Strippers, Booze, Weightlifting... academia: From NY

clubfootedmijet · Apr 27, 2003

A strange evening. Drugs are taking full effect right now. Listening to Carla Bruni.

I feel lonely again. I haven't felt this way in a while. Not this particular kind of loneliness. The longing, yearning... that kind of primal want that makes you feel as though your emotions will implode and leave you to feel cavernous 'inside'.

I began the evening at Al's. I caught the eye of this red head, a total 'betty' if you will, and I failed to make good on an opportunity. I am distressed by this. I feel inhibited. I feel a fear of rejection.

When I lived in Austin, my friends girlfriend invited me to a party, the architect senior class was throwing a party for graduation. I willingly attended as alcohol was a reason for going out. They lived off of 12th ave right near the university and Guadalupe.

There were many people in attendence. Notabley the women were in larger numbers than I had anticipated they would grow to. I was into my second beer of the night when I noticed this cute dark haired girl with a small waist and muscular legs.. she was very cute and was single. I gave her a few looks, stared a little to make sure we made eye contact. I felt as though I was wearing a calm cool face with a slight smile. Eventually someone accosted me, he was telling me about the women, asking me which ones I had my eye on. I told him about that girl, he tells me he knows her and offers to see what kind of feedback he can get for me from her about me, you know, to gauge my opportunity. He walks up to her, talks in her ear, they both look at me momentarily and he turns around and laughs, he smiles and walks over to me.

I ask him how it went, he tells me that she noticed me looking at her and thought I was "creepy". You have no idea how deeply offended I was by that. I was working so hard to not appear threatening, creepy, if you will... and here I am defeated in my efforts by that single comment.

edit

clubfootedmijet · Apr 27, 2003

The weather was nice today. Maybe 67 degrees, sunny. The sky was clear and it wasn't humid. I went to the mall to get a chocolate malt milkshake and read.

The milkshake was good. I grabbed a cup of coffee from the punk rock girl who works at the cafe and retrieved some magazines for reading. I was reading an entertainment mag from New York. It listed all the events taking place in the city for the week. It made me envious of those who lived there. I miss being able to go to a decent 24 hour coffee shop, seeing the local hipsters, having conversations with the resident academic's. I miss sitting with a sketch pad and computer and watching people interact as I write or draw.

I am going to move to the city soon. I have several places to 'crash' if I decide to go down any time soon.

I recently have considered lying about my age. I don't like telling people I am 26. 26 seems removed if not foreign. When I think of people who are 26 I think of people who are old enough to know better. I am conscientious of knowing better, but I rarely make it a habit, or a way of life.

I indulge in my sub-culture, a hybrid. A conflict.

Reflecting on what was edited:

I was considering what I wrote earlier. The debate over anger. I am conflicted. I can understand the interpretation. I can reason why people might believe that I am angry. I am almost always the voice of dissent at all times. But I don't pose. I am confrontational with those I believe to be confrontational. When I percieve a threat, I don't resort to passive aggression. In conversation, if I am in an argument, debate, with an individual who is behaving as if his convictions are the barometer of his intellect I tend to snipe his argument or overwhelm him/her with an abundance of rationale that deconstructs his/her observation to the premise and root out it's flaw and hold it before their very eyes.

People respond to this as though I am reacting violently. They make accusations that I am narrow-minded. That I am hateful, that I am bitter. The dichotomy exists in that though in conversation I am contemplating their assertions and responding with counterpoints, I would never hold thier observations and opinions against them as a reason to discontinue a dialogue with them. It wouldn't prevent me from wanting to go get a beer with them.

I just wont be given to trends. I flirt amongst various social circles. I don't quite fit into a group of any kind, the perrennial outsider. Rarely am I looking in though. I tend to think more about myself than the groups I socialize in. I have a very low opinion of peoples opinion of myself.

I admit that I am curious to hear what people think of me. I won't go out of my way to get it though. I have said this before, but I am often surprised just how much people make considerations for others when having a conversation or going out in public. I probably indulge myself excessively in conversation. However I won't ever say things like "I am just being honest". I believe people who say that use this dubious notion of honesty as a justification for being cruel. I would never say something like "I tell it how it is, or how I see it". Why would I need to make that confirmation. I would hate to be thought of as redundant.

Conan O'brien had a very clever skit the other night when the White Stripes appeared on his show. The Hipster infestation skit was classic! I hope that donkey bag guitarist in Trail of the Dead got an opportunity to see that.

As for the chapter I recently closed regarding my Middle School Math Teacher:

A recap: I had a cruel math teacher who made a point of sticking me at the business end of his jokes. Eventually this man had to call my house to apologize for the way he treated me. In a small way I held him responsible for my poor academic career. He stole the trust I might have placed in teachers. That story is a convoluted one, I have tried writing it several times but I am undecided as how to best portray it. I admit to having a responsibility to myself and therefore cannot justify my academic perfomance. I rely on test scores as redemption. So I will withold my analysis of the time I spent in Garns class and it's long term effects. However, let it be known that I feel that Garn is a villain in the text that is my life.

I walked into a Bar called Clarks Ale House in the Armory. I was drinking some cheap wine and eating pickled eggs. I noticed a large man sitting at one of the food bars. I associated him with football. Not more than ten minutes later I realized that this was my sixth grade math Teacher Mr. Garn. Garn played for the NY Jets in the 60's and that is why I associated him with Football.

He was accompanied by two other older men. All of them appeared to be in thier 70's.

I was in awe for a moment. I had an opportunity that I could only dream about. I didn't want to cause a scene as I didn't want to embarass him in front of his friends. My feelings for Garn were to be exclusive. However, I also recognized how rare this opportunity would be. I didn't have to think too hard to make the decision to approach him as he left.

He was getting ready to leave, paying the bartender for the drinks. I asked him if his last name was Garn. He pulled the toothpick out of his mouth, keep in mind that Garn is about 6'9 and I am 5'8, and said that he was. I asked him if he taught at _____. He said that he did.

I then told him I was a student of his. He smiled and asked me how I was doing. I asked him if he remembered me. I gave him my name and he said he couldn't place me. I think I last saw him in 1989. So I guess for a 70 year old man that this would be likely. I then went into a long detailed explanation of our relationship. I reminded him of all his jokes. How he managed to single me out in class and make me the butt of these jokes. How he was so cruel that I had to leave class to be bymyself to fight off the tears. I reminded him of the joke he made about handing in my homework. And I even told him about how he called my house to apologize for his cruelty. I was shocked when he denied all of it. I could see he was getting angry. He told me it was a good thing I was drinking wine. (I believe he was trying to tell me I was a queer) this is something that I would expect from him. The sly comment that was attempting to undermine my retribution was a very Garn type of move. I took off my jacket. I did this to emphasize my 'masculinity' I suppose. I wanted him to see that I was much bigger than he could have ever dreamt of. He grasping for something to say, something to put everything I had said in context. I could tell that he thought he was a great teacher and that students really liked him. My revelation, if you will put a shadow on his accomplishments. It is what I wanted. To break the silence I told him that I had worked at Amazon.com, Apple Computers and Dell Computers. I had sold two screenplays. That even in spite of the way he treated me, (he treated me as though I were retarded) I still managed a 1560 on my S.A.T.'s.. He said "Good. I am glad you did all this in spite of me. Good for you." It was condescending, the way he said it. I told him:

"You're probably wondering why I am telling you all this? I vowed that if I ever saw you again I would knock your fucking teeth out. But since you are so old now I will settle for making sure you know that you fucked me over as a child. There is no valor in that old man. You're no fucking hero. No, you're just a bully. Add that to your superlatives."

Garn picked up another toothpick, he looked at me very coldly and put the toothpick in his mouth. He paused to get one more look in and walked away.

It all ended. On my terms.

clubfootedmijet · Apr 28, 2003

Writing high.. very high so bare with me

As I write this, I am so high that I barely feel real.

Everytime I blink I feel like my eyes are puddles splashing. Very weird.

Vanhalen

I can't focus so well. There was something I was going to write. I am listening to Eric B and Rhakim: Paid in full. Thinking of a master plan....

A friend of mine is a music producer. He has a long list of recordings and engineering.... fuck.. I can't really write right now. My ears feel like they are burning.

If I drive then maybe' I'll stay alive.

Then the music producer and I got talking. He is looking for business and I am looking for money. So I think we may be arranging something so that I can go look for bands that are interested in recording. The guy worked with many labels in Portland and is interested in getting talent from the City. We would make arrangements that would allow me to reap a percentage of the profit I pull. A basic sales job so to speak. But I intend to learn the tools.

