried that one day I'd just snap and beat them to death on a whim.)

Good morning, Vietnam! [04 Feb 2004|11:15am]
There's a new photographer at the paper...and she is Vietnamese.


And on a completely unrelated note, don'tcha just love Neruda? Yes, I know, he's the antithesis of my usual doom and gloom demeanor, but it's just too lovely a day, too lovely a world, to dwell in darkness.

"The Potter"

Your whole body has
a fullness or a gentleness destined for me.

When I move my hand up
I find in each place a dove
that was seeking me, as
if they had, love, made you of clay
for my own potter's hands.

Your knees, your breasts,
your waist
are missing parts of me like the hollow
of a thirsty earth
from which they broke off
a form,
and together
we are complete like a single river,
like a single grain of sand.

~ Pablo Neruda

Of this I have no doubt... [27 Jan 2004|02:55am]
Asian women will be the death of me.

There and Back Again: A Hermit's Holiday [13 Jan 2004|02:19pm]
[ mood | bored ]

Since it's deathly slow at work today, I thought I'd post an update detailing some of my mini-vacation to Orlando last week. I'm going to put this behind a cut, so if you have me on your friends list...well, this'll learn you.

* * *

After getting screwed over twice for time off, I took unpaid leave and finally made it out to Orlando. With Phantom of the Opera on Saturday, I wanted to have enough free days to see a handful of friends I had woefully neglected over these many long months, so I left Tuesday night and enjoyed the uninteresting but not altogether unpleasant hour and a half drive to The Big City. (Yes, Orlando can respectfully hold that title when compared to where I presently live, where adventures after dark are limited to drunken karaoke with hillbillies, hanging out in a Wal-Mart parking lot, or the always popular sport of cow-tipping.)

Wednesday I enjoyed much Raptor-y goodness - though, not nearly enough - with browsing Barnes & Noble and conversing with Orlando's most deadliest of creatures (well, after elderly motorists anyway): Raptorgirl. There's nothing so refreshing as a swim in the black waters of cynicism and sarcasm, and Vanessa has a wellspring that's almost a match for my own. Though, my waters are still darker than thine. (Where the hell did that come from? And to think I once fancied myself a writer. *scoff*) And while I believe Raptor's claws have dulled a bit from age and experience, it's good to see she still has a vicious bite when it comes to talk of relationships. Hehehe. Good times.

Sadly, bookstores remain dangerous places for me and, while I couldn't tempt Vanessa to buy anything, I walked out with Card's Shadow Puppets and Zelazny's Lord Demon, both of which I finished before returning home on Saturday just shy of midnight. Good stuff. While I have certain issues with Card's preachy-ness - I can only conclude that it's his preaching and not that of his characters since every book and story of his that I've read offer similar sermons - I have to admit that he tells a compelling story and has a real gift for creating characters I genuinely care about. I still consider Xenocide a tedious mess of a novel, but the Bean books are a welcomed apology. As for the posthumously written Lord Demon from Zelazny (assembled and co-author by Jane M. Lindskold, whom I know absolutely nothing about) was decent, but far from Zelazny's best. Ordinarily I stay away from posthumous works, because I'm forced to wonder just how much is genuinely the author's work, but the premise of this one was too intriguing to pass up. Sadly, I just don't feel like the story was as developed as much as it should have been. The style was very much Zelazny, I'll give Lindskold credit for that, but there were numerous places, especially in the last few chapters, where everything felt rushed and glossed over. On top of which, the book did seem to hearken back to the classic Amber series, capturing much the ideas and flavors therein while remaining a pale shadow - no pun intended - of those books. Not a bad read, but it would never be among my top recommendations.

