Today is the last day of school for junior year. I have only three classes to attend - the rest of it will be spent saying goodbye to everyone who's helped me grow and thrive here. I'm walking through the halls, joking with Steven about everything for a good hour and a half, but on the inside I'm sad. I don't want to leave for the summer - I want to keep learning, keep singing, keep being a great student! I want to be able to walk across the park and come see you when you're not busy. I want to keep hanging out with all these great friends i've acquired over the past several months! (you guys BETTER be staying in the city for some of the time <3 )
But i'll be okay. I'm getting a job that'll bring in some income - I won't waste the money on stupid stuff, I'll invest it like a good businessman. I'll run every morning and every evening, coming back to cross country with ten times more strength than I had before. I'll write the great American novel sitting in cafes near Union square, sipping espresso and sporting a goatee that my mom will probably LOATHE. Yes sir, that's the life for me =).
I'll be traveling for some of it - going to Texas for a week to work on my grandparents' farm. Shoveling shit for one day, rebuilding the fences and chicken coops another, planting seed the next, hunting, camping, sweating. That's a form of Zen for someone who has to think 24/7 for most of his life. There's virtually no one there who can carry on a decent conversation, but i'm not there for conversation. There are exactly ZERO attractive people there, but again, that's not what i'm going there for ;)
I'll be updating this every day, tracking my progress, posting bits of literature as I go. Meanwhile, what I need my readers to do right now, Is to post comments on this thing if the content pleases you. Feels like i'm yelling into a wind tunnel here - it's empty.
On this same profile, but under a different blog, i'm going to begin that publication I was talking about. The first edition should come out a week from tomorrow - I need you guys to send me any piece of literature you haven't shown me before that date, and we'll see what we can do with it.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
We forgot
We forgot the Armenians. After all, we didn't do it.
We forgot the cambodians; Pol pot is dead.
We forgot the Tutsi. After all, there wasn't much we could do
We forgot the Sudanese. We stopped talking about them as soon as the peace treaty was signed
We've almost forgotten the Haitians; we've done all we can
Remember Katrina? Remember the Tsunami?
They're going to forget us, too, in our hour of need.
We forgot the cambodians; Pol pot is dead.
We forgot the Tutsi. After all, there wasn't much we could do
We forgot the Sudanese. We stopped talking about them as soon as the peace treaty was signed
We've almost forgotten the Haitians; we've done all we can
Remember Katrina? Remember the Tsunami?
They're going to forget us, too, in our hour of need.
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Kawano Story
Celebs
The moon is the largest source of light in this cloudless world. A black BMW silently glides along this dreamlike stretch of road, approaching its destination. As the car pulls into the gravel parking lot, a trailer rushes up alongside, breaking the silence with its monstrous engine. Both drivers get out of their cars and inhale the crisp, sweet air as they walk towards the Best Western sign that straddles the building. The driver of the trailer motions towards the BMW;
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“Yeah.”
Marshall sighs wearily and steps over to the passenger door, opens it, and unbuckles the motionless figure of seven year-old Hailey. She awakens with a little cry and curls up in her dads’ arms, readily falling back asleep. The bodyguard crunches over to him and shuts the door, pulling out his cell phone as they step inside.
“Your wife called. She says it’s urgent.”
“Fine… I’ll call her back after we check in.”
“Yes sir.”
Cameras begin flashing like rave lights from the shadows of the lobby.
“Mr. Mathers! Would you care to comment on allegations that you’ve relapsed yet again?”
“Yeah, I’ve got a comment; I’m clean, asshole.”
The paparazzo shoves a mic in his face; “Our sources say you were snorting less than a day after you got out of rehab.”
The muscled, tattooed, celebrity hands his daughter to his nearby bodyguard, grabs the proffered microphone with one hand, pushing the glasses-clad reporter up against the wall with the other.
“You don’t get it. Maybe you never will. When I go on record about something, I’m telling the motherfucking truth.”
He leans his head next to his victim’s.
“You can get all the sources and comments you want, or we can settle this here and now as everyone watches while I piss in a cup.”
“Anyone going through a divorce like yours probably wouldn’t be sober that often.” The spectacled man offers nervously.