Bah.. I am losing conversation again... This elliot smith has got me whacky. I .. that sentence didn't even make sense.

Really? I want a woman like Nikka Costa. I don't know if yall have ever seen her like a feather video, or live in concert.. but I have seen both. She is like the perfect fun girl. Like I wish I could look as cool as she does when I have fun. She seems very, positive. I saw her show like a month after Sept. 11 in Austin.. and her drummer with her on the tour was an arab muslim. It was disconcerting to see a person who looked like the enemy, the taliban with thier beards and head wraps...(i can't remember what they are called cause I am high) turban.. ??

But he looked like Osama Bin Laden. And he was drumming as her drummer. It was all very surreal. And jesus the women. Two beautiful women. One was blonde and the other brunnette. Since the dark haired women who aren't mexican are so rare in Austin I took to the brunette very quickly. They danced and were so sexy...

Now I am thinking of Dave. A friend of mine who worked at Spiderhouse and gave me free coffee and our drunken good times going from one slackster bar to another. If only I had smoked pot while I worked at Apple. I would still be there today maybe.

circuitious

The lead singer of The Donna's, she does it for me.

clubfootedmijet · Apr 29, 2003

I think I have purged myself of debauchery in the last 10 days. I have done a lot of gross things. Nothing to be proud of.

No more drinking, no more drugs, no more ice cream.

13lbs is the total. I gained a total of 13lbs in 10 days. Yes, I am ashamed. If it were only this easy to lose that weight.

I think these are the effects of the Leah weekend. I didn't really feel that bad about the time we spent. When I was younger I would have sulked for a week. But the total loss of control... much of it has not been documented here.. it must stem from something.

My Ex-girlfriend wants me to attend her grad party. We will see.

Has anyone ever told you you are ugly?

It never feels good.

My abs are sore from working out yesterday. I feel slovenly.

Depression is easy to come by. Joy is not.

Sometimes I don't want to lift weights anymore. Sometimes I want to quit. I wish I could. I wish I could get to a point that makes me happy and stop lifting for the rest of my life while maintaining my achievements.

Oh well. I have to finish the rest of the dish's. Clean the house. Go lift weights. Read. Write. Come home and argue on the internet. Download movies and music videos. Play with my dog. Play some chess. Go to sleep. Wake up. Check the internet. Eat a potato. Buy groceries.

I fucking hate this.

clubfootedmijet · Apr 30, 2003

It is late. I am tired.

I just withdrew a cool G from the bank today. I was down to the last 3 dollars of my self-imposed allowance. Sadly it was three dollars in nickels, dimes and quarters. I used it to buy ice cream.

May 1st I head to the GNC and buy all my supplements. Why?

I believe that only minority of supplements are conducive to resistance training. Glutamine, Casien and Whey based protien, Creatine, BCAA's and a multivit are really all you need. I don't even use Creatine.

I believe the supps work, I feel better when I use them than when I don't. They also save me time in preparing food. Boring stuff...

Honestly I should just use steroids. I have never used steroids in the past but I am curious to see how they affect me. 1 cycle never killed anyone. I am afraid that I might become psychologically addicted to them though, that is the what makes them so dangerous. Used in small quantities, steroids do very little in terms of creating adverse health issues. If they are abused, which is prevalent amongst pro-football players, baseball players, powerlifters, strongmen and bodybuilders you will see an increased likelyhood of health issues. I have done the research for well over 5 years now. What we have all learned in health class as children is not all that accurate, I doubt this would be of much surprise to anyone. Sure, steroids shrink your testes, but that last the duration of the cycle. It may increase acne and fatty tissue around your nipples... but this does not happen to everyone. The orals can damage your liver, but you have to take an excessive amount over an extended period of time to do the damage.

As it stands I can't stand the thought of weighing less than 200lbs. When I was 18 I hoped for a six pack, and when it came at a weight of 190lbs... I was content. Now, if I weighed 190lbs I would feel inadequate. Why? Because I curl 190lbs for 5 reps. 190lbs is a weight that doesn't challenge anyone who has trained for any length of time. I don't know. I don't really want to think too hard about it.

...such a boring topic... I suppose I will be curious about these thoughts at a later date.....

I want to take a picture of my hands and post them here. I want to share the pain. These callouses are incredible. I would say that the callouses make me feel more masculine than my muscles or beard.

I like it when women play with my hands. When I am laying in bed with them and they pick up my arm and feel the muscles, and make their way to my palms, turn my hand over to see my palms and trace their soft finger tips over my callouses, squeezing my fingers.. spreading the fingers apart to put theirs between mine...lifting my hand up... and bring it close to their face for examination... this is something I miss more than sex, more than actually having a girlfriend. It is this form of intimacey that I desperately long for.

I have come to terms with my appearance, in a way. I accept the fact that I am not as attractive as other people. My nose is broken and curved, my front tooth is chipped, my mouth is small when I talk, my face is rounded by fat...which makes my eyes appear smaller than they are.. my neck is big.. my head is big.. yet there are times when I look in the mirror and think that I am good looking. I can't think of ANYONE that looks like me. Other people I see remind me of so many others I have seen in my life. But not me, my look is unique. I am very much a cross between my father and my mothers looks. Anything positive about my facial appearance I inherited from my Mother, the ugly parts I inherited from my father. As a child I had several mirrors in my room. I used them to help me draw. As I grew older I used them to look at myself. When I became overly concerned about my appearance I couldn't escape them. Now I modify the use of them. I don't even own a mirror anymore. I get to see enough of myself in the gym.

I am unhappy with my appearance. I have reason to be so. To give a few examples:

I have oft mentioned that I worked with two other men who are literally some of the most attractive men on this earth. One is blonde, with light blue eyes, a hero's chin and body... he carries very little body fat, has a tan.. and has bright blonde hair.. he looks like he is a Cali Boy.. but he is really from Chicago, he is polish like me.

The other is a bit darker, with huge eyelashes, a squared jaw, rounded face... hairless...except for the scruff he keeps on his face... and more muscles than the blonde guy... he is more the bodybuilder type. I am going to have to get a couple photo's of these people... (you might be curious about my fascination with other men, as though it were some sort of homo-erotic indulgence.. I assure you I am not gay.. I am merely impressed for forthcoming reasons)

So.. I worked with these two guys on Friday and Saturday nights at a Bar. Women would come in and after we would I.D. them (I stood the furthest away from the doormen) they would walk away and yammer about the appearance of the Greg and Jamie. Always to the effect that the guys were "so hot".

As the night would progress the women would begin to flock towards Greg and Jamie. They would ignore me. Jamie and Greg are about as friendly towards women as a mysogonist. Both are incredibley crude.. equally as rude and competatively dismissive towards women. They don't bother to veil their insults towards the women.. the are completely overt.

Gregg for example has this beautiful mullatto girl riding his jock, and he tells her that she belongs in his tobacco field picking tobacco. All she does is smile and say "You asshole." She always comes back to him. They don't date.

Jamie has so many women coming in and asking for him... that it is pointless to keep track of them. I made an attempt to hit on this woman at the bar, while I wasn't working... just making friendly conversation.. nothing threatening... but I was trying to give a signal as best I could... I gave up rather quickly... later that evening she hits on Jamie.. and they leave the bar together.

Jamie isn't as smart as me. Jamie acts like a child. He is often prone to sticking his foot in his mouth... and he is in NO way smooth with women... he's just obnoxious.. I have seen him "at work".. and really.. I am 100 times better at talking to women than he is... but goddamn if he doesn't bring it home night after night.. it can only be his looks... when the crux of a conversation with a woman is based in small talk... I mean how is that fullfilling.

Does this make me bitter? Yes, I conceed that I am very bitter about this. I mean my anger over this topic knows no bounds. If anything I suppose this makes me more miserable than anything else in my life. I am not bitter that I am not as good looking... I have accepted my appearance.. as I stated earlier... I am just angry because I have to work sooo much harder to pick up women at bars or in public... I am mad because I cannot compete at a night club with people like Jamie or Greg ruling the roost.. fuck.. even my best friend .. he is the same way.

I am bitter because I never have women approach me. Jamie and Greg do nothing... they just sit their and look pretty and the women.. it is just unbelievable.. I used to think there was something WRONG with me. I then realized it was the company I kept. I was associating with people who were better looking than me.

I don't know.. I hate to sound as if I feel sorry for myself.. as that is not the case... I hate to sound as if I have nothing else to worry about in my life... that I could be so shallow... but christ, I wasn't born with genitals so that I could contemplate morality and current events..

