Bandung Conference

A meeting of representatives of 29 African and Asian nations, held at Bandung, Indonesia, in 1955. The aim—to promote economic and cultural cooperation and to oppose colonialism—was more or less achieved in an atmosphere of cordiality. China played a prominent part and strengthened its friendly relations with other Asian nations. Not invited to the conference were South Africa, Israel, Taiwan, South Korea, and North Korea. The conference ultimately led to the establishment of the Nonaligned Movement in 1961. In later years, conflicts between the nonaligned nations eroded the solidarity expressed at Bandung.

See also Third World.

Oh, I'm Caught. In my own web of Lies-a!

Because I am now the kind, genteel Chas Traps, I want to share with you an actual E-mail I receieved from an actual person. Let's just say that I was tired of the whole 'I am soooo busy, we should totally see each other soon' E-mails, and told this person that either they can either follow-up on her promises, or stick it.

Here is the unedited response I received, which did not surprise me one bit. What did surprise me is that her answer came almost immediately after I wrote my piece, (you'll see why this is interesting soon). Of course, I had to change the name to protect the (not-so) innocent party, so I'll refer to her as 'F', based on the grade that she would receieve if she went to a real school, as opposed to the 'program' that she is enrolled in currently. Here's is F's actual testimonial, in italics, with my comments in non-italics to follow.

Subject: Re: --- Time

It bothers me when people can't think of a new subject, so just Re: the last one, even if it does not relate at all. That's just sloppy writing, right there.

Wow Charles...

I love it when I wow 'em.

I do not appreciate your sarcasm and attitude at all.

Remember the episode of The Simpsons where the members of Mensa took over the government, and featured the following exchange.

Comic Book Guy: Oh yeah, everyone's real happy then.
Lyndsey Nagle: Do I detect a note of sarcasm?
Professor Frink: Are you kidding? This baby is off the charts mm-hai.
Comic Book Guy: A sarcasm detector, that's a real useful invention.

I feel as though if F wanted to prove her point, she should have compared me to Comic Book Guy, perhaps terming me Jeff Albertson. But F failed to capitalize upon this glorious opportunity, perhaps because she is not clever. What about her attitude? Is using non-veiled sarcasm worse than saying things you know not to be true? The Mensa episode also had this:

Lisa (reading Comic Book Guy's shirt): C:, C:\Dos, C:\Dos\Run. Ha! Only one person in a million would find that funny!
Professor Frink: Yes, we call that the Dennis Miller Ratio.

Is it possible that Dennis Miller once hosted Monday Night Football, or was that just a weird dream that I once had?

Where was I? Oh yeah, my E-mail to F wasn't all that sarcastic, although my "Check your schedule, how does the twenty-fifth of never look? might have knocked that baby off the charts.

I am a very busy girl, and my attention is coveted by many people. I have a hundred people a weekend calling me to get together, so those who get to see me at least twice a year should consider themselves lucky.

How exactly does one covet attention? It's not like people warrant her attention, but actually covet it, quite like they would their neighbour's wife, (more on that later). So if I don't see F at least twice a year, should I consider myself unlucky?

Oh, and a hundred people a weekend calling her to get together. Sounds a little bit inflated to me. I think ten would have been a nice round number, or perhaps even eighteen, the Jewish lucky number. I doubt that even high-priced escorts even receieve a hundred get together calls in one weekend, (though God knows I've tried).

I go to school full time, I have had a full time and part time job, I have a full time and part time relationship, a hand full of really close friends and a boat load of acquaintances. I already spread myself thin.

First of all, you don't go to school full-time, as you've even admitted to me that your school is a joke, and you don't do homework.

I'm glad that you have had a full time and part time job. So have I. I may have eevn had two part time jobs. Oh, you mean simultaneously? Well, the 'have had' indicated that you don't anymore, so what's the hold-up? Surely, now you have the time to indulge everyone!

Anybody else curious about the 'full time' and 'part time' relationship? I think that's a euphemy for "I live with this one guy but I screw this other guy on the side". Sounds like a Cheaters episode in the making, F. Be sure to let the hundred people who call you know about it.

