The Meaty Efreeti

Thursday, September 30, 2004

10 Things I Hate About These PseudoDebates.. j.s. Via Blogdex.



So there's this song that you really like. The beat is good, builds and breaks are great, vocals work well... But the lyrics don't necessarily speak to you or to anything you've experienced. But that's okay because you just really like the song, and that's enough. Then one day, your life changes somehow. And days later, you happen across that song you've heard dozens of times, and you're listening to it again like you always have, when suddenly the lyrics make sense. The song begins to speak to you, and you are moved almost to tears with understanding for the emotions that are echoing out of your speakers. I mention this because it happened to me on my way to work today. Prompted by "Do You Like It" by Our Lady Peace. It's an incredible, humbling feeling to find something like that. Something that was always there, right in front of you, and that just patiently waited for the right time to speak to you. Like a painting you've looked at hundreds of times but somehow never noticed a minute detail that, subsequently, changes the entire meaning of the piece for you. Or re-reading your favorite book and noticing something in a passage that deepens your empathy and compassion for a character... It's reaffirming and warm and beautiful. And if it's never happened to you, then I'm very, very sorry. Anyway, I thought I'd share it with you here. Because that's what I do. Take care, j.s.

Wednesday, September 29, 2004

Hiya. End of month office stuff + crunch time with my grad school applications = absolute 0 time for writing. I'll be back when I can. Tappitytappitytappitytappity...signsigndatesign...tappitytappitytappitytappity. j.s.

Saturday, September 25, 2004

Hi. It's been a relatively low-key weekend so far. Luis and I just hung about my place last night and watched the second season of Aqua Teen Hunger Force, which was good. However he bought the second season of Invader Zim as well, which displeases me, for it shall take days before Movie Exchange Co. restocks it and I can subsequently purchase it. You know, I bet he's at home watching it right now. I can see him...sitting there. Watching. And all just to spite me of course. And now...now I see him wrapping puppies in kerosene-soaked American flags, lighting them on fire, and hurling them like yelping little molotov cocktails onto a pile of inflammable inflammatory literature...all while beating nuns, supplying Al Qaeda with Uranium 235 and feeding GHB to Brendan Fraser. And so he must be, like, stopped. And once he's stopped you must relieve him of one Invader Zim - Season II DVD entitled "Progressive Stupidity." And then you must bring it back to me. For extended inspection. (Um, and if you happen to come across the second season of Aqua Teen Hunger Force? Yeah, you could nab that one too, because I haven't seen the second DVD yet, K?) EXTREME CAUTION MUST BE UTILIZED WHEN PROCURING!!! For not only does he have a phalanx of trained attack spiders that encase his condo in a protective webbing of web, he also keeps The 83rd Squadron of Flying Seppuku Fish on retainer. And they want nothing more than to take you with them when they go. Also, I think he has the first season Zim DVD too. And I already have that one. Ahem. SO DO NOT BE FOOLED! I shall be very displeased if "Doom...Doom...Doom!" tumbles out of your Burlap Stealin' Sack [tm] at my feet. Now go. Fly my mignons, FLY! And return here with copious amounts of injection molded polycarbonate hilarity. Or do not return at all. At all... j.s. Oh wait. I forgot. Luis is not to be harmed either. We go rock climbing on Tuesdays. Okay thanks.

Friday, September 24, 2004

Hello 'dere. I think I need a tent. Yes, yes I know...I just said that. The guy who has the "if I can't have a pizza delivered to me, then I don't need to be here" rule. But we have to allow for some change in these things. So ease up. I say this for two reasons. The first is to go camp/climb Enchanted Rock sometime in the next month or so. Which sounds like it'd be interesting to say the least...though completely unlike me. The second reason is to go camp at the Renaissance Festival for a weekend. You know, hang with the blacksmiths, drink some mead, eat a turkey leg... All of which sound strange and wonderful. However, all of this is merely academic anyway, and currently outside of the realm of possibility since I have approximately $30.00 worth of purchasing power to my name, and have to make it through 6 more days before getting paid...after which it will all immediately be gone again toward my rent. I am so very, very tired of this. It would be nice to not have to worry about how the purchase of 2 DVDs will be inversely proportional to how much I eat the following week. I mean, I came back to live in this horrible city simply to be able to have the available funds to do the things I want to do. And now that I'm living independently I have roughly the same amount of discretionary income as I did before I got back. sigh j.s. [Oh, and someone needs to bless mah toe...because it hurts from rock climbing. Thanks]