Slim lets him go out of disgust and retrieves his daughter, retreating to his room with bodyguard in tow. He unlocks the door and gently lays Hailey down on the bed, stroking her hair with a troubled expression on his face. He motions for the bodyguard to leave them and breaks out his cell phone to call his wife. A click is heard on the other end as she picks up. He sits down on the edge of the bed, draws in a shaky breath and whispers.
“Kim.”
“Marshall.”
“It’s been one hell of a year.”
“Tell me about it. So what you been up to? Gone to any parties recently?”
“I’m done with parties;” he growls, “you know that.”
“Are you? That’s not what I’ve been reading in People.” A slight smirk is heard “Enjoy the coke; I haven’t changing my mind.”
“Why? I haven’t touched that shit in weeks.”
“Because you can’t trust me to not cheat, and I can’t trust you to stay clean.”
His eyebrows furrow “Why did you ask me to call you?”
“To make sure you know this one’s final, whether or not you have been clean. It was a mistake to give it a second chance. We’re both too old to change.”
A tear appears. “Kim… It’s been seventeen years since we met. We had a kid together; we raised her together at the same time as we were chasing the dream. You’re going to tell me that that means nothing?”
“Not with you as her father. You need to find someone else to help you deal with your insecurities, okay, because I won’t be around to do it for you. Goodbye.”
Another click as she hangs up. His head drops to his chest, hands cradling the phone between his outstretched legs. A moment passes. His jaw clenches, lips pull into a grimace, eyebrows furrow deeper. His mouth opens in a silent, futile, scream. Tears flow freely down his face now that he realizes she is truly gone. He leans over and grabs the T.V. remote from the nightstand. A commercial he acted in comes on, borrowing his songs to advertise a new breakfast cereal; rapper o’s. How do kids eat this shit? He changes the channel; his newest, wildly popular, music video We made you is on. Hailey stirs from her sleep and sees her dad watching himself prancing around
“You’re a… rockstar. Everybody wants you (everybody wants you)
Player… Who could really blame you (who could really blame you) ..”
She knows this one. She smiles up at him and sits up to sing along with the hook;
“We’re the ones who made you!”
Dad smiles down at her, ruffling her hair, and turns off the tube. She lays back down and resumes her slumber. He needs sleep. Rockstar dad shuffles downstairs in hopes of finding a drink. Thankfully, the hotel restaurant does sell booze, but the kid working the counter recognizes him and seizes up:
“Oh my GOD it’s you!”
“OH MY GOD, WHO?”
“You’re fucking Eminem, dude!”
“No way!”
Acne child gets the sarcasm; “Ha! You’re so funny, man! I’m sorry, but people like you never come in here.”
“Tell me about it. Can I get a Heineken?”
“Can I get an autograph?”
“Depends if I’ve got a beer in me or not, first, now come on; I don’t have all night.”
“Whoa. Friendly guy. Why be so hostile with someone who just met you and, seriously, worships you?”
A bitter laugh. “Because there’s plenty other freaks like you who probably think I'm god or something."
This particular fan went so far as to shave his head just like Eminem's. “And that’s a bad thing?”
“It is when all of you want autographs of a guy who can’t get it together by the time he’s thirty-seven. What’s your own life like, huh?”
“uhm..”
“Forget it. Here.”
He pulls out a pen and notepad, scribbling his signature on it, making it out to “what’s your name?”
“Ryan.”
He hands Ryan his autograph and turns from the counter, beer-less, muttering “I shouldn’t be drinking anyway.” Slouching back to his room, he undresses and gets into bed with various scenes from the day replaying in his mind. A cold sweat breaks out as he begins again the battle of withdrawal. The all-day road trip, the confrontation with the reporter, the phone call with his wife and the celebrity-worshipping bartender mix with physical pain and create yet another sleepless night for Hollywood’s former darling. His daughter breathes softly in the other bed, unaware of this struggle, but is better off for it. She’ll grow up to be a happy, smart, normal girl because her dad took care of her. He got clean for her, he’s running from the tabloids and his record producers because he doesn’t want her to become famous too. He knows that he can get through everything that happens to him as long as he knows that he’s taking good care of her. At least I hope I can. I should – I got myself this far, didn’t I? Rapped for a few million kids out there and inspired some to do pretty cool things. Met a president. Made a movie or two. Yeah, It’s been a good run. I lost my way for a bit, but I’ve got it back now. It’s not about the money anymore, just like it wasn’t when I started rapping. It’s about making sure kids can follow my good parts and not follow the bad. Music is good; drugs aren't. Girls are good; getting them pregnant before their time isn't. Stuff like that. They ought to know it by now, but whatever. Someone’s gotta teach them. They might as well get a teacher who’s gone through all of it firsthand; I can only hope they'll understand it eventually.