Doesn't F seem a little bit like Cheerleader from Teeny Tiny Girl Squad? Does her house have a hundred bafrooms? I wonder if she has her very own chocolate bar.

I flaked on you, I kept you waiting for half an hour, I only talked about myself and I bailed on you for my ex. Why the hell did you ever contact me again?

Here's where F acknowledges our profound shared personal history is exactly how I recounted it. I thought she would try to put a spin on it, saying 'that's not what happened', but I must be confusing her with Mahta.

Anyways, let me give my chronology of life with F:

So I met her at the Circus, (which should have been hint number one to keep on going), but she did win me over with her friendliness. That, and she recognized me from High School, which was great for my ego. So I got her business card and called her a few times, but our relationship quickly slipped into E-mail, when she revealed that her phone conversations lasted about twenty seconds.

We E-mailed each other a bunch of times, tying to arrange a time to meet again, me sort of half-heartedly inviting her to things, and then finally we set up a day and a time, in which I am hoping to see more of the F that I liked from before, (and, I admit, to hopefully get laid). As she says she keeps me waiting. I headed over to meet her on a street corner, (appropriate?) after writing half of my Thucydides essay. I take her to the Duke of Gloucester, which played good music and we had good drinks, which I thinked she paid for. I didn't so much mind her talking about herself, (girls do this all the time), but I brought this up in retrospect because it just seems like she knows absolutely nothing about me. Maybe this is how she holds on to a hundred friends, as each one is nameless and faceless in her mind.

So we go to see her ex-boyfriend play at the place next door to Fez Batik, where she informs me "He's breaking up with the other guy in the band" and "You'll be hearing about him soon". Sure, F.

Her lack of communication skills, (n'est pas!) have led her to think that I am leaving early. So I basically follow her to this place, because she's made other plans for the evening, (I thought everyone coveted her time?) So the show was whatever, it was more of the white boy with a guitar thing that F loves so much. I quite frankly thought the next act was better: a purposely unkempt-looking guy on an acoustic guitar who played Pearl Jam covers so sincerly and overreachingly without a single musician backing him up, (except for me, of course).
So F points out the guy's skanky girlfriend, and informs me that she's still fucking him. Hmmm...sweet. So then I meet her 'friends' who she said she was meeting up with at this location, two heavily pierced girls who did seem to be all that interesting, but ironically ended up being much better conversationalists than the multi-talented F, (who did buy me drinks though, so I forgave her).

Then F disappeared for a while, and I was stuck with the two girls, whose even more heavily pierced boyfriends showed up. I struck a conversation with the one who had his head tattooed and they said that they were going to the Velvet Underground. So that's who they are!

I asked F if she wanted to go, but of course, she had her heart set on the guitarist with a girlfriend, (what happened to her, anyways?). Then, while the guy was unpacking his stuff into the van, F. humored me for ten minutes and then basically told me to get lost, adding "get home safely" as if she even knows where I live, or who I live with, (thanks, Mom and Dad).

Oh, one bit of irony. When F was fluttering, her 'friends' talked about how they had no interest in having F with then at Velvet Underground. I guess Karma really is a bitch. F was at no point mean to me that night, but it just seemed like she did not care, which made it worse because she has never said 'I don't care'.

I know that F's not lying when she said 'Why did you contact me', but her social hive has overwhelmed her. I didn't E-mail her for weeks afterwards, and she sent me either an E-mail or a text message, I can't remember. Either way, who sends mass text message Christmas wishes? That's lame.

I kept up the charade with F because...well I don't know why! I guess she played me.

Most people are happy to see me whenever they get the chance, but you are obviously in need of a much more generous commitment.

Well yeah, obviously I am need of a more generous commitment! If you recognize this, then why are you so defensive? Obviously people are happy to see me when they get the chance, but I don't act all la-di-da about it, like giving them my time is akin to curing cancer!

Hey everybody, Chas Traps is here! Don't you feel blessed by my very presence?

I am shocked and appalled by your tone, and I do not appreciate one part of this email.

Last year at the Super Bowl, Justin Timberlake was "completely shocked and appalled," when he ripped open Janet Jackson's bustier and exposed her breast. As J.P. put it this week, and then repeated two or three times, her breast is 'plastic'. I'm not sure what he was trying to say. Maybe that it was not real?

