Friday, November 28, 2003

The Unnamed Saga
By Mike Herr

Mike Herr as The Young Man/ The Wheelman
Ryan McDonough as The Jester
Matt Faulkner as The Patient
Bob Dukeman as The Big Think
Scott Musler as The Merrymaker
Mom as Mam
A St. Charles Police Officer as Obstacle 1
Julie Hammond as The Drag
The Mall as Hell
Tammy McDaniel as The Scarlet Phantom
John Coltrane as Music

A saga has its ups and downs, and my friends, this saga will be a fitting example. In all sagas too, are lessons to be learned, so pay close attention and you may learn a thing or two. Our saga begins with a young man in search of one certain element: Fun. His search begins on a frosty November morn...

The Young Man was waken by his mom, whom he called Mam. She called to him, "Wake up, darling son of mine, for it is time for your test of skill behind the old wheel!" The Young Man responded sleepily, "Yessum, I'll wake in a short bit. Make some toast for me, and I'll play with myself in the shower." The Young Man laid for a short bit longer, but then arose from his springs and walked upstairs to bathe. The Young Man felt as brisk as ever as he leapt out of the shower and his clothing leapt up on to him. "Breakfast is ready, darling son. Come and fetch it while it's hot!" called his mom. But, The Young Man shouted back, "Ahh yes, thankee Mam, I'll be eating in a short bit." The Young Man ate his breakfast and then they were off to the Test Place to see if The Young Man could prove his skill with handling the wheel. The Young Man knew that passing the test was the first step in his search for Fun, and that his must succeed. At the Test Place, The Young Man and his mom waited for someone to take The Young Man out for his test. Soon a large man clad in lime colored trousers, a brown sweater vest, and a name tag that read "Obstacle 1" walked towards them. "You readay fo da test, honkey bee?" asked Obstacle 1. "Why, I most certainly am, sir. Would you like a breathe mint?" asked The Young Man in a polite fashion. To this Obstacle 1 answered, "Shit, I ain't yo brotha, les hit it." The Young Man got behind the wheel and did just as Obstacle 1 told him. Soon Obstacle 1 said, "Pull right in der nigga cause we tru." So, The Young Man finished his test, but did he pass? After they came to a stop at the Test Place, Obstacle 1 said to The Young Man in a dissapointed voice, "Motherfucka, you passed da test. I'm gettin' da fuck otta hee," and walked inside the Test Place. The Young Man's mom walked out to him and asked, "Well, my darling son, how did you do?" The Young Man answered, "I have gotten by Obstacle 1 and passed the test, Mam." With that, they went back home, and the young man would from then on be known as The Wheelman. At home he rested his weary head. After his rest, he contacted his pal, The Jester. "I passed the test," said The Wheelman, "And I'll be over in a bit, and we'll begin the search." The Jester answered happily, "You're a monguloid." The Wheelman wished his parents farewell, jumped behind the wheel, and let loose the beautiful sounds of Music. Music filled him with energy and ambition, and he knew that he must find Fun before the night came to an end. The Wheelman soon arrived at The Jester's household, and The Jester was dropping excrement on his front lawn. "Monguloid shit faggot," yelled The Jester as he rubbed his tuckus on the ground and then hopped in with The Wheelman. "Are you ready for the hunt, my friend?" asked The Wheelman, and The Jester answered, "Well, let's go, don't smoke me." Then, they were off and Music carried them to their next stop: The Patient's place. When they arrived at The Patient's place, The Patient walked patiently and got in. "Where're we headed boys?" he asked as he got in, and The Jester answered slyly, "Smoke me sandwich Joe." The Wheelman took them all over God's green earth looking for a place to eat, to start the evening off right. After heading this way and that, the three finally arrived at an establishment which served roast beef. They all hopped out and hopped in to provide their innards with something to work with. The boy at the counter asked courteously, "What can I get you?" The Jester answered, "I'll have a chicken patty, you ass cracker." The Wheelman answered, "I'll have the beef, good sir." The Patient answered, "Gimme uhh, the beef and cheddar." After recording all of their orders, the boy at the counter put on a rubber glove and pulled their food out of his ass. They picked up their food, ate it, and strolled out feeling satisfied. "Next, my friends, we shall pick up The Big Think," said The Wheelman as they went along. The Wheelman pulled up to The Big Think's household, and out strolled The Big Think with his wide smile and long locks of hair. "Welcome, my friend," said The Wheelman, and The Big Think answered, "Yo bee". "One more stop, my friends, and then we shall begin our hunt," said the Wheelman. They traveled next to The Merrymakers house which was far away and around many twists and curves. When they arrived, they all walked up and rang the dinger. The Merrymaker came to