2009 09 01 archive

Tuesday, September 29, 2009

His Truth Is Marching On

Somewhere in between singing “An American Trilogy” with a gay socialist and an Armenian and devouring 3/4 of a pint of Stephen Colbert’s Americone Dream, I realized that I was the highest I have ever been in my life, ever–on my birthday. Let me tell you, that was a wondrous realization to this 19 year old chinegro homosexual. Almost as amazing as realizing just now the comedic value of singing “Oh I wish I was/In a land of cotton” with cottonmouth. After getting to bed around 4 AM still fairly under the influence, I slipped into a dreamland I don’t remember much of. All I really remember is taking a quick second upon first waking to regain my depth perception; I’ve been told this is normal.


I figure that since last night was a fairly carefree, irresponsible one today should be a day of modest celebration. My miserable morning class was let out half an hour early, I got a free book on Buddhist meditation from a monk in a hoodie, and my knee which I managed to tweak horribly the night prior suddenly doesn’t feel so bad. With any luck Anthropology will be cancelled or cut short and I can go watch my friend in a reading of a high schooler’s one-act interpretation of Romeo and Juliet as a rapping Benvolio. Originally I was going to perform the part, but the aforementioned Anthropology class will keep my Sean Connery-voiced Benvolio rap from ever seeing the light of day past rehearsals.

One thing I wondered about doing this September 29th was finding a way to better myself. Yesterday in one of my political science classes, the professor was going over the headlines from the past week. Somehow the three of us–among the smartest students in the room–completely missed the FBI foiling two terrorism plots over the weekend. We really dropped the ball on that one. But hey, that sense of being smarter than most of the other people in the room came flooding back when a classmate suggested that the WWII weapon developed by the United States over five years that completely changed how countries handle hostilities with one another was not the atomic bomb, but tear gas. If you don’t know what you’re talking about, shut the fuck up and listen to people who do. At least I’ve (mostly) got that down.

So that’s my existence. And yours?

Sunday, September 20, 2009

Jive Turkey

How Glenn Beck still has a job is beyond me. I’m not one of those gushy liberals who think he should be exiled for saying Barack Obama does not care about white people. Being an idiot isn’t illegal in America. However being an idiot is usually enough to get you terminated from your job. Judging from the number of people that watch his hour of stupid on the Fox News Channel though, he’s clearly not (entirely) incompetent. Whether or not he believes the things he says, he knows how to market it to the fine citizens of this country. Be loud, flail your arms around, and don’t forget to cry a bit. It’s how Maury and Keith Olbermann are still on the air, after all.

How people can be so stupid is beyond me. While anyone who knows anything about the National Mall, estimating crowd sizes, or simple journalism can tell you that the 9/12 Teabagger rally only had tens of thousands of people, not 1.8 million as claimed by endless ‘conservative’ blogs. Still, a legion of the fat, the old, the white, and the religious 70,000 strong calling for a return to Constitutional government (via the Stars and Bars, no less) is nothing to piss at. In fact, if all of them thought like this I’d say it would be something to be concerned with. But if they’re letting their political opinions be spoon-fed to them by a fat man in a suit who can cry on command, the likelihood of them getting out of their lawn chairs to actually do something is minuscule. And even then, Obama’s death panels will likely put down at least half of Beck’s Army by 2012.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Manic State

So I’ve had quite a week. And you? What have you been up to? I suppose I should explain my sudden absence from the world of the internet (or at least of blogger) but honestly, I was expecting it and you should have been too. First week back home with all my friends and all the things I shouldn’t be doing but do anyway. For the record, raspberry vodka + fruit punch + about a quarter shot of SoCo for flavor is probably the second best nonsexual thing on this planet.

Speaking of sex I haven’t been getting much of that lately. My life is one continual, massive cockblock. Four times, and that’s just with one guy. My friend Shawn brought this up the other day; with gay men the cockblock is a weapon not understood by heterosexuals. There’s two cocks so it’s almost like a double cockblock, the Berlin Wall of cockblocks if you will. All this for a hookup (not even a relationship). To relieve the stress of the situation this past Saturday I got my slurp on and went to a gay dance where, sure enough, a wasted asshole offered a drunken apology for how he used me and fucked me in the head, and demanded a hug to say things were all better between us. He was supposed to call the next morning, but I doubt he even remembers I was there. In short, fuck my life.
But when you find yourself being continually shot in the foot by your social life–which I must admit really isn’t that bad, although it gets me down sometimes–you have academia to turn to. As I write this, my Comparative Politics class is half an hour away and is taught by a disorganized man who resembles an old lesbian. Anthropology is interesting, but goes from 6 to 8:30 at night. Lastly I have 2 hours of International Relations with two of my best friends, and a Vietnam War class taught by a German with a slight Canadian accent. I don’t need to explain why that’s amazing.
So in review, my social life is okay but could be better and my academic life is okay but could be better. Seems like in addition to being the world’s largest cockblock my life is one of contentness but not happiness. Although I will say quite happily the one I loved and couldn’t have is no longer a concern. Getting past that (finally) is something I have to prop up on a pedestal, and I’m gonna shine that bitch up until she gleams.
But I still haven’t bought The Beatles Rock Band. Fuck!