Back in Black

What a pleasant surprise, to return from a night of boozing with a good friend, to discover that my domains have finally been set right, and that wellfoughtbottle.com lives. Now back to our regularly scheduled posting.

Fetishtastic!

Midnight No. the 54th

truckin.

Test from 2k feet.

Midnight No. the 53rd.

The flowers don't seem to know that they shouldn't bloom in the dark and cold.

This just showed up as an ad in my gmail inbox...

Hyelo yelo. I think Google's omniscient robot brain is starting to know me a bit too well. Note to self: their 20/20 gives half and half a new (and substantially less icky) meaning.

Midnight No. the 52nd.

First star of the night comes out of the fog.

13. Things I Can Hear From Here.

1. Water lapping cold and slow against a transom.
2. Buoy bell lapping in the distance.
3. Loose metal settling and knocking with the roll.
4. Quiet, human, honest laughter somewhere aft.
5. The gears and springs of an overtensed mind winding down towards rest.

Only light for miles...

... and it is so damn cold, but hearing the water and feeling the sway makes it all almost worth it. Consider me sailed off the end of the world.

W.T.F.!

So, like, if it doesn't say this it is NOT from real cows?

Since when...

... did horrible, horrible restaurants require their own magazines?

Where in the world.

Very cool world sunlight/cloud cover map, promises to update in (semi) real time.

mmmmm endorphins.

If only real joy could be purchased so cheap.

You can never go home again...

...or maybe you can. Was looking for the number of an old friend in my home town, and I stumbled upon this gem.

Home sweet home, the internets know you so well.

More tomorrow.

Ten steps back.

If anyone needs me, I'll be heading to the beach soon, waiting for the snow to come and quiet me and the world. I suppose there are worse ways to bow out.

Finally!

A way to popularize the Bible! This whole Jesus thing is finally going to take off now!

The discards are almost pretty...

when you squint your eyes and make them water and ignore the details. Of course when you pull it apart it is just garbage. But everything is just a jumble of imperfect parts if you stare too hard. One way or another the trash has to go out, of course, but there is more than one way to approach it, is all im saying.

Reminder to all you U.S. citizens...

with permanent addresses, especially those who happen to live in hotly contested districts (Are there any? Who can be bothered to overcome the hopeless apathy to find out?). Let's all pretend we live in a functioning representational democratic republic. For shits and giggles.

Same person?

Are public transportation signboards...

supposed to be painted in whiteout? Just saying, does not instill confidence.

Look at this cat...

and tell me he isn't plotting to take over the world (note the kitty gang signs coordinating the feline revolution).

Need Vs. Want, Redux

Turns out that there are some things one needs rather than wants, but those seem to be the things that one spends so much time rationalizing the needlessness of when they are not forthcoming. In honor of getting what I need, and being spared the torture of convincing myself that I never wanted it in the first place, and also in honor of slightly moody archichicks everywhere, and the men who want but don't need to do their laundry or explain aircraft-related meteorology to them, I offer the following:*



*I originally started this post looking to embed the recent, and brilliant, Daily Show clip regarding the WGA strike (via Defamer obvs.), and state my solidarnosh, but the clip's embed code appears to have been removed so as to limit its (in no way ironic) free distribution on the interwebs. Cupcakes are the more pressing issue anywhoo.

Need Vs. Want

I think part of real maturity is developing the ability to determine the difference between a need and a want, something that most people I know, myself included, seem to have quite a bit of trouble with. Beyond the mind numbing econ discussion of the distinction, I think there is something more, something more subtle, something more significant.

Needs can be real, but real maturity comes in the form of not mistaking wants for needs. At least I think. The distinction is something I need to understand, if I want to not insist my wants on other by justifying them as needs. If that makes any sense.

The problem is that something stated as a need insists upon itself, carries within itself an implied ultimatum, this need must be met because it is necessary, or else. A need is inherently selfish, a way of imposing one's will on others, on the world.

But most "needs" are not truly necessary, they are just desired. So they are really wants. The trick is to learn that a want, not yet fulfilled, is not a disappointment, just a desire, a chance to long for something yet to come. And longing, the promise of things to come, has a flavor all its own, and is not that bad after all. Hunger is, I've heard it said, the best spice. So I'm happy to learn to want instead of need.

Big Super Happy Fun Fun

There is a god.

