The Sun Hath Risen

There are two very distninct factions of people in this world. There are those who are morning people and there are those who are not. Have you ever met a person who says: I like mornings sometimes, or I sort of like mornings. I think most people are probably morning haters.

I am a non-hater. I have been known to wake up in the morning, far earlier then needed only to drink coffee, go for a jog, sit out on the poarch and read, listen to NPR, and other things. This of course is somewhat maddening for roommates / girlfriends who are notoriously always morning haters.

Luckily for me I wake right up immediatly and have all my faculties about me. Haters wake up slowly as a general rule. This means you can, oh, I don't know, jump on their bed, spray water in their ear, open the shades and walk out, and a few other harmless things. It's generally a good idea to make sure there is a pillow close at hand because a very common reaction of a hater to a non-hater is to throw something. They will typically throw what is in their hands. I've seen them lunge their firsts at me, throwing nothing but air or quilted down. They will normally threaten you in a cuss/grunt/moan but this is meaningless.

Haters very rarely will get out of bed to actually mame you, which they threaten. If they do, you win. By them getting out of bed to mame they wake up, and you get a bruise. This is especially true for woman who more so then men do not wish to be seen first thing in the morning.... you know, how that 12 inch long hair manages to stand straight up. Commenting on that, howevor, is normally a bad strategy. I guess you could do it safely from the parking lot, even that would be a gamble which I am not sure I would be willing to undertake.

On being seen in morning: I really don't care. Ever seen that guy with gray skivies in Notting Hill? That's me, just not so pale. I imagine this probably brought about by living on a ship for 6 years though. Nothing gets rid of the taste of shame and humilation like 6 years on a ship (Gerison Keelor would say beebopareebop Rubarb pie)

That said, I do know my limits. Especially on the weekends. I would normally let my last room mate, Craig, sleep until eleven or noon or so, then I would go wake him up. He likes to stay up late, like until 6am late because "he can't sleep" so sleeping to noon isn't as bad as it sounds. So, no, I'm not a neo-calvinist where suffering = virtue. I just happen to enjoy the peace and quite of mornings. If you know me, then this probably makes a lot more sense in this context then it does to say I want to get up and "do things".

I don't really understand that about most morning people anyway. We work during the day, we pick up and make dinner at night, go out for drinks are basically active right until the time we go to bed. Why make more work for yourself before the sun comes up? Most morning people are so happy to tell you about all the things they have done. Me? I'm happy to tell you how many pages of the NY times I read or cups of coffee I drank.

Although, I could see the merit in a morning work ethic so long as it doesn't create noise or bother me. God help my children if I ever have any. Lawn chores I think would be appropriate here.

Have I mentioned I miss Bob Edwards yet? Well I do. He's leaving NPR you know and is going to make his own independent talk show which he will then sell to NPR affiliated stations. Nifty huh? I'm willing to bet WAMC will pick it up.

Haters tend to also strongly dislike non-haters. I think the reason why is since a hater hates the morning, one could deduce that any emotion derived from such a thing must be inherintly evil. Therefor, they dislike non-haters, at least for that morning part of the day. Or maybe I've been reading too much Descartes lately, I dunno.

From the Wardrobe Dept

I like socks.




I tend to think more about my socks then I do any other article of clothing and I'm not really sure why that is. Something tells me it has to do with Bard though, but I am not so sure.

Back when I was in the Navy I used to spend a good deal of time trying to find particular socks which met three major conditions.

A.) Regulation
From NAVPERS 15665I

78. SOCKS (BLACK/KHAKI/WHITE)
A. Description. Made of undecorated, plain or ribbed
knitted material. Knee length or mid calf socks are authorized.
b. Correct Wear. Wear right side out.
c. Ownership Markings. Initials only on the foot.

B.) Comfortable
C.) Didn't stink.

I did grow up on a dairy farm, but that doesn't mean I like the smell of fermented foot. I started to wear boots which were more combat like rather then boondocker like. They came up to the lower part of my calf, while boondockers stop just above your ankle. However, this cuts back on the amount of ventilation your toes see and can cause a lot of interesting things to go on down there in the twelve to sixteen hours they may be on.