Anyways, if F is shocked and appalled, does this make me Janet Jackson? Have I just committed the E-mail equivalent of flashing a fake tit? If so, remember who ripped that leather top open in the first place, F. You throw enough spitballs at the wall, eventually one is going to stick. Who are you going to blame then? The wall?

You take care C-man. I guess I'll catch you on the flip side.

I believe that this is F's way of saying "Go to hell, you ungrateful shit!"
(avatar of a rose) 'F'

See, even her FOAD E-mails are full of sweet, sweet contradiction.


Goodbye to you, F. Hopefully your 'hand full' of close friends and 'boat load' of acquaintances, (I swear that she wrote it like this), will fill the void that I could not. Even though you spread yourself thin, at least you led a full stomach.

Come along and ride on a blogtastic voyage!

Hey bitches!

I am so happy for the coming of Spring. You know why that is? Because I am finally coming out of hibernation. For too long I have been stagnant and in hiding.

Now, in the spirit of Nietzschean self-reflection, I have decided to start rope-dancing, and finally reveal my true feelings. None of this 'say what everyone wants to hear' bullshit that has plagued my conscience for too long. I am now ready to live honestly and openly, and this means writing for myself.

Dave, you asked me what the audience was for my blog, whether it was 5 or 5000 people. I can finally provide you with an answer. It's for an audience of 2. Myself...and my other half. Or maybe they are one and the same, I am not sure yet.

This does not mean that I am going to be a prick like in the past. Far from it, as I believe that sometimes I say mean things in lieu of what I really desire to say.

So from now on...it's pure 100% Chas Traps, and this means no holds will be barred.

It's time to really start getting Caught in the Traps...and just in time for Easter!

What the Buck?

Every dog has his day.

But I digress...

Okay, I do have one thing to say tonight, but then I am passing the hell out.

I was watching this feature tonight on people who live with synthetic dolls, and I was captivated by it. I wasn't quite sure why it interested me, until I heard the black goth guy say: "I don't understand people who love cars or boats or synthetic objects that don't even appear human", (and for the record, neither do I, but for radically different reasons). The doll community, like any other, do not cower from their lifestyle practices, for like any other subgroup, or human being, for that matter, they dfine themselves by what they are not.

It's like "Sure I have sex with a synthetic doll, but at least I don't love a car", i.e. there is someone else who doesn't 'get it' like I do. I guess that rather than define ourselves by what we are, we define ourselves by what we are not, and moreover, those of us who are in the know 'get it', while others do not, and that's why I live comfortably with who I am.

God knows that I am as guilty as this as...you see, I want to say 'some others', and then attach a reason as to why I am not as bad as they are.

Is it possible that I feel as though I am in the know, but know absolutely nothing?

I am still too overwhelmed to write

Not to mention hungry, because they didn't feed us on the flight.

Happy birthday Hotspur.

Happy birthday Cheryl Blossom.

Also, to Erik.

Peace.

Once again, it's time to be serious

I'm taking a short break from writing.

This is upsetting, as I really felt like I was getting my groove going, but sometimes there are more important things to do.

See you all on Sunday.

Mickey Mouse has grown up a cow

I wonder if those new McDonalds deli sandwiches are any good. Also, I wonder if to get back at them, Subway will start selling McFlurries and sweet sweet Apple Pies.

Subway kind of sucks. At least McDonalds puts cocaine in the Big Mac special sauce. At Subway, the special sauce is whatever the flavor of the moment is, like Chipotle.

I bet you'll never see a Chipotle Big Mac!

Some things I will just never understand.

- The Lord of the Rings. The Freudian undercurrents are not difficult to read at all. Sam and Frodo are in love, and they need a ring to complete their fellowship of love. Also, Ian McKellen is their older male lover, their Lord. Also, Orlando Bloom. But the films themselves? Meh. Besides, who wants to see a film about a bunch of short people when not played for laughs a la Mini-Me. Meet the Feebles is still fantastic, though.

- Tattoos, especially of the lower-back variety. Does conformity make you a rebel? Discuss.