Thursday, September 23, 2004

God help us all... The Saga of the Russian Mail Order Bride Version 1.5 Hey there Natasha! How's tricks? Just wanted to say "hi" and see how things were going with you and Mother Country. Oh, and to let you know I got an email from a different girl there in Russia. You should totally go fight her for moving in on your man. Or your the man. Or your no the man no you have...er, yeah. She writes: Hello there!!! How are you?I saw your profil, I am very much interested in you. I would like to learn about you more. I am 29. I live in Russia, Kazan. It is very beautiful city here again very many sights.I am very beautiful, also have a beautiful body. I am very lonely woman, and I search for theprince, the realy love, and family. I want will find the prince which to love me and to respect andwhich can kindle the family center .and I shall To love him and love. Write to me if you are interestedin me. write me : TOPOLEK_75(at)MAIL(dot)RU I lonely and I never wrote and did not getacquainted in the Internet. I have girlfriend which has gone to such agency and she has found there thehusband. And now she lives in Australia, both her there are children and she is happy. I know theEnglish language and I too have decided to find prince and the happiness. When you will write to meback, I shall tell more about myself, and I shall send you my photos. I hope that I to likeyou.... And please send to me more photos of you and with your family Ok? I am rather independent. And work to be able to pay for the things I want to have in my life. In some words I cantell you, that I enjoy the life as it is and I love the life with all its aspects. I am very kind (I am not boasting :-)) which hurts me often. But I am strong enough toovercome the hardships on my way. Well, now it is up to you to decide to write me or not. I don't knowif you answer me or not but why not to try? I will regret if not to try. I think we should useevery chance to find our happiness. Please write to me on my e-mail the address, if you interested. writeto me here,ok I shall wait very much for your letter...... There may be you my prince, and my love... At me serious intentions, and it is possible we shall find generalideas and desire... I with impatience wait for your answer, and I hope that my letter do not remain withoutreply. Have good day, Sincerely your Friend . write me TOPOLEK_75@MAIL.RU Anyway, I really do hope all is well with you. We all miss you over at the meatyefreeti.com. You really should drop by sometime and say "hi." Till then, -Jeremiah- p.s. If you do fight her, please take pictures. So I'll leave it up to you...shall I "kindle the family center" with one Ms. Topolek_75? Should there really be a S.R.M.O.B. II? Or are some doors better shut forever, since they may not ever get as good again... Your call. j.s.

Wednesday, September 22, 2004

Hi there. Apologies about the non-posting, I've been supra busy of late. The weekend was good...saw Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow on Friday night. And though the spectacle of the film was impressive and unique, (think Star Wars meets The Iron Giant), oh did the story suck so... Horrible cliches, bad one-liners, and the wooden love interest between Gwen and Jude...all bad. See it only if it's something you feel strongly about. Saturday I did a wine tasting in the afternoon with J.T. and Kristin, dropped by Champps for lunch, then met back up with them at Knuckleheads where I also happened to bump into a cute bartender I hadn't seen since I was in Jr. High... Then J.T. and I took off and headed over to the River Oaks theatre to see their midnight showing of Jaws. Which was still much better than SC&tWoT, laughable animatronic shark and all. Sunday was foo'baw day, I caught the early game with D. over at my Dad's place, then drove out to see Russell's parents for the Dallas afternoon game, and then caught up with Luis for the night game at D.'s place. (Gnomes barely eked out their first victory of the season this week, against the #1 ranked team no less.) Monday I tried to study for my GRE, but kept getting distracted by my new Aqua Teen Hunger Force DVD and eventually gave up. And yesterday, I actually took the GRE, which had a similar effect to someone pouring ginger ale and Pop Rocks into my head and then shaking me vigorously by the neck. But I finished, got my scores (Quantitative: 550/Verbal:740/Writing: mailed in 2 weeks), and then I staggered bleary-eyed out of the little room they had me in. Rock climbing last night, beer and pizza at Star with Luis and K., and then sleep. And here I am today...with tons of things to handle in the office and less time to do it all in since I took yesterday off for the exam. I'll have some free time later this week though, so I'll catch up with you all then. Take care, j.s.