- Marshall Bruce Mathers III
December 19, 2006
The moon is the largest source of light in this cloudless world. A black BMW silently glides along this dreamlike stretch of road, approaching its destination. As the car pulls into the gravel parking lot, a trailer rushes up alongside, breaking the silence with its monstrous engine. Both drivers get out of their cars and inhale the crisp, sweet air as they walk towards the Best Western sign that straddles the building. The driver of the trailer motions towards the BMW;
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“Yeah.”
Marshall sighs wearily and steps over to the passenger door, opens it, and unbuckles the motionless figure of seven year-old Hailey. She awakens with a little cry and curls up in her dads’ arms, readily falling back asleep. The bodyguard crunches over to him and shuts the door, pulling out his cell phone as they step inside.
“Your wife called. She says it’s urgent.”
“Fine… I’ll call her back after we check in.”
“Yes sir.”
Cameras begin flashing like rave lights from the shadows of the lobby.
“Mr. Mathers! Would you care to comment on allegations that you’ve relapsed yet again?”
“Yeah, I’ve got a comment; I’m clean, asshole.”
The paparazzo shoves a mic in his face; “Our sources say you were snorting less than a day after you got out of rehab.”
The muscled, tattooed, celebrity hands his daughter to his nearby bodyguard, grabs the proffered microphone with one hand, pushing the glasses-clad reporter up against the wall with the other.
“You don’t get it. Maybe you never will. When I go on record about something, I’m telling the motherfucking truth.”
He leans his head next to his victim’s.
“You can get all the sources and comments you want, or we can settle this here and now as everyone watches while I piss in a cup.”
“Anyone going through a divorce like yours probably wouldn’t be sober that often.” The spectacled man offers nervously.
Slim lets him go out of disgust and retrieves his daughter, retreating to his room with bodyguard in tow. He unlocks the door and gently lays Hailey down on the bed, stroking her hair with a troubled expression on his face. He motions for the bodyguard to leave them and breaks out his cell phone to call his wife. A click is heard on the other end as she picks up. He sits down on the edge of the bed, draws in a shaky breath and whispers.
“Kim.”
“Marshall.”
“It’s been one hell of a year.”
“Tell me about it. So what you been up to? Gone to any parties recently?”
“I’m done with parties;” he growls, “you know that.”
“Are you? That’s not what I’ve been reading in People.” A slight smirk is heard “Enjoy the coke; I haven’t changing my mind.”
“Why? I haven’t touched that shit in weeks.”
“Because you can’t trust me to not cheat, and I can’t trust you to stay clean.”
His eyebrows furrow “Why did you ask me to call you?”
“To make sure you know this one’s final, whether or not you have been clean. It was a mistake to give it a second chance. We’re both too old to change.”
A tear appears. “Kim… It’s been seventeen years since we met. We had a kid together; we raised her together at the same time as we were chasing the dream. You’re going to tell me that that means nothing?”
“Not with you as her father. You need to find someone else to help you deal with your insecurities, okay, because I won’t be around to do it for you. Goodbye.”
Another click as she hangs up. His head drops to his chest, hands cradling the phone between his outstretched legs. A moment passes. His jaw clenches, lips pull into a grimace, eyebrows furrow deeper. His mouth opens in a silent, futile, scream. Tears flow freely down his face now that he realizes she is truly gone. He leans over and grabs the T.V. remote from the nightstand. A commercial he acted in comes on, borrowing his songs to advertise a new breakfast cereal; rapper o’s. How do kids eat this shit? He changes the channel; his newest, wildly popular, music video We made you is on. Hailey stirs from her sleep and sees her dad watching himself prancing around
“You’re a… rockstar. Everybody wants you (everybody wants you)
Player… Who could really blame you (who could really blame you) ..”
