Night Time

I sleep on the couch regularly because Ed snores. The couch is lined up along the wall, with a big window, about 3'X4' positioned right there at the end. I usually sleep with the blinds closed, because there are houses on the hill with lights that are kind of bright. However, last night I just plopped down and snoozed with the window wide open.

I woke up during the small hours, lying on my back. When I opened my eyes, I was looking directly out the window. I caught my breath... four stars, remarkably bright, were positioned in an M shape, with the two bottom points of the M spread out to the left and right. It was an almost perfect formation, and being only half awake, at first I thought it was a formation UFO's. I'm always scanning the skies for those things, since I've seen a couple of unexplainable things in the sky on a few occasions. My eyes were already dark adapted from being asleep, and there were just hundreds of stars all around these ones... for they were stars, I realized after about 15 seconds. I was seeing the handle of the big dipper. Brighter than I'd ever seen it. I lay there and stared at the dazzling sky for about 15 minutes before falling asleep again.

WTF?!

So here I am, at home, drinking a beer and watching this movie, something funny on TV starring whats his face and that other whats his face. I'm surfing the net at the same time, reading about lost technologies and... well anyway, so Scott and I are sitting here and suddenly the door opens and this occurs:

Ed: Hey HEY hey, loooook what I GOT!

(Scott and Elias turn around and are presented with a shopping cart, full of groceries, right there in the apartment. Nine floors up, that is.)

Elias: Jesus H - (Elias shuts up, chagrined at this unfortunate yet habitual outburst, and then busts out laughing)

Scott: What, what? (Scott can't see from his chair)

Elias: Ed, what the fuck? There's a shopping cart in the apartment!

Ed: Hey, what was I supposed to do? I couldn't carry 'em all!

(All balls out laughter ensues)

Elias: Ok folks, I'm gonna go for smokes. Anybody need anything?

Ed: Yeah, could you return the shopping cart?

(All out laughter ceases abruptly. Elias reluctantly pushes the cart into the hall, amidst his own muttered protests, into the elevator, down the basement hall, all the while the subject of many curious stares, out into the parking lot, amongst many more curious stares, and across the street back to Safeway. A cop observes this unorthodox crossing of the street with a curious stare. Elias is not happy. The cop turns the other way. Elias is returns home, relieved and exhausted.)

Ed: Look at the size of this fish!

An interrupted blog

It's such a beautiful day here in Alaska. The forecast is for about three more beautiful days. Hang on...

"Hi folks. Welcome to Ketchikan. What can I help you find?"
"No thanks, we're just looking... Thanks."
"Thanks."

Ok back to my blog. Hang on...
"Hi folks..."

Ok, this requires a different format, if people are going to keep walking in the door:


Elias: (He spies two people walking into the door, interrupting his blog writing. It is a very VERY old man with a huge smile and gleaming white dentures, with his wife, very similar in age, but minus the smile) Hi folks. Welcome to Alaska!

Old man: Answer me a question here, son. You're a furrier, right? Well answer me this. I've got a question for ya. (The old man with the gleaming white smile approaches the $25,000 chinchilla coat) How much is this coat right here? Right here, son?

Elias: (This is an easy question, and Elias is ready.) That coat, sir, retails for $25,000 dollars. (He says this proudly and with the confidence of knowing that this is, in fact, the correct answer.)

Old man: Hey HEY now, but look at these pelts. These are glued together, right?

Elias: (He thinks for a second... are they glued? No, they're sewn. He's seen a hundred mink coats, the pelts let out and sewn. But chinchilla? Are they glued or sewn? Sewn of course, who would glue furs together? That's absurd!) These pelts are sewn together sir, by professional furriers in Chatsworth, California.

Old man: No, hear me now, these are glued. Glued and sewn! (He says this with the brightest smile, a smile that would blind a bat.)

Elias: Well sir... (glued and sewn? Surely not. I'm the furrier, who is this guy? But then again, he is very old and most likely wise... maybe he knows something I don't? No, stick to your guns! They're SEWN!) Sir, I assure you that we use no glue in our manufacturing process. Yes, we are manufacturers. We make these goods! These are chinchilla pelts sir, the finest pelts when it comes to fur, and the most expensive. I assure you we would not subject such goods to glue. We sew these. And by the way, this $25,000 dollar coat is on sale for only $12,500. And that's before the 10% discount! Why, you could walk out the door with this coat for a mere $10,000!

