another sign I was born in the wrong decade

follow me a little bit on this story.

I was viewing a few recent videos by The Decemberists from their tour supporting their recently released album "the hazards of love" (a great album, btw), when I stumbled on a video of them doing a live cover of "crazy on you" by heart which they seem to have been doing in quite a few of their shows. The video of them doing this cover actually gave me shivers by how good this song is. I was feeling pretty pumped about how good this band, The Decemberist is. That's until I went and checked out some videos of the original.


Not. Even. Comparable.
In 1976, the music Heart played put the Decemberists' version to shame. but I can kind of forgive them. I mean, they aren't really a hard rock band. And they're pretty good with what they do.

Now, I remember Heart from when I was growing up. But, I remember "Alone" and "These Dreams" and songs like those from their 1985 album "Heart", which I can't say I remember that specifically, but I think that it was OK with quite a few catchy eighties type songs. I think I even learned how to play "Alone" on the piano. But now as I'm browsing thru a few of their 80s videos, I can't help thinking, "how could a band that played the way they did in the late 70s switch to this type of music?!!"

And it reminds me of something I guess I've thought a number of times: "did everyone just turn stupid for like 6 or 8 years in the 80s?"

reading a bit of the history of "crazy on you", I guess it was inspired by the vietnam war and other shitty things that were going on in the world in the early 1970s. Perhaps, not having any inspiration in the 80s can explain it. Probably it just stems from the natural evolution of a rock & roll band. Once they're huge, they get worse. I don't know. trying to please their fans too much....? just trying to make as much money as possible.....?
case in point: post-"Joshua Tree" U2

What I've been missing

I have to put this down real quick. I'm starting to gradually realize that it has been almost a whole decade that I've been living outside the US.

What made me think of this at this moment? I came across a tidbit of present day culture while casually scanning wikipedia with the main objective of learning about the differences in the common spirits (liquors) and what their ingredients were and methods of preparation. At dinner I told some friends that I thought either gin or vodka was made from potatoes, but I wasn't sure which, because it did sound kind of absurd. I have since discovered that gin is made primarily from grain and flavored with juniper berries and that vodka can be distilled from many things including grain, potatoes and sugar beet molasses.

(I was most distracted by the articles on brewing, as I naturally migrated towards the technique of preparing beer, something that I've done in the past and am looking forward to doing again in the future, as I have a good deal still left to learn about this hobby).

Anyway, I came across an article called "bacon vodka" which inevitably led me to "bacon mania". This is what made me realize that a lot of things are going on back in the place that I consider "home" that I simply am not aware of. I don't quite know what to think of this "bacon mania", but from the outside, my initial impression tends towards something similar to a feeling I have about a lot of the "newest" yuppy craze: annoyance. Does it seem to anyone else that people are a little bit too desperate for attention? Recently a "friend" on facebook uploaded pictures of what I thought to be a nice, although somewhat unusual, saturday evening meal, which consisted of some sort of bacon-wrapped sausage-hamburger-bacon loaf or something. I thought it was interesting and decided I'd comment that according to my mom, my first word happened to be "bacon", as in, "what a coincidence that you like bacon so much, too." Now, I see that I'd been duped, and I'd fallen into the horrible abyss of competing with my fellow yuppies for who deserves more attention. I take back my comment. I don't care if anyone on FB knows that my first word was (supposedly) "bacon". Although, now that I've hung out with a few babies in the past couple years, I've realized just how unlikely it actually is that that indeed was my first word.

Anyway, am I really really REALLY far removed from popular culture? or just a little bit? does this have anything to do with kickball leagues? what am I supposed to think about those things, anyway?

and the last question for which I have no clue whatsoever how to answer: why would anyone drink bacon-flavored vodka.....?

newsworthy translation

Here is a bit of news that I must admit deserves to be translated (for article in original version, see link below):

lunes, 25 de mayo de 2009 17:00h. TERRA NOTICIAS / AGENCIAS - EL GARROFER
Gravely injured after attempting a "lunar landing" into a jewelry store from a bicycle

A man of around 45 years of age, referred to by the initials J.M.D.R., was badly injured when he attempted to rob a Madrid jewelry store by means of “a lunar landing”.

The injured man tried several times without success to break through the storefront windows by smashing himself against them while on an Orbea bicycle until he lost consciousness.

In statements made from the San Carlos Clinic in Madrid, J.M.D.R. explained to the police that he had planned to rob the jeweler with a stolen car, but when it came time, he was feeling a bit lazy to try and break into the car “taking into consideration the additional charge that that could have landed him,” according to what he said. He, therefore, decided to try it “at all costs” with his son’s bike.

According to witnesses, you could hear the insistent dinging of a bicycle bell from Jose Ortega y Gasset street near the intesection with Serrano. It turned out to be a man coming down the hill at full speed heading straight for the storefront of the watch and jewelry store, Omega.

The store possesses two steel posts in front to prevent the “lunar landing” of cars. Moreover, the storefront windows consist of armored glass 5 centimeters thick. The cyclist passed between the steel posts at about 15 miles per hour and smashed headlong into the door without making the slightest mark on the glass.

Several bystanders came to his aid, as it seemed like it had been an accident. However, the robber refused help and returned up the hill with the bike only to launch himself down once more and crash headlong against the glass again with the exact same result.

After the third attempt, J.M.D.R. remained on the ground not able to move. Within a few minutes, the local police and paramedics arrived on the scene having already been notified by a witness. The frustrated robber was detained and has been diagnosed with a severe concussion.