Early in my navy career I found some socks which were white on the bottom and black on top. Some people really do not like their toe nails getting dyed black, and I guess I'd prefer not to, but honestly they felt like wearing sand paper. I eventually found some really cool black socks which were wool on the bottom half and that crap military stuff on the top. I bought a two pairs with the intent of buying more after pay day. Big mistake. They were all sold out and in keeping with navy tradition of "if it makes sailors happy it must be a bad thing" they never ordered them again.

Well, I sucked all the life I could out of those poor socks until they were nothing more then sock vapor, mere shadows of their formers selves. I had to go back to sand paper. About three or four weeks before my last deployment, I managed to find black socks which were elastic throughout, but wool mesh on the bottom half. This time I broke out Navy star card and bought a good dozen pairs. I paraded them the following day at quarters and was much the envy of all. Not to my surprise they too sold out in a matter of days and were never carried again. I still have a few pairs of these socks left in my standard rotation which I wear with my now worn out hiking boots.

As it turns out I tend to date girls, who unknowingly to me at the time, also like socks. I remember once reacting in a sort of shock and amazement to a girl who had toe socks. Socks made like gloves, but for your feet. Wearing toe socks is not something that appeals to me, but I think looks pretty cool.



I have socks for nearly every occasion, including athletics. In fact, I have two different types of socks depending on what sort of activity I am doing (mountain biking or Distance running)... Not including wool hiking socks since I use them normally anyway.

As mentioned above I greatly prefer wool socks or a poly wool blend to anything. I don't mind cotton and have nothing against them and do wear them sometimes, I just enjoy the feel of soft wool better. I also prefer colorful wool socks to pure colors. I tend to like a lot of earth tones, but still, I like a lot of them at once. Like those socks at the top. That would be something I would wear.

However, I can't stand sleeping in socks. I prefer the feel of my sheets which I payed good American tax dollars for. It always amazes me when people go to sleep with their socks on. I know people who sleep naked... Except their socks. What the fuck is up with that? I won't even go into sex and socks, but lets just say I prefer to leave that to the porn stars.

Hi Texas

But first, link of the day

Bush or Chimp

Hours of entertainment in that.

So, lets see. I went to Texas this past summer and I had a good bit of fun. In some way I kind of miss it actually. I really enjoyed doing something every day rather then sitting around in my house waiting for the semester to start again. For some reason, my little apartment breads laziness into me. I have a hard time walking two blocks just to go rent a movie, let alone going jogging every day like I should be. I also sleep more here. I like sleep because it's free. But, I don't think 10-12 hours is healthy. Maybe I should set an alarm. At Craig's I was sleeping 6-7 hours.

Craig has this Ex-girlfriend, and they are still room mates after breaking up three months ago. They are still friends though. For the purposes of my discussions she was with us most all the time.

Now, some of these details are a bit sketchy. But here goes. I landed in TX on the 9th and Craig picked me up and he brought me to Fort Sam Houston where he checked out on leave. We got some Bill Miller. I love me some Bill Miller. I think we went to the pool later that night. I can't remember what we did in the evening. There's no telling.

The next day we went Paintballing. I'm not a sprinter, something which this game requires a lot of. I was pretty much dead after the first run. I did pretty good, considering, in the beginning. Then I started to get owned pretty hard when I could barely move due to the lactic acid build up in my legs which would haunt me for the next few days. I found this game on the internet.

I think it was later that night we went to this guy and his wife's house for some steak on the grill. It was pretty good steak. Without telling a long story, basically, both the woman got naked and had sex in the pool chairs. Nope, not even kidding here. I rank this in my top three most uncomfortable situations ever. I can't think of the other two, honestly. Not so much as having seen it, but, well, it just got weird. The husband jumped up in the action. Then Craig's roommate (I'm leaving her anonymous intentional) is waving me in like I'm some kind of tag team wrestler. I kissed her and I didn't do anything other then that.

I told someone it's like a Harley Davidson. Everyone wants a chopper, but not everyone wants to be in the garage for three hours twice a week just to ride your machine once a week. One of those situations where reality doesn't meet with fantasy. They seemed happy enough, I suppose.