the door and said, "Heeeey, you guys can come in if you want." They all entered and began the council. "So what do you guys want to do?" asked The Patient. "Fuck man, let's fuck up some kids and go to Hell or somethin," said The Jester. "I don't mind, friends. You must decide, for I have no opinion on it," said The Wheelman. "How about we go play miniature golf at that new mall place or somethin'?" suggested The Big Think as he fiddled with a puzzle cube. "Let's just go to Hell or somethin'," said The Merrymaker, and so they were off to Hell. So, The Wheelman, The Jester, The Patient, The Big Think, and The Merrymaker began their journey for Fun, but it seemed that they got off on the wrong foot, for they were headed for the darkest of dark places, HELL. They were not concerned though and The Merrymaker led them in song and The Jester made twisted remarks and The Big Think thought about how to find Fun and The Wheelman behaved and sat behind the wheel calmly and The Patient was patient, often joining in the singing. When they arrived at Hell, they all hopped out and hopped in, and The Merrymaker ran about screaming and singing happily in a scraped, coarse voice. They searched all over Hell for Fun, but it was nowhere to be found. Then they all stopped and had a small council to decide where to go, for Hell was not a pleasant place. The Merrymaker contacted some others, but the others had no idea where Fun was or how to find it. The Wheelman could sense his crew becoming quite down and he knew that they must leave hell and go forth and away. "Come my friends, let us search some place else, for this is a desolate, stinking place," said The Wheelman, and his crew agreed. The Jester wanted to make one stop at the sound store before leaving Hell. They all walked in and looked around, but The Jester could not see what would make him happy, because in Hell, there's not much that will. The Wheelman found a dark session of Music, and purchased it, but would save it for later. And, The Merrymaker bought a heavenly drink that would surely help them with their search, but saved it for a bit later. So, The Wheelman led them out of Hell, and they were relieved, but still down for they had not found Fun. They all got in and were off, but they knew not where they were headed. They just went and went and went and went for what seemed like forever times two, and then The Merrymaker took out his heavenly drink. And they all drank from it, and as they drank, they became happier and happier. The Merrymaker led them in song and even The Wheelman joined in, and soon they saw a bright light, and as they went it grew bigger and bigger. It was Fun, and it was almost within their grasp. The Wheelman went faster and faster, but they could not catch it. They could only have a glimpse, for the drink made them see fun, but not have it. However, The Merrymaker was taken for he wanted to keep going because a voice called out to him from far away. "Come to me, oh Merrymaker!" sang the voice and The Merrymaker commanded The Wheelman to take him to the voice, and The Wheelman did. When they arrived at the place the voice sounded from, The Merrymaker forgot all, and left them. The voice was called The Drag from then on out, for it had taken the merriment out of their party. Thus, there was one less on the search for Fun, and The Wheelman, The Jester, The Patient, and The Big Think were left to continue on. They went on silently, The Wheelman steering them, The Jester getting weary and no twisted remarks left his tongue, The Patient still being very patient and keeping his head high, and The Big Think thinking away. It seemed that there was no hope in finding Fun, and The Jester soon felt the effects of weariness and turned into a zombie, not saying one word. The Wheelman took him back to his home and bid him farewell, and the zombie of The Jester left saying, "Goodnight motherfucker." Then only The Wheeler, The Patient, and The Big Think were left to find Fun. Then, The Big Think, being a thinker, thought up an idea that may lead to Fun. Pulling out his device, The Big Think said, "I'm going to call The Scarlet Phantom. Maybe she'd want to come with us". So, The Scarlet Phantom answered The Big Think's call, but was tired and weary, and refused to show herself to the three. "I'm tired my darlings, goodbye," she said, and was gone. The night was coming to a close, and Fun seemed far off. Soon it was time for The Patient to return home and rest, and so The Wheelman bore him. "Goodbye dear friend. We shall find him some other day," said The Wheelman. The Patient answered in a cool voice, "Alright man, I'll see you later," and he walked away. The Patient knew his patience would pay, for patience is always rewarded with greatness. The Wheelman then proceeded to deliver The Big Think back home, and wished him farewell. Then, all alone and lonely, The Wheelman returned home feeling feelings of defeat knowing that Fun had escaped them. He was carried away to sweet sweet slumber though when he put on the dark sessions of Music, and he forgot about Fun.