She knows this one. She smiles up at him and sits up to sing along with the hook;
“We’re the ones who made you!”
Dad smiles down at her, ruffling her hair, and turns off the tube. She lays back down and resumes her slumber. He needs sleep. Rockstar dad shuffles downstairs in hopes of finding a drink. Thankfully, the hotel restaurant does sell booze, but the kid working the counter recognizes him and seizes up:
“Oh my GOD it’s you!”
“OH MY GOD, WHO?”
“You’re fucking Eminem, dude!”
“No way!”
Acne child gets the sarcasm; “Ha! You’re so funny, man! I’m sorry, but people like you never come in here.”
“Tell me about it. Can I get a Heineken?”
“Can I get an autograph?”
“Depends if I’ve got a beer in me or not, first, now come on; I don’t have all night.”
“Whoa. Friendly guy. Why be so hostile with someone who just met you and, seriously, worships you?”
A bitter laugh. “Because there’s plenty other freaks like you who probably think I'm god or something."
This particular fan went so far as to shave his head just like Eminem's. “And that’s a bad thing?”
“It is when all of you want autographs of a guy who can’t get it together by the time he’s thirty-seven. What’s your own life like, huh?”
“uhm..”
“Forget it. Here.”
He pulls out a pen and notepad, scribbling his signature on it, making it out to “what’s your name?”
“Ryan.”
He hands Ryan his autograph and turns from the counter, beer-less, muttering “I shouldn’t be drinking anyway.” Slouching back to his room, he undresses and gets into bed with various scenes from the day replaying in his mind. A cold sweat breaks out as he begins again the battle of withdrawal. The all-day road trip, the confrontation with the reporter, the phone call with his wife and the celebrity-worshipping bartender mix with physical pain and create yet another sleepless night for Hollywood’s former darling. His daughter breathes softly in the other bed, unaware of this struggle, but is better off for it. She’ll grow up to be a happy, smart, normal girl because her dad took care of her. He got clean for her, he’s running from the tabloids and his record producers because he doesn’t want her to become famous too. He knows that he can get through everything that happens to him as long as he knows that he’s taking good care of her. At least I hope I can. I should – I got myself this far, didn’t I? Rapped for a few million kids out there and inspired some to do pretty cool things. Met a president. Made a movie or two. Yeah, It’s been a good run. I lost my way for a bit, but I’ve got it back now. It’s not about the money anymore, just like it wasn’t when I started rapping. It’s about making sure kids can follow my good parts and not follow the bad. Music is good; drugs aren't. Girls are good; getting them pregnant before their time isn't. Stuff like that. They ought to know it by now, but whatever. Someone’s gotta teach them. They might as well get a teacher who’s gone through all of it firsthand; I can only hope they'll understand it eventually.
- Marshall Bruce Mathers III
December 19, 2006
Thursday, May 20, 2010
The Book of Lies
Arnold Schwarzenegger has been quite successful throughout his life. He's a bodybuilder who used steroids when they were perfectly legal and commonplace, earning an acting career because of his sculpted body. The Terminator series made him a wealthy man, as did 'Conan the Barbarian,' 'Total Recall,' and 'planet of the apes.'
Today, he is serving serving as the 38th governor of California, and is doing quite well. His promotion of medicinal marijuana has caused a sharp decrease in violent crime, and (oddly enough) has increased average SAT score for students that attend public school by an average of 100 points. He has staunchly defended conservative values in an ever-changing world, asserting states' rights over the federal government and threatening to secede from the Federal Government to ally with the State of Texas. Taxes have gone down, not up, and everyone over the age of 16 is now allowed second amendment rights. In the town of Oakland, you can acquire a rifle just for opening up a bank account.
Everyone knows that the state's had financial problems for a long time now. As of today, it owes some 19.9 billion dollars to mexican drug cartels for various shipments of cocaine, marijuana, and amphetamines as well as importing illegal immigrants to work in GAP and American Apparel factories just across the border. Thanks to the heroic leadership of the governator, these debts are a thing of the past - proposition 348, which was signed just this morning, has eliminated the drug scheduling act of 1971, which means that all drugs are now legal to possess, consume, and distribute as citizens please. Whether or not the region becomes another version of Amsterdam remains to be seen.