I think it was that next day we went to Schlitterbahn. The best ride by far was this hot tub pool things which was about 100 degrees. You need to be sitting down before you read this next part. It had a bar with underwater stools. How freaking cool is that? Take a swim, paddle around a bit, come back for a Margarita. Let craig's roommate have a temper tantrum over some waitress and do it all over again. Oh, and I got pretty sun burnt on my right shoulder. Not really bad, just red and it made me peal.

At some point we went and saw that Arthur movie and I, Robot which I have already commented on.

We went to Benihauna's. Which is a Japanese Steak place, I just love it. Had some Sushi, Sake, a steak of course, and a few other nick necks. The food is amazing, though a bit pricey. I've been three times now. Once on the super bowl of 01-02 season.

We also went to a Minor league baseball game. Which was both fun and boring at the same time. That same guy and his wife was there. No, I wasn't uncomfortable. I take things in stride like that.

One day we went MTN biking along the mission trail. This was the first activity without Craig's girlfriend. This was a lot of fun and would have been tons more fun had my legs not still been aching, and not to mention how hot it was. We then went downtown with it's flocks of tourists. That wasn't so much fun.

One of the last things we did was go to Austin. We ate at a New Orleans stile place at first. We bought 1lb of Crawdad; when they bring them they dump them on the table in a steel galvinized pale. Then you go hog wild. It's kind of fun actually. After that we walked around trying to find UT Austin which we couldn't find. We then tried and find some other cool club but made the mistake of walking by Coyote Ugly. Well, that was about five I'd guess. We were there until midnight or so. Yeah, I got toasty. Something along the lines 3 or 4 tequila shots (one of which was a body shot, that I didn't buy). A beer or four. About four mixed drinks then I drank two more of Craig's roommates on the sly because she wasn't.

Well, later on the evening, Craig was getting a spanking



and the nice waitress took out his cell phone and wallet and handed them to me. Craig's room mate asked for the cell phone, which I didn't think anything of at the time, though I should have, considering some background which I haven't filled you in on. Well, the cell phone come up missing and Craig got unerstandably upset. She got sort of irate and when she left the bouncers wouldn't ler her back in. This then spiraled downwards into a confrontation with two Mexicans, this girl, and Craig and I with the police (about 6) showing up. Things were about one quarter of one inch away from going south very fast before the cops showed up so I'm kind of happy they did. No one got arrested or ticketed.

Did I mention we took all her credit cards and keys so she couldn't drive or do stupid stuff while drunk? We did. As we were on the street she ran up the street and jumped in a cab and took it all the way back to San Antonio. Nice little fair there. Well, Craig and I opted to wait around in Austin for a few more hours to sober up enough to drive which I did since Craig was still a bit toasty. All I have to say about that is: there's a lot of cops on 6th street. Did you know Texas is a big state? Did you also know that in Texas going south doesn't mean you are actually going south? Did you know that you can drive for many hours and not have any idea where you are? I learned these things that night.

Well, my last day or two passed uneventfully and rather calmly. Best fun I've had all year long, I have to say. Did I say Craig wouldn't let me pay for anything? Nope, he didn't.

I am officially poor

Yesterday, I got some really good news. I got my financial aid report back and it said my expected family contribution was 00000. I've been unemployed since I left the Navy in Dec of 02 so I'm glad it finally caught up with me. Only took them two years... cute huh?

In other financial related news, I would like to report, for those of you who don't know, that Virginia is more then likely the Devil's country. They mailed me a bill for 550 dollars two days ago. They say I owe property tax on my car. Yes folks that is correct, Virginia, the bastion of Republican values, charges a tax on vehicles. God bless New York state. I have never, in fact, been a resident of Virginia. I was, in the military and I was stationed there and I did buy a car there.


.

(my car doesn't have a sun roof or those neato little air injected hood thinga ma bobs)

It was the city of Hampton that sent me the letter. I bought my car in Bahrain and had it custom built. It was delivered on my return to some Pontiac dealer in Va Beach and I registered it there. They also sent me a rude letter many moons ago and I went to Oceana with some papers and all was dandy. I move to Hampton but I never actually told Virginia beach or Hampton that I moved there. Why would I? I vote in NY. I have a NY drivers license. I was active duty military. So, at any rate. I move away from Hampton and back to Virginia Beach for a few months and then I go out to the Persian Gulf again while my car is parked in Norfolk for 6 months. Now, here is the part they are going to screw me on, I can already see it.