Super lucky best fun gametime. Mr. Sparkle starred in the best 5.5 minutes of television better, and this looks like more of the same. John, I need my xbox 360 STAT.

Is Anyone Hiring Destructive Testers?

For better or worse, it seems that one of my core talents is finding the place where things break, or break down, or fall apart. Laptops, ipods, furniture, and other, more precious things all break down when their time is up.

This destructive testing of the fabric of the world, this using up of the elasticity of things is not so much an act of volition but seems instead to be a direct result of how I abraid against the universe as I make my path through it. I walk until the shoes fall apart around my feet, I push until the flex is gone, never realizing that the thing will at some point cease to function, to be itself.

In hindsight, you can always see where things could have been protected or conserved, where the scratches and dents could have been avoided. But that is the aftermath, and things are never so clear without the mirror of hindsight in which to look at them.

So if anyone has use for a destructive tester, I'm looking to play to my core competencies.

That's Politics, Bitch.

Is Killface the most promising, charming, eloquent and, let's face it folks, cause we all know in our hearts of hearts B and H are hopeless (middle America anyone? Remember, those people who gave us the Bush smackdown twice in a row despite all costal logic) electable Democratic presidential candidate we have seen in at least two election cycles?

Yes, he is. So do something about it. Visit Draftgore.com. Now, bitches. It is going 65 degrees out in NYC the day before All Hallows Eve. There just might be something to all this global warming junk science. A force field of god's love will protect you from neither flood nor zombies.

Irrational Fear No. 3, or, I TOLD You They Are Out To Get Us.

I once saw a cat try its damnednest to murder a nun. True story, H-Bone will verify it, she was there. The cat, with whom I eventually formed a synergistic, if not loving, relationship, was an asshole, but he was an entertaining asshole, and never did learn that if he concentrated on chasing the laser pointer, he would not notice that he was gaiting full tilt towards the wall.

I once spent a good deal of time with another cat who was determined to save his mommy by killing me. Only his lethargy and dim wits saved me, as the best plan he seemed able to muster was settling his considerable girth, belly down, across my nose and mouth as I slept. Sadly for him, he always managed to wake me when his forty pounds bounded onto the bed from the windowsill.

The point being, my relationship with all things feline is, at best, complex. I've only actually ever liked one cat, a Mr. Pussums of Park Slope, but that is largely because he is the first cat I have ever had the pleasure of meeting who does not seem to think that he is better than I am.

Perhaps part of the reason I've always tried to steer clear of the kitties is that I have an irrational, unfounded, unexamined yet deep seated fear of contracting toxoplasmosis. This is not something I admit lightly as it is clearly something that one must be batshit nuts to invest mental energy in being afraid of. Without delving too deeply into the abnormal psychology this indicates, lets just table that part of the discussion by taking for given the fact that it is at least in part rooted in a mentally altered teenage viewing of Trainspotting gone horribly wrong. So cat piss has the potential to give me, beyond the obvious aversion to things excreted, the serious skeevs.

And of course if I ever attempt to describe this or either of my two other seriously irrational fears to friends, loved ones or strangers, I get responses that vary, without ever crossing over to the positive side of the spectrum, between displaying complete indifference and backing away from me slowly and dialing a mental health professional.

But get this: I was fucking right. Chalk it up to inductive intuition or the sheer dumb luck of the drunk and the foolish, but toxoplasmosis is serious shit, infects half the human population, and, get this, has the potential to turn us all into FUCKING ZOMBIES.*

Laugh all you want at Irrational Fear No. 3, but all this time I have been at the vanguard, trying to save you naysaying automatons from the coming zombie apocalypse. Shows you to doubt me.

BOOSH!

*Granted the article referenced cites no references and is not terribly well written, but if I can fear cat piss and escalators, I can certainly ignore my own confirmation bias and take this knowledge bomb as gospel.

Reboot: An open letter to you know who...

Not going to excuse the absence, priorities are. But I made a promise to revisit this space, and have a good incentive to do so from here on in. Often all it takes is the proper audience. So here we go you-know-who. Be careful what you ask for...

what i did today.

pardon our absence

back on wednesday with stories.

Midnight no. the 51st.

Looking up from the bottom of a neon sign at Cherry.