A major portion of my life is devoted to the pursuit of women... and it infuriates me that I cannot rely on my appearance to lure women.. It may sound terrible that I say this... but it is not as though it is not true... what is more absurd, me saying and being angry that this type of discrimination exists... or that it does exist... I don't think I am being redundant.

And christ.. I can't make up my mind who I feel more pity for.. ugly women or ugly men...

I always feel that ugly women can offer sex so that will insure some form of companionship... but a truly inept man... one who is so remarkably unattractive.. jesus.. I don't even want to think about it.

I am going to rewrite this sometime soon... put it into context...I'll be sure to bring photographs.

clubfootedmijet · May 1, 2003

I feel awful. I mean.. fucking horrible. I was drinking tonight. 1 dollar pitchers did me in and I did it on an empty stomach. In comparison to pot, I really hate being drunk. It feels violent. I won't be doing this again any time soon at all.

I need to stay awake long enough to ensure that I don't have a hangover tomorrow.

I ran into the insane girl tonight. The pretty one who didn't have a job. Jesus, really she is so beautiful. I wish so dearly that we were compatible.

I had a few drinks and decided to talk with her. I feel some guilt about ending things the way I did so I provocated her abuse. I set up opportunities for her to berate me and she did just that. I hope it made her feel better. I don't like hurting anyones feelings. Maybe she thought I was an idiot and it gave her some closure.

I really want to get a picture of her. I doubt I will ever be with another woman who is as beautiful as she is. I have photo's of most of the women I have been with. It helps me. It helps me to think. It helps me to reminisce.. fuck.. I am so drunk I cannot spell.

Listening to Cat Power, Metal Heart.

going to walk the dog..

back...

The leaves on the trees are finally beginning to sprout. There is a distinct smell of spring in the air. It cannot be compared to anywhere else. It exists only in the NorthEast. Austin never smelled as good as NY does in spring. These are the things that make Syracuse worth missing.

Tomorrow.. I but all my supps. I am pretty excited. I also start training with a good friend which is even better.

I talked with the normal girl tonight. She posted a personal ad online somewhere and has a date with a fellow on Friday for lunch. I find it odd that she has to resort to the internet to find a date.. she is so pretty and sweet. Of course it would take someone as unappealing as I am to find her attractive, I am sure this does wonders for her self esteem... "no one else likes me but the asshole does.."

Really she is a great person.. I am so dissappointed in myself for not having been able to .. be with her. She said she likes big guys like me.. her issue is with confidence. I suppose I seemed to lack confidence when I was with her... I am so bummed.. thoroughly disgusted with myself. I am confident! I just wasn't with her.. and it is such a shame. I wasn't confident because I did not want her to take interest in me.. I felt I didn't deserve her. This is what it boiled down to. She describes to me her confusion... and it makes sense to me. I could offer her everything she wants... everything she wants is everything I want to give...

I am too drunk to .. I ... sleep

clubfootedmijet · May 8, 2003

My left foot is sore. The muscles and tendons feel tight. Right now I wish I had access to a foot massage.

I have begun my new diet. Chicken and potato's. No, carbohydrates after being awake for 8 hours. It is difficult to tell if it is working as I am on a supplement that causes bloating.

I think I have decided to finally make the leap to steroid usage. Due to some setbacks I encountered in the last 6 weeks, I fell off course for my target date of mid june to achieve a respectable 9-10 bodyfat percentage. I need something to accelerate the fat loss without canabolizing my lean body mass.

That is where trembolone comes in. I can only use it for 4-6 weeks and it won't make me physically larger, but it will make me stronger and it will increase my metabolism greatly. I would stack it with clenbuterol ( a third gen beta 2 agonist) and I would see some pretty phenominal results.

I was considering the use of some heavy duty drugs but I have since decided against it. The drugs I am electing to use do not cause the bloating that other drugs do and for the most part are considered 'cutters'. This essentially means I can use these drugs and do a minimal 20 minutes of cardio 3 days a week and I will lose a substantial amount of bodyfat as my muscles begin to look "harder".

I am not using these drugs to look huge. I already look huge without using drugs. These drugs provide me the means to an end quickly.

I have not seen what my body looks like without much fat since I was 18 - 19. I know for certain that my muscles are much larger now than they were in the past so I am somewhat anxious to see what I look like leaned out. If I think I have the genetic capacity to look good carrying more muscle mass.. I might consider doing a bodybuilding show. Doing a show in conjunction with earning a personal trainer certification has the potential to be very lucrative.

When I lived in Austin there was a gym called "Hyde Park Gym". Dave Goodin (the texas shredder, a bodybuilding celebrity) a natural bodybuilder who has won so many competitions he has events named after him, earns 750 dollars per three training sessions. I made a lot of friends in that gym especially with the staff. One particular individual told me he could earn 90k a year as a personal trainer if he wanted to make it a full time job. I asked him if I got the certification, if I would be allowed to train people at the gym and he said "of course". All the trainers there are natural, the whole gym prides itself on being "natural". I would move back down to Austin to start a personal training service in a heartbeat. Texans are very concerned about their appearance.

This is all very boring but I cannot write when I am on the clock working for a corporation.

As for writing: I have been at it again. Thus the hiatus from the journal. I have put together an outline for a 45 minute short, perhaps feature length film. I have come to realize that nothing in this city needs to be exxagerated. Everything that I see here is so over the top that I don't have to make an effort to make anything appear funny.

The story centers around three characters. A hardcore kid, disgruntled with the demise of the Syracuse hardcore scene. A musician who idolizes Ben Harper and Ani Difranco who's musical development is stunted by remaining in this city. And a guy who recently returned to Syracuse after spending three years away living in Austin Texas. Though it may be semi-autobiographical it is much easier to write what you know. It would also be an homage to Richard Linklater. The film, I feel, will be very slacker-esque. And don't get me wrong, I am not a 'fan' of the film slacker, but it does one thing that I think other films fail to do when set in a particular location (with the exception of Manhattan) it captures the essence of Austin. Everything in that film I am certain stems from a very real series of events that Linklater witnessed or participated in.

In that respect, I would hope to capture the essence of this city. It may not appeal to a broad audience, but I assure you, the characters are supremely likeable and insular. I hope the film doesn't come off too wordy. But much of what will be shot will be improvised.

There will be:

Breakdancing
Hip Hop
Hippies
Beer
Parties
College Students
Local Celebrities
Local Music
Guys in Monkey Suits
Ugly Women
Ugly Men
Hills
A chase scene
Choreographed dancing
the Elderly
a church or two
drug use
drug sales
depressed people
a kiss or two
the second most polluted lake in the world
freakish CNY accents
Foreigners
Mooks

I am debating what the plot of the film should be. I am thinking of making it something like "we got to get to this party". Something easy to make an adventure out of.

Or there might be no plot at all. This would require some profound improv and you never know what you are going to get with younger actors.

I have found the more that you can control, the easier it is to shoot a feature or short. I want to isolate the characters so that I can control the acting. I want to limit the variables. I don't want a large crew. I just need three DV cams, a decent sound recorder and lighting set.

Who knows, I might even act in the film. I know nothing when it comes to acting so this could be a real project. I just know it is something that needs to be done.

That is what I have been up to.

The Big Chippendale.

clubfootedmijet · May 10, 2003

spending time with the upper middle-class

I realize that perhaps, I am a bit angry. Not at any thing in particular, but that I cannot help but to criticize that which I feel is unjust.

That being said, it would make sense that I choose to isolate myself from others as I would probably be frustrated by being occupied with conversation in the presence of those that I resent. I choose to be alone so that I can remain calm.

Tonight my friend asked me to come out and visit with him and his new girl. She is 20. He is 27. She is very attractive. Italian, Blonde, big blue eyes, tan... kind of big nostril's and oily skin. But she is my kind of woman, very thick, very curvy. She is also incredibley friendly. I haven't met a person as friendly as she is in a long time. However, she is also incredibley aloof. She does not need to occupy her thoughts with contemplation of current events. No. She drives a 03 corvette. A Jeep Cherokee and a Jaguar. All bought for her by her father.

Her friends, who I had the pleasure of meeting this evening, all the same age.. lived in the same lap of luxury that she did.

Money in syracuse is not earned by being smarter than the next person. Money in Syracuse is earned by how hard you are willing to work. This is a blue collar town. The parents of the people I spent time with today work in Factories or own their own construction business. They are not lawyers, judges or politicians.. they are not medical doctors. They are average joes who's efforts have paid off. Thier children recieve the benefits.