So ends our saga, and indeed it was a dramatic time. Thus, it is proved that not all things end happily, and sometimes the greatest of adventures are filled with unknown joys and sorrows.

Wednesday, November 05, 2003

The Month of October

II. Homecoming
III. Movies
IV. Halloween
V. The Night at the Mall

It was October tenth. It was the day I'd been waiting for for months and months. It was the day KILL BILL premiered, and shit, I was a happy motherfucker. The whole week leading up to the day was Homecoming spirit week for my school, so naturally it was day after day after fucking day of obnoxious jerkovs, painted faces, dressing up, hype among students, and waiting for the week to end. When Friday afternoon had arrived, and I made it through the Homecoming pep rally, thinking of KILL BILL was like a junkie catching the scent of some good hash-- unbearable. I went home, watched Pulp Fiction and Reservoir Dogs, and then my dad came and picked Ryan and myself up from my house.

The whole car ride to the theater was filled with trading stories about Mr. Tarantino and his movies. My dad was excited to see the movie, but Ryan and I were on a whole different level because it's not everyday you get to see the premier of a Tarantino movie. We soon arrived at the theater, walked in, grabbed a soda, and grabbed some seats. KILL BILL was almost upon us.

As it started with the beautiful b/w shot of Uma, the gunshot, the credits, and the Nancy Sinatra number, I could do nothing but sit there and let the chills rise on my skin. I was engulfed from beginning to end, and when it ended, I had to pry myself from the chair and wish that it wasn't over because it was a profound experience I'll never forget. It will remain the greatest time I've ever had in a movie theater. It was beautiful, Quentin, thanks.

II. Homecoming
October eleventh was Duchesne's Homecoming dance, and I had no idea whether to go or not. I was left with the house to myself all day, and a wonderful time I had listening to the Who, the Doors, Van Morrison, and many other of my favorite artists. I contemplated what to do come nightfall. My choices were: a. Stay home/ b. Go to the dance and impress everyone there with my wit and charm/ c. vomit and fall asleep on the couch. After making a few calls to friends and connections, the decision was made; I was to go to Matthew Faulkner's house along with Ryan and enjoy dinner, and then off to the dance we would be.

After purchasing some cheap new shades, waxing my pubic area, freshening up, putting my fly threads on, and fixing myself a nice little refreshment, Ryan arrived at my door looking as happenin' as ever, and I hopped into his car and off to Matt's we were. Upon arriving at Matt's and paying the cab fee to Ryan's father, Ryan and I went inside and were greeted by the glorious, boisterous atmosphere of the house. Matt was still getting ready, so Ryan and I played some music while waiting, but soon Matt was done jerking off, and we left for Steak n' Shake.

At Steak n' Shake, we were seated quickly, our food was good, and we were treated nicely as always. We even got a waitress that would probably suck all of us off after the meal, Jesus Christ was she flirty. We had no time for those gimmicks though, and we were out the door as quickly as we came in. In no time at all Matt's mom pulled up gallantly in her Infinite, and we hopped in not knowing what to expect of the night ahead.

Arriving at the dance, I regretted forcing myself to take part in this gig, but I proceeded with Matt and Ryan at my sides. Inside I saw many of my friends like Scott Musler who wore a sharp pinstripe suit, Pat Grosch looking great as always with a shirt, tie, 'fro, and black Converse All Stars. As I entered the auditorium, everyone greeted me with wonder and delight. Soon it was time for the crowning ceremonies, which are boring as shit, but fun to make fun of. All listened as young women were escorted by proud young men, while the masters of ceremonies gave information about them through the microphone like, "Brandon likes to hang out with his friends, comb his hair back, watch PBS, and flirt with girls..." They'd say this exact same shit for every person and give their address out for stalkers, and I'm just sitting there wondering, who gives two shits about this (except maybe the stalkers). But, the lights soon flicked on, and some faggot dance music kicked on, so I knew it was time to get out of there and grab a drink.