Old man: (The old man has moved on to the rex rabbit coat, apparently oblivious to all of the previous expounding by Elias) This is the finest fox I've ever felt!

Elias: Sir, that is rex rabbit.

Old man: What's that?

Elias: Rex rabbit sir. It's in the same family as the chinchilla. Not like your domestic rabbit, the kind you probably saw 40 years ago. Those shed. These don't shed... it's a much more dense, durable fur. Almost like chinchilla.

Old man: So Rex is still alive, is he? Well I'll be damned!

Elias: (Rex? Ok, either this old man is senile or he's messing with me.) Yes sir, Rex is alive and well. He supplies us with these rex rabbit coats! Alive and kicking, sir.

Old man: Well, that's about what I figured! (He and his silent wife head towards the door) Still alive, eh? Well don't that beat all!

Elias: Yes sir, it'll take more than a couple of world wars to do in Rex!

Old man: (laughs) Well, I thought so! Have a good day there, ok?

Elias: And you enjoy the rest of your cruise sir!

Old man: Now hang on there, son. Do you have any... starts with a B...

Elias: Beaver?

Old man: Nah, not beaver...

Elias: Broadtail?

Old man: Nah, not that either... lets see, starts with a B...

Elias: (what else starts with a B?) Uh... fitch?

Old man: EXXXX-Actly! Fitch! So, do you have any of that?

Elias: Actually, right there at the door, sir, that coat is mink with fitch inserts.

Old man: (examines the coat intently for a few seconds) So it is! Fitch, right there! See, honey? (he motions towards his wife, indicating the coat. She remains silent) Fitch! Well I'll be.

Elias: Yes sir, fitch. Mink with fitch inserts.

Old man: (walking out the door) Well, I thought so! Ok, we're off! Come on honey.

Elias: Enjoy the rest of your cruise!


Ok, back to the blog. By the way, what did you folks (assuming anyone is reading this) think of that? Quite an encounter, huh? Kind of fun, yeah? Alright, now I've forgotten what I was originally going to blog about. But that's enough, I think.

A realization

Why do I worry? Why am I depressed? Why do I despair? These are useless feelings. I just realized that in the midst of worry, sadness and despair, I can be happy because God is with me. This feeling will probably fade, but it's at moments like this when God talks to me that strengthen my faith, and gives me hope that eventually everything really will be ok, just as God promised me.

Power - by Daniil Kharms

Faol said: "We sin and do good blindly. A bailiff was riding his bicycle. Suddenly, when he reached the Kazan Cathedral, he disappeared. Does he know what he was meant to accomplish, good or evil? Or take this case: an actor bought a fur coat. It could be supposed that he did a good deed to the old woman who, needing money, sold him that fur coat. Yet he also most likely did harm to another old woman, his mother, who lived with him and usually slept in the entry hall where the actor used to hang his coat, because the new fur coat smelled so unbearably of mothballs that one day the old woman, the actor's mother, was not capable of waking up, and she died. Or again - a graphologist somehow so soaked himself up with vodka and did such things that Colonel Dibich himself would not have been able to make head or tails of it, what was good and what was bad. To distinguish sin from good is very difficult."

Myshin, poring over Faol's words, fell off his chair. "Hoho," he said, lying on the floor, "hi hi."

Faol went on: "Let's take love. It can appear good and it can appear bad. On one hand, we are told, 'You should love,' and on the other hand, we are told, 'You should not coddle.' Perhaps it is better not to love at all to begin with? But we are told, 'You should love.' But if you love - you will coddle. What are we to do? Perhaps we should love, but not in that way? Then why do all nations use one and the same word to represent love like that and also love that is not like that? Another young actor loved his mother and also a very young, plumpish girl. And he loved them in different fashions. He would give the girl most of his pay. his mother was hungry quite often, but the girl drank and ate enough for three. The actor's mother lived in the entryway on the floor, but the girl had two nice rooms at her disposal. The girl had four coats, the mother one. And lo and behold, the actor took this one coat from his mother and spoiled the girl, but he did not coddle his mother. He loved her with a pure love. However, the actor feared his mother's death, though he did not fear the death of the girl. And when his mother died, the actor cried, and when the girl fell out the window and also died, the actor did not cry, but found himself another girl. It follows that one values a mother as unique, like a rare postage stamp, which one cannot replace with another one."