I cannot deny that I resent this group of people. I really do. I was disgusted to learn that a kids father spent 30k on a car that is worth no more than 15k. It was a mitsubishi 3000gt VR-4. These cars can be purchased for 10-15k. If you are going to spend more than that on this car, you would do it because it was a show car. In the world of import racing, this is perhaps one of the least sought after cars. Why? Because the AWD makes it HEAVY. Too heavy to get good time slips. Too heavy to take to the track. Too heavy to be competative in a 70-200mph street punch.

The car is like a tank. Furthermore the cost to modify the car is outstanding. You spend far too much money to squeeze so little juice from the engine.

I would never buy the car. For 30k you can get a decent BPU supra.

What offended me was that the kid lacked knowledge about the car that his father spent 30k on. What irked me more was that the kid took the word from the person who he bought the car from without having it taken to someone else for that ultra important second opinion. You need to verify it has the mods it is supposed to have and if you don't know what a stock intercooler looks like in comparison to a racing dynamics intercooler... how do you know what you are getting?

What is even more upsetting is that the kid paid 30k for car that is worth half that amount. Bah.. we are so rich that we are willing to pay twice what this car is worth because we can afford to be lazy.

It didn't end there. The kid sitting next to him, the brother of the girl my friend is with is telling me he is buying a calloway vette. It is essentially a street legal race car, comparable to a mclaren. The car goes for about 250-500k depending on what you want done to it. The kid is 19. He wasn't blowing smoke up my skirt. He was really considering buying the car.

Then all the kids share stories about the cars their parents bought them. Then they share stories about their near death experiences in these cars. They tell me about all the coke they bought with their parents money. I mean.. there was no end to the excess, to the freedom with which they wasted their lives. Yes, I was upset. I was upset because they have no appreciation for what it is they are saying. They have no concept of value.

Perhaps I am just a poor person who cannot dream of owning a car that costs more than 3000 dollars or of living in a 1 million dollar home. Maybe I overestimate the value of things since there are so few things in my life that have a material value.

I don't know.

Yet again another meaningless rant. I am just kind of flabbergasted to see children hold to such low regard the value of the items that other people work their entire lives to afford. This is the only thing I despise about capitalism. That you are allowed to share the wealth with your children and in the process corrupt and distort their sense of reality. The beauty of capitalism is the struggle. But if their is no struggle and you are born into wealth.. you are nothing but a leech. I fucking hate Herman Hess.

clubfootedmijet · May 12, 2003

I have finally reread this journal in it's entirety. From Texas to NY.

There are quite a few typo's. I am frustrated by my choice in words. It is obvious so often that I meant to use another word, but a failure to locate that word in my lexicon lead to inefficient word usage. If this journal were private, perhaps I wouldn't care. It was never my intention to impress anyone. However I have begun to feel a bit shy.

I went out again with the priviliged children of cny. I suppose the only benefit of associating with these kids is that I don't have to pay for anything.

We spent the night drinking and bar hopping. Eventually we ended up at a strip bar.

I really have no interest in spending a minute of my time in one of the local strip bars. ... jesus christ. I can't fucking think.

I am ... I am so beyond frustration. I feel confined to a .... FUCK... I cannot even think of the ...

clubfootedmijet · May 12, 2003

I am completely void of energy. I am frustrated because nothing seems to pan out here. I must have submitted my resume' to 20 different company's and I can't get a single bite. I have rewritten my resume' at least 5 times thinking perhaps it was the resume' that lacked spice. But no.

I have two jobs pending. I will take them both if they are offerred.

I just don't want to be a bouncer again. That seems to be my only option for work as of late.

Who knows.

As for building the gambling website... that has also lost it's momentum. So there is no money there either.

Interestingly enough I haven't felt this creative in a while. I have been drawing again and writing fairly often. I have completed a treatment for the film I want to shoot here and have located a crew with equipment to assist me in shooting it. Now I have to bring the resources together and begin casting. I doubt that will be too difficult. But.. who knows. Things rarely go as expected. It is hard to rely on this truth even though it is the most reliable truth.

clubfootedmijet · May 14, 2003

The better part of my day was spent in the gym.

I have become compulsive. I am hellbent on fat loss. I continue to consume 100mg of ephedra a day as well as 1.5 grams of caffiene. I tend to sleep well however I suffer from constant cramping. I have increased my B-6, Zinc and Mag Aspertate consumption and drink a bit more water.

I wrote a bit last night. For as much as I enjoy writing screenplays I initially wanted to be a novelist. It seems as though the great American endevour... to be a novelist... is now thought to be irrelavent. It seems everyone wants to be a director. I tend to believe we need to update this belief; novelists now aspire to be a screenwriter.

I think novelists watch too much television.

I watch very little television. I do however spend a great deal of time in bookstores and on the internet.

I haven't the patience for fiction.

I barely have the patience to write fiction let alone read it.

I get caught up with the inspiration to create and the desire to live. This is a source of conflict. I spend so much time being introspective and reflecting so that I can create that it often competes with my impulse to participate. I find that the only way I can gratify these desires is to go out in public and be introspective. I feel that by being in public I won't miss my opportunity to participate in a meaningful adventure if such an opportunity were to arise.

It is the same impulse the compells me to stay awake all night.

My Abs are sore. My back is sore. My chest is sore. I pulled a muscle in my left rear delt.

After I finished working out this evening I went to a bar to see if someone I was looking for would show up. After a workout my muscles tend to bloat to cartoonish proportions. While I would walk through the bar I couldn't help but to feel a bit shy as I felt all eyes were on me. I enjoyed the attention however I realized that I was recieving this attention because I looked freakish. Not freakishly attractive, but freakish in general. My arms swole to a tad over 21 inches around. I know people were impressed, I just want to know if they were positively impressed.

Just something to note: I cannot be completely forthcoming in this journal. I have the tendency to write from the ego... for entertainment value. I would share my essay's, those that have been published and those that have not... but to share them would be to set the stage for criticism. Whereas I cannot be wrong in sharing idiocentricities... a thoughtful construct of method or pathology with which to interpret the world around us could be subject to objective analysis.

Though I include the word "Academia" in the title... this component of my existence is not shared in any forward manner. There is only the allusion to what may or may not be my participation in academia.

I think that in conjunction with the fear of criticism is the acknowledgement that it would require a greater effort to share a philosophy or criticism... in that it would literally require me to write with greater clarity. I resent having to make an effort.

Considering that this journal requires so little of me I would rather share my impulsivities than the breadth of my thinking.

However... when a woman enters my life... I will make a greater effort to share my visceral response. I do this for my sake. So that I may remember with greater clarity how she made me feel.

clubfootedmijet · May 14, 2003

I stepped on the scale today. I weigh in at 247 some 8 hours after waking with a full stomach.

I just took my second 25mg of Ephedra and 400mg of caffiene. I am now using ECA stack as I would weed. I definitely get high using such an excessive amount of this stack. In 10 days I will be on clenbuterol. I am looking forward to this.

As for the steroids, they are going to be put on hold for the time being. Though I have access to a large knowledge base everything I have read is case by case. I cannot rely on any of the information. I suppose this is for the best for the time being. I tend to worry more about hairloss than any other symptom. I feel that I have grown back as much hair as is possible without the aid of Propecia or Rogaine. I am probably going to get a prescription for the Propecia before I use any anobolic substance so as to protect myself.

Some people like Bald men. I don't.

Now I am starting to get light headed. This is the feeling I like. The blurred vision and the floating feeling.

Lately I am having greater difficulty concentrating on my writing. I feel as though I cannot even construct a sentence. I rewrite simple things like:

"I was watching the Travel Channel this morning and it featured a hotel we stayed at."

When I read that sentence, something seems to be amiss. The part where it reads "and it featured a hotel we stayed at" bothers me. I have been having this difficulty for a week or so.

It reminds me of "Flowers for Algernon". I am becoming progressively less intelligent, my thoughts less cohesive. My decoding skills are eroding.

That was my strength as a child. "Decoding Skills". I was submitted to several standarized tests as a child; I think moreso than the average child due to various psychological issues. I was symptomatic of many potential mood ailment. Nothing physiological initially. The I.Q. tests interested me more than the personality profiles. Eventually 'They' were trying to diagnose my learning disability after concluding that I was not depressed due to chemical imbalances. Mild-dyslexia and something else... I cannot remember it, it was not A.D.D.

