2:07 PM >> While on topic...

I just noticed in the bathroom that on a package of Charmin toilet paper, there is this quote: "A Charmin Clean, Now That Feels Good!" I may be alone in this, but that is a strange way to approach this topic. Also, the picture of the baby adds to the strangeness of how Charmin markets paper you wipe your butt with. Northern uses a cartoon of a group of ladies who hand-quilt toilet paper. I wonder if they know what their quilts are used for. I would be pissed off if someone did that to a quilt I took so much time to sew. Scott Brand's website has a man jumping out of an airplane while letting a roll of toilet paper unreel as he falls to the earth. While I realize they are pointing out how long their rolls are, all I can think of is size of the pile of crap this guy is going to be landing in. Another company, whom I cannot find at the moment, uses a family of cartoon bears to advertize their toilet paper. Apparently, bears want to "feel good" too.

At least somebody out there got it right. If more companies would face up to what their products really do without shame, the world would be a much braver place. Companies like ShitBegone understand that no matter how nicely you dress up your bathroom tissue with fancy perfumes, lotions, and patterns (what the hell are patterns doing on toilet paper, anyway, as if it were some canvas for art?), in the end it will end up performing one major function... wiping away shit.

For more information on the subject including an interview with the founder of ShitBegone, visit PoopReport. It turns out ShitBegone actually is considered art by some.

1:14 PM >> Smelly People

I don't know how often this happens, but I know it happens. Last night, I shopped at Kroger. 1 of the items I bought was a bottle of KMV wine. 2 bottles, actually. They were priced at $9.99, but were marked down to $5.99 with the Kroger Card. So, I go through checkout and the receipt says that I paid $7.99 for each bottle, including a $1.00 mark down, which prices them at $8.99 originally. The first thing I realize is that, for the Kroger Savings Deal on the price tag on the shelf, the original price of the wine was inflated by 1 dollar. This is borderline fraud... a superficial overpricing without any severe consequences since you are only paying $5.99 in the end. However, 1 of the reasons I chose that particular bottle was because of its original price which determined, in my mind, the relative quality of the wine. However, the more frustrating problem was my having to visit Customer Care to tell them what happened, a trip I correctly predicted would turn out more of a pain in the ass than the 4 dollars is worth.

The first thing I noticed when I arrived at the Customer Care counter was that the Customer Care representative smelled like shit. When I say shit, I don't mean she smelled bad in a general sense. She actually smelled like actual shit. She was not pretty, not in shape, not personable, and she reeked. That is an overall abomination of the human condition. And the worst part, for me, was I knew getting a refund was going to be a long process. There are a lot of stupid useless details that I could tell you, but I am trying to get better about leaving them out. I found out in Denver that my stories tend to go on forever due to my over-attention to details. Briefly, she had to make about 4 or 5 calls concerning the price and could not understand that I was owed 4 dollars, not 2 dollars. The whole time, she continued to smell like a pantload of shit. At last, I got my 4 dollars back, only to realize that she owed me another 28 cents because I paid sales tax on those 4 dollars. I did not go back for the small change. The relief of fresh air was far more important and gratifying to me as I left the store on my walk back home.

P.S. In Breakfast of Champions, Kurt Vonnegut replaces all English spellings of numbers with their Arabic symbols, i.e. 1 for one, 2 for two, 3 for three, etc. I did the same in the blog entry above. Going back and reading it, my English grammar voice screamed at me to change them. I sit undecided as to what to do. So I ask you, the reader, how does it make you feel to see symbols in place of the written word? This is a rhetorical question. Find out in the next installment whether or not I can cope with such an awkward change in my writing style.

1:22 AM >> Drifting away...

You know that feeling when you are drifting off to sleep while listening to music through headphones where it really feels like you are floating in a swirling cloud made of music, and the songs are flowing through and around and over you, and you don't even realize how great this feels until for some reason halfway through track seven you suddenly become fully awake with a start, but you can still remember how it felt? That is one of the best feelings in the world.

If you don't know what I am talking about, put Radiohead's OK Computer in your ears when you go to sleep tonight. Especially tracks 1-6, they are really moving if you hit "the zone".

[Though I do always worry as I close my eyes that I will be strangled by my headphone wires since my Mom warned me that would happen when I was a kid. Why oh why don't they make cheap, practical wireless headphones? I hear they've had that shit in Japan since like 1995 and shit!]

1:55 PM >