Herido grave tras intentar 'alunizar' con una bicicleta en una joyería

Is it really bad for EVERYONE to not modify loans that are going into foreclosure?

I've been listening to the planetmoney podcasts from a couple weeks ago and have heard mentioned a couple times that not helping home buyers who are on the verge of foreclosure to modify their loans so they can continue to stay in their homes is bad systemically. It's bad for the home owners, it's bad for the lenders. The banks lose more money in foreclosure proceedings. They're stuck with a house that they don't really want and cannot sell. And above all, it kicks people out of their homes. But, I tend to think that there are a lot of players in the economy that you are not taking into consideration here. I agree that perhaps so many foreclosures are bad for borrowers and lenders of "bad" loans, but what about the rest of us. I, for example, do not have a mortgage, owe very little (except for a fair amount in student loans for my college education), and am not looking to take out a loan from any of those financial institutions that are suffering so dearly in the immediate future. I just want to see the economy recover (more on this towards the end). And I will wait patiently for that to happen.

I believe that making big efforts to help modify and thus save bad mortgages is hurtful in the long run. For all new home buyers who were not affected by the housing crisis, foreclosures inevitably mean a drop in real estate prices. This is GOOD for people looking to buy a home. Perhaps it's not great for people who own a home for housing prices to go down, but hey, they already have their home. And for all those that purchased before the pricing boom, saw the value of their homes double and sometimes triple in the early to mid 2000s, they will now see the value go back to perhaps what it should be at. And, tahdah!, they still have their home which in reality is worth exactly that. It's worth is not the dollars they spent to buy it or the dollars its value supposedly reached at the peak or even any dollars at all. It's worth "a home" to a family. True, some people bought homes when housing prices were highly inflated. But not everyone.

Secondly, financial institutions such as banks and mortgage brokers who made "bad" loans that drove the spike in the housing crisis will not be "punished" for making those bad loans if they are bailed out. And more importantly, financial institutions that did NOT make "bad" loans (i.e. checked potential buyers credit, analyzed home pricing before offering financing, etc.) but were actually financially responsible with their lending will not benefit from the suffering of their competition if their competition does not suffer.

Now, naturally the argument exists that all those "bad" loans got packaged together and ALL the financial institutions have some amount of investment in these mortgage backed securities, so there's no differentiating between "good" lenders and "bad" lenders. But, I disagree. Sure, to try and cure the ailing global economy the financial institutions can generally be grouped together as "needing help" on a systemic level. But at a local level, after this recession works itself out, and all these securities are revalued and taken apart and resold, the paper trail is going to show who is to blame. And I'd guess it's going to happen faster than we might think. The sound financial lenders, should benefit from their sound decisions. And the poor lenders should suffer. And here we touch on what you guys love to bring up on planetmoney which is "who is to blame." Yes, all those bad mortgages have gotten packaged together--that was bad, and yes, the securities rating agencies either were ignorant of or failed to properly report the risk that was being created--also bad, and yes, all the big financial institutions leveraged too much--REALLY bad, etc. But the real heart of the matter (call it "blame" if you want), lies with people taking out credit that they couldn't pay back and lenders giving out credit that wasn't going to get paid back.

Since we came so close to the armegeddon last September, and we realized that what was going to tear our economy apart was the lack of lending between the banks because of a loss in trust between them, it seems like our focus in the last 6 months has been entirely on this aspect of the downturn: the banking system. But, as I heard briefly in the intro segment to episode #39 in which Adam and a woman are heard to "raise their voices" at each other, I'm not sure, but it seems that her point was exactly what I'm saying here. "Having a functioning financial system is a necessary but not sufficient condition of a healthy economy." Precisely. And the economy is much much broader and contains many many more components. Including banks that made sound lending decisions and us first time home buyers who want to see the housing market fall from the outrageously absurd levels that they have reached. Because if they don't, we're not going to buy. At least I hope we won't. Because if we do, we're just destined to repeat this entire bubble cycle again.

Baby Boomers (those bastards)

I wanted to post a response I made to my friend Dora who shared a recent documentary with us called "Man on a Wire".

Here's what she wrote to me (reproduced entirely without her permission. If she doesn't want her opinion to be heard, than I'll remove it, but until then, it's necessary to put my email into perspective):

I wanted to ask if you guys ever watched that movie Man on Wire. I wonder what you thought?

I have to say I was totally disappointed. It was really hyped up as this amazing documentary, and I found it kind of boring and not that interesting at all. Of course the story in and of itself is really interesting, but I dont think the firlm did a good job.

Anyway, I was just curious becaseu I remember Maria really wanting to see it.

And my response to it:

yeah, we saw it and I totally agree with you. Maria fell asleep about halfway into it, and I was nodding off for about a half hour of it in the middle. I think it won some awards or something, but it didn't really spark my interest. don't know. maybe it appealed more to people who were adults in the 70s and 80s and can remember specific events from back then. and those are the people who make the decisions about the awards and who occupy all the "official" film critic journalist positions.