"Ho ho," said Myshin, lying on the floor, "Khokho."

Faol continued: "And this is called pure love! Is such a love good? If it is not, how is one to love? One mother loved her child. This child was two and a half years old. The mother would carry him into a park and set him down in the sand. Other mothers also brought their children to the same place. Sometimes as many as forty little children were bunched together in the sandbox. And one day a mad dog rushed into this park, ran right up to the children and started to bite them. Mothers, including our mother, rushed to their children, screaming. Sacrificing herself, she leaped at the dog and grabbed her child, as it seemed to her, out of the dog's mouth. But when she had snatched the little boy away, she saw that it was not her child, and she threw him back to the dog in order to seize her own little boy, who was lying right next to her, and save him from death. Who will answer my question: did she commit a sin or did she do a good deed?"

"Hyu hyu," said Myshin, rolling on the floor.

Faol went on: "Does a stone sin? Does a tree sin? Does an animal sin? Or does only a human being sin?"

"Hm hm," said Myshin listening to Faol's words, "shup shup."

Faol went on: "If only human beings sin, this means that the sins of the world are to be found in the human being himself. Sin does not enter into human beings, it only comes out of of them. That is similar to food: human beings eat good things and evacuate bad things out of themselves. There are no bad things in the world, only that which has passed through human beings can become bad."

"Mnph," said Myshin, trying to lift himself up from the floor.

Faol continued: "I have been speaking about love. I have been speaking about those states of ours to which we apply the single word 'love'. Is that a mistake in the language, or are all those states one and the same? The love of a mother for her boy, the love of a son for his mother, the love of a man and a woman - can it be that all those are one and the same love?"

"Definitely," said Myshin, nodding his head.

Faol said, "Yes, I think the essence of love remains the same regardless of who loves whom. Every human being is given a certain quantity of love. And every human being seeks to apply this love somewhere without taking off his little fuselages. The revelation of the mysteries of the transformations of the petty qualities of our heart, similar to a heap of sawdust -"

"Get!" Myshin shouted, jumping up off the floor. "Out of my sight!"

And Faol crumbled like a pile of bad sugar.

Belief

An excerpt from 'The Old Woman' by Daniil Kharms - translated by George Gibian

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I want to ask you something," I said finally. "Do you believe in God?"

A horizontal wrinkle appeared across Sakerdon Mikhailovich's forehead, and he spoke: "Some actions are impolite. It is impolite to ask a man to lend us fifty rubles after we have just watched him put two hundred into his pocket. He either has to lend us the money or refuse, and the most convenient and pleasant manner of refusing is to lie and say that one doesn't have the money. You saw the man had the money and hence you deprived him of the possibility of refusing you simply and pleasantly. You deprived him of the right of choice, and that is a dirty trick. That is an impolite and tactless action. And to ask a man, 'Do you believe in God?' - that too is a tactless and impolite action."

"Why," I said, "that's quite different."

"I'm not comparing it," Sakerdon Mikhailovich said.

"All right," I said, "never mind. Just excuse me for asking you such an impolite and tactless question."

"All right," Sakerdon Mikhailovich said. "I simply refused to answer you."

"I wouldn't answer either," I said, "but for a different reason."

"What reason?" Sakerdon Mikhailovich asked weakly.

"You see," I said, "I don't think there are people who believe or who don't believe. There are only people who want to believe and people who want not to believe."

"That means that the ones who want not to believe already believes in something," Sakerdon Mikhailovich said, "and those who want to believe already, beforehand, don't believe in something?"

"Perhaps, even in mortality," I said.

"So why did you ask me if I believe in God?"

"Simply in order to ask you, 'Do you believe in mortality?' It sounds sort of stupid," I said to Sakerdon Mikhailovich, and I got up.

"What are you doing, going away?"

"Yes," I said, "it's time for me to go."


Here is the entire story, albeit a slightly different translation.
http://absurdist.obook.org/kharms/display.php?p=30

Screams

Last night I awoke to the sound of screams. No, not my own... I was sleeping peacefully. They were coming from outside; I could hear them through the open window. At first I thought it was just some drunk person yelling his head off, because the screams were just inarticulate howls. The screaming stopped for about half a minute, and then I heard a woman screaming. Then the man started screaming again. They screamed together for a while, and I began to realize that these weren't just inarticulate howls; they were screams of anguish, of dire pain, of heart wrenching agony. And I began to make out what they were saying:

NO! MY GOD NOOOOO! OH MY GOD, DEAR GOD NO!!!!! NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!