These taxes go back to 2001 right up to present day. I got out of the Navy Dec second, 2002. I registered my car in Virginia and got it inspected just before I went on deployment. So... do you think I hurriedly wanted to spend another 150 dollars to do so in NY (I should add though, NY registration is always for two years, but in VA it can be for one, two or three years). Big negative. In fact, I let it lapse for a while. I had no real reason to drive my car where I was, so I let it sit. When it started getting cold again, I got my title from GMAC and registered it in NY. We are full way up to October. So, my prediction is the bastion of Republican values will want to tax me between Dec of 02 and Oct or so of 03.

So, what have we learned from this lesson?

.

Think of the children people, think of the children

and in other not_so_melodramatic news.

I recently watched a few movies.

Reality Bites

Fun movie. It's had me thinking a lot actually... strange, because I should be thinking about the other movie I watched. Did I like it? Yeah of course. I am thinking about it, after all. I can empathize(spell checker tells me this word empathize is wrong and I think i'm right) with the male protagonist, except I have a better work ethic, but I don't think his work ethic is the real point anyway, or at least not literally.

Citizen Kane

I never saw this up until now. Really. Yeah, I'm a cultural slacker and I don't really care. I've been to France fucker so shove it! Seriously though, I need to watch it again. It's an incredibly simple film in it's construction but their is an amazing amount of stuff going on at the same time. Did I like it? Yes, of course.

That King Arthur movie

As my old man might say "This movie is about as useless as tits on a boar hog" I think that conveys it pretty well. For the sake of your own sanity, please, stay away. If you want to watch people throwing each on the battle field go watch Return of the King or Braveheart.

I, Robot

Mind fodor. If you want to be entertained, eat popcorn stupidly, and see things get blown up, this isn't that bad really. If you've ever read Asimov and you take his stuff at all seriously and might get upset you may want to skip this one. But, if you want to go some place air conditioned and see stuff get blown because you don't do it for a living anymore, this is a good alternative to backyard explosives.

A John Wayne Winter; A Cicada Summer

Allow me to tell you about my little place. Outside my door, I have a wall of cedar trees. A family of Robins, tufted titmouse’s, and few other things I'm sure live their. This wall goes past my door and past my two windows creating a psychological barrier of cedar leaves. The side of my house, where my Mountain Bike lives, is a chain link fence which serves no purpose other then to make me feel blocked in. If you walk to the end of the building the fence also ends with nothing stopping someone from simply walking around it. My cedar hedge gives way to a Forsythia hedge, which was neglected for many months.

When I come home from a hard night at the bar I sometimes wish I have a machete. They grow on both sides of the path which is serpentine in nature, and lazily winds its way back into the unseen parts of the property; the parts I call home. The spiders like to make web's crossing the path at head height for a 72" man. Furthermore, it is very dark at night, with no lights of any kind around; all I have are my 30 second delay lights from the headlights of my car.

Sprinting down the path in my more sober moments down the dirt path through a portion of memory and shadow dancing while holding a stick out in front of me as though I was a flag barer who is getting shot at. The hard nights of drinking, of course, add a slight complication to an already complicated matter, which of course shouldn't be at all. I should just have to walk up to my door and be done with it, with a dog, two cats, 2.3 kids, and dinner waiting for me.

But, no, that's not me. Never being one much for a stumble, but more of a deliberate stomp/trudge forward with a slight lean forward. I sometimes wonder what I must look like to the outside world viewing me, as I make my way down this path slowly. Arms occasionally swinging after a spider web hits me in the face with its constricting feel and wraps around my face and welds itself to my skin with it's perpetual stickiness. And then, a howl/curse/grunt to top it off. My apartment has transformed me into a thing which time forgot.