You know, our lives are going to be eternally influenced by the baby boom generation whether we like it or not. Those fuckers are going to decide what is "good" culturally, artistically, politically, etc. and then when they all want to stop working at the same time, the world is going to go bankrupt. Here's another example for you. I came across a link on the internet when reading about Janis Joplin saying one of her albums was ranked number 100 or something out of Rolling Stones list of the greatest 500 albums of all time based on voting by all music critics in 2003, etc. So I went to that list to check it out and I'd say that about 90% of the albums were from the 60s and 70s. Beatle albums occupied 4 of the top 10 spots. Then all these random bands that you've never heard of. Of the top 50, the only ones that could be considered from our generation are:
17. Nirvana - Nevermind
20. MJ - Thriller
26. U2 - Joshua Tree
46. Bob Marley - Legend
48. Public Enemy - It takes a nation of millions to hold us back.

The more I look at it, the more incredulous it gets. that's 5 out of 50. And in that top 50, there's at least 5 or 10 that no one who wasn't alive in the 60s has even heard about. And of the 5 we could consider from our generation, 4 of the 5 came out before I was 10 years old (only Nevermind is less than 20 years old).

So you could look at this and think, "damn, the 80s, 90s and beginning of the 00s must have sucked musically-wise". But I look at it and think "what? does no one under 55 read Rolling Stone?" Who do they think we are?

It just goes to show, we don't have control over anything. And by the time all those fuckers die, we're going to be too old for anyone to pay any attention to us. the power is going to skip from our parents generation directly to our kids.

oh well, at least we can live in europe!!

Jimi Hendrix - Villanova Junction (1969)

And this....

if you don't like 60s rock solo guitar improv, at least skip ahead to 4:55 for one of the greatest instrumental riffs of all time. I put these last 3 min on all the mix tapes I made. (the original video I put up here had the first 4:55 min of improv. this one starts Villanova Junction at sec 0:10)

On the video you can tell that this is one of the first times that this song has been performed live or even rehearsed among the current band members. As Jimi goes into the main verse, you can see him make eye contact with bassist Billy Cox and show him what the chord progression is as he goes along. But despite the song's unpracticed quality (or perhaps precisely because of it), it turns out as an incredibly beautiful and inspiring song that only Jimi could have created and performed.

If I could travel in time, I'd go to 1969

I was just thinking about my childhood and was curious about how I could have been such a Woodstock fan but I mean to a really extreme extent. To the degree that was kind of ridiculous for a young kid in the late 80s. I mean I didn't think of myself as a hippie or draw peace signs all over my notebooks or anything. I just remember being a huge "Woodstock-lover". Strange, I know. I guess, apart from Hendrix being my all-time idol (far and above any profession athlete), things were just different back then (the late 60s, I mean). Perhaps it has something to do with how much media promoted the concept of the "generation of the 60s" and everything, but that can't explain it entirely. I don't know. But I just found this, and honestly I can't think of anything that I've heard, read, seen or witnessed recently that effects me to such a great extent. Honestly, it's 8 minutes that makes shivers run through my whole body. I can't help myself. It gets me every time.

funny jokes (and wasting time emailing with your friends)

This is going to be the longest blog post ever...

So I had a few laughs today with my friends who live in Budapest, Galicia and here in Madrid. The following is a transcript of our email correspondence. It all started with these Tshirts that we made for our friends in Budapest. well, you'll figure it out...







Dora to me, Hogan
Apr 27 (2 days ago)

Nick, I cant believe that you actually got the shirts done! You are A-W-E-S-O-M-E. Hogan could not stop laughing when I called him (after he sent these photos). I cant wait to get home and wear mine. SO funny. What good memories.

Thank you so much for these!

XO lots and lots of love from Bp.

D. (and Hogan)

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Nick Weber to Maria, Chad, Dora, Hogan
Apr 27 (2 days ago)

I'm happy you like them!! We had a lot of fun making them, too. The only thing they told us at the shop is be sure to turn them inside out when you wash them (and cold water, of course). I think I'm going to send these photos to Chad, but I'm sure he'll be jealous that I didn't make one for him!! But he should see how cute Lua looks on a Tshirt.

good times!
Nick

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Dora to me, Hogan, Maria, Chad
Apr 27 (2 days ago)

he should be jealous. Did you make one for yourself?? its just Team Hayes that has them??

D.

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Chad to Dora, me, Hogan, Maria
7:44 AM (16 hours ago)


I'm green green green with envy. Go team hayes.

Chad

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Dora to Chad, me, Hogan, Maria
10:11 AM (14 hours ago)

that reminds me of a joke.....

do you remember Myrtle's joke? the dinner party where you have to come dressed as an emotion...and one guy is wearing all green for envy, another woman all red for passion, and then a blackman walks in naked with a pear on the end of his d"ck. What are you the hostess asked? "Me?" Im fu+kin dis pear"

ha ha ha.

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Nick to Dora, Chad, Hogan, Maria
10:22 AM (14 hours ago)

and we're back to the naked black man topic. you still haven't explained what's the difference, Dora. And I don't see why the joke requires a black man except for your (and inevitably, Myrtle's) excitement at the thought of a naked black man. it could just have easily been a white guy "fuckin dis pear"... or a latino... or a korean... or even a jew... (that's not racist, is it?)

I liked the joke, though. naked black man, or no naked black man.

btw. I think it's better to write "black man" not "blackman".

just throwin that out there.

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Dora to me, Chad, Hogan, Maria
10:26 AM (13 hours ago)

there is a simple reason: white people dont say "dis" they say "this".
Booya.

and I totally have blackfriends. I love blackpeople!