On Thursday I was treated to the much welcomed company and hugs of Cornrelish. (I generally don't like being touched, especially if I don't initiate the contact, but her hugs are always wonderfully inviting, like a warm welcome home.) And she gave me my first exposure to Enzian - a very snazzy theater, if I may say so. A very cool place, though it's a shame they can only accommodate one movie at a time. Of course, considering the films they offer are more along the art house/independent/limited release line, it's the perfect arrangement. Not being hungry, I didn't try the food, but everything certainly smelled good. Next time I'll have to sample something from the menu and get the full movie & a meal experience. We saw 21 Grams, which I knew absolutely nothing about going in. It was surprisingly engaging and a really enjoyable film. And that's saying a lot, considering I hate Sean Penn. (He's a good actor and all, but there's just something inherently annoying about him. I can't explain it. Just like Benicio Del Toro has this odd charisma about him that, to me, makes him infinitely likable.) I think one reason I enjoyed the film was because it reminded me a bit of Memento, which is just an absolutely amazing movie. Both films have that anachronistic story development that keeps your mind active. Plus, they are both just well written and wonderfully acted. Though, 21 Grams definitely has a slower pace to it. But I'd highly recommend it to anyone not opposed to that sort of film. Though, if you're just looking for shit blowing up, topless chicks running about, or "hot elf ass" you'd do well to pass it by.

I finally managed to get a hold of Melissa on Friday and was therefore able to squeeze in one more visit. It's funny. Three different people all agreed that there's nothing to do in Orlando. (Well, that's not entirely true. There are a multitude of things to do, but most of them seem to happen on weekends, or they involve outdoor activities or bars/clubs which I'm not much into. And, thankfully, I'm not alone though. Though, for the record, for my friends I would happily - albeit somewhat grudgingly - endure being dragged to a bar or club or similarly out-of-vein environment/activity. Uh, but don't ever test me on that. Heh.) With neither of us feeling like dressing up and going out and devoid of creative ideas on what else we might do, we spent the evening lounging about her apartment drinking sangria and catching up.

Now, I'm really not much of a drinker...anymore. Ahem. For the same reasons I've never dabbled in drugs, even the supposedly harmless ones like marijuana, I don't drink often. And I still maintain that I didn't have that much to drink that night either, though Melissa tells me otherwise, but for much of the time I was out there, food and my stomach were not on the best of terms, so I blame a lack of proper food filtration on my words and actions. Furthermore, I'm not an angry drunk or an amorous one either. On those rare occasions where circumstance or lack of proper judgment cause me to imbibe more than I should, I become what I've termed "oratorially inebriated." It's not really a drunken state, but I'm probably more vocal and animated than would be healthy in public. (Which is why I almost never drink outside the safety of home.) And when the conversation turned toward occupational dissatisfaction... I had some of the following to say, though I have endeavored to clean it up a bit to spare myself some embarrassment and removed excessive expletives to give it a little more elegance:

"God damn, monkey-raping cocksuckers! They fucked me over, not once but twice on my vacation time and had me work extra hours - at no extra pay - to cover their asses. Who the fuck gives someone off Christmas week, anyway?" [At this point Melissa pointed out that I had, in fact, made a request to have off part of Christmas week and that was part of my argument. I was pissed that I couldn't get time off then because they already gave it to someone else. But that sort of logic and reasoning was wasted on me. I was speaking, damn it!] "It's total bullshit. Inconsiderate, ignorant fucks. I swear, we need concentration camps for stupid people. Herd them up and gas 'em all! Hitler had some great ideas, but they were misdirected." [Some of you may have actually heard me say this before. It's one of my favorite arguments. Ahem. Though, I'm actually not anti-Semitic. I just hate stupid people. You may well be wondering, "Well, who should determine which people are deemed stupid and which aren't?" Melissa, having a good laugh if I remember correctly, wondered the same thing and put the question to me, along with a sarcastic, "You?"] "You're goddamn right! I'd be in charge. I'm probably not the smartest guy in the world, but I'm smart enough to know that if I'm going to spearhead a fascist regime I better be in charge. Fascism is a great system; it only sucks for those people not in power." [Melissa: "Spoken like a true despot."] "Fucking A. I have to look out for myself, first and foremost. Then I'd protect anyone who's useful to me. And then, as long as their opinions match my own, I'd be an advocate for all the plebs." [Melissa, in hysterics: "What about your family and friends?"] "I already said, 'anyone who's useful to me.' Duh. If my family and friends aren't useful to me, then what the fuck do I need them for? Fuck 'em. Let them hit the showers with the inbreds, assholes, and anyone else who pisses me off."