Friday, September 17, 2004

I had no idea how ridiculously expensive it is to even try to get into grad school... There are the application fees, which are roughly $45 per school. Then my transcripts have to be sent from all the various and sundry colleges I attended (sorta) during my youthful learnin' years. (3 of 'em.) So we can tack on another $13 for every school I apply to for those. Then we have the $120 fee to take the GRE, plus the $40 spent on books to study for said GRE... And we haven't even taken into account the hours I've spent poring over university websites, looking for fitting graduate programs that allow entry in the Spring. (Not as many as you'd think.) And then I have to figure out what it is I'm going to turn in for my manuscripts/writing samples to these schools since somehow I don't think a month of ranting on here is going to part any university gates for me. Regardless, I've narrowed it down to 6 schools. And here they are, in chronological order of their removal from this manilla folder on my lap, and not in any order of preference. 1. University of Texas: Austin - English/Writing Dept. Already gave me the thumbs-down. Right, okay. Snipers for j00. Moving on.) 2. Texas State University (formerly known as Southwest Texas) - English/Writing Dept. This one ranks at the bottom of my Sears Catalog Collegiate Wishlist, but after that stinging faceslap from UT, I think I have to chance schools like this one. 3. Boston University - English/Writing Dept. Okay, so it might be a pipe dream, but I'm still trying to get back up there. 4. University of Utah - English/Writing Dept. Ah yes, Utah. The old standby for Jeremiah's higher learning. Ahem. This one ranks just above TSU, and that only because it's outside of Texas. 5. University of Alaska: Anchorage - English/Writing Dept. Yes "really." I think it'd be an odd and life-changing experience to live there for a couple years. Besides, it's the last frontier, and I hear they split a lot of infinitives out there... 6. University of Colorado: Denver - English Dept. I wouldn't mind this one because it comes with a built-in best friend who lives in Denver already. But aside from her, and snowboarding, there's very little reason why I'd ever choose to go to Denver. I guess those two are enough though. I did look into some B'more schools for those in the vicinity, but just didn't find much in the way of programs that suited me. (Johns Hopkins only allows their undergraduates into the master's writing program, thusly creating an environment of slavering, toothless, thesaurus-wielding intellectual inbreeders that I want absolutely no part of.) That's it then. Over $250 worth of application fees...and I'm taking the GRE next Tuesday. So I'm off to have a fun-filled weekend filled with hours and hours of glamorous stem pair analogies, fabulous antonyms, and extravagant reading comprehension paragraphs. (After I go to the climbing gym of course.) Quiver into a simpering puddle of envy you proles. Anyway, I told you all these stories to tell you this one... Pickin's 'round here might be slim for a bit, because I'm going to be busy with all of the above. Sorry. Talk to you soon, j.s.

Thursday, September 16, 2004

So. How's it goin'? Good. Me? Is' okay...I'm leaning back in a wrought-iron chair on the patio of Kavah Kane's downtown, having a Red Stripe, smiling at folk as they walk by and basking in the humid warmth of an early-September Texas evening. The sun hasn't yet gone down, but all the storefront lights and streetlamps are on, making the blue-grey dusk seem more inviting and comfortable somehow. It's one of those nights where you just want to walk, silent and happy, along the streets of your city and simply take everything in. You know, I truly feel for those that live in the wiles of suburbia and never escape... (And I feel worse for those that don't know they're supposed to escape.) They could go their whole lives and never feel like this. And it's a truly amazing thing to be able to call hundreds of feet of upward stretching steel and concrete your home. The beauty of their perfect angles and towering lines, to stare up at them as you drive underneath (yes, obviously I really love that), and to watch a sunset reflecting off of 40 stories of smoked glass, igniting the whole building into a pillar of vibrant orange... Once you do see how beautiful the city can be, you'll have a profound new respect for these accomplishments of humanity as a whole, which is a feeling I think we all could do with having more often. But enough writing. C'mon...let's go for a walk. It'll be worth it. I promise. j.s.



Hi there. How about another quick round of applause for Natasha for having the courage to post a comment, huh folks? claps loudly in the direction of Kirov Nice, nice to have you here Natty. You take care out there among the bread lines, you hear? sigh Lovely girl. So, I feel like I've been a little remiss in my postings lately, meaning that I haven't said much about what I'm doing, just harassing easy targets like Russian co-eds, forged documents and gigantic vehicles. So, for those that care, I'm doing okay. Thanks. Last weekend I did nothing at all on Friday night... I completely geeked out, and just lay on my couch and read until it was time to sleep. It was the awesome. Saturday I did Ft. View breakfast, of course, then met D. to do a Fry's trip for some new computer parts (geekulence factor, increasing), and afterward we met up with Luis and Jake and went out to Russell's parents' place. Which was good..and very Texas. I sat on the back porch in a rocking chair, sipped iced tea, stared out at their cows and talked about the Dallas Cowboys. And yes, it too was awesome, though ill-advised for those inexperienced in such unabashed Southern relaxation techniques. It would only make you uncomfortable. On Sunday D. and I went to the Texans game. And I would insert a snarky comment about Reliant Energy stadium being "the power behind the Texans" and subsequently having a blackout during the game... But there have been way too many already. After the game I hung out over at my Mom's place and watched the rest of the games, then went home, unhappy. The Chinstrapped Yardgnomes having been soundly beaten by their adversary this week by over 40 points. Very sad. This season isn't looking too good. I caught up with Luis apres work yesterday at the climbing gym, where we scaled walls until the gym became ludicrously crowded, then went out for dinner and a beer at Red Lion. Which was good, considering it was pub food. AND earlier today, in some insulting news, it appears that the University of Texas would rather I didn't attend their graduate school of writing. Yes, it's true. And they didn't even send me a rejection letter. Just a little note at the bottom of my online application status page that said something along the lines of: "Yeahh, so we get 3x the number of applicants that we can accept each year? So, sorry, but you were one of the expendable ones...yeahhh. And hey, thanks for the C note. Yeahh." And really, I'm not all that upset about it. I mean, I guess I should be, but I'm not. Honestly, I'm more insulted than anything. Because I've met some of the trogs that have lumbered across their graduation stage, and to be honest, I'm unimpressed. Thus I never expected them to say no...and therein lies the insult. That seems to be a recurring theme with me doesn't it?. shrug So instead I'm looking into schools in Boston, Providence, San Francisco, Vancouver and Anchorage. (Yes, the Alaska "Anchorage.") We'll see. But for now, I'm at home, in a dark bedroom, laptop on my legs, Winamp playing Massive Attack's "Dissolved Girl," and an air conditioner vent whirring softly next to me. And, it is here where I will take my leave of you, flip my down comforter over my shoulder, curl up and go to sleep. Sweet dreams. j.s.