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Nick to Dora, Chad, Hogan, Maria
11:06 AM (13 hours ago)

yeah. maybe. but what about Koreans...? You could have done it with a pakistani. I can easily imagine a pakistani saying "dis"

So that reminds me of another joke:



So Jake and Wendy are in love and so they get married. Jake, smart guy that he is, thinks of the greatest wedding gift anyone could give for his wife and gets her name tattooed on his you know what. The tattoo artist does the old wrap-around job so that when you look at it from above, all you can see is the W and the Y. Jake and Wendy are more in love than ever.



After the wedding, Jake and Wendy head to Jamaica for their honeymoon. Upon arriving at the airport in Jamaica, Jake goes in to use the rest room. He steps up to a urinal next to a man who is obviously a local (he knows this because of the dreadlocks and the deep deep tan). As Jake is urinating, he happens to take a glance over at the man’s you know what at the neighboring urinal and sees the exact same “W” and “Y” tattooed on his. Jake says, “Hey man! What a coincidence! Check it out, my girlfriend is named Wendy, too!” The Jamaican laughs and says, “Ha ha. Good one, mahn! Actually mine says, WELCOME TO JAMICA MAN! HAVE A NICE DAY”


Ha ha.


Oh yeah, and then the Pakistani says, “check it out! I’m “fuckin’ dis pear!”


See. It works. Try it, next time. See if you don’t get a good laugh.

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Dora to me, Chad, Hogan, Maria
11:14 AM (13 hours ago)


Oh My God Nick, that is The Oldest most clichéd joke in The Book! They even have a Hungarian version that reads: "Üdvözlöm Jamaikán és egy nagyon jó napot kívánok Önnek!"

and the Pakistaniman at the end of it, saying "and I'm fukin dis pear" does not make any sense whatsoever.

there is another version of my previous joke and that has the blackman sayings: "Im fukin dis custard" I like the pear one better personally.

p.s. Im losing it over here and I should be working.

Dora to me
11:15 AM (13 hours ago)


ps, why are you so obsessed with the blackman's "you know what"? Are you trying to get to the bottom of the "once you go black, you never go back" theory?

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Nick to Dora
11:25 AM (13 hours ago)


I'm not trying to get to the bottom of anything. just, you know, keepin it real.

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Dora to me
show details 11:29 AM (13 hours ago)

yeah whatever. im not the one sending obama books to all the blackpeople I know.

Keep Kickin it.
D.

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Nick to Dora, Chad, Hogan, Maria
11:31 AM (13 hours ago)


work - schmerk!

oh really!? "The Oldest in The Book" huh? "The Book" with capital letters. So I guess you must have a copy of "The Book" and happened to look up "The Oldest" joke. And the pakistaniman makes tons of sense. Don't you get it? He's fucking despair. "Despair" as in sadness, depression. duh!!

and since when is dis custard an emotion!


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Dora to me
11:36 AM (13 hours ago)


NICK, dont you get it? "dis custard" equals "disgusted" in blackman language. thats an emotion. I feel "disgusted."

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Nick to Dora
12:18 PM (12 hours ago)

I worked for half an hour, so now I can go back to arguing with you.

your definition of an emotion sucks. according to you, if it can complete the sentence, "I feel..." than it's an emotion. what about "hung over" I feel "hung over" is "hung over" an emotion? what about "like puking"? I feel "like puking". "like puking" doesn't seem like much of an emotion to me.

if he can be "fuckin dis custard" he ought to be able to be "fuckin dis combobulated" and he'd have a, you know, combobulated at the end of his you know what.

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Nick to Dora, Chad, Hogan, Maria
12:32 PM (12 hours ago)

hey, I got another one.

this guy and his wife are out golfing and the guy gets a horrible lie off the fairway right behind this gigantic barn. His wife say, "ya know, I bet if we open the front and back doors of the barn you could shoot right thru it and make it to the green." He's not sure, but decides to try it. They open the doors and he takes his shot and it makes it thru the front doors of the barn but hits the inside of the barn, ricochets back out, hits his wife in the head, and kills her.

A few weeks later, he's out with one of his buddies, and on the same hole gets the exact same crappy lie behind the barn. His buddy says, "ya know, I bet if we open the front and back doors of the barn you could shoot right thru it and make it to the green." The guys say, "nah. last time I tried that, I got a triple bogey."

Ha Ha Ha. I'm so goddamn funny, I kill myself.

Nick to Dora
12:41 PM (12 hours ago)

hey Dora,
have you heard of Thao & the get down stay down?

I'm going to send you their album if you haven't heard it cuz it's awesome!!

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Dora to me
1:14 PM (11 hours ago)


http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Disgust

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Dora to me, Chad, Hogan, Maria
1:15 PM (11 hours ago)


I should really get that considering Im in the golf industry.

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Dora to me
1:16 PM (11 hours ago)

NO! Send it to me! Rather that than an Obama book (cuz Im not a blacklady of course)

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Nick to Dora
1:20 PM (11 hours ago)


yeah. maybe. but he's not "fuckin dis cust". He's "fuckin dis custard." you could change the joke so he has a pizza crust on his you know what and then he'd say, "Me? I'm fuckin dis crust" because, you know, maybe in blackpeople language that means disgust.

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Nick to Dora
1:26 PM (11 hours ago)

although you may not see it at first, what I just wrote makes perfect sense. The green dude didn't come dressed in green because he was "envious" no. he was envy. and the red lady wasn't passionate. she was "passion." Hey that makes me think of another way you could do the joke. have the pakistaniman have a passion fruit on his you know what and say "I'm fuckin dis passion" and then the "fruit" part a little bit under his breath.

oh god. now that's a good one. where do I come up with this genius material?