Anyway, as a child I was fascinated by the phrase "Decoding Skills". I was reading at a Collegiate level in 2nd grade. They attributed this gift to my inherent "superior decoding skills". To this day I find certain puzzle incredibley easy. I am not good at a crossword puzzle, scrabble, or trivia pursuit, jumble or card games. I am good at chess and strategy games. I learned to play chess when I was 19 and I earned a chess rating as high as 1843 (in my area, this would be the equivalent to a master in other regions of the country) within 18 months of learning to play the game. However, I admit that my interest in the game bordered on obsessive, perhaps because it was something I picked up so easily... to be edited...soon.

clubfootedmijet · May 16, 2003

I don't bother to edit the previous post. Instead I want to analyze it.

Something that annoys me greatly is something that I am so often guilty of.

Advertising.

If I were to write in a normal journal, knowing that no one would ever read what I left behind, I know for certain that I would not write about test scores.

I wouldn't even allude to test scores. I have dropped my LSAT score in this journal, my S.A.T. score elsewhere... My I.Q. scores(WAIS-R, Stanford-Binet)... maybe not in this journal but certainly in conversation.

It seems obvious to me that I am desperate to make an impression. I am bent on validation. As much as I lament about people 'persecuting' me about my size, I don't bother to stop lifting heavy-weights. Perhaps I don't because even when I am "small" I would still wear a large in any shirt size. Perhaps it is a forgone conclusion.

Either way, it disgusts me. I believe that people thrive on conflict. I resent people who are dramatic. I criticize them with great severity and bitterness however, in the insular province of my mind, I am overwrought with emotions.

When I was younger I was a liberal. When I was 12-18 I was a staunch liberal. Maybe not to the extremes that I find so many people to be, however I felt nothing but compassion for others. I felt people were owed. That we as a people were indebted to others who could not fend for themselves.

As I got older, as I began to earn an income, as I became a more critical thinker slowly my compassion eroded away. I was raised lower-middle class by a single mother. My parents were alcoholics. I was an only child. The list of trauma's can go on forever. However, I what I began to realize was that I was surviving. I wasn't a statistic. I didn't need a helping hand though it was offerred when Child Services were contacted when I was in 4th grade. My mother was had to undergo the humiliation of being investigated by the government. The same government she worked for doing her best to save at risk children.

Dysfunction is a vague concept. At best it is relative.

I got by. I survived. I was disadvantaged because I was neglected. However, I still managed to earn an incredible income. I did not earn this income because of my work ethic. I admit to being incredibley lazy. I earned the income because I knew how to survive. I recognized the gravity of my circumstances and managed without aid.

How does this relate to advertisement? Compassion? Drama?

I have managed to quelch my compassion and my knack for the dramatic, however I have not stopped advertising.

As I got older I made use of the knowledge that if you make an effort to better yourself, or your situation, by changing your habits you don't need assistance. Sometimes unforseen difficulties will arise.. such as my friends death's and my house burning down.. I didn't need assistance. When I lost my job I didn't need assistance. No, I needed assistance when I decided to be lazy. When I decided that I wanted to collect unemployment. I was about to live out of my car if it weren't for a few friends in Austin. I accepted handouts because I was too lazy to secure myself a place to live. After I did that, things got progressively worse. Eventually I could barely take care of myself. It was an integral reason for returning to NY.

This is what has eroded my compassion. The contrast.

I have come from nothing to achieve a certain amount of greatness.
I have endured genuine emotional hardship.

This is what keeps me from being dramatic.
This is what prevents me from being compassionate.

Yet, I advertise.

Look at me. I am X smart.
Look at me. My arms are X big.
Look at me. I bench Press X weight.
Look at me.

I try to be subtle and slip in comments that will ellicit questions pertaining to issues that are important to me. I manipulate conversations to illuminate my strengths.

I don't want friends. I want people to know that I am better than they are.

That is all I want. I want to be better than everyone. It is my only desire.

I want to be smarter. I want to be stronger. I want to have the bigger dick. To be the best lay, to be the best kisser. I want people to think that I am the best.

These are the only things I value. And I want people to know or believe that these are true.

I am smart. I am strong. I have a big dick.

But...

I have met two people who I absolutely believe are smarter than I am. I have met several people who are stronger than me. I had a girlfriend who fucked a guy with a bigger dick. I have been the worst kisser.

When I was 19 I could barely function because my desire to be the best paralyzed me. I refused to make an effort because for the first time I had met people who were better than me at several things.

I made excuses. They are older. They have had more experience. They had advantages that I didn't have. They had exposure to ideas I never had. Their gifts were nurtured from a young age, I was neglected.

Coping was difficult. Then the women. The woman always wanted a rock. The woman always wanted a Man. The woman always wanted someone to lead, someone that was a hero.

This is what eroded the drama. This is what sealed my lips from ever emoting a tone that wasn't humorous. Women wanted a man. I was going to be a man.

Muting my emotions was a partial victory. I picked up more women as a result. My indifference towards women made me an object of lust. Women always wanted to get to know me better. I was depressed that this gimmick worked so well. Even if I couldn't be a pretty boy (hipster,emo,punk,hiphop,eurotrash,businessman) whatever category you wanted to fit me in...

I could only be a rock. And being a rock was enough.

But still I advertise.

This journal allows me a freedom. I can be dramatic. I can be emotional, if I felt compassion for something I wouldn't feel inhibited in sharing it. This fails to capture my manifest personality.

This journal captures my indecisiveness.

I am genuinely apathetic about so much of what I write here. Generally if I say that I don't care about something, this will be an absolute truth.

If however my apathy regarding a certain something happens to be related to something that I wax on about... this is where I find my conflict.

The fact that I am absolute and black and white, yet I am so contemplative leads me to believe I have yet to find my identity. I never know who I want to be from one day to the next?

I speak with several voices yet my behavior is absolutely consistent.

The consistency in my behavior is my saving grace. If I couldn't rely on my character, I am certain I would be truly bitter, truly angry, truly shallow, truly trend conscience.. I would be purely reactionary. I would be a protestor. I would be an anarchist. I would be whatever was fashionable.

I am insecure. That is why I advertise.

clubfootedmijet · May 21, 2003

It is late. Early morning. Almost 4 am.

I would like to get to sleep before the sun rises. This rarely happens.

I think I finally got a job working for an ISP. I went through the preliminary screening process today on the telephone with one of their HR representatives. 15 - 20 hours a week is all they are hiring for. This is fine with me.

I am in a pensive mood this evening. My workout was a bust today. I had a weak grip and couldn't go as heavy with my lifts as I would have liked to.

I don't even really know what I am thinking about.

I had an eerie dream last night. I had a dream that someone was using their sister to contact me at my home. (there is a story behind this but it is one that I will not share due to legal issues) She calls me on the phone and asks to speak with me. I am suspicious and pretend that I am someone else. I then begin to threaten her. There is a knock on my door. I answer the door and it is apparently the same woman. She is beautiful, dark hair... non-descript... other than what I guess would be my ideal beauty... I can sense she has a gentle heart... she inspires me to wax poetic.. internally... however I rage in front of her. I grab her and bring her into my house, in New Mexico... and I wrap the telephone cord around her neck. She is wearing a dress.. skirt.. something below the knees... I am pretending that I wish to kill her, so as to scare her... but she isn't afraid in the way that I want her to be, she look as if she is accepting her fate... it breaks my heart that she wouldn't attempt to survive.. that she wouldn't kick, that she wouldn't fight back.. I start crying and apologizing profusely... I love her. She needs me. She needs me so that she will have someone to fight for her when she cannot fend for herself. I felt so empty inside. I woke up crying.

The dream was that simple. Simply worded, simple minded.

I have contemplated suicide again. It seems to be my only option in the long run. Last night I panicked. I panicked at the thought that I would one day die. This used to be a frequent occurance during my adolesence and teen years. Panic attacks. My panic was not like others, I never had the feeling of impending or immediate doom. I worried only about the unknown, the persistent awareness of death. The constant ache of knowing my ultimate fate. The only way I could console myself was to remind myself that everyone who will ever live will also die.

I really cannot console myself. It is beyond acceptance.

Do I make an effort to be anti-social? Important people have commented that my interpersonal skills are incredibley poor. Almost as if I make an effort to be anti-social. I don't know if it is a malicious effort, if it is an effort, but not getting along with people is something I am very comfortable with. Someone has to not like someone. Why shouldn't it be me? Perhaps that is my reasoning. Since i know not every person will like me even when I make an effort, I can control the degree with which they dislike me. These are just thoughts. I doubt that I make an effort to be this way. I don't make the leap in logic that it must be "them". I would never say that. If anything it is the manner in which I communicate with people I disagree with that leads to my isolation. I tend to disagree with a majority of people I meet. And when I meet people who I feel indifferent about... I feel as though I lack authenticity when I speak with them.