It's speeches like that that ruin my dreams of presidency. *sigh*

Many hours of bizarre dream-filled sleep later, Saturday came and Jenni and I went to Phantom of the Opera. I always forget what good company Jenni is. Well, I know, else I wouldn't bother to ask her to these things, but it's always a more than expected treat to spend time with her. I rather wish I still lived in Orlando so I could see her and the rest of my friends more often. In any event, I was really excited to see her reaction to the show. By all rights, I shouldn't like Webber's Phantom of the Opera, because it takes certain liberties with Leroux's novel that I don't like, giving the story more of a saccharine, romantic angle than I care for. And, as I've said before, Webber's probably one of the less interesting composers out there, generally going for simplistic melodies that are more sweet and somewhat catchy than daring and diverse. Still, I inexplicably enjoy the musical. In any event, Jenni loves the music but had never seen the show live, so I thrilled at the opportunity to take her. (Probably because I'm selfish and self-serving and I like the idea of someone having memorable moments of their lives tied, even loosely, to me. But we'll save that analysis for the psych sessions.) Happily, she seemed to really enjoy the show.

As for me, I thought the production was wonderful - every bit as much as last time - and was thrilled to see that Brad Little was reprising the role of Phantom. The first time I saw the show, years back when I was still at UCF, Brad Little played the Phantom and, in my opinion, gave a performance that was far superior to that of Michael Crawford. Not that I don't like Crawford's performance, but...Crawford always struck me as a little too soft, too gentle with the role. He is perfectly suited for the tender moments, but his voice lacks the power to communicate rage and insanity. Of course, as with any theatre piece, the role is entirely open to interpretation by the actor. So, it may just be Crawford's choice to keep those elements in the background. But, personally, I think that's a bad choice. If you read the novel, you see that the Phantom is rather mad, an unbalanced mind and a raging heart. What I love about Little's performance is that he brings out more of the character's dark side. There are moments where you genuinely believe he's on the edge, could snap at any moment and fucking kill someone - including Christine. Unfortunately, Brad Little is only playing the Phantom during the first week or so, after which the role will go to Gary Mauer - and I know him from somewhere but haven't yet figured out where. Of course, this isn't entirely a bad thing. Since I'm going to see the show a few more times while it's in Orlando, I rather like that I'll get to see a different actor's take on the role. I'm looking forward to that.

I have a few complaints with a couple cast choices, but for now I'm going to reserve judgment on them. Hopefully they'll do better or be more to my liking upon second or third viewing. If not...well, then I'll slam them. In the meantime, I'll voice complaint with that stupid twat sitting a few seats over that saw it necessary to fucking sing/hum along with most of the first act. How can anyone be so fucking inconsiderate? I was joking with Jenni about getting her a little drunk so she'd stand up and start singing along in loud, drunken fashion with the performers, but... I think that's even worse than a cell phone going off. Not by much, since I fucking loathe people who don't turn off their cell phones in movie theaters or at operas and such. (As I told Jenni, I find that lack of common sense and decency so offensive I would fucking stab my own date if her cell phone went off during a show. Heh. She made sure to leave her phone in the car.) But to fucking sing and hum along? I paid $75 a ticket to listen to the professionals sing, you stupid cunt, so shut your fucking hole or go the hell home and sing while you're washing dishes. God! Is it any wonder I can't stand people?


So, minor annoyances aside, it was great to get away for those few days and see some people I sorely missed, though I didn't realize how much until I had to leave them all again. I'll need to get to Orlando more often. That's all there is to it.

And what have we learned today? [05 Jan 2004|05:35pm]
Regardless of how good the acoustics are, it's just never a good idea to sing showtunes in the restroom at work where anyone can walk in and catch you doing your best Jean Valjean.


Starting the New Year on the right foot... [01 Jan 2004|12:20pm]
[ mood | chipper ]

Got a New Year's Eve text message - which I only just got today - from my brother stating:

"If you're going to drink and drive, run over someone you hate."

Heh. (If you've ever seen Type O Negative in concert it's even more amusing because you hear Peter's thick Brooklyn accent in your head.)

My New Year's resolutions?