Tuesday, September 14, 2004

Someone just shoot me now please. j.s. [Yoinked from Sampo.]

Monday, September 13, 2004

The Saga of the Russian Mail Order Bride "Sweet Merciful Lord, Will it Ever End?" Edition Hi my beloved Jeremiah I so am glad to read again from you the letter. I want to tell to you - soon we shall in a place. On the visa it is necessary for me 540 USD. To me have told that Western Union The fastest and reliable system. I went in Western Union and to me have explained that such MTCN: Each transfer is protected by an advanced worldwide security system and can be verified with a unique Money Transfer Control Number (MTCN). My data which are necessary for you for a sending of money through Western Union: Russia 424036 Kirov Krasnoarmeyskaya st.the house 51, apartament 25 Natasha Sherbakova. I shall wait your letter, only do not overlook to send necessarily to me MTCN. I with impatience wait our meeting. Tell to me when I can expect translation from you. I should count up precisely days, arrivals to you. Always I shall be near to you and never to leave, I love you very much Your loved Natasha mailto:natashechka@mailto.us Natasha, I tire of this. You were a fun little mouse to bat around for a bit, but now I'm bored of this game and you're therefore useless to me. Don't get me wrong, it was entertaining for a good long while. But I just can't see how anything could possibly top the madcap hilarity that was the picture you sent me last Friday. And I really think we ought to end it on a high note, don't you? Thanks for all the superhot pics and the many laughs. And remember...it isn't you, it's me. Live always, -Jeremiah- p.s. You should do a Google Search for your name. You'll find some familiar signage. Happy Mondays everyone. j.s.

Friday, September 10, 2004

And, in a radical shift from discussions of ducks, indie movies and Russian cyber-hookers, I'd like to shift into political gear for a moment. Actually I'm kind of hesitant to get involved, because this reeks of a political publicity stunt to me, but I'll at least include a few links and allow people to decide for themselves. Tech Central: Blogs vs. 60 Minutes Little Green Footballs version Daily KoS version Now, whether or not these documents are forged, while relevant to public opinion and therefore the election, is absolutely not the reason that I'm mentioning this story here. The real reason I'm talking about it, is that this is a trickle-up journalistic phenomenon. From blogs, to the main stream media. And that, whether it ends up helping Republican or Democrat agendas in the election, is good for us all. Some people simply didn't believe what they were spoon-fed by our Acme corporate media machine, and set about using their collective brainpower, and the Internet, to start sifting through hidden agendas and getting to the bottom of what really happened. And then they published their findings immediately for the world to read. And this is only the beginning. As I've mentioned before, blogs are the unmitigated voice of the people, a voice that can be heard everywhere within an instant. These are media outlets without corporate investors or boards of directors. They have no teams of researchers. No news vans, expensive studios or overpaid anchors. The poeple who run them (typically) don't have millions of dollars to invest in them. But what they are is dedicated to what they believe in. So much so, that they would want to voice it for little or no pay. And they are intelligent enough to find a forum in which to do so. These are the people sitting at the clicking helms of many these blogs. And they somehow sent 60 Minutes scrambling to "C" their own "A." Yes, some of them are politically slanted, sure...but what isn't really? Perhaps it's just my cynicism, but aren't we all starting to disbelieve the "fair and unbiased" claims of MSM? I think that it is only through reading vastly differing viewpoints (see above example), that we can discern the truth. (Or what we each believe to be the truth anyway.) Regardless, this will happen again, and again. The voice of the people is getting louder. Welcome to the new journalism. j.s. (Now back to the scantily-clad Russian chicks.) [[Began via posts from Sampo and Blogdex]]



The world is an unbelievably awesome and ridiculous place. Have a great weekend everyone. j.s.