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Dora to me
1:26 PM (11 hours ago)

Im rolling on the floor laughing! STOP.

but then it would have to be "Im fuckin dis pizzacrust" and that doesnt make much sense now does it. lets stick with "dis pear". That works MUCH better...

OMG, I got a NEW ONE!!!! How about, blackman, naked, with a parrot on his you know what..."What? what am I? Isnt it obvious? Im fuckin dis parrot" (desperate) GET IT?

HA HA HA

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Nick to Dora
1:40 PM (11 hours ago)


that IS a good one. unfortunately since it's an animate object, he couldn't just have the parrot hangin out on his you know what, just kickin it. He'd actually have to be fuckin it which, you know, might be kind of hard. On the parrot, I mean. which actually just reminds me of another joke. I'll tell you in a minute.
"dis crust"

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Dora to me
1:45 PM (11 hours ago)

Ahmmm, who did you just send me a picture of just now? that is fuckin dis custard!

Dispassion!! I think my disparrot is good. cant wait for the joke.

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Dora to me
1:50 PM (10 hours ago)


but the joke goes..." I am greeeen, greeeen with envy" (which equals to him being envious!

But you DO have a point.

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Nick to Dora
1:57 PM (10 hours ago)

wait. are you trying to imitate Chad?
hey. do you think Chad really is envious or is trying to be sarcastic (the bastard)?
sometimes, when he's really hurt, he lashes out with sarcasm.
it's a defense mechanism of his.

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Nick to Dora
show details 1:54 PM (10 hours ago)


OK.
so this guy goes home to his wife carrying a sheep under his arm. He says, "so honey, this is the pig I've been fucking all these years".

His wife says, "that's not a pig, you dumbass, that's a sheep."

He looks at her and says, "I wasn't talkin' to you!"

you have GOT to get this one.

you could probably substitute a parrot for the sheep.
and even make the guy a pakistaniman. or if you really want, a naked blackman. That would make it even funnier, I'm sure.

sorry I haven't replied about the Obama books and the blackpeople. It was actually really funny. I guess apart from being really funny, it probably kinda hurt a little. deep down, you know. that's why I haven't brought it back up. But, just so you know: good one!!

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Dora to me
show details 2:02 PM (10 hours ago)

no, I think Chad knows the joke and thats why he said it! But...hjaving said that if I was Chad, I would be really envious! did you see the pics I uploaded on facebook wearing the shirt?

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Nick to Dora
2:07 PM (10 hours ago)

yeah. you look awesome!! I'm glad you like the shirt.

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Dora to me
2:13 PM (10 hours ago)

oh I look awesome? hahahahahah, I had just rolled out of bed :).

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Chad to Dora, me, Hogan, Maria
2:47 PM (10 hours ago)


Get to work y'all.

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Dora to Chad, me, Hogan, Maria
2:50 PM (10 hours ago)


stop being green with envy chad!

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Hogan to Dora, me, Maria
2:59 PM (9 hours ago)

Just wanted to chime in here in the "dis" versus "this" issue.

As a one-time English teacher here in Budapest, I've noted that very few Hungarians can pronounce the 'th'- sound. They often use a 'd' in place of 'th-'.

I actually think the joke is funnier with a Central European accent.

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Nick to Hogan, Dora, Maria
3:00 PM (9 hours ago)


yeah. but you're kind of a nerd.

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Nick to Hogan, Dora, Maria
show details 3:03 PM (9 hours ago)


and how many pakistanis have you taught english to? trust me. they say "dis." and what's funnier than an old pakistani sheep herder with a turban on his head and a pear on his you know what? trust me. I know the best way to tell jokes.

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Dora to me, Hogan
show details 3:06 PM (9 hours ago)


old pakistani sheep herder????? that wouldnt make sense at all---he would SO not be invited to an "emotion" party. Duh.

(I took Maria off the distro list because I think we are annoying her.)

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Nick to Dora, Hogan
3:17 PM (9 hours ago)


she has a busy day today, so that's why she probably hasn't replied to anything. doesn't mean we were annoying her. She did give me a little crap about not getting any work done. which is oh, so untrue. I made a couple graphs and put them into my thesis.

and who WOULDN'T invite an old pakistani sheep herder to an emotion party? especially if he was going to come with a pear or even better a passion (fruit) on his you know what.
Who has "emotion parties" anyway?
sounds lame.

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Hogan to me, Dora, Maria, Chad
3:17 PM (9 hours ago)


Wait. So the guy is naked, and he's wearing a turban. Now I get it. It's funny 'cause it's true.

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Dora to me, Hogan
3:22 PM (9 hours ago)


Emotion party sounds AWESOME--except I'd have trouble coming up with a costume. You kids have it EASY!!!!! you could be fuckin ANYTHING....

I have an idea for Thanksgiving!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Parrot is the best!

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Nick to Hogan, Dora, Maria, Chad
3:44 PM (9 hours ago)


that's right. so true.
That's why the joke with guy and the sheep under his arm and the "honey, here's the pig I've been fuckin..." is so funny.
funny cuz it's true.