- Absolutely everything to do with The O.C. I get it, it's self-referential, characters talk about T.S. Eliot and everybody looks fantastic. Why then, is each episode, (of the two I've seen), so goddamn boring. It reminds me a lot of Whit Stillman movies, but instead of laughing at all of the pretentious pricks played by Chris Eigeman and Kate Beckinsale, we're supposed to think that Seth Cohen is fantastic because he reads comic books and listens to shitty bands, but can still land incredible hot chicks...hey, just like us! ALso, faux lipstick lesbians.

Speaking of, I saw the L Word last week. Despite the fact that I was watching it with my Mon, which just made it strange, I kind of got into the show. The fact that it kept my attention outside of the lez lurve scenes was a testament to its writing. Also, it's fun to watch the incredibly sexy Mia Kirshner on screen, when her artistic little sister would overhear my conservations between me and her former best friend Nandie on the streetcar and say 'I'm right here, guys'.

Oh yeah, the O.C. sucks.

- Capricorns. There I said, I'm calling out an entire Zodiac sign. Yet I still think old goat David Bowie is incredible. I guess it's just the goats that I know.

- Weed. I had a long conversation with my shrink about this last week. I told him that weed makes me feel as though I am outside of myself, whilst my current meds make me feel even more like I'm inside of myself. Then he told me that there is a new ADD drug available in Canada, and that I can start taking it when school is over, and I swear I got a little wet from hearing this news.

But still, weed leads me to end up taking Hungarian Sober Pills, and I don't even want to tell you what that means. Can anybody explain weed's appeal to me, please?

- Also, cigarettes. What the world needs is more chaw.

- Gambling. But maybe this is because I am a cheapskate.

- Rollerblades. I won't even say it.

- Cars. Driving. Rims. Basically, motor vehicles in general. Hey, I'm surprised that I can walk without falling over. I am a good passenger though, (cue Iggy Pop music).

- Miss Vickie's Potato Chips. Why? I remember once that I thought Miss Vickie chips were the shiznit, (they're crinkled!) But now, I think that if it came down a choice bwteen Humpty Dumpty, actually, Humpty Dumpty rocks, if it came down to a choice bwteen Miss Vickie's and those Costco chips that you can't seem to find anywhere else, and taste more like wood chips than potato chips, I'd still take the price club chips. How did one brand fall so fast, so far?

And what happened to those wonderful Hostess 'Got the Munchies' characters, that I didn't 'get' until I started trying the fifth thing that I don't understand?

And what happened to Hostess in general? Lay's Schmay's! Although I remember this one party where I carried around a bag of Lay's and asked everyone "Would you like a greasy lay? No? How about a potato chip?" Man, I'm hilarious.

- Cheering for the favorite. Yes, I am rooting for the Yankees this year, but that's only because the Red Sox fans are pulling the whole "I've always been a fan" routine that was really popular with Dallas Cowboys 'fans' in the mid-90s and also with Seinfeld 'fans' in the mid-90s. I wonder if some people are really scared to be different, and then pick up on what everyone else likes and defiantly and proudly declare that they have liked it for years? I can think of at least one person who fits that description, and good news! She's wished me luck on my writing career.

- Fad degrees or 'nonsense subjects' that have somehow gained legitimacy....at least for now. I guarentee that in twenty years, I.R. will stand for 'In Retrospect' I probably should have taken English Literature.

- Baseball hats. I always used to wear fantastically designed Detroit Lions, Jacksonville Jaguars and St Louis Cardinal hats. I liked 'em because they looked cool. But then I realized, why do I need to wear them all time? It's not like I am being endorsed by the teams. Now, you'd think that the New York Yankees paid off every schmo who wears their hat at a bar, (yet still cheers for the Red Sox???)

Unless you have some sort of promotional deal, it's probably best to take that Billabong hat off. And that visor, too.

This isn;t a dig at Misha, who collects caps and wears them as a fan, but is more a swipe at the duuuudes who think that they look important wearing their fraternity hats at their fraternity parties. You don't.

I remember that when I was growing up, I always had to take my hat off at school. Yet for some reason, during Hebrew School, in I think it was Grade Five, they didn't say anything about my Jaguars hat, even though my class took place in a Chapel. I thought that this was an awesome display of tolerance and made me almost not hate going. It wasn't until muuuuch later that I realized that my teacher, Onn, thought that I was being pious, and let me wear my hat for that reason only. And here I thought it was because he appreciated my sense of style.