Thursday, September 09, 2004

*NOTICE: MORE RUSSIAN SKIMPINESS BELOW. THOSE OFFENDED BY SUCH THINGS SHOULD SKIP THIS ONE. THANK YOU WIMPS.** The Saga of the Russian Mail Order Bride Jersey Tour I send you a photo, you speak that all this swindle, ........... I cannot tell to you that I feel.... You do not trust me .... Between us there should be a trust..... mailto:natashechka@mailto.us Mmhmm...seems to have kinda fixated on the "send more pics" part, but that's okay. Natasha, Those are very impressive and realistic pictures. But how can I be certain that they're even you? I mean, what's that dog's name? (And don't lie, because I already know the dog's name is Alexey Pajitnov.) Now don't get me wrong, these pictures are of a very beautiful young woman, so obviously I'm not entirely averse to checking them out. And if they ARE of you then I'm very okay with checking them out, even if you think you're going to "swindle" me. Um, because basically you're sending me unrequested and unrequited pictures of yourself in your underwear. And that's so much the awesome that it's confusing. But, I've just had a thought... A thought that would settle the whole trust issue once and for all, and would make me trust you illicitly. (zang!) Here's what I want you to do... I'm going to send you another email after this one with some words on it. (So I can be sure that you're actually reading these.) Get a piece of paper. And on this piece of paper I want you to write those words. Then I want you to hold this paper in front of you and take a picture of yourself and email it to me. You do that, and I am so yours 4-evAr and evAr...and I will send you, and your family, lots and lots of money and riches and fame and jewels from American oysters and power and stuff. Okay? Okay. Love, -Jeremiah- Yeah, eventually she's going to tire of trying to shear me for cash and go on to easier pickin's. Um, but hopefully not anytime soon...=] You take care, j.s.



Seriously...I'm not kidding with you. If you haven't gone to see Garden State you must. So I went with Jake and Luis to Agora (a coffee shop) and to Late Night Pie last night. And, I must admit to liking Agora more than I like Brasil, even though going there was not my idea. (I've become fixated on that btw.) It had a much more European feel to it, and I really liked the exposed beams along the ceiling. Anyway, good time, had lengthy discussions with one of Jake's friends at Late Night Pie about free will, Catholicism, watchmakers and epistemological solipsism. (And I can get behind anything that involves solipsistic tendencies...as long as we're talking about mine.) It'd been a very long time since I'd listened to a stranger, who was both well-read and intelligent, argue a point that I disagreed with. Was nice to see they're still out there...even here in Houston. Moving on... So the top is officially OFF the Jeep for as long as the rainless weather will hold. I really missed that. It is incredibly beautiful to drive through downtown without a roof on your car... You stare up at the buildings as you roll underneath them, and they stretch upward in angular and linear perfection, but somehow they still look crooked and awkward and unstable. I love it. I especially love it while playing the Frou Frou CD. sigh You should all come with me for that trip sometime, whether I know you or not. It's something you shouldn't miss. Okay, I've got to get back to work, and I have some emails to return. (And yes, one of them is to Natasha the Russian Mail Order Bride, I'll post it later.) Talk to you soon, looks up j.s.

Tuesday, September 07, 2004

This one goes out to those of you who just couldn't get enough... The Saga of the Russian Mail Order Bride -Reunion Tour- Hello Jeremiah!!! Today is remarkable day. I have understood from your letter, that all is very good. I am very glad, that our feelings are mutual. I never could imagine earlier, that it is possible to fall in live with somebody, just reading his letters. Now I see, that it is possible, because it has taken place with us. Today I went in travel agency and have learned, what will be necessary for me for trip. The visa and the passport are necessary for me. I have told, that all documents will cost 540 $. Besides the insurance in case if something will happen with me, I can be treated in your hospitals. When I shall make documents, I shall take holiday and I shall come to you. But for me it is the big money. You know, that I receive a little. Besides I should help parents. Could you help me with money? It is very a shame for me to ask you, and I do not like to be indebted to somebody, but I very much want to see you! May be we shall try to do it? I hope, I do not put you in a difficult position. In any case, write me, whether you can help me. I very awkwardly feel myself, but I cannot live more so far from you. I with impatience wait for our meeting, I hope, that you too! That is all, my loved. I love and miss you. Yours Natasha. mailto:natashechka@mailto.us Natasha, I want it to be said that I tried... I held the door open for you in my last email, just so you could make a graceful exit. *flips a hand down and long, curved, black claws snikt* out That time has passed. On to your letter. That was basically the biggest steaming pile of ferret hurl that I've read from you to date...and this was the big one. This was the one where you were supposed to leave it all out there on the keyboard...and you completely cocked it up. I've such mixed feelings. On the one hand, that really was the most generic, half-hearted, and mealymouthed excuse for an "I think I love you...hey, do you have any spare change?" letter that I've ever read. And I've read some really, really abysmal ones. You completely blew your very first chance to tell me you loved me by switching an all-important vowel. You're falling in live? That is so much the awesome. You no now have no the man!!! I no am now no man the no you have!!! We are live? Hooray! (Seriously, I'm available to edit these letters of yours for a scant 10% of what you pillage from these geekboys. I'm your CyberCyrano.) And health insurance? You want me to buy you health insurance??? I don't even have health insurance you raging babitchka. There isn't a Snowball's chance in hell that I'd shell out $200.00 U.S. every month for you, just in case you happen across some bad potatoes. Tell you what... I will see about signing you up for the ultra-discounted "Blue Cross and Sickle" insurance however, where their motto is "From each according to their schoolin', to each accoring to their bleedin'." You might want to bring over some vodka for anesthesia. But, on the other hand, ...um...er...yeah... That picture was hot. =] So. About this trip to America... I think that's a wonderful idea. And you know what? I would be more than manically happy to send money so you may travel over to the States and fall more in the live with me. But I do think that travel agency sounds like a scam. cough [I'm the cough of thinly veiled irony] cough I think you should try another travel agency and get a second opinion, and then let me know how much it will cost. You can't trust those Russkies you know... hacking cough [irony backflip with a double-twist] cough** Is that okay with you? And, if you couldn't tell by the searing migraine storm I'm currently willing to happen in the back of your eyes as you read this letter, I am falling in live with you too. Yes. Yessss... Come to me... Come to the Texas... Together, we shall ride the peoples' horses, hunt the peoples' wildebeests, swing from tree to tree on the peoples' vines, and play "hide the turnips" together in the dusty Texas moonlight. I shall build a religious compound for us and our 42 children, and we shall have yearly FBI stand-offs on Lenin's birthday until we run out of the people's bullets. I will purchase you a 1988 Dodge pick-up truck with a shotgun rack, and you will use this to travel into town on the weekends to barter our compound-grown marijuana to the tourists for their valuable shells and beads...until you run out of the peoples' gas. My God...it'll be beautiful. Natasha my dear, I want you here with me. I promise to live you all my life...and maybe even longer. Yours always, - Don - p.s. Send more pictures. They're the only redeeming part of your emails. Take care everyone, j.s.