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Nick to Hogan, Dora, Maria, Chad
5:04 PM (7 hours ago)

Dora,
I've been thinking about it (and actually going over it out loud) and your parrot joke just doesn't work. You see, even if he was "fuckin' dis parrot", nobody pronounces desperate like that. Desperate is what we call in spain an esdrújula meaning that the 3rd syllable from the end is the stressed syllable. DES-per-ate. Nobody says des-Per-ate. unless they're retarded. and then, maybe they'd get the joke. but I kind of doubt it. You see, even if retarded people might pronounce "desperate" the wrong way, that doesn't mean they would understand the joke. But they might laugh, anyway. So unless you intended the joke with the parrot to be for an audience of retarded people, I don't think you'd get many laughs.
sorry.

try it with a passion (fruit)
trust me.
That one's hilarious.

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Dora to me, Hogan, Maria, Chad
5:18 PM (7 hours ago)


oh shut up. it does too work.

Reply
Hogan to me, Dora, Maria, Chad
5:20 PM (7 hours ago)


What about "I'm fucking 'dis hot chick'?

Does that work?

Reply
Hogan to Dora, me, Maria, Chad
5:47 PM (7 hours ago)



Get it?

Reply
Chad to Hogan, Dora, me, Maria
11:12 PM (1 hour ago)


That's the best one all day!

Reply
Nick to Chad, Hogan, Dora, Maria
1:10 AM (5 minutes ago)


See what I mean about sarcasm?

runnin' down a dream

I found this unbelievable video and have decided that they are my new favorite band.



I thought it was kind of relative about the dream. Considering that I woke up this morning after having had another interesting dream and thought that I should try and write it down as well. It was weird though, because I believe I realized that I had had an interesting dream while I was still asleep and was trying to go over it again in my mind so that I'd be sure to remember it - all while I was still asleep. It brings in the idea of how the act of recording your dreams for posterity might have an effect on your dreams. If I'm already thinking about how I'm going to retell a strange dream, it probably plays a part in how the dream unfolds. no? And one last point: recording a dream into writing is fundamentally different than the actual experience of dreaming the dream. I am happy with what I wrote down when retelling the butt corn grinding, crime and punishment mission, mourning over dead loved ones dream. However, writing the dream down/the dream in written form and dreaming the dream were two different and completely separate experiences all together. And in some way, they don't really have much to do with eachother on an emotional level. Perhaps that's what Tom Petty was hinting at with "runnin' down a dream".

Anyway, on to the dream.

I had been drafted and employed to a war zone. We were in a flat non-populated valley and had all arrived recently via air travel. We had not gone through any training at all, but knew that we were there to fight and were all fairly resigned to that fact. The first mission was setting up camp which consisted of setting the framework for our bunks which would be in a square grid that had to be drawn out on the ground. There were no materials for construction yet. We were only using our bodies to establish where each person's bunk would be. I was a member of the higher ranking officials or perhaps the group whose responsibility depended on decision-making capabilities, and our designated bunk locations were in a row on the left most side of the grid. I ended up having a bunk between my old biology lab boss at UM, Mark Grimes, and someone else that I knew but can't remember right now. Somehow, there was some sort of an engagement with the enemy which consisted of robot-like tanks (or better described as tank-like robots) with multiple machine guns that could destroy even very robust machinery. Not sure if they were the enemy or just a sample of the capabilities of the enemy, because we didn't fight against them and they didn't target us either. Anyway, once the 2 commanders arrived and started to give orders, I (naturally) begged to differ with one of their decisions and got in trouble for trying to say that my idea about how something should be done was better. This unleashed their fury and they started to attack me with axes and hatchets. I was inside a wooden box, although the view from the 1st person of the dream was from outside the box. I saw them going apeshit with their axes on the wooden box. The next thing that happened was I was able to escape just in time before the box could be completely demolished, and via some sort of distraction, I was able to go AWOL. I also remember that getting out of that situation was in my best interest because 1. it was war and 2. my bunk had been located on the outer edge of the battalion and that was the most vulnerable position of any army formation as I remembered my grandfather telling me. I got out of there with the help of my basketball teammate Lino who drove me away from the valley and up into the mountains. We were really doing some evasive driving to make sure we weren't being tailed. The plan was to get me up and out into the wilderness where I could survive in the woods for at least a year or until the war was over. There was no way they would find me out in the woods, and I knew that I could survive. My primary preoccupation was with obtaining a shelter of some sort and we kept heading up and up towards the treeline which was very close to the top of the mountain. I asked Lino why we were going so high. he said that he had thought the woods would provide me with more shelter, but