1. No more fucking profanity.

2. Be more optimistic. (Yeah, like that'll ever fucking happen.)

3. Be less misogynistic, because those fucking bitches are so friggin' sensitive about being called sluts and whores and I'm sick of their goddamn cunt attitudes.

4. Leave my hair a single color for a full year.

5. And finally, let my mother know I appreciate her and love her at every opportunity. So, Mom...I love you. (Thank God she'll never read this!)

Yep. It's going to be one hell of a year.

Because I don't look creepy and unbalanced enough already... [30 Dec 2003|11:32am]
[ mood | spastic...spaz tick? ]

The muscles below my left eye and above my right eye are twitching. Luckily they aren't twitching in unison, so it probably just looks like I'm having a stroke. Maybe someone will notice and send me home? Yeah, and maybe I'll get home to find Christina Ricci sitting on my front steps, buck naked and holding a briefcase full of cash.


Rereading Ender's Shadow and Shadow of the Hegemon... [29 Dec 2003|10:14pm]
It's a real shame these books weren't written several years ago and optioned for movies while Haley Joel Osment was still young. Yeah, I know, he's still young, but now he's in that transitional phase of adolescence. Not really a child anymore. As a child, I believe he would have made a kick-ass Bean. Not just because he was small and scrawny, but because he has those ultra expressive, eerily brilliant eyes that convey an intensity and intellect beyond years. And, quite frankly, most child actors annoy the hell out of me - which is why I'd probably hate any movie version of these books, since they'd either have to cast children or completely fuck up the story by changing the age of all the characters - with Haley being the rare exception that actually gives me hope for the next generation of actors. I just can't imagine anyone else out there ever being able to pull off the character of Bean.

Yeah... A bit of randomness there. Just thought I'd share.

Unsubstantiated suppositions of my bodily decomposition have been immensely hyperbolized. [23 Dec 2003|03:25am]
Though, I do appreciate the e-mails, IM's, and voice messages. From Been thinking about you. Drop me a line. and Want to tell you I miss you. to
[Error: Irreparable invalid markup ('<i?get>') in entry. Owner must fix manually. Raw contents below.]

Though, I do appreciate the e-mails, IM's, and voice messages. From <i>Been thinking about you. Drop me a line.</i> and <i>Want to tell you I miss you.</i> to <i?Get your punk ass on Yahoo, bitch!</i> and <i>Dude, if you're dead, can I have your DVD collection?</i> you've reminded me why I loathe people.

I jest.

Seriously, I've missed my journal (on occasion) and feel bad about neglecting my friends, acquaintances, and enemies herein. However, with the cooler weather of autumn months and the glee of the holiday season I find I'm a far more social creature. (I can hear someone in Orlando saying, "Then why the hell haven't you been out here recently?" I'll get to you soon enough.) In any event, the last few months have drained me and I'll likely slip back into my reclusive, anti-social, misanthropic ways come the new year. And, as such, I'll likely endeavor to make regular posts once more. (Please, try to contain your joy.) I may even enable comments again, since I sort of miss that interaction, even though you, my readers, had this infuriating habit of ignoring posts that would specifically pose questions or request opinions while flooding my Inbox with comments on the most mundane of entries. Bless you...and damn you.

I may or may not commit the happenings of these last few months: concert experiences, social developments, relationship disasters, daily rantings, and all the other tidbits of my life that I jotted down, but never bothered to enter here. (Chances are I won't, because I'm a creature of habit, and slothfulness and procrastination are...)

In the meanwhile, I invite you all to experience <a href="http://www.themeatrix.com">The Meatrix</a> - which is both amusing and frightening, because it's true.

And until the next time, I leave you with the these words: All I want for Christmas is the human race to bleed. That, and a good blowjob. Er, but I don't want the blowjob from Santa, because that's just creepy and disturbing. *shudder*

Happy Holidays!

Mmmm...hot Asian ninja chicks... [09 Oct 2003|11:38am]
[ mood | giddy ]

The Princess Blade will be released on American DVD on November 18th. I really hope it's getting a proper treatment and not some half-assed fullscreen only, dubbed with no original language track, no special features and stuck in a cardboard case hackjob.

Asian gals wielding sharp 'n' shiny swords are so freakin' hot.

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