I am so in love with "Sam" (Natalie Portman) from Garden State that I'm all serene sighs and smiles today... Jeremiah stares out the window, resting his hand on his cheek sigh smile j.s.

Sunday, September 05, 2004

So, I may have lit the very last mental matchstick of my sanity and watched me burn on Friday. As you may have read, I decided to go feed the ducks, because "It's de greates' ting in tha world." So I drove over to a large cluster of 25 story office buildings situated around a duckpond. (Hey, I live downtown, and ducks are ducks...give me a break.) So I get there, park in the garage, and walk over to what looks to be a good duck feeding spot on a little wooden bridge. I pull out the bread, and commence to breaking it into duckbite-sized pieces and toss them into the water. Then, from out of the bushes, comes a troupe of the cutest lil' baby ducks you ever did see, along with their MamaDuck... They scrambled toward the bread...but screeched to a web-footed halt when they reached the curb of the pond. (Man-made, remember?) They stood there for a couple seconds, staring at the bread, then back down at the jump to the water, which was sizable for a duckling I suppose. But the lure of the Sunbeam was too much to resist, and they all plunged into the water, and gorged themselves on half a loaf of delicious, slightly moldy, floating breadbits... Later, I'm almost out of bread, so I roll the bag back up and put it back in my satchel. The ducks, seeing the feast is over, all start heading back up onto land. They clamber up onto the curb, flapping their little useless wings with the effort, and head back into the bushes. All save one. The runt of the group, this little guy was simply too small to get up and over the curb, though he tried and tried and tried...whacking his beak on the cement every time he did so. At first, this was really cute...then I see MamaDuck wandering along the curb, following her baby's progress and no doubt giving encouragements. And then I realize...he might not be able to get back out at all...which is when the guilt began. "Oh no. " "I've just killed a duck...a baby duck..." "I lured him to his fate with tasty duck treats ike some twisted, avian version of the "childcatcher" from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang..." "And now, now I'm just standing here watching my handiwork while his mother tries to get him back up to safety." "Dammit. Well maybe I can get some of the bigger ducks in the water and they'll help him." So I pull out my last remaining pieces of bread and start luring the big ducks back into the water with it. But this brings all the baby ducks out of the bushes again and they head toward the water like tiny, yellow-fuzzed cruise missiles. "NoNoNo!" So, to halt their progress toward the Curb of Ducky Doom, I toss half a piece of bread away from the water, and they alter their trajectory and head toward it instead of the water. Quick thinking...crisis averted. But now I'm trying to wrangle these ducks...keeping the little ones away from the water, and luring the big ones near the littlest one to help him get over the curb. And now I'm almost out of bread. As you may have guessed, none of this actually works. And now all I've done is start bird drama, and alert the entire pond neighborhood who has now turned out to see what the commotion is about. So...with my last 1/2 piece of bread, I try to lure the littlest duck next to me so I can grab him and set him down on land. I will not go into the details of this little flash of brilliance, however I will say it did not work, and I probably concussed the poor little thing when I tried to snatch him and ended up basically punching him instead. Er...sorry little guy. But, as a result of this, the little guy starts to cry piteously and heads toward the other side of the pond where there is a little ramp. "Yes!" I think, "He'll be fine, he'll go up there and then just walk back...er... No. No he'll have no idea how to get back over to his family..." And as if to solidify this point, there were four "Council of Elder"-type ducks standing next to me, giving me four grave, beady-eyed stares that seemed to say, "you're not done boy. Go bring 'em back." I can't believe I'm going to do this... But off I go...to shoo this little duck back toward where his family is waiting. A grown man, nearly 30, shuffling through the bushes around a pond trying to herd a duckling...and worse, he's talking to the duck too. "Yes...there you go...there you g..no... No! Over there....over THERE! NO...DAMMIT!!!" This goes on for an hour before the little guy gets tired of me chasing him, and jumps back into the water, and just hides under a bridge and cries. So, not only have I taken him from his family, sucker punched him, and sent him far from his home...now I've completely traumatized him by chasing him around for an hour. I am an evil, evil man. Then another thought hits me... He's hiding under this bridge... and I still have the bread bag... and ducks know what a breadbag means. So I pull the empty bag back out and start to wave it around. (Casually. Subtly. Like I'm just positioning it for the quickest and most convenient bread dispensing position. I didn't want them to suspect fowl pla..fow...f... (I can't do it.) At first, nothing...but then my ruse works and I spot the entire duck family paddling their way over to me. And when the little guy sees his family approaching, he goes all ahead full and zips up to them. A tearful ducky reunion ensues. I tuck my bread bag back in my satchel...fold my arms in superhero fashion, and nod triumphantly. MamaDuck takes her family back to where they came from...and I head back toward the Jeep, thinking of how glad I am that no one saw me chasing a duck around in some bushes for an hour... And then I look up. And there are 4, glass-paned, 25-story office buildings that all look down on this stupid pond... In an instant, I can see them in my mind, pressed against the glass, laughing, shaking their heads, considering calling the police, and forming betting pools as to whether I'd catch the duck, kill the duck, or fall into the water... I very briskly walk back to the Jeep, and get the hell out of there. So folks, the moral here is, be careful when you're trying to do "good" things like feed penicillin-enhanced grain products to wild animals...you are responsible for their well-being should you cause one to be separated from its family. Oh, and don't try to catch 'em. Just trust me on that one. j.s.