In addition, drastic budget cuts are being made, among them being the dissolution of the Federal Prison System. Minor criminals have returned to their homes, and major felons have been relocated to nearby Alaska where they will live out the remainder of their sentence.
Today, he is serving serving as the 38th governor of California, and is doing quite well. His promotion of medicinal marijuana has caused a sharp decrease in violent crime, and (oddly enough) has increased average SAT score for students that attend public school by an average of 100 points. He has staunchly defended conservative values in an ever-changing world, asserting states' rights over the federal government and threatening to secede from the Federal Government to ally with the State of Texas. Taxes have gone down, not up, and everyone over the age of 16 is now allowed second amendment rights. In the town of Oakland, you can acquire a rifle just for opening up a bank account.
Everyone knows that the state's had financial problems for a long time now. As of today, it owes some 19.9 billion dollars to mexican drug cartels for various shipments of cocaine, marijuana, and amphetamines as well as importing illegal immigrants to work in GAP and American Apparel factories just across the border. Thanks to the heroic leadership of the governator, these debts are a thing of the past - proposition 348, which was signed just this morning, has eliminated the drug scheduling act of 1971, which means that all drugs are now legal to possess, consume, and distribute as citizens please. Whether or not the region becomes another version of Amsterdam remains to be seen.
In addition, drastic budget cuts are being made, among them being the dissolution of the Federal Prison System. Minor criminals have returned to their homes, and major felons have been relocated to nearby Alaska where they will live out the remainder of their sentence.
Today
Another panic, run-like-hell, day; getting up at 5:00, going through the motions of getting to school in a half-assed manner and FALLING ASLEEP on the train so that I end up in Hoboken, NJ. Wunderbar - realizing how badly I'd messed up, I sprinted to the PATH train and took it to Penn station, managing to get to school on time solely because of my ability to run. Speaking of running, the reservoir run is today. 1.57 miles with a goal time of sub-10:00. Very VERY nervous about it, but It's going to go a lot better than it would've on Tuesday since it's been another 48 hours of no smoking (9 days total as of this morning ^^ )
(later) 9:43 time for the res' run!!!! HELL YES! - fistpump - that made this whole week worthwhile. Ah, mmm, but then again someone special made it even more worthwhile yesterday =)
I'm supposed to be doing homework, but I can't get around to it, and I've been working pretty much all day. I guess i'll finish my lit/common man thing and get to work on Kawano's stuff.
Speaking of Kawano. I hear news that gossip is going around that i've relapsed on drugs. Not specifically which kinds, not how much, not how recently; according to this anonymous source i'm a druggie till the day I die.
If you know me, you're going to take that statement back. I quit smoking pot four months ago, I kicked ritalin and adderall two months ago, and I haven't smoked for more than a week now. I'm making the biggest effort I ever have to be clean and stay clean - why the FUCK would you rain on that? If you've got something against me, fine, talk to Ms. Kilmer or Dr. Soghoian or even My dean - tell them i'm snorting coke in the bathrooms and shooting up heroin between free periods. Tell them i've smoked DMT two hours ago and am probably tripping right now - you know what? You could even suggest I get drug tested. For everything. I could even do several drug tests; once a month, once a week, once a day from now until the end of time. I'm CLEAN.
I don't know what I have to do to prove it to you people, but If you keep playing this shit, I'm either gonna have to pull down my pants and piss in the cup (get a drug test) or ask that they do the same to you. You're probably full of shit too - how straightedge can you be in this school, this city, this day and age?
I'm done with drugs. Please stop saying otherwise.
(later) 9:43 time for the res' run!!!! HELL YES! - fistpump - that made this whole week worthwhile. Ah, mmm, but then again someone special made it even more worthwhile yesterday =)
I'm supposed to be doing homework, but I can't get around to it, and I've been working pretty much all day. I guess i'll finish my lit/common man thing and get to work on Kawano's stuff.
Speaking of Kawano. I hear news that gossip is going around that i've relapsed on drugs. Not specifically which kinds, not how much, not how recently; according to this anonymous source i'm a druggie till the day I die.
