So about these smoothies..

All you need to do is use FROZEN FRUIT.  WHO WOULD HAVE THOUGHT?

it's like..

healthy and delicious.  Frozen Fruit.  And soy yogurt.  And orange juice.  Blend. Drink. 

And if you don't listen to Peter & the wolf, don't panic.  Just do the following.  RIGHT NOW;

1. type www.playlist.com into your web browser of choice.

2. search for "peter and the wolf the fall"

3. play song entitled, "the fall".

4. analyze.

"Who were you before the fall 

I was a singer I saw the future

laid out in dominoes 

Now I hunt the buffalos

and my darling

who are you

behind the counter with the day memorized

and those cold vacant eyes

well you swore you were free

you swore you could see him coming

it was

old angel midnight

he's staring you down

he's stealing the water right

out of the ground

and the news maybe true

but the facts were never found

and the market is dead and the phone-lines are down

but it ties us together

my kind of town"

~P&TW

ok actually. you're still my dawg. do people say dawg anymore? It feels awful to say it.

Ok, actually, now I feel bad.  I shouldn't be judging people so harshly for trying to fit in.  Or how they dress.   I mean, what does it matter if people are trying to achieve comfort in their daily lives through clothing.  The same clothing.  As every one of their peers.

Or maybe their not even doing that.

Maybe they all really did hit the same sale and since I don't shop at the lame store I missed out.  

Maybe I'm just the douche who can't suck it up and hang up his flannel.

Who knows, all I know is that I think that insincerity is the worst trait anyone could ever have.

On a lighter note,

I learned how to make smoothies that taste like drops of jupiter.  

There is a light that never goes out..

It's silly how people aren't really even in touch with their feelings.  I went to a summer camp where it was like.  A fucking love-fest.  Sharing feelings, having feelings, feeling feelings.  And I'm in college (still)(it's cool, i like it)(sort of), and people are so scared.  Of deviating.  Or seeming different, or not fitting in.  Even the different people are trying to fit in with the different people. Its a shit-show.  It's like middle school.  Or even worse..dental school.  I'm just kidding, I don't know what dental school is like.  I'd imagine they all wear the same lab coats though, and maybe one person forgets  theirs all the time and wears the like--lost and found lab coat which is slightly off color.  It's actually weird how I would want that off- color lab-coat.  Maybe it's self-righteousness.  I'm not trying to have the same lab coat, dammit.  People who go to my university....look like they all hit the same sale at the fucking mall.  Except the ironic part is..that their clothing is probably pretty expensive.  I'm not sure how this rant about fashion..or lack of true style..ties in with my opener about people not being in touch with their feelings.  Maybe what I meant was that people don't know where the sales is at.  Cause I look good.  

I only get the right impressions

So:

I think:

It's really funny when environmentalist groups on campus hand me pieces of paper.  It's like.  Oh yeah?  Well, I'm in the Jewish Ping Pong Club, have a paddle made of bacon.  Anyway.  The weather is like a crayon in the box that you only use for really specific things or else it sucks.  Like the color that looks just like Caucasian skin.  "Cracka", I think it was called.  It's good if your trying to only be sort of satisfied.  That is, unless you want to sit around watching movies, or listening to sad folk music.  Like Peter & the Wolf.  Thats what I've been doing, and it's great.  

It's grey.  It's bipolar.  It needs a hot pink shirt from 1983 and some lithium.  Maybe it needs self-esteem.  Cheer up, weather.  Have a flier.  About how to save you.  Listen to old iron and wine songs with me.  Love me.  

And now we ride the circus wheel..

So.  I'm gonna use this blog.  to express myself.  All of the pictures are mine. the writing, too.  Whateverwhatever is mine.  I hope you enjoy it.  This picture is from Seville, Spain..during La Feria.  From a Ferris Wheel.  I sure do miss Spain.  De verdad.

My Mom Thinks I'm a Cat......ch.

So,

I go home today because I had a doctors appointment in columbia and I see my mom.  She asks me if she has shown me her pop-up book.  I immediately knew that the pop-up book was about sex, and I sure as balls didn't want to see it.  I don't know why I knew it was about sex.  I think that it was because if my mom thinks that a pop-up book is funny, it probably isn't some G-rated pop-up book with dinosaurs or children playing softball or penguins ice-skating or something.  I look at her and tell her, "Mom, I don't want to see the pop-up book."  She grabs it.  She implores me to look.  She opens it and laughingly says, "Rebecca and I were cracking up last night over this." Rebecca is my 15 year old sister.  I say, "Mom, I do not want to see this pop-up book, and furthermore, I think its totally weird that you would look at this with Rebecca."  She opens the book and a cardboard man and woman making love in the missionary position..popped up.  She cracked up.  I did not.  I say again, but this time in a more serious and more confusedly ridiculous tone, "Mom, I am not looking at this.  I am not looking at this.  I am not looking at this." "Just look at this one, Dad thought this one was hilarious."  Dad is my 56 year-old Dad.  I accidently dart a glance and it is a pop-up depiction of a woman in a nurses uniform having strap on relations with a man leaning over a table in a kitchen.  My mom laughs harder.  I say, "mom this is fucking gross I don't want to look at this.  I don't want to look at this. I don't want to look at this."  I repeat.  She pulls what looked like a cardboard tab at the bottom of one of the pages and says, "look at how this one moves".  I didn't look.  The whole thing about this situation, if you're still with me.  The real kicker.  Is that I knew.  As soon as she said "pop-up book".  That the fucking book.  Was about sex.  However.  I don't know what's weirder.  That my mom possesses this book.  Or that I knew all along. Or that I looked at pop-up sex vignettes with my mom.  Who was wearing a medical procedure mask.  Because our house was being painted and she didn't want to inhale fumes.  

Laughed For a World Filled With Fantasy

In this day and age you really gotta suck it up.  Things are relatively impersonal, people are relatively transient and indian buffets are relatively inexpensive.  If you're not careful, you'll end up alone in one of those Indian buffets. And it's sort of fun, but it's also sort of depressing.  I've done it twice.  The first time I pretended to read Kant, but I couldn't.  I ended up paying close attention to the African-American couple behind me because they were talking about the movie The Outsiders.  Really interesting insights.  Nothing gold can stay.  The second time I paid attention to one waiter who had a ponytail and unkempt facial hair.  I wondered if he wondered about my facial hair.  I doubted it and sipped a lassi.  Anyway, what I'm really trying to say is that the weather is changing, and I'm sorry for saying, "in this day and age".  I actually only know about this day.  We aint goin out like that.  I'm going to Olympia this summer.