Friday, September 03, 2004

I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing this weekend... I mean, there are shenanigans happening here and there, but nothing that leaps out of my phone, clubs me over the head, and drags me into its late-night boozy cave. So I think I'll go feed some ducks for the time being. Bye. j.s.

Thursday, September 02, 2004

The Saga of the Russian Mail Order Bride -postscript- You offended me? I probably have not understood you... I wait for your letter Natasha **** Hi Natasha. It would appear that I offended you, yes. Unless you have a penchant for calling people "malicious" without provocation. And... and... sigh And there is no letter coming. I lied. And it would be better if you just don't write to me anymore okay? See...I'm not a very nice person. And if you're actually going to take the time to read my emails before answering, then I'll just end up feeling like a jerk for mocking you in them like I have. Best of luck with the whole "Emailin' for Dollars" thing though. Do let me know if you get to the point where you can afford an editor... Bye. -Jeremiah- Yes, I know... raises hands apologetically** I know, I know... That was my window and I blew it. But my conscience just can't take that kind of thing guys... Sorry. As much as I try to stamp them back down into a wooden trapdoor in my psyche, I do have some human feelings. And she went and became a real person on me... Not fair. =[ j.s.



Climbing gym = the hurt shoulders. I still didn't want to stop climbing last night though. I really hate that my arms start to give out after a few hours. It feels like they should be able to hold/pull up a certain weight, and they simply don't. It's an odd feeling... After the gym Luis and I sped over to Edwards Cine-Monstro-Google-Plex to grab something to eat and then watch Napoleon Dynamite. Apparently he expected to dislike it as well, but we left the movie laughing about it so I think Napoleon swayed him. After the movie I was exhausted and just drove home and passed out. Sorry there isn't more time to talk...doing end of month stuff at work. I'll post later. j.s.