There have been moments where I have thought of going to sleep in the big back yard which goes on for acres and acres. It's a nice large green yard.... but my landlord has seen to blocking any possibility of a view with any obstruction he can, unknowingly I'm sure. Or maybe he's the devil? I've gotten lost back there before, having taking a wrong turn in the Forsythia. Mind you - when it gets dark, it gets real dark.

Considering I keep all my camping equipment in my trunk, I just may do that some day - if it wasn't for that skunk... but that's another story.

Now, the road I live off of is called South Broadway, sounds cute enough right? In Red Hook, we have exactly two roads of any importance and with these two roads comes are very important singular traffic light which people will line up for miles and miles to wait in. For two of the directions, there are no turning signals. So, this means one car will go through after the light goes red and this man/woman squeaks in, assuming this isn't a blind 80 year old veteran with his 25 foot long Fleetwood, POW stickers, and his red ballcap worn so low on his brow that unless eye sockets are cut out of the brim, he can't see... of course, that never happened.

At any rate, tractor trailers like to drive down this street. The speed limit is 30 and they feel the need to do 50. They also like to test out their Jake breaks.





They also like to do this at 5AM, kind of like this morning. Well, for those of you who know me, know this can cause me to jump out of bed, injure a limb on a wall, look for a gun/large metal object and go into Rambo mode. I actually wake up in the morning very happy normally, but loud bangs, roars, gun blasts, GQ alarms, and other such things can be a bit startling. Good thing my guns aren't with me eh? To top it all of, I have some dinner across the street which they just love to stop at. I think they challenge themselves as to how fast they can come in town and still make the corner. Nascar generation I guess.

All this for 500 bucks a month.

Here I am

I decided to create one of these nifty Blogs long after they have become trendy, and more then likely slipping out of (post)modern culture. In truth I've thought about this for some time, after having read Sarah's Blog(s) and another at http://www.fuckshitpisskarate.com/, which is quite funny I should add.

My expectations are not a large viewership or people to suddenly convert to my warped view of spirituality: a hybrid mix of the gospels of 1/2 cup each Luke and John, 1 cup Buddhism with just a dash of Tantra, mix and let sit for a few centuries or until elastic to the punch and then add 1 teaspoon Taoism, 1 tablespoon Bhagavad-Gita, mix again and bake at 350 for 30 minutes. Sprinkle with Platonic realism and Garnish heavily with St. Augustine.

Ok Ok, I know it sounds a bit pretentious, but hey, I don't really care. Basically, I want to post on this once per day, if for nothing more then a personal diary of the who, where, and why's. Will it be an adventure? Yes, of course, strictly speaking everything which we do is an adventure. I can't promise a Clancy novel, but I do seem to have this knack for attracting some of the more bazaar stories of humanity. Especially when it comes to woman. Oh, I won't go into detail just yet, but I recon I will. A little more about me I listen to NPR. Nearly to the point of what some might describe as a clinical illness.

Though, I would defend this by saying that the modern day music industry has degraded to such a point that I am not sure it is ever recoverable and only certain few indie groups are the modern day equivalent of what Tom Petty was in 1980. Can Gomez, Wilco and the Yeahyeahyeahs overcome corporate instinct to capitalize on the feedback loop of nothingness and feed it to us like so much cattle at the feed troth? I don't know, we can only hope. Let us take a moment and pray for the salvation of Rock as we know it

Done? Good.

I also was in the military. I spent 6 years in the Navy. I did two tours to the Persian Gulf. I thoroughly enjoyed my time there. I was ready to leave, however. Having been promoted to E-6, petty officer first class, and done pretty much everything I could in 6 years, with other factors involved I felt it was time for me to leave for other challenges. Though, there was something that I did leave behind which I am afraid I will never recover. If I could do it all over again I wouldn't change a thing. I met my best friend there. I met some great people too. I saw some great places and I learned a lot about life and about myself.

I now go to Bard. I like it. It's just one of "those places". It's a place where you can be who you are, and who you want to be. It's kind of amazing really, but plenty of the students have much to complain about... like we used to say in the Navy: a bitching sailor is a happy sailor.

Lastly, if anyone has a topic which they would like me to comment on, I would happy to oblige.

Testing, 123

*tap *tap *tap is this on. Hello?