There is but one thing that I obsess over in my life: Me. I constantly think about myself. I feel sometimes I exist in third and first person. I want to know how I look from all perspectives. I want to see how I could be percieved. From conversation to appearance. I don't care. I would love to make a documentary about myself. I actually considered doing this three years ago. Four years ago actually. On my way to Seattle I kept on thinking about sending everyone I knew a DV cam and having them tape their opinions of me... providing them all the questions to be answered..

that is disgusting. HA...

I feel that the most detrimental effect of being so self-conscious is that I have great difficulty in communicating with others. I never feel as though I am expressing myself with perfect clarity and that I am constantly being misinterpreted. So I make a pronounced effort to be percieved a specific way.

Who do I have to write about right now? No one. I only enjoy writing about women in my life. There are no women in my life at this moment. No strippers, no potential love interests. There is only constant misery and the gym. Feelings of inadequacey are abound.. but why write about them? I resent the feelings. I resent being one of the people who feels inadequate. I resent people who feel inadequate.

Last night I was thinking about what I would like to do with a woman in my bed. I felt an overwhelming sense of yearning. I was talking with a friend about my time in Austin. How I spent so much time alone. Aside from my last year in Austin, I really didn't see many women. I was thinking about how awful I felt. I enjoy thinking about that pain. I haven't ever been so lonely and I like to remember it, to relive it. The feeling was unique. The only thing I can compare it to that some of you might be able to empathize with.. is the feeling you have after you cum. Once you are done coming, your genitals are so sensative that they cannot bare to be touched. That unbearable feeling... that is what I felt. The unbearable feeling of loneliness. I felt ignored. Every where I went I felt ignored. I tried to make an effort here or there but it was never reciprocated. Of course my appearance reflected my mood... my clothes were rarely clean. My hair was always dirty. I was carrying much more bodyfat.

If I had weighed 100lbs less than what I did, I know that I would have recieved some attention. I resented that. On my weekends... I wouldn't have a conversation with a single person. I would order food, or a drink... but I didn't keep any company. I usually went to a coffeeshop and watched people do what I wished I was doing. I hated coming home. I felt like my home was a coffin. I didn't own a television. I didn't own a couch. I didn't own dishes. My home was as empty as it was when i first moved in. I didn't have a single possession aside from my bed and laptop. God I hated that time in my life. I wasn't suicidal... but I imagine my disdain for my situation when it was occuring was comparable to the discomfort a person feels when being molested by a relative. It was awkward, ugly and strangely pleasurable... the pleasure was the chaos...

I would lie on my bed with my several pillows, falling asleep.. rubbing my pillows, pretending I was holding a woman.. and I would talk in my sleep..I would talk to the pillow and pose... as if I were with a real woman.. or as if I were being evaluated by a real woman... it was strange. I still do this.

Why can't the real thing ever be as good as the fantasy? Why can't reality exceed the expectations of a fantasy when it comes to relationships... this is a question I ask myself... it is a rhetorical question.

I suppose all I feel like doing before I sleep is to let out a sigh.

clubfootedmijet · May 21, 2003

I spent the better part of today sitting in a chair on a city sidewalk, outside a coffeehouse, reading a book and watching people. The air was crisp and the sun was hot.

I am reading "Speaker for the Dead" by Orson Scott Card. I read Enders Game a few years ago. I actually own all the books in the series but have never gotten around to reading them. Reading is a guilty pleasure for me. When I read fiction literature, I tend to feel as though I am wasting my time. I don't take the same pleasure in reading a novel as I do looking at someone else's illustration or painting.

I suppose that now I read to see how other people write. I find that I am often frustrated with an Author's tendancy to 'dwell' on a specific mood... the internal dialogue.. so on and so forth. Not every Author has a gift for writing well. I find that the majority of fiction I read tells a good story. I don't actually enjoy, nor am I ever impressed with the way the writer selects his words. Someone like Joseph Conrad who I feel 'paints' a story with words is a more valid example of a classical sense of literature.

Even Steinbeck is a lyricist in my opinion. His use of theme, forshadowing and irony impresses me greatly. Steinbecks work is subtle and accessible.

Back to Orson Scott Card... he tells great stories. Enders Game is a novel I finished the day I began reading it. It reminded me of the novel "Child Buyer". They have similar protagonists. Child buyer is another novel I finished the day I began reading it.

I guess if you liked Enders Game and have a background interest in contemporary literature, you might like Child Buyer.

Oh.. and one more recommendation... Tim Sandlin wrote three very funny novels. The Gros Vant trilogy is what he calls it... I don't know if I spelled Gros Vant correctly.. I am too tired to think... but the books are:

Skipped Parts
Sorrow Floats
Social Blunders

I wish I could write a screenplay the way Sandlin writes a novel.

and now.. a stripper story..(was reminiscing last night).. get to that later.

clubfootedmijet · May 22, 2003

I get bored... here are some pics..

I was reviewing some old pics.. these are from febuary...

and here is one more... I am waiting for another picture to load.. it goes with my stripper story..

I am pretty aren't I?

I wonder if in the second pic that is the face I make when I come. Oh.. and that is a 65lb dumbell in my hand. I am performing Side Laterals. These pics are in NY.

I am not like the other kids... I wear jeans and T-shirts when I work out. As you can see, everyone else is wearing sweat pants, shorts.. some sort of athletic wear. Pussy's. All of them.

EDIT: Finally the pic loaded.

Then there was Robyn.

clubfootedmijet · May 30, 2003

I haven't been under the influence of anything since I last reported.

I have attempted to write the Robyn story at least three times. Each time the story was more poorly written than the previous rendition.

Now I feel inadequate.

Perhaps the experience just wasn't all that meaningful to me. I guess if I were to just write the very essence of the experience with as brief a description as possible, then maybe I would .. I don't know.

Robyn is the young woman in the picture in the previous post. One fateful evening I had the opportunity to recieve a lap dance from her. It was a two for one. She wore long black hair, heels, a thong, and a black top. As far as stripper garb is concerned, she looked tasteful. Like something you would expect to see in your Victoria Secret fantasy's. Perhaps that was the appeal. Perhaps that is why the experience was so special to me. She was absolutely flawless... physically that is. Her breasts were firm, her teeth were white and straight, her eyes.. well you can see them in the photo... her body was athletic and her skin was very soft. Her curves were sensuous... and she was quiet.

When the song came on, she began to move slowly. She was on my lap and pressing into me firmly, not overly aggressive like some strippers would... she was gentle. She turned over, and pressed her lips against my cheeks, my jaw, my ears.. and even my mouth. She treated me not as a customer.. not as something as souless as money dispenser... no.. she communicated with me. This ability of hers, to break down the wall so to speak... to make the fantasy real was something that seperated her from her peers. She was skilled at what she did, but it wasn't apparent. It felt very natural. She would hold my shoulders, my arms... she touched every part of my body that I was proud of, every part of my body that I wanted to be touched.. that I felt comfortable having touched.. considering my rather obese state... sadly, this had great meaning to me.

Then there was my dick.

Fully aroused, rock hard.... Part of me did not want the erection, but the other half could do nothing but lust for her. You must understand, there are your standard erections in a lap dance that are rather unobtrusive, and then there is what I had. You could see the full length of my cock, held tight by my jeans. I don't have a small penis. In fact, I have a big penis. (not advertising) and with it fully erect, it is just so... "out there". I might as well have been naked.

She leaned back, got on her knees and looked at it. Then she looked back up at me. She traced her hand from my kneecap to my inner thigh, to my groin. Then she placed one hand at the base of my cock, and held it firm, and took her other hand and placed it on my cock, positioning it , rubbing it, traced and squeezed it to the head. This only contributed to the experience... I didn't feel any shame.. I only felt remotely shy. She made me comfortable enough to allow her to do that to me.... She then positioned my cock to point more up, and brought her face down to it, and rubbed her cheek and chin on it, all the while looking up at me.. looking me in the eye. I could see my dick, a perfect outline..in her hand..it was such a complete and total fantasy come to life. As though I animated the fantasy myself.. she then put her teeth on my dick.. and eventually fit part of it into her mouth through the jeans. All I can remember is that I was watching someone I thought was one of the worlds most beautiful women being as intimate as possible with me... and losing concentration... I remained in the moment for days.