If you know me, you're going to take that statement back. I quit smoking pot four months ago, I kicked ritalin and adderall two months ago, and I haven't smoked for more than a week now. I'm making the biggest effort I ever have to be clean and stay clean - why the FUCK would you rain on that? If you've got something against me, fine, talk to Ms. Kilmer or Dr. Soghoian or even My dean - tell them i'm snorting coke in the bathrooms and shooting up heroin between free periods. Tell them i've smoked DMT two hours ago and am probably tripping right now - you know what? You could even suggest I get drug tested. For everything. I could even do several drug tests; once a month, once a week, once a day from now until the end of time. I'm CLEAN.
I don't know what I have to do to prove it to you people, but If you keep playing this shit, I'm either gonna have to pull down my pants and piss in the cup (get a drug test) or ask that they do the same to you. You're probably full of shit too - how straightedge can you be in this school, this city, this day and age?
I'm done with drugs. Please stop saying otherwise.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Thank You
Thank you, Mello, for being my friend at the turn of the semester when things were going crazily. The conversations we had both in and out of class gave me emotional stability that continues to this day.
Thank you, Kirra, for being there to encourage me in my endeavors, serve as my moral conscience when I slip up, and in general keep me from getting into too much trouble. Everything's turning out as you said it would =)
Thank you, Isabella, for forgiving me.
Thank you, Liam, for reminding me that i'm still a child and should act as such. You're the best /b/ro I have even if you're two years younger than me.
Thank you, Columbia Prep, for welcoming me and helping me thrive in a totally new environment. Because of you, I've grown emotionally, physically, and intellectually more so this year than in all the past years put together.
Most importantly: thank you Bri. For everything you have been, everything you are, and everything you plan to be in the future. You're more than I could've possibly hoped for when I heard about you from Mello, and I truly believe i'm the luckiest man alive to be sharing this time with you.
Thank you all.
Thank you, Kirra, for being there to encourage me in my endeavors, serve as my moral conscience when I slip up, and in general keep me from getting into too much trouble. Everything's turning out as you said it would =)
Thank you, Isabella, for forgiving me.
Thank you, Liam, for reminding me that i'm still a child and should act as such. You're the best /b/ro I have even if you're two years younger than me.
Thank you, Columbia Prep, for welcoming me and helping me thrive in a totally new environment. Because of you, I've grown emotionally, physically, and intellectually more so this year than in all the past years put together.
Most importantly: thank you Bri. For everything you have been, everything you are, and everything you plan to be in the future. You're more than I could've possibly hoped for when I heard about you from Mello, and I truly believe i'm the luckiest man alive to be sharing this time with you.
Thank you all.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Short Book List
1. The Boy Who Harnessed The Wind, by William Kamkwamba (motivation, true story, perspective changing)
2. Catch-22 Joseph Heller
3. A Bonfire of the Vanities, Tom Wolfe (80's era wall street fiction. highly entertaining, easy read, but though provoking)
4. A Man in Full, Tom Wolfe
5. Casino Royale, Ian Fleming (you will never read a better spy novel)
6. Germinal, Emile Zola
7. L'assommoir, Emile Zola
8. 100 years of solitude, Gabriel Garcia Marquez
9. Flowers for Algernon, Daniel Keyes
10. Being a Green Mother, Piers Anthony
11. The Help, Kathryn Stockett
12. micromegas, voltaire
13. American Gods, Neil Gaiman
14. Everywhere, Neil Gaiman
15. Sandman, Neil Gaiman (graphic novel)
2. Catch-22 Joseph Heller
3. A Bonfire of the Vanities, Tom Wolfe (80's era wall street fiction. highly entertaining, easy read, but though provoking)
4. A Man in Full, Tom Wolfe
5. Casino Royale, Ian Fleming (you will never read a better spy novel)
6. Germinal, Emile Zola
7. L'assommoir, Emile Zola
8. 100 years of solitude, Gabriel Garcia Marquez
9. Flowers for Algernon, Daniel Keyes
10. Being a Green Mother, Piers Anthony
11. The Help, Kathryn Stockett
12. micromegas, voltaire
13. American Gods, Neil Gaiman
14. Everywhere, Neil Gaiman
15. Sandman, Neil Gaiman (graphic novel)
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