Wow, this is getting long. Time to wrap up.

- The birth control sponge. Okay, I've never actually seen one. But what exactly is being sponged that makes this a safe contraceptive?

I bet that out of all the posts to read, this is the one that my whole family will read. I am quite looking forward to that discussion. Hey Charles, we need to talk about your blog, but that's going to have to wait until the L Word is over.

C.T. sleeps alone...tonight

I forgot how much fun it was to put myself out there. No personas, (which is the Latin term for masks, btw, thanks Carl Gustav!), no facetiousness, no vacancy, just being my damn self and not feeling like I am missing out on anything.

Let's start with the familia...I was lucky enough to receive both a new shaver today, (since Richar's beard broke the last one), as well as my own long-awaited of Chrnocicles by Bob Dylan, which is so far...so good.

Let;s move on to the VS, since she never ever reads my blog, (what?). I had the gall to stand up to her today and let her know that I wasn't her punching bag...and she responded quite well. I think that it's the first time in a long time that I was completely honest with her, as normally I'm encumbered by, that's right, a persona.

It felt good to talk freely and honestly, which is hwat I'm always saying that I'm doing, but let's be honest here, I am speaking to an imaginary audeince. Once a performer...

Oh, and the best part! Sev D took me to another Frat party at the same location as the one in September, and it was awesome! I actually had a great time at the last time, though that's probably because of the after-party at Lobby. That's a post for another day, though.

I chatted most of the night with a wonderfully mature for her age (eighteen! Don't worry, it's a good luck number!) red-headed stepchild about Archie Comics, (who knew that's why it was called the Chocklit Shop?), Weezer, small town life...and, you know, it really doesn't matter what we were talking about, I was being myself, completely real and 100% honest, but at the same time not concerned about well, anything. And even though I am deadass tired, I could have kept talking with her pretty much all night. Although the parallel stretches a little thin, I felt a lot like The Sherminator in the first American Pie.

In short, I just felt like for the first time in a long time, that I am comfortable in my own skin, (perhaps this has been an ongoing process over the past two weeks, only I have been too bloody tired from my nine a.m. classes to notice).

Sev D asked me why it was so important that I saw 'D' two weeks ago and got closure, if I have maintained an active social life. The reason is that I had been blissfully lying to myself over a period of months, (ahhh, blindly optimistic hope, how wrong you were). I wasn't happy because I forced myself to feel a certain way, and that's nowhere near how I truly felt. I accepted an ideal, a faux paradigm in order to feel good about myself, or at least to believe that I was doing the right thing.

There was a guy at the party who I knew from Junior High school. He was one of the 'cool kids' that I hung around, never truly joining their ranks, but neevr standing too far apart from them either...or so I thought.

The truth is that I asked him how he ended up at the aprty, and he said that 'his dealer frined asked him to come'. He mentioned that he thought that I had faded into oblivion, and how he keeps up with some of the Junior High guys.

My whole life I have been trying to fit into this unattainable atndard, and what's more, I staked my entire life upon events I could not change, things I could not get, lives that I could not lead. I guess that it wasn't up until tonight that I realized...I am where I want to be. I am happy in my skin. I have nothing to fear, but fear itself, (right on John-John). It's true, I always take things way too seriously in my mind, but when it comes to real-life, as long as I rmemeber to breathe, I can deal with it, and I don't have to be 'on' all the time, (though sometimes I feel it, and it's all good.

I have to go to bed now in order to get up and do the Crossword tomorrow, but I'll leave you with this paraphrasing from my homie Ben Gibbard:

And I am finally seeing
Why I had no use of leaving

C.T. sleeps alone...tonight

Oh, I almost forget

Why is today special?

Because it's March Fourth. A soldier's least favorite day.

Thanks, Mr. Bloch

Little Hamlet

So I met with J.P. today, (Friday), to get my back my essay. He said that it was his favorite....of all the essays that I had written for him. Seriously, he said just like that as well.