The night was filled with laughs, ecstasy, dancing, watching girls dance like pygmy children, and laughing at Andrew make fucked up faces. The fun could not last forever though, fortunately, and so afterwards Matt and I joined Scott Kunza to take part in mischief and driving around. The night was all and all pretty good, and by the end, I was as tired as tired can be. I fell asleep on Matt's floor and spent the night there, only to wake up to his dad stomping around like a crack addict at 8 in the A.M. like always.

III. Movies
Over the course of October, I viewed many a motion picture, and for any reason you might want to know all of them, here they are:
Kill Bill
Lost in Translation
Last of the Mohicans
The Royal Tenenbaums
The Hunted
About Schmidt
The 39 Steps
1 Hour Photo
The Lady Vanishes
The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly
High Plains Drifter
The Big Lebowski
On The Waterfront
Boys From Brazil
Cool Hand Luke
Reservoir Dogs
Jackie Brown
Pulp Fiction
The Thomas Crown Affair
Cape Fear
L. A. Confidential

IV. Halloween
I had a grand time this past October 31st. I spent the first portion of the night at home, relaxing and enjoying my mam's exquisite chili-mac. I threw some candy at some children and watched some old horror movies, but it was boring. So, I called ol' Scott, and he and I decided to join the party at Rachel Geringer's house. We agreed we both must dress up, so I put on an orange t-shirts, a cheap navy blue sport coat, my aviator shades, a navy neck tie, and a pair of jeans. Scott arrived shortly after our talk on the phone sporting his pinstripe jacket, black Dickies shorts, a black derby cap, straightened hair (complements of his sister, Mary Beth), and his face painted bright whited with black around the lips and eye sockets (also complements of Mary Beth). He looked orgasmic and I felt orgasmic, so we made way to Rachel's house to see what mayhem there was to cause.

We arrived to see a litter of fine folk... and blah, blah, blah, yadda, yadda, yadda, fuck who cares, and the night went fine. I did some trick or treating, but collected no candy and the night dragged on and on. The party wasn't satisfying me anymore, so Scott Kunza, Greg, and I drove over to Matt's house to have some fun with him and his brother.

At Matt's, we had a jolly fuckin time, making fun of Jamie Lee Curtis' hermaphrodisity, the Halloween movies, Return of the Dragon, Steve Buscemi, and Korean people... It was a bitchin' time. All nights must come to an end though, and so ours did, and again I woke up to Matt's dad yelling obscenities and frying eggs, what a great family. We all had ourselves a hardy breakfast, and then it was time to be off. It was a worthwhile night.

V. The Night At the Mall
This night was my only night spent at the mall in October. It was a pretty satisfiable trip though, I must say. I made a couple of purchases including the Criterion Collection Edition of Rushmore (one of my favorite films) and John Coltrane: Blue Train (definately one of the greatest jazz albums I've yet to encounter). The highlight of the night though was as Scott, Ryan, Matt, Dede, Mandy, and I walked through the parking lot towards Best Buy, Scott decided to run over the top of a brand spankin' new Acura sedan. Scott takes off and with his supreme athletic skill, he conquered the automobile. Each step seemed to echo throughout the lot calling, "HEY EVERYONE! THIS FUCKIN KID IS ON TOP OF A CAR!" We all laughed after the stunt was completed and congratulated Scott. A man from behind then yelled, "Hey! Buddy, c'mere!" We all took off towards Best Buy, all except the D because she's more mature than we are, but running is a rush. She talked it over and nothing happened, but it was all worth it. In the end I guess she looked cooler than us though because she handled it like one sly motherfucker, you slick D.

What I learned on this night: Ryan runs like a crippled mountain goat. Cheers to you Ryan.

The End

Sunday, September 21, 2003

Quite a while it has been since last I've made an entry into this journal. This weekend has been an adventurous weekend in which I've made fun of things, killed things, thrown things, listened to things, paid things, itched things, and many other things that would take too long to speak of.