Wednesday, September 01, 2004

And like all good things...this too must end. The Saga of the Russian Mail Order Bride Finale I received this in the my inbox last night. ........... I do not want to speak you you malicious natashechka@mailto.us So I guess I went too far with the whole Hamlet thing. Nevertheless, I sent this back today. My dearest Natasha, I don't know how to begin this letter with anything but... I am so very sorry. My adrenal glandular system is close to bursting with REAL, ULTIMATE SADNESS!!! All because I have somehow hurt your feelings with my false assumptions that Master Shake and his Thespy Bunch made it to Russia on their world tour last year. I only hope that you can find it within your igneous heart to forgive a foolish, circumlocutious boy like me. Although I did feel like you were ignoring me. Or worse, I thought you might have been lying to me and were one of the girls on this website. http://www.womenrussia.com/blacklist_summary.htm But now... Now I see you are not. You are just a frightened little girl in a large, vodka-crazed, formerly-communist, European country that holds an uncanny resemblance to "Hoth" from Empire Strikes Back. And that's kinda sexy like. Yeah. You should also know that I hold you, and your searing iniquitous heart, on an Indiana Jones type pedestal...safely ensconced behind boobytraps consisting of many poisonous darts, tarantulas, a bottomless pit, and a gigantic bowling ball. And I was hesitant to tell you this, for fear you'd think me a psychopathic mime-beater like the all the rest, but given my last statement I think it is starting to become too obvious to ignore... I really think I'm starting to fall for you. I have never used the word "love" lightly before I met you. Nor have I ever used the word "harmonous." But I think both have absolutely nothing to do with how I feel about you. And when I say "nothing" I mean love. I also remember that you have no the man in Russia. And I believe that perhaps you might want me to be the man. And I know that I want to someday become The Man, either in America or in Russia. So's I can keep a brotha down. So now you must see that I cannot allow you to go. Ever. I can tell you I am sorry over and over again for doubting the velocity of your voracious veracity. Because you sure are something all right. But to prove to you just how sorry I am, I sent you $50 US to the address you gave me. It's just to get you started in paying for a telephone so you may call me sometime and hear that I am not "malicious." I'm sure you are a very independent woman and one who likes to do things without the monetary assistance of others... cough But do let me know if you need any more help, with money or otherwise. Also, along with the money, I have enclosed a picture. The 8 x 10 glossy is a pic I took with Charo in a tub filled with banana tapioca. (I'm the one wearing the loincloth and hitting her on the head with the wooden ladle.) I've included several poems I've written about you and your sister as well. One of which was even published in Penthouse Forum. Please read them to your Mom and Dad, as I'm certain they will enjoy them too. Especially your Dad. Do Russian police have guns? Anyway, I hope this letter finds you well. I never knew how lonely a day without an email from you would be until you stopped sending them. Now, without your barely coherent words, the sun has set in my heart, and left behind a smallish expanse of farmland filled with nothing but darkness, chirping crickets and the occasional rustle of grass and leaves. Perhaps the grass hides a marmot or two who are also in love, EXACTLY like us. (Or, this being Texas, rhinos.) I don't know. But I know that I will never doubt you again. And I know I'm sorry. And I hope that you decide to answer me... Love and detente, -Jeremiah- I suppose it could work...but I'm not holding out much hope. I think she's gone forever kids. Sigh. Well, it was fun while it lasted... And what have we learned from all of this? We've learned that Jeremiah really sucks at Russian foreign relations. But, on the bright side, you all have her email address, and you can send her emails every day cajoling her into talking to me again! Yay! natashechka@mailto.us Love and detente, j.s.



I picked up the new Bjork album, "Medulla" last night. And I like it. Yes. I like it. It's comprised nearly entirely of stretched, twisted, and sometimes mutilated vocals to create the "sortacapella" that I'd mentioned before. Some of it ethereal, some of it pop, some of it epic. If I said it was "Xanadu 2004" you'd make fun of me...but that's what it sounds like. To be entirely honest, I'm having trouble getting all the way through the album. Not because I dislike some of the songs, but because everytime I make it through a couple of them I have an irrepressible urge to go back to track 6, "Who is It? (Carry My Joy on the Left, Carry My Pain on the Right.)" and bounce around in PopBjorkyBjorkyLilyZingYay!!!Land for roughly 4 minutes. I'm digging on "Desired Constellation" and "Mouth's Cradle" too...but I barely make it through them before hitting the Back button a few times to "Who is It?" And, it just finished downloading. !!! "Whoo iiiiis iit...that never lets you down? Whoo iiiiis iit...that gave you back your crown?" bounces with HappyVocalBjorkPop abandon I know. I'm not very cool. And yes, I did go see Napoleon Dynamite on Sunday. And I liked it too. Although honestly... lowers voice I expected to hate it. (And here come the "boo"s...") Wait! See, I expected it to be like "Welcome to the Dollhouse" which lots of people I know loved, but which I absolutely loathed. I simply couldn't identify with the horrible little girl in that movie. And I couldn't stand watching her. N.D. was entirely different however. Not that I necessarily identified with Napoleon either. I didn't. ::CONFESSION TIME:: Yes, I knew some Napoleons back in the day... but I was the guy who'd shove him against the lockers rather than the one who'd Vote for Pedro. (And here come the "boo"s again) looks down I know. I know. I deserve that. I'm sorry. If it's any consolation, or if it earns me any 1-UPs, I have since channeled my own inner Napoleon and I feel like I've become equal part each these days. I wish I could say "Idiot! UHHH!" just like him. =I I love the "Vote for Pedro" shirt, as we all do. And I must have his "Ricks College" one. (I knew quite a few people who went to Ricks College, which is actually like the Mormon prep school for Utah State University.) Preston is roughly 20 miles from Logan, where I went to school you see. Alas, I cannot regale you with the story of my one midnight visit to Preston, for fear that it may incriminate me. Suffice to say the tale involves myself, a guy named "B-Dong," an elastic visor/headband, (the 1970's kind with the see-thru green plastic front) an enormous cup filled with quarters, a case of Milwaukee's Best, and 10lbs. of purloined crabmeat. But perhaps I've said too much. j.s.

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