He did seem to appreciate the work that I put into it though, (I really, really worked hard on it), and as he put it: "marks shmarks", (or maybe it was "Marx Shmarx", I really have no idea). We also talked about the castration complex, and hearing a professor, any professor, even J.P. say 'get your hands off of my cock' is one of those strange moments, that lead you to think "Where am I?"

I am so looking forward to this Bob Dylan essay. I know, I know that I have said that before, but this time I mean it. I am so focused on reading these Chronicles and seeing whether I can make sense of them.

Conor, maybe you can read it with me...if you can move your thumb. Yikes!

So I am going to see M.B., (or M.A.) tonight, and confront him about why he no longer leaves comments. And then I'm going to beat him at trivia.

God, despite my supposed divergent interests of last post, I've got a one track mind.

Just don't touch my cock.

Homer's a delightful fella. Sorry 'bout the Salmonella.

Random thoughts that are circulating in my head:

- J.K. Simmons must be the greatest actor alive. Who else would have the range to play a disgusting skinhead prisoner Vern in Oz (and SNL!), Dr. Emil Skoda on Law and Order, J. Jonah Jameson and Peanut M & M? I ask you, who?

- That Tim McGraw and Nelly song Over and Over is so horribly derivative, that it actually works as both a country and an R & B song.

- In a long-awaited moment, (at least since 411), J.P. wrote the Lacanian triangle on the board this morning. I still have no idea what it means.

- Since players now work out throughout the off-season, isn't the designation 'Spring Training' kind of redundant? And why shouldn't the games consist entirely of Major League teams facing off against College teams, Japanese teams, and maybe even prison leagues. San Quentin has two teams. Couldn't San Diego and San Quentin square off. I doubt that it would be a home game for the Padres, though.

- Whatever this new program is where people I haven't talked to months E-mail me and ask me to update my profile for their address books, I hoep involves some feature that causes the user's computer to catch fire. Update your own damn address books, you lazy hacks.

- There's no such team as the 'Spungoes'. Now there's an obscure reference.

- The food at Innis College Cafe is surprisingly excellent, but who knew that Innis people were so gawd dang annoying. It's like they are parodying other annyong people, but doing it so well that they become what they hate.

- Still, the blading guy in my Kundera class is the self-deprecatingist of them all. He always makes a snarky comment, even when giving his short summary of a fantastic book. He implied that I was a bad reader for getting 'involved' in a book. I forgot that I was supposed to maintain my passivity while reading a compelling story. I would much rather passively listen to you mumble something about how secondary sources cannot capture the brilliant complex analysis that only you can in stating 'it was okay'. My bad.

- Why do I feel as though, while employing drastically different approaches to filmmaking, that Napoleon Dynamite and Garden State appeal to exactly the same crowd? How could anyone in the world know that?

- I sometimes feel as if I'm Waiting for Conot. Maybe he was joking when he said that he was coming to visit.

- Groupie Love is not dead, in fact, it seems to be stronger than ever.

- I wish both 50 Cent and The Game the best in their upcoming feud. Although if one of them were to get shot again, wouldn't that be a positive towards selling more records? And will the next rapper to emerge have to be in some sort of gunshot induced coma or feature a prosthetic face a la Mel Gibson in order to hit it big?

- By Mel Gibson of course, I mean the character he played in Man Without a Face...or do I?

- Minus Eight degrees in March? Did we lose a war?

- Oh, and do you get the feeling that Canada opted out of the Missile Defence plan because the U.S. would insist on calling it the Missile Defense plan, and that would make Canadians feel all sad on the inside. Does this make cense to anyone?

- Do them folks in America feel smug for being able to shop at Target? I sure would.

- It's fun to peek into my mind. What's the matter? Never mind.

-

Ch-Ch-Changes (Turn and face the book)

I feel as though facebook has definitely played a role in my social etiquette.

For those of you not familiar with this cripplingly addictive program, you have the option of adding peeps to your 'friends' list. At present, I have 69, (delicious) people on my friends list. I used to have four more, but they dropped me for unknown reasons, (okay, not entirely unknown reasons).