The weekend kicked off with me heading on up to the parish picnic where there were many parents, little shits, and priests that I'd hoped in the past that I'd never see again. Well, I saw them this weekend and it was not a great experience, but that's just fine because I got to see some old friends, such as Megan Malloy, Tammy, Sarah Fichtiner, and Chris Bonhert. I also got to play some fantastic games such as Monopoly, shuffleboard, and pick-a-fuckin-plastic-duck-outta-the-water! The picnic soon grew boring, but there was a breath of fresh air when Scott, Nick, and I made way to the SUPER SLIDE. We grabbed our potatoe sacks and zoomed down the slides and rammed into each other, but the fun ended when Nick decided to punch me in the scrotum halfway down the fuckin slide. I enjoyed that alot. Soon it was time for me to leave, so I said my goodbye's and traveled home to pack for the annual squirrel hunting tournament.

Back at home, I packed all the necessary provisions for this monumental trip that I was about to embark on, and soon it was time to depart. Ben, Leo, and I rode silently in the truck for a while, but it was soon time to listen to some music to give us a second wind. Leo took a tape from the glove compartment, gave Ben a mysterious wink, and said, "Put this motherfucker in. Mikey close your ears buddy." Ben followed Leo's orders, but I was not about to "close my ears", I'm not even sure it's possible to close your ears. So, the tape began and instead of it being John Denver or Bruce Springsteen as I had predicted, it was a brutally perverted hick from Texas singing about things such as "Sally Deepthroat got what she wanted!", and "She got fucked by a nigger!" among other classics. At first, I was uncomfortable, but as the luridness continued and Ben and Leo sang along, I began to feel like I was travelling with two molesters, but I sang along anyway.

We arrived at our property at approximately 2:30 p.m. and I felt like quite tired, so I went inside the shed, and went to fucking sleep. I awoke in the morning in a brisk, aroused mood, and I was ready to go blow the shit out of some helpless tree-rats. I put on my boots and camoflauge, and loaded up my Ruger 10/ .22 rifle, and headed out into the woods. I walked down to the Old County Road and after being down there not even five minutes I encountered three squirrels, but failed to shoot any of them. Around noon I felt discouraged, so I went back up to the shed and ate 100,000,000,000,000 Hostess powdered sugar donettes.

Later, I tried to sight in my gun because I knew there was no way I could be missing the squirrels without something wrong with my sights. I set three cans up: one was twenty yards away, one was thirty yards away, and the other was forty yards away. I set my sights for a closer range and BOOM BOOM BOOM, I shot each one down like I was Calamity Jane with a penis. So, with a new confidence in myself, I locked and loaded, and Ben and I headed out for the last hunt of the day.

Ben gave me a cigar and lit it up, and then we proceeded to walk throught the woods as quietly as possible. I soon broke off from Ben, and moseyed through the forest, stopping every few steps to observe my surroundings. It was the most beautiful setting I have yet encountered while hunting: The sun was setting, the animals were coming alive with sounds of sex and the like, and I leaned against a tree puffing away at my cigar and my rifle without a care in the world. It was a heavenly night indeed. Little did I know that in a wee bit I would engage in the greatest hunt I've ever had.

The sun settled lower on the horizon and there was a majestic, beautifully naturally mood all about me. I continued to venture slowly and observantly through the forest until I came upon a small creek. As I was about to move across the creek, I noticed a squirrel sitting on the ground across from me chewing on a nut. My heart began to pound and my dong was erect. I knelt down and put my rifle against my shoulder to take aim at the clueless son-of-a-bitch. His head was right in my sights, and then he looked up at me and we stared at each other two hippies looking for paeoti for about two seconds, and then he took off before I had a chance to take a shot. I leapt across the creek and ran after my prey, but it was getting darker and I soon lost track of him, and did not know where I was or how to get back to Ben. I was not about to give up though; this squirrel would be dead by the end of the night. Twenty minutes passed, and there was still no sign of me catching up to the fucking animal, but then just as it seemed all hope was lost, my eyes found the squirrel thirty yards away, eating a nut. I crept up slowly, and then said fuck it and ran at him, but he was quick to get up in a cedar tree before I could get a clear shot. But then, as I looked up the tree, I could see the squirrel's back end exposed to me through the leaves, and I took aim. Millions of things passed through my head such as Robert DeNiro in the Deer Hunter, and Clint Eastwood in High Plains Drifter, but then everything stopped and I pulled the trigger. The squirrel fell from the tree and landed on the ground with a loud THUMP. I approached him and stood by his side while he struggled for his last breathes, and then I said to him, "A fine opponent you've been squirrel." He gathered his last breath, looked me in the eye, and said, "Fuck you, cocksucker..." and with that he died and went to a better place.