I jumped up and looked out the window. The screams were emerging from a house about 150 yards away and up the hill. I could make out the silhouettes of two people moving behind curtained windows, moving frantically back and forth.

OH MY GOD!!!! CALL 911!!!!! NOOO, GOD NOOOOOO, PLEASE GOD NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!

I grabbed the binoculars but still couldn't make anything out beyond the two shadows moving inside the house. I stood there and watched for a long time, until the screams finally abated and the shadows stopped moving. I never heard sirens and emergency vehicles never showed up, at least, not while I was still awake. I finally went back to sleep and dreamed that I was watching the death of a dear friend tangled up in power lines as I dialed 911.

A worldwide phenomenon

Apparently it's not just restricted to the 7-Eleven on Oak St. in Denton Texas... as I have consistently observed here, people from all over the world seem to experience a sudden drop of at least 50 IQ points upon entering stores. From this wide sampling of data, I can only extrapolate that this must be a worldwide phenomenon... ranging from beer and cigarette vendors to high dollar retail stores that sell $25,000 chinchilla coats, including all variations in between and all cultures, both male and female.

I consider this valuable data. How does one go about acquiring a Nobel, I wonder? I could sure use the money.

Maria

About a month ago I crumpled up a receipt and threw it away, and then immediately retrieved it from the trash for some inexplicable reason. I didn't know why at the time; I just felt compelled to do so. It was a receipt from Czars Treasures, a store here in Ketchikan that sells a lot of cool Orthodox stuff. Anyway, after examining the receipt, I saw that the name of the girl who was running the register was Maria. She is a stunningly beautiful Russian girl who also happens to be Orthodox. At the time, I thought this might be a sign from God, that somehow this girl would figure into my life. I get a lot of coincidences like this, and most of the time they relate to my life in a way which is meaningful to me.

Yesterday I was at work, as per my usual routine up here. Somewhat early in the day, a girl came into the store and began talking to me. Man, what a talker. She just talked and talked and talked. She told me that she was 19 and a local, born and raised in Ketchikan. She was a veritable wealth of personal information, and for a couple of hours, she followed me around the store like a puppy dog, just talking and talking and talking. I was somewhat uncomfortable at first, having this girl in the store and following me everywhere and telling me everything about herself. After all, I was at work... but it happened to be pretty slow yesterday, so she really didn't interfere with business.

Eventually she began to reveal more and more personal things about herself... about the guys she'd slept with, the drugs she'd done, the things she'd done for drugs (my heart broke for her upon hearing some of these things, which I won't go into), and finally I interrupted her and introduced myself. It just didn't seem right to be hearing all of this without us even knowing each others names. I told her that my name was Elias, and she said her name was Maria.

I didn't think much of this until she began to describe to me how she had been raped, in horrible, vivid detail. During this description she became obviously distressed, and tears came to her eyes. I just didn't know what to say... it was bizarre, unreal, surreal, hearing all of this from this young, pretty girl who I didn't even know. That's when I realized that her name was Maria... the same name on the receipt that I had thrown away and retrieved on impulse.

I talked to her as best as I could. I tried to console her. I gave her the best advice I could think of. I think it was woefully inadequate. Finally, at about 6:00, she hurriedly left the store, saying that she had to meet a friend, and that was the end of that.

Maria will be in my prayers. I hope that, through God, something about our encounter might make a positive difference in her life.

Conversation with Nabi

I work next door to a guy named Navi. He's Muslim, and he mentioned today that Ramadan starts on August 11th. I'd heard of Ramadan, but didn't really know what it was about, so I asked him if they fasted during that time. He said that it was a 30 day fast, and that they were only allowed to eat after sunset, basically the same stuff that we eat during Lent... no meat, no dairy, no oil, no alcohol. We talked some more and I described how it sounded a lot like Lent, and then we both got excited and started talking more about it. He told me how Islam and Christianity weren't that much different, and that Islam was kind of an extension of Christianity. He said that although they don't believe that Jesus is actually the Son of God, they do believe that He will come back as He foretold. This was a surprise to me. He then described how there is an entire chapter devoted to Mary and Joseph in the Koran, which coincidentally, is the only part of the Koran that I've read. And this is what interested me... he said that in the Bible, that Jesus said that another prophet would appear, by the name of Ahmud, I think. Something like that, which sounded kind of like Mohommed. This I had never heard of, so I'm interested in finding out if this is actually the case. Then he started thumping a hatstand and said, "This we don't worship. Not totem poles, not wood, not idols. Why would you worship something with no life in it?" This brought up the subject of icons, and I explained how some people think that we as Orthodox Christians are worshiping graven images when we venerate them. By that time I had to get back to the store.