I told him that that might be true, but the higher we went up the colder it was going to be. In fact, we were getting up into where there were still patches of snow. I had around a month before it would be pretty late in the summer and the weather would start changing so I needed to establish myself in a short amount of time. As we were driving through a field, a small herd of deer were in our path and were not wary of us at all. I got very excited and told Lino that when he went back, he should pick up my rifle from my dad and bring it back to me so I could more easily survive in the wild. Lino thought this was funny, but it was a nervous laugh, because he obviously didn't feel safe with the idea of a gun. He was sure that it would misfire or that the bullets would be in the gun wrong because he had no idea how to load it or anything. I laughed quite a bit and told him not to worry. All he had to do was go to my parents house and my dad would give him the rifle and a box of bullets. He needn't do anything with them except bring them to me. The gun wouldn't be loaded as we never loaded a gun unless we were getting ready to shoot. I'm pretty sure he didn't buy it. Next, he dropped me off just at the treeline and I proceeded to wander around looking for a suitable shelter/hiding place, although there were no trees anywhere, only grass and bushes close to the ground. It didn't provide much opportunity for getting under something in order to stay warm. Next, I wandered higher up on the mountain very close to the top and discovered a refuge that I easily got into. There were many cars around and plenty of people who had come up to this point for a daytime visit, but when they left I started to discover that the refuge was under the supervision of some sort of camp counselor who was monitoring runaway children who were living in the mountains. He was very nice to me and took me in, telling me to come with him in his van as he went around the mountain roads to gather the children. He and his wife were in the front seat and we went around picking up these teenage runaways who all got in the van and didn't resist whatsoever, but it was like they were in some sort of youth prison. All the kids were nice and outgoing and about half of them were of Latino descent (including the camp counselors) and spoke fluent spanish which I had been waiting for the opportunity to use. However, because of their accent I had a difficult time understanding several of them. One girl was particularly interested in me and asked me many questions and was basically trying to flirt with me. Her older sister and sister's boyfriend were good people and made fun of her in a playful manner. They all spoke spanish and thought I was basically a runaway teenager, too. I felt that keeping the fact of my having escaped from the war a secret was a good idea and I felt witty about making that decision. They asked me how old I was and I asked them how old they thought I was. They guessed 20 and I smirked and eventually told the truth which was that I was 33 (I'm actually 31). It was night time now and everyone had been picked up and we needed to try and get some sleep while we were driven back to the refuge. Once back at the refuge, we were to spend the night in the parked van (not the refuge, because we didn't have permission to use it). We were all pretty packed into the van (there were probably 5 or 6 other kids of all different ages) but, they somehow arranged themselves so that I had an entire seat to stretch myself out to try and get to sleep. At some point, I decided this was foolish (I don't know if because felt guilty about taking up so much space...), and decided to sneak into the refuge to sleep. I easily went in through the window and curled up in a bed around the corner. A short time later, the counselor man came in to get me as he knew I had sneaked into the refuge and that wasn't allowed. But, before kicking me out, he sat down to have a heart-to-heart. Real typical camp counselor type stuff. I remember bonding with him, but I'm not sure if I told him about my escape from the war, plans to live in the wilderness all winter or if I just told him about my childhood. Anyway, since the van was parked outside the refuge, I had to get back in the van so they could take us all away from there. They turned the lights off in the van because we really needed to get some sleep which I was happy to finally do after such a long day, and as it was already the middle of the night. With the lights off I felt the hand of the girl who had been flirting with me reaching under my blanket and touch my hand and leg. I thought she was trying to secretly let me know that she liked me and I didn't want to hurt her feelings, but I had misgivings about it because 1. I'm married and 2. she was pretty young. Based on her age, I assumed she was only looking to hold my hand or something, but I rapidly found out she had something else in mind. I won't go into the details, but I assure you that what happened next could be in an american R rated movie and not an X rated movie. Despite my misgivings, I didn't prevent her, and began to relax/fall asleep. Next thing I knew, the light on the van was switched on and she was waking me up whispering for me to put my pants back on because the woman counselor was on her way into the back of the van to see what was going on. She caught us and I didn't deny anything, but only tried to reason (above all with the guy counselor) that I hadn't wanted to do anything with her, but how could I be blamed for not refusing to allow her to do what she was interested in doing. I was very ashamed.