I had shot him right in the dick. Picking him up by the tail, I walked back through the forest to find Ben and shortly after we went back to camp.

Upon returning back to the property, I went inside the shed and fell asleep. I did not wake up to hunt the next morning because I would not win the tournament anyway, and I just wanted to relax and enjoy nature's beauty until I left. Well, instead of enjoying nature's beauty I ended up drinking some coffee and listenin to Grandpa Leo's bullshit and stories. It was great fun, and I remember one story in particular. It went like this:
"I used to know a guy named Henry Zimmerman. Henry was crippled from some hunting accident, I can't quite remember what happened to him, but anyway he had to use a wheelchair for the rest of his life. Well, this one time Henry had just bought a new labrador puppy, and he wanted to train the son-of-a-bitch to hunt squirrels. So, Henry takes the fuckin' thing up to his property and they're in the shed, and Henry says to the dog, 'Squirrel!' Well, the dog takes off out the door and into the woods. The dog didn't come back though, so Henry went out there lookin' for his dog, and as soon as he got out in the woods the dog comes up and bites Henry right in the ass. Henry grabs that son-of-a-bitch by the neck and takes him back up into the house. He tells the dog to heel, and then he picks up his shotgun and yells, 'Squirrel!' When the dog takes off, Henry shoots the motherfucker with his 12-gauge. 'No dog bites me in the ass and gets away with it,' he says. So, since he's a cripple, his wife buries the fuckin' thing right in the front yard. He was a goofy son-of-a-bitch, I'll tell you that."

Well after the bullshitting and storytelling, I packed up my shit and my cousin Jacob brought me home. It was a great weekend, and a great experience with nature, except that I got five hundred fuckin chiggers now.

What I learned over the weekend: A great hunt can help alot of things, but it can't cure cancer.

Saturday, September 06, 2003

Tonight I'm making an entry not because of an exciting trip to the mall or anything like that, but rather, I feel the need to express my opinions on some things. Mental reflection on events, situations, society, people's behaviors, and myself take place everyday for me because I feel that if I don't think about what's going on around me and within me, I'll be lost. All summer long I've thought about the people around me in particular and how utterly bewildering they are, and how fucking stupid they can be.

I go to school at Duchesne High School, but it doesn't seem like a school, rather it seems like a cult. The only people that matter to The Cult, are the people in The Cult, and only the strong and good looking survive. There are the carnivors ("jocks") who's lives revolve only around what the other jocks are doing and whether or not their team will make state or not. There are the lost creatures ("punks") who think that everyone is involved with giving big corporations money by buying clothes and hair products, so they wear torn jeans, spiked bracelects, and non brand name clothing. There are the prissy, stuck up creatures (girls) who's thought processes focus solely on beauty, social reputation, and dating. Then there are the inbred creatures (pothead/jocks, punk/jock/skater/potheads, blah blah blah) who are mixes of different species.

This whole comparison between the animal kingdom and different groups I've labeled in The Cult has been an excersise. It is to show you how I group and label people, which is wrong, but it's only human, and it's to get you acquainted with things around The Cult. These are just levels of organization, but the groups all mix and that's where the problem starts. In The Cult people only care about the people in The Cult, it is a click of people who don't care about the world around them, the people in other parts of the world, the events happening around them, or anything else you can imagine. Many, or most of these people do not think clearly, the don't think for themselves, they don't have opinions on issues, and it sickens me because it's all for one fucking reason... they're scared.

I'm talking about all this just because I want people to think clearly. I want people to realize how much freedom and individual independence there is in life. I wish people would have a mind apart once in a while and do things differently than their parents did, and they're not afraid to try something that no one else does. Finally, before you (whoever it might be reading this) decides to get offended by anything I've said, please consult a decent thought process and think, "Well these are his opinions and maybe he's just expressing them to help stuff, and I don't need to be a jerk off and take it the wrong way."
Don't be a pussy, just do what you want.

That's all.