14. Completely Predictable Things That Happened in L.A. and S.F.

1. Kiefer loved Heather.
2. I missed my flight home.
3. Heather made fun of my rental car.
   
4. Ami turned out to be a rock star.
   
5. I missed my flight home, again.
6. Heather yelled at me for calling her Boner.
7. Heather responded to Boner.
8. Haylie Duff's birthday party.
9. Heather loved Kiefer.
10. I missed my flight home, yet again.
11. Somehow, without even trying, I ended up blitzkrieging Vegas.
    
12. I came home by way of State College, P.A.
    

something about...

the gear before it goes on for the battle just looked cool. Note the unofficial Venture Bros. belt for good measure.

Midnight no. the 50th.

...and we are horizontal.

Midnight no. the 49th.

The weather vane must point the way.

Midnight no. the 48th.

Late night walk home from the Talkhouse. 'Snice when the only thing dimming the stars is the light of the moon. Nice, but also damn cold.

Midnights back on track at last.

Woohoo! Hopefully with less constant motion and turmoil we will need fewer and fewer of these catch up sessions.

Midnight no. the 47th.

Call me Frankie Avalon 'cause I'm back to the beach.

Midnight no. the 46th.

Sarah is the dancing queen.

Midnight no. the 45th.

I've got a GRRREAT idea. P.S. thanks for the party Maxie.

Midnight no. the 44th.

No pictures allowed at Double Happiness, say the bouncer, so y'all miss out on Annie the Mennace's architectural hotness.

Midnight no. the 43rd.

Via Dodgeball.com, best we can do for now, note the evident phone problems:

[MISSING, REPLACEMENT AS SOON AS YOU KNOW WHO SENDS IT]

Pit stop from the late night throw down

Midnight no. the 42nd.

Moonlight and snow turn the world zima blue. Must have something to do with the ultimate answer to Life, the Universe and Everything.

Midnight no. the 41st.

Sometimes we make our own fun.

Midnight no the 40th.

Ashley lost her camera, so she owes me a skee ball picture to fill this space.

Midnight no. the 39th.

Midnight from under the covers. Were you there too?

Midnight no. the 38th.

Many of these midnights do tend to happen in bars...

Midnight no. the 37th.

EEEEEENN ENNNNNN WYEEEEEE SEEEEEEEE.

Midnight no. the 36th.

Live from seat 1A, Vegas->NYC

Midnight no. the XX

All midnights save for one caught up. Will fight with the phone to get it sorted later.

Midnight no. the 35th.

God's appliances = God's cookies.

It says cook and chill, and baby thats what i do every night.

P.S. Missing midnights up tonight.

Midnight no. the 34th.

H-Bone's in the bathroom with Charlie.

Midnight no. the 33rd.

[REPLACEMENT PENDING DUE TO EVIDENTIARY ISSUES]

Not much better than running into an old friend in a far off city.

Midnight no. the 30th-b.

boner loves kiefer.

Midnight no. the 32nd.

Tonight feels like the inside of a Police video, in the best possible way. Good show, no way I get on the road tomorrow.

Um, no. No. 2.

Your Age, race and marital status are not factors in who I play with. I need someone who will treat me like a lady.You sound as a man of my dream in your profile today on (www.friendster.com) it sounds good about you thats why I contacted you for relationships.I have my preferences, and I do not think it is necessary for love to be segrigated by Age. Every woman all have a man of her dream.Sorry my profile is not enough here but will tell you more details about me if you find time to write me via (XXXXXXX@yahoo.com) Cares to know you. Yours sweet heart
XXXXXXX.

Why do all children have sticky fingers?

Somehow the LA bender has pitstopped in a Gymboree.

Midnight no. the 31st.

she wanted the world to see the necklace. you heard it here first, pre paparazzi.

Welcome to the inside of my childhood...

Is it love, that I'm feeling, is this the love...

that I've been searching for?

Midnight no. the 30th.

The demise of a wonderful meal at H-Bones favorite LA eatery. Gotta love travellin in style.

Midnight no. the XX UPDATED

For some reason can't get the pix to upload. They are on the way.

POSTS GOING UP IN ORDER NOW

Midnight no. the 29th.

5 Hours in LA and already gone totes Hollywood. I did reeeeeal good today.

Midnight no. the 28th.

Some people's homes are galleries. Nice way to live.

Midnight no. the 27th.

The streets here at night look like a giant playset. Self portrait in glass, wood and brick.

Midnight no. the 26th.

An entirely reasonable bookend.

Midnight no. the 25th.

Live from the top of Pac. Heights.

Midnight no. the 24th.

S.F. agrees with me.