Rule of Prayer

I think the reason why I'm failing now is that my prayer rule is too hard. I've been skipping prayers a lot because I have 8 pages of morning prayers and 8 pages of evening prayers, and when I say them I skip around a lot, and then feel rottten for skipping some of the prayers. Then on most days, I just skip them completely because I know I won't be able to say them all, or I'm just not in the mood to stand and pray for 20 minutes.

I realized this morning that I'm not ready for 8 pages of prayers twice a day. I've heard from various sources, including Fr. Justin, that it's better to say a short prayer from the heart than to struggle with a long prayer that is rushed through for the sake of 'getting it finished'. So I'm revising my prayer rule thusly:

Morning Prayers
---------------
The Trisagion and The Lords Prayer, with the first "Having arisen from sleep..."
Prayer of the Optina Elders

Mid-day Prayers
---------------
The Lords Prayer

Evening Prayers
---------------
The Trisagion and The Lords Prayer, with the first "Now that the day has come to a close..."
A Prayer to The Holy Trinity
The Orthodox Symbol of Faith
Prayers for friends and family members

And throughout the day, The Jesus Prayer, when I remember it, or when I'm out walking. Even now I feel bad for picking and choosing, but I have to remember that I will not grow into the spiritual person I need to be without adhering to a rule of prayer. Later, when I'm ready, I'll be able to pray more.

When I do pray, I often break down and weep, and that's what I need. A sacrifice to God is a broken spirit; a broken and humbled heart God will not despise. I have a white cloth on my prayer table that I wipe my tears with. I don't know where the cloth came from.

Saving money

So now I have to stop buying cigarettes and beer, because things are getting desperate. Business isn't going as great as it did last month, which is how I had my finances figured. Things might still pick up in August and September but if they don't, I have to readjust what I'm spending and what I'm saving. And that means no more cigarettes, and no more beer. As it stands now, I'm spending 50 dollars a week on cigarettes, and 40 dollars on beer. That's almost a hundred dollars a week more that I can save, and I have to, simply HAVE to save that money.

So, I get to stop smoking and drinking! YAY! Thanks, God. No, seriously. Thank you God.

Now I just have to actually do it.

And to top it off, we just discovered that a $350.00 handbag is missing. Some schmuck mucked it.

Learning from the departed

I changed my layout with the NEW DESIGN! feature of blogspot, and now I can't change it back. !!!

Anyway.

So many conflicting emotions. So many chances to screw up. So many chances to do the right thing. I wonder sometimes if I'm special, if God gives me attention for some reason that I'm not aware of... because I am a royal screw up when it comes to my faults, like neglecting my prayer rule, feeling self important, indulging in self pity, giving up when things are just a little difficult, being weak, succumbing to pride, offending others, giving in to anger, embracing passions, following temptation, being a bad influence, manipulating people's emotions, and not being a good friend; just to name a few. Why do I get communication from God when I don't even deserve it at all? Why does He answer my prayers? Why does He show me such generous mercy? Why does He even give me the time of day?

I know why of course; God loves me and will not forsake or abandon me, ever - but I push Him away at every opportunity. What about all of the other people? People who died in car crashes, war, drug overdoses, suicide, or just out of sheer stupidity, like I almost did when I was almost scrubbed by that train 20 years ago? What about all of those people who did get scrubbed by the train? Didn't they deserve God's mercy as much as I do? Why do I get this chance when they didn't? Untold, countless millions of people, probably billions throughout the course of human history, who died without ever having any hope, who never knew God's love, and who now have to experience God's love as eternal pain instead of eternal joy. Why does God pay special attention to me? I have a chance, but I waste it every second of every day. Why do I get the chance? Why me?