Of these 69 people, I feel that maybe, ((maybe) fifteen of them I have a regular correspondence with. There are perhaps ten more that I rarely see, but still very much enjoy, and the rest are casual acquaintances, (at best). Regarding those casual acquaintances, I feel as though a head nod or an 'I acknowledge you' smile used to be my preferred greeting, and if I have known them for more than a year, maybe I would say hello, followed by their name, if I remembered it.

Now, I feel a sense of obligation to those on my friends list, and engage in some sort of banter with them, as if to say, 'there is a reason that I added you to my list'. In the time BFB, (before facebook), I would have just kept walking.

This is a strange and unforeseen development.

I ask you though, is there an obligation to be friendly, and if so, does this neagte the feeling involved in a friendly greeting?

Though I know that I am not always the most civil person, (moi?), I sometimes fear going to the other extreme, saying hello, and smiling at people I could not care any less about or even actively dislike, and eventually becoming so disingenious that I can no longer distinguish between friends, lovers and acquaintances, to the point that everyone gets the same greeting, whether they are someone I've talked to twice, or my oldest friend. Then I'll start forgetting names, and start going to social events that I have no interest in attending, because of 'obligations'.

On the other hand, I could ignore everyone I see and converse this energy towards building a tiny civilization out of Lego, Playmobil or (gasp!) K'Nex.

Probably best to keep worrying about being a J-Ha.

A petite favor granted

Listen up mon amies

D.M. wrote a kick-ass piece.

Read it at

http://popmatters.com/music/concerts/h/high-on-fire-050215-1.shtml

It's like something I would write, only with 'structure' and 'readability'.

Oh, now it's on.

Like March, I too go in like a lion and out like a lamb

In Jung class yesterday, (which I am starting to enjoy more and more, note the frequency of my posts), we were asked to contrsuct our utopias. This related to the subject at hand, however, I can't remember how.

There is this one woman in the class, (apparently she is tall. I did not notice this) who says whatever is on her blasted mind, (mostly consisiting of blasting SUV drivers, George Bush, and meat). She has this habit I find really funny, which is that whenever she talks about Islam, she looks directly at the Turkish guy in the class, (whose connection to Islam is about as tenous as mine is to Judiasm), and acts as if by virtue of his background that he will agree with what she has to say.

It's not like she did this once or twice, either. Oh, and her utopia had boring things like equal pay. Whatever. Here's my much cooler list.

Keys to building a Utopia:

Me
Philosophy
Literature
Psychology
Film
Music
Fine cuisine
Theatre
Free Expression
Jeopardy!
Beauty
Mythology paganism rules!
Crossword Puzzles
Logic Puzzles
Rubik's cube(s)
Innoculation from birth
warm weather
water - clean
sustainable resources
talking animals
physicians who work for free
trees
wine - good wine, (I later added self-growing wine, whatever that means)
street festivals
chocolate - streets paved with chocolate
comedy
humility (variable)
humidity (variable)
Club Silencio
sky castles
candy grams that arrive every day
carnality - free expression of
free and open dialogue - at all times


My professor said that this list made my utopia sound like Neverland, especially since I later added 'hammocks' to the list and proposed that on this Utopia, people would sleep for sixteen hours a day. Neverland my ass, I guess she forgot the part about 'Innoculation from birth' and 'physcians who work for free'. Nonetheless, I did make it clear that I support free expression on my utopia, (and free expression of carnality and free and open dialogue, God I really wanted to drive that point home), so I guess that she is free to criticize my utopia as being an impossibility.

Still, the streets are paved with chocolate. That is much more appetizing than gravel. Besides, when questioned about her utopia, she took the easy way out and said that she didn't know. So Neverland or not, Club Silencio and sky castles equals fine living.

Oh, and because of today's Antartica-like Gust, I must now add to my list: No Snow.
Either kind.

Shabba Ranks, though, is okay.

Jung at Heart

I don't know why C.G. Jung and religion lectures always seem to end in mass quantities of alcohol, but I ain't complaining.

For those of you keeping score, that makes four nights in a row, (including tonight), that I've gotten plastered. at this rate, I'll be good and ready for Conor's visit, whenever that may be.

Forget trivia, I may have a new addiction. Actually, trivia is my true love, because narrowly edging those guys who were playing as 'Mary' for some reason with Wilt Chamberlain on the final question is a Wonder Years moment in the making.

As you like it.