That was the horrifying end of my dream.

I'm sorry to everyone involved (especially me.)

my dreams

I was at oxy. not for a reunion or anything, but because there was something I had to do. I was going to play in a basketball tournament and compete for a spot on the team. There were many professional players competing, including former pros that had been brought down to the development league like Reggie Miller, Scottie Pippen (who had grown 3 inches since his retierment), Isaiah Thomas, and Patrick Ewing. Coach Goodrich was happy to see me and gave me a tour of the new state-of-the-art facilities they had at oxy which included a high-tech weightroom and a locker room that was a mix between a balneario (spa) and a warm-up facility in which you would run laps to warm up while various showers would spray you as you ran by (kind of like a drive-thru car wash). I was doing well in the tryouts but prior to the final day of pickup I ran into some old classmates while waiting out in front of the gym. They consisted of fraternity members, cross-country runners and soccer players. We all shared some old stories and in fact played some music together with the instruments there for use at the entrance to the gym. I was very excited about playing an amplified bass for the 1st time in a long time. But the nature of the meeting with my old friends was surely athletic, as everyone was wearing running/soccer/work-out clothes. Then a big event that everyone was there to participate in took place which consisted of grinding corn cobs with your legs and ass as we did at least 2 laps around the entire campus. The way this worked was: the corn cobs were in the shape and size of soccer balls and even basketballs. The participants would sit on top of the corn cobs and balance while they rolled forward so that their weight pushing down on the corn into the pavement of the street would grind the corn into cornmeal. This was a well-known tradition and many of the participants took it very seriously, and even though I wasn't of the same ethnicity as the majority of the participants (latino), I was honored to participate even if I only had time to do the final lap around campus. I think that I managed to be included because I insisted on speaking spanish. And everyone was honored all around about participating in this momentous occasion. However, while participating and being aware that I might miss the basketball final tryout, I now became fully aware that I would have to carry out my mission. This mission might be the strangest aspect of the dream. I had come to the philosophical conclusion that I was to kill the neighbor lady and her toddler. Despite my misgivings, I understood that it was my mission and couldn't be avoided. (I know, straight out of Crime & Punishment, which I haven't read or thought about in at least 3 years). So while I was participating in the corn-grinding, I methodically planned out how I was going to carry out the mission. I needed a knife and gloves and then I realized I needed a way to cover myself to keep blood from getting on me which would have to be discarded after the crime. I would simply enter the house through the use of a believable, friendly story and once inside cut their throats. However, I was gradually realizing that there was no way I could get away with it. Leaving behind crucial articles would allow the existence of infallible evidence pointing to me, the culprit. However, I seemed not to be deterred, because I understood that it was my mission and if I had to be convicted of the crime, so be it. I felt regret about this. I also felt a great deal of regret when I first met the neighbor lady and her toddler because they were good people. However, I almost had the mindset of a suicide bomber or something, because despite how much I disliked the mission, I knew it had to be done. The philosophical justification of the mission was that it was necessary "to REALLY feel", in other words, to experience sensations that up until then I hadn't experienced in my life. That life consisted of a great deal of pain which had to be felt. Thus the mission. I came to these philosophical conclusions while doing the lap around campus and doing quite well at the corn-grinding. At one point I slipped and scraped a part of my body on a spare part of a car that was quite sharp (it was some metallic casing or engine part that was very painful to touch). It had been somewhat underneath a parked car and when I landed on it and injured myself and was in very close proximity to the ground, my belief in the mission became more and more concrete. This was exactly the type of sensation that the mission was meant to impart. My resolution to carry out the mission became practically determined. After completing the corn-grinding event, I slipped away unnoticed to carry out the mission. The neighbor lady was away or in another room (not sure about this), and so I commenced on the first part of the mission which consisted of breaking the individual glass panes of the front door with my face (specifically my nose which was quite hard and capable of breaking glass). There were probably around 50 glass panes about the size of 2 inches by 2 inches in a square grid, and I started breaking them in order from the top. I recognized the importance of breaking all the panes, because it allowed me to truly feel what I was supposed to feel. Namely heightened sensations, i.e. pain. And I was proud of actually carrying out my mission. However, I still felt regret about the fact that I would be killing the innocent lady and her child, so part of me (in a deep, far-hidden-away consciousness that wasn't required to be recognized) I believe that I was breaking each of the glass panes with the hope that it would prevent me from bringing the mission to its final conclusion (i.e. by stalling for time). My unwillingness to become (fully) aware of this as a method of stalling was part of me being as responsible as possible at achieving my mission, and having doubts in the mission was something I didn't/couldn't allow. At some point, I was forced to return to the campus gym for what reason I'm not sure. Perhaps to obtain something else necessary for the mission and when I returned to the neighbor's house, the neighbor lady had a close friend who also had a child over to visit which raised the number of potential victims to 4. I refer to her as the "neighbor lady" only because she lived next to the campus, and not because she was a neighbor of mine. It was important for the mission that she was a complete stranger. Although, to the external observer to the dream (e.g. sleeping Nick) the neighbor lady greatly resembled one of several of my very good friends who have recently had a child (possibly Leona, but I'm not sure about this), but to the 1st person of the dream, she was a complete stranger. At around this time, the mission was abandoned with an openly honest sense of relief.

In the second dream or second part of the dream as I did not notice any break between these two parts, I was now traveling to meet Chad in a strange 3rd world country. We were to meet with Castro and Bushey, but had no precise meeting time or place or any means of contacting them. I don't know what language was spoken there, but I was fairly adept at communicating with the locals. I bought food from street vendors (even bargaining in a currency that I wasn't familiar with), and succeeded in investigating the whereabouts of Bushey and Castro via interviews with the locals. I had made a friend at the youth hostel where Chad and I were staying at. I found out that Bushey and Castro had tickets and were planning on attending a bull fight at 7, which was in 10 or 15 minutes. Chad and I had just managed to obtain tickets to another show (at a great bargain), but there were still tickets left for the bull fight and we could get them and find Castro and Bushey there. Chad was hesitant because of what seemed to be a pretty depressed mood that he was in. I only wondered how could this all be true, because I knew that Castro hated bull-fighting, and in my typical fashion of trying to solve problems I thought that we could give the 2 tickets that Chad and I had to Castro and Chad since they weren't down for the bull fight and Bushey and I could attend the bull fight, but it was going to be tricky since we didn't know if they were even going to be there at all, where we could intercept them, and in any case we needed to hurry. Chad had gone back to the hostel. I was informed (in a way that I do not know) that Mar and Lua had died the previous weekend in Madrid during a skiing trip that they had taken with Chad during a couple days after they had stayed the weekend with us in Madrid and we had left them the keys to our apartment when we left for a trip (presumably to America where I had the Oxy home-coming experience). I was very very effected by the news and made my way back to meet Chad and try and console him. The deaths were indeed very real and Chad had been keeping it a secret because he was unable to publicly deal with the loss. In fact, his story had been that Mar and Lua were on their way to meet us there. We mourned deeply. (it really felt like they had died. I went through the feelings I suppose I would have if this had indeed happened.) It turned out that on the skiing trip in which they were teaching Lua to ski for the first time (Chad was snowboarding and Mar was skiing and Lua had tiny skis with a strap connecting the tips of the skis together and would go down immediately in front of Mar), Chad went off a jump in the jump park and landed on the downslope and stopped and turned to wait, but Mar and Lua never made it. What supposedly happened was they too went off the jump, but naturally at the speed necessary for a 2 year-old learning to ski and landed in deep powder and couldn't be found. The bodies hadn't been recovered. I was unsure about delving deeper into the story, because I dearly did not want to show incredulousness or question my grieving friend. But, I did manage to ask if it was possible that they were still alive and just lost. This was a possibility but it had been over 7 days already.

This was the horrifying end of my dream.

Sorry to everyone who was involved (especially me).