Yes, something like this has happened before. But it just wasn't the same. It was what she did and how she went about it. It was literally a fantasy come true. Sure it cost 20 dollars, 30 including the tip.. but it was worth it to me. She made me believe. She made me believe that what we were doing was real. She convinced me that she was with me.. and me exclusively..

I guess that is the essence.. a bit choppy.. but it is all I really have to say...

clubfootedmijet · Jun 3, 2003

I have a new job. I am a bouncer... again. Only this time, it is the most fun I have I had working in 6 years.

I work with a punk rocker a hip hopper, three hippy's and two academics. The rest are just there for the ride.

What I do:

Arrive at work by 7pm. Go to the cooler and get high with the employee's. Come out and grab a stool, sit by the door with the other bouncer (the punk rocker) tell jokes and I.D. people. Then, we go back to the cooler, get high again, mingle with the crowd. (I work at an upscale 'hippy' beer and wine bar. There is a heavy Greatful Dead influence so we tend to attract the enviromental science students or as I call them, the green crowd)

However, we do get our share of women. Apparently we get more since I have been working there.

My job is really easy. There are NO fights. There is less tension in this new bar than there was in the previous bar I was working at. The women aren't as attractive, but they pay me more attention. I get high.. I don't clean.. I don't empty garbage, I don't do anything but sit around and goof off! This is exactly the job that I have needed.

The pay.. is horrible. I earn about 80% less an hour here than I did working at any job in Texas.

But.. I don't have any expenses other than my Caddy, which I am registering and insuring next week. That is a perk, arriving to work in my big 1973 cherry red Cadillac Coupe Deville with white leather interior!! The bouncer arrives in style!!!

Oh.. and to sweeten this whole deal.. this new image if you will... I am learning to Break Dance and learning to Pop and Lock.

Right now I am mostly focused on locking, like the dance that Rerun does in Good Times.

On the weightloss front... Dropped 3lbs in three weeks. Not bad, not great either.. but it will do.

Women: Well.. there are a few. There is Jesse and then there is This other girl.

Jesse is half-jewish. Her mom died when she was 13 when she lived in London. Her mother was attending Oxford when she died; my best friend in Texas Was attending Oxford when he died. She became interested in me when I was telling my friend about the T-shirt I just made with the phrase "Scoliosis got your back!" printed on the front. She 'busted a gut' laughing and then tried to 'compete' with me in that she was trying to be more Ironic, more funny, more dry... than I was. I enjoyed her company.

I have seen her around since then, she always looked as though she were seeking an invitation to come over and talk to me. I played it cool. I didn't ignore her, but I didn't make an overture either. Instead, I just said hello a few weeks after our initial conversation. We ended up talking for about 3 hours. She stood the whole time while I sat. The conversation was enjoyable and we have a lot of common interests.

She left in the middle of the conversation to talk with someone else, I waited a bit and then decided to go home. Before I left she pulled me aside, she was very physical and touchy and gave me a kiss and I told her I would see her around.

Jesse is short. About 5'2. She is very pretty. She looks Irish and Jewish. Her voice is raspy, but sexy.. and she sings well. Her body is average, maybe bigger than average chest but nothing that captures my attention. I am more impressed by her wit. She is everything that the previous girl could have been. They are equally as intelligent with a comparable sense of humor, only this girl has had to work for everything she got and she isn't afraid to travel or live somewhere far from home. She is pretensious, but in a completely self-effacing manner. Comparable to me... she is self-depricating but more fun than I am.

Then there is this other girl...

I don't know her name. There is no one she looks like. She is very very exotic looking. She almost looks Arabic, but she is actually 100% Italian. She is the daughter of the owner of the most popular upscale Italian Restaurant in the area. She is a thick girl. She has a very large rear-end, and very thick legs. It is disproportionate because her upper body is so thin.. almost lean, with a sexy stomach and belly... probably B cup breasts... and her face??!?!? Jesus... this girl is ridiculously beautiful. It is difficult to gauge appeal considering it's relative nature, but on my scale.. she scores a 10 for her face... I would gather that most people would agree with me since my friends were all impressed by her face.

However, those same friends decided to be foolish and accost her... they told her I was interested in her. I don't really think that is all that cool... I mean, we aren't in middle school. I wasn't ready to talk with her yet... however there were some encouraging signals.

My friends girlfriend was with me.. she kept imploring me to go over and talk with her. The girl wouldn't stop staring at me, and then she would stand and pose...not overtly.. they were subtle poses meant for me.. showing me her midriff by stretching and rubbing her stomach with her hand... for no reason... I wasn't sure these were signals.. due to low self-esteem right? But the girl I was with said that without doubt she wanted me to approach her. As I watched her through the evening it became more obvious that she wanted me to talk with her. She would stare and our eyes met more than 4 times throughout the night.

I didn't bother to act. I have to pretend that I didn't know that my 'boy' let her in on my secret, so that the next time I see her I have something to talk about. Why not last time? I wanted to enjoy the view and consider what might be, as opposed to approaching her and finding out quickly that she doesn't live up to my expectations or.. I am rejected. It would just ruin my mood.

Goddamn Punjabi MC putting me to sleep.

I am becoming more innocuous with each post.

EDIT: I guess I wasn't done writing.

I don't even know why I want to continue writing. I am tired.

Right Now I am listening to 'Making Time' by Creation... and now it is Coldplay - Clocks.... And of course, All Wrong by Morphine.

My interest in music is making a resurgence. I don't know why.. I just feel it is again time to broaden my horizons. However, I really want to buy a Record Player. Actually.. two turntables and a Mixer would be nice. Not that I am an Audiophile, nor am I even an amateur... but I dabble with the notion of building some sound equipment and listening to decent music on vinyl.

I also toy with the idea that I might someday build a web page. I have all the time in the world to learn C++, Java, PHP... and all the other cool codes.... but I just don't.

There is something about 'rules' that repells me. Seriously, I never read the instruction manuals. When I was a child, and I would play Dungeons and Dragons, I could hardly finish the rule book. I got through the first 3 pages and made up the rest. So, when i was the Dungeon Master.......... there was often a lot of debate.

Jesus, what a dillemma. Even to this day... I replaced the windshield washers on the car, but I did so without consulting the instructions. I figured it out... but it took me a few minutes.

I have difficulty concentrating. I don't know why. I tend to doze off when I read, my reading comprehension is excellent... when I pay attention. When I took my practice LSAT I scored very low initially. Why? I could barely finish reading the essay's, and so when it came time to answer questions regarding the essay I would take a wild guess. However, when my ego is on the line, I make sure to concentrate. Still though, I never feel as though I have ever given any test my best. I have never brought the A game so to speak.

I can think of a handful of times when I brought out the A game.

Once when I had a job as a short order chef, we got hit with a heavy influx of orders.. all deliveries. We were undermanned and it was up to me to make sure everything went smoothly. The manager, who was also the owner and lead cook... he was just making Pizza's. He could barely keep up, I was ahead of everything with about 50 orders to be finished in 50 minutes. I had a reputation for being lazy.. and he was so impressed with my work that he offerred to give me a substantial raise if I could keep up the work. I declined. I can't bring the A game out all the time. I rely on my D game to function.

Street Spirit... that is the song I am listening to.

When I first "heard" this song, I mean, really listened to it.. I was at the Ritz in Austin. Depressed, trashed and in a good punk rock kind of mood... I was trying to stay on my feet, leaning on a pole, with a pitcher of Dos Equis in my right hand and a pint of Guiness in my left.. this song began to play.. and my life went in slow motion. The bar was PACKED... all the pool tables were filled with lines of quarters along the sides... the air hockey tables were surrounded, the bar itself was teeming with hipsters, the booths were overflowing... it was loud, people were talking... women were beautiful... I was alone. All alone. Standing, removed.. isolated from this large crowd. I wasn't sad. I wasn't angry. I wasn't moved by my lack of participation... I felt silent and caught in the moment. I stood there, watching, smiling and drinking .. celebrating my life, my awareness in a bittersweet reverie.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Story before I forget...

GTI... Night of Drinking, Beaten by frat guys... barrowed the car... raced a new 3 series driven by hot girl...