Monday, September 01, 2003

The weekend is going by fast, yet there is another day in store for lazy asses such as myself. Yesterday I woke up early and to my great delight had nothing to do all day, so I listened to the incredible musical skills of Miles Davis and Duke Ellington until about 3. There seemed to be nothing to do, so I called my chap Ryan, hoping that his demented sense of humor would bring me out of my jazz trance. Ryan and I talked for a while and he soon invited Matthew and I over to his house. I went there with the extreme ambition of a rookie male exotic dancer.

I entered Ryan's household, and heard the unmistakable coarse, crackling voice of Brian Johnson, and the unnerving, shrieking voice of Ryan's to accompany it. Ryan and I sat in his computer room and listened to music, and he showed me his keen sense of Mexican heritage by playing mariachi guitar like a fucking banshee. Soon a car rolled up into the driveway, and a figure leapt out and crept toward the door. Who could this strange figure be? It was none other than Rick James, or as we called him, "Matt Faulkner". We all three sat in the computer and played with the guitar and talked about music and such, and soon we became bored, so we went upstairs to begin watching Orson Welles' masterpeice and possibly the greatest movie of all time, Citizen Kane. This film failed to keep the attention of us three testerone filled, meat- eating, bloodthirsty young men, so we decided instead of continuing the viewing, to proceed in playing catch outside.

Later, when we realized that playing catch requires energy, we went back inside, got some pizza, and watched Raging Bull. It was an experience all of its own, watching Scorsese's masterpeice, and then pausing it periodically to bitch to each other about how unfair it is that we haven't gotten laid yet. The movie soon ended, and this meant it was time to return once again to the computer room, make fun of people over the internet, and engage in things that have little or no signifigance. Ryan was talking to Cara and Elly and whoever else, so I became bored, and felt I needed to express myself on paper. Images filled my mind, and I drew them all including Cher with her lower half as a kangaroo, and a Fred Astaire lollipop. Ryan and Matt soon joined me in midnight Renaissance by drawing such things as a fictional cartoon character named Black Magic The Dolphin, and Peter Colombatto chewing his hand off. This was all so grand and we all felt energized, so we returned downstairs to watch Mean Streets, but about five minutes into it Matt was out cold and had an erection. The night was coming to a close so we went upstairs to delve into the world of slumber. A burst of creativeness came to us when we were on the edge of sleep, so we ended up making up fictional biography titles like, Courtney Sheehan: The Link Between Homosapiens and Monguloids. It was a great way to end the night.

We awoke the next morning at 10 and I was soon picked up by Ben and taken home. There was an expedition planned for the day: Ben, the kids, and I would go to down to my Grandma and Grandpa's house in Bosnia-Ville, also known as South County. There, we would take up the project of power washing their house. Ben and I went right to work, and to my great delight, the job was more satisfying than beating Matt Dalton with a lead pipe. Ben and I would switch off between using the power washer gun, and scrubbing the siding with a giant brush, but my heart was with the gun. It gave me a sense of power, and authority. The gun was long like a flame thrower, and it would spray water out like napalm, so I felt as if suddenly was in 1969 Saigon roasting the enemy like Robert De Niro in The Deer Hunter. In reality I was just spraying the side of a house with a high pressure water gun, and after realizing this, I felt like a jerk off.

Ben and I soon finished our work and we went inside to get a drink. The reward for all my hard work was the key to my grandma Nada's CD collection. It was beautiful, Sinatra, James, Miller, Goodman, all the great jazz and swing musicians. I borrowed 5 albums and made off like a bandit, and we soon left soon their house and headed back home.

Back at home, I felt tired, restless, and shitty, but it was nothing some Sinatra couldn't fix right up. What a great guy he was, I mean all the booze, all the hookers, all the money, and the great voice. Can entertainment get any better than Frank Sinatra? Not Quite. I sat my ass at the computer desk for a few hours and Ryan soon called me and updated me with the woman in his life, and after that I was tired and bored. There was, however, a beautiful light at the end of this blurry tunnel I was in, and it was Lauren Svoboda. We had a deep conversation about all the shit in our lives, and I think we both felt much better by the end of it. Thank you Lauren.

It is 11:30 p.m. as I finish this post, and I am one tired mother fucker. I have to wake up in about 2 and 1/2 hours to go up to the property in Hannible and dove hunt. Killing helpless birds should be a great way to let out all my anxiety. Goodnight.

I didn't learn much in the past couple of days, but I do have an inspiring quote...
"At least eagles fuck in mid-air."
-Ryan McDonough

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