I pray for the departed. Esther Moses (grandmother), Jim Moses (grandaddy), Alice Davis (grandma), Joseph Marion Davis (grandpa), Jason Melton (my friend from the message boards, who I actually knew as ICE) and Larry Walters. Those are the departed I include in my prayers, when I actually take the time to pray. I hope... hope hope hope that there is hope for the departed who were never as fortunate as myself, who died in anger or sadness or ignorance of God, who were so far away from God when they died. There has to be hope for them. Otherwise, why should I have hope? I don't deserve it. There HAS to be hope for the departed, the ones who never got the chance that I have been given.

After my grandmother died, I talked to Leah about it. I was concerned about what was happening to her. Leah told me that for the first three days after my grandmother died, she was simply in the presence of God. Just there, with God, for three days, being close to Him. I thought about the kind of life my grandmother led. She was a Roman Catholic and she kept a crucifix above her bed and a little container of holy water on the wall next to the door of her apartment, but I don't remember her ever going to mass. I know she wasn't perfect... she was selfish, manipulative, maybe even a little evil (I won't go into my reasons for saying that)... but she was my grandmother and there was love in her. How was she experiencing the presence of God for those three days? How is she experiencing it now? I worry about that.

I'm not ready to die now. My three days would probably be very frightening and painful - not to mention all of eternity. I'm afraid of what would happen to me if I died now. How would I experience God's love? What about grandmother? Grandaddy? Grandma and grandpa? My dear friend Ice? Or Larry Walters, the poor soul who tasted happiness once when he flew above Southern California in a lawn chair tied to 40 weather balloons, but ultimately killed himself out of sheer sadness? What about all of them, and all of the other people who have died before and since? Jesus told us that the path that leads to heaven is narrow, and only a few will succeed in finding their way. How many is 'only a few'?

Things that happened

So I'm walking tonight, as I'm wont to do, and I took the other way instead of the normal way. For about 30 minutes I walk, going over things in my head. What does God want me to do? How do I do what God wants me to do? How do I find peace? Why am I here? All the usual questions that I already know the answers to. I stumbled twice at poignant moments, which is one of God's methods of slapping me upside the head. I may be clueless now, but at least I know I'm clueless. It's an infinitely far removed state of awareness from just having no idea at all. Comforting, too.

I passed this area that was woody and brambly and thick with green... right next to the road, which was kind of odd. That's what caught my attention. And there was a dark place where the brambles kind of separated, like a tunnel leading into the wilderness. How could I resist? I went into the tree tunnel, which was only about 4 feet high, so I had to stoop, which made me feel tall. So, I get inside the woody brambles, and the noise shuts down... no noise from the road or the city or the wind or anything. There was a path too, so I followed it. A path for midgets or leprechauns, I guess, because the roof of the bramble tunnel never rose higher than 4 feet. I followed this for about a hundred yards as it twisted and turned, and eventually realized I was in bum f'd Egypt. There was a little stream running right there too. It was surreal. There I was, in the wilderness, with green and branches and leaves and all kinds of wild plants everywhere, but at the same time, there was a dirt path leading through to this creek... but the path was not human sized. I wondered about this for a long time. I finally chalked it up to God giving me a little gift. It was quiet and green and dark and damp and earthy, with only the sound of a stream running by.

I followed the path back out and finally re-emerged and resumed my walk down the road. Eventually I noticed a guy in front of me who I was approaching, because he was taking his sweet time. He turned around once and looked at me, and my first reaction was to think, "Whatchoo lookin at?" I immediately chastised myself for that, and replaced the thought with "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that, I'm your friend." A couple of minutes later, he turned around again and stayed turned around. He stopped and waited for me to catch up. We started walking together and talking. It was easy. He was a nice guy, named Rod, in Ketchikan for just a couple of days. We talked about ourselves, where we're from, what we're doing, this, that, the other. It was really nice. God once again shows me something, tries to teach me something. It happens all the time! Thank you God.

We parted ways when I reached my apartment. As I was crossing the street, a car was turning right there, so I high tailed it at top speed. As I got to the other side of the street, the car passed by and I heard "You're a fag." Well, I just seen red. I turned around and UP went the arm, and UP went the middle finger, and SCOWL went the face. It was a reflex reaction, almost like I had no control over it. I saw the car and it's occupants. Two really cute chicks, looking at me as I gave them the most hostile bird ever contrived, laughing their asses off.

I am...

I am no longer 39. I am 29. I was born on March 25th 1981. Please observe that all official documents now reflect this. I'll probably die when I'm 100, making me 90. Just a heads up to the world.