I will write of this story later...

clubfootedmijet · Jun 3, 2003

Normally I wouldn't do this but this is my response to the marriage thread... when I attempted to post this the thread was locked. Since I had taken the time to write I had to give it a platform somewhere:

I have to disagree.. not that it is in my nature, but I can plainly see that deez was very curteous in responding to all those that would question him or disparage him. I can ALSO see the truth in deez's initial observations. People do not make an attempt to understand why deez believes what he does, they only attempt to undermine his beliefs or be overtly confrontational with him. People either ridicule him or they attack his beliefs. It is easy to be patient with deez when you are part of a group that collectively disagree's with him, but considering that you may make 2-3 comments in a thread, multiply that by 7 and you have 14-21 comments to respond to, all varying in tone. If deez feels like calling someone an asshole because he has grown impatient with 21 different attempts at undermining his beliefs (as opposed to attempting to understand WHY he thinks the way he does, hey, aren't artists supposed to be progressive thinkers, tolerant and understanding) I think he is entitled to....sure.. you can say you 'listen' or read what deez has had to say, but you weren't actively listening. These people weren't being proactive. No, all they did was wait their turn to attack that which they disagree with.

So if it is:

Deez: this is what I believe....
Person 1: No deez you're wrong.. this is what I believe
Deez: Explain to me how I am wrong...
Person 2: No deez you're wrong... this is what I believe, and this is what I presume about you, and based on my presumptions about you, that is how I rationalize your beliefs, (the inference is that based on the individuals presumptions, deez is somehow a defective thinker and deez has to contend with the opinion, which becomes a popular opinion that he is not rational without being aggresively offensive, so deez merely asks the question.. how am I wrong?)
Deez: Stop telling me I am wrong, tell me how I am wrong. (Or, make an effort to understand me by asking me questions, and then based on those answers see if you still think I am wrong)

I mean.. that is a summary of what I see. People presume an awful lot about deez and I am sure it is frustrating to him because no one wants to believe that what he is saying as being the product of rational thought. There is nothing difficult to accept in deez's initial comments.

I do not consider deez himself worthy of all this attention, but I do consider his effort to participate in a fair discussion free of malicious attempts to undermine his arguments to be worthy of attention. The fact is is that deez is more tolerant than the majority of the people he is arguing with, and these same people who argue with him appear to believe that they are more progressive in thought than he is.. dare I say they are incredibley self-righteous! That is incredibley offensive.

See, deez is more concerned with the method, the mode of thought than the outcome. Others are more concerned with the result, the product... as opposed to how an individual came to that conclusion. It appears to me that deez is far more malleable than people give him credit for. He practically begs for debate (and I don't see him manipulating a debate to demonstrate his superiority, he seems to be very earnest). His world certainly is not black and white... definitely not as black and white and absolutist as some of you have painted him. But why would he consider the beliefs of another individual to be valuable when they haven't made the effort to understand his so as to make a worthy comparison. How do you debate intolerance?? I am surprised he has made it this far. I think deez did the right thing by offerring those that really are concerned about his opinion to interact with him one on one.

Again, I reiterate that deez has X beliefs. I also believe that Deez wants to better understand his beliefs and has no fully committed to his opinions. His beliefs are perfunctory, the method by which he or anyone else arrives at their conclusion seems to me to be what he is passionate about. So, his opinion might be offensive to some of you, but if you take the time to consider what he is actually saying and see that he offers you a legitimate opportunity to speak your peace and he will actively take into consideration all that you have said. And if it convinces him he may just very well change his mind.

"Sorry, but this guy is a troll. He can only be mocked, as he is has demonstrated no interest in serious discussion on the actual boards. While I'm sure his PMs could be a different matter, the guy is being a stone-faced jerkoff and hardly seems intelligent or insightful enough to deserve real attention."

This is completely offensive. He doesn't deserve mocking and I see he has demonstrated serious discussion on the actual board INITIALLY.. until he was ganged up on. As for being a stone-faced jerkoff... why would he make the effort to appeal to anyone when no one was listening to him in the first place. It is a legitimate method of weeding out those who are trying to take cheap shots at him, those who have no real interest in understanding what he has to say. Those who do, those who really care.. they will PM him.

As for the comment regarding his intellect... I think that was an ego driven criticism. I think deez is by far one the most intelligent members of this board. You would have to be in denial or be pretty fucking stupid to think otherwise.

END

Again, my first UBB reflexive post. It will also be my last.

clubfootedmijet · Jun 6, 2003

I am pretty tired. I am about 20 minutes away from going to bed. I just finished doing the dishes and vacuuming.

Wednesday night I burned myself. I was trying to adjust a track light at an art gallery and I did not realize that the housing would be so hot. I pressed my middle finger into the housing and the sensation was astounding. At first it hurt slightly, like touching something hot. In that same moment I was pressing my finger into the housing to keep my balance (I was perched on a ledge trying to adjust it) and soon the pain was severe. Like I said it all occurred in a moment.

It would be like quickly tapping a hot stove top versus pressing the full weight of your body into the hot stove top. The burn was rather evident as a large disfigured blemish on the tip of my middle finger. Right now it is a hard blister. No pain.

Still I felt pretty fucking stupid.

My face and neck itch. I have to shave. I recieved a new razor in the mail and it was perfect timing. The new Mach 3 Turbo. Advertising... I recieved the item through my participation in a shoppers club program at Wegmans. Good thing too, my other razor was causing me immense pain shaving, it felt like it was ripping hair from my face as opposed to smoothly shaving it off.

I recieved a letter from my 'agent' yesterday morning. He was requesting to see some of my recent writing samples. At first I thought it was another person of the same name, who coincidentally I am working on a film with over the summer. So, I replied to him as if he were the other individual.

"my bad"

I sent him an apology, it goes as follows:

"Sorry John.

I didn't read the email address.

For some reason I thought you were another John.. who was working on a film with me over the summer. I have been up for about 24 hours... writing and drinking.. and writing.

As for the samples; I haven't been writing anything along the lines of 'Jesus Fetus'. I have been suffering from writers block since about Feb. All I have that I have committed to is a five page treatment for something I was looking to shoot over the summer here in Syracuse (with that other John). A comedy that employs the same narrative structure as 'Slacker'... kind of my homage to Austin and Syracuse (Syracuse in the sense that there is not a whole lot to do around here except slack, get high, go to the mall, argue, get into fistfights... criticize the mooks and "Jr.Mafia" as well as the University Students... and drink heavily).

The other project I have been consistently working on ... and have been doing so since 2001... is a feature length Nihilistic/Drama/Dark Comedy.. about two men on a path of vengeance, one seeking redemption, the other seeking 'truth'... with a celestial revelation at the end of the story.

This is the screenplay that has been troubling me most. Unfortunately it is on the other computer, and that other computers logic board is toast. If you are interested in a treatment or summary.. I can write one up for you. I know I can get the screenplay off the other computers hard drive... I just haven't had a reason to.

And since we spoke all I have written are outlines, premises and treatments (usually about anti-social teenagers or recent college grads). My life got busy for a while. I'd be more than happy to send you these things. If you think they sound promising I can complete them and resubmit them. No one has been reading what I have been writing in the last 6 months so I don't even know if these are good ideas or not.

There is one other thing.. and I don't know if you can help me. But, I want to create/see a show that serves as the antithesis to the Daily Show. Something that is equally as condescending, clever, sarcastic and whatnot, but from the right. What do you think?? Fox News is hot right now!!! Why not capitalize on it?

Again, sorry for the previous email."

Seems like a good letter to me. I had been up for quite some time.

I don't know if he is going to get back in touch with me. I have neglected him since late January. Sadly, he is my big break in the city. But.. I don't know what my problem is. I just... I am not really doing what I set out to do.

So.. I always complain of ideal circumstances. That is why I never finish things.

What exactly would be ideal for finishing these screenplays:

1. Living alone in a house that I could blare my music as loud as I wanted to.

2. A fast car

3. A job that pays 20 dollars an hour that I have to be at only 20 hours a week.

4. Women: to keep me entertained. To provide me with conflict.

5. Drugs: Pot, Alcohol and prescription meds.

6. Waking at an early hour, around 8-9.. so that I could be writing by 10.

7. Close proximity to fun. Such as a bar I enjoy going to, coffeeshop that I enjoy sitting at.. so on and so forth.

8. Decent clothes: Strange huh? But quality clothing that looks good on me makes me feel good... and more creative.

9. A decent strip bar to go sulk at.

10. An arthouse cinema.

11. A digital video camera to shoot whatever with and edit later on.

I think that is about all I need. I have none of these things in my life at the moment.

What I do have:

1. A home
2. A bed to call my own
3. My dog
4. My computer
5. My friends
6. A gym membership
7. More books than I can ever read

Ah.. I am going to bed now. It has been 20 minutes.

Strippers, Booze, Weightlifting... academia: From NY

New Member

New Member

New Member

New Member

New Member

New Member

New Member

New Member

New Member

New Member

New Member

New Member

New Member

New Member

New Member

New Member

New Member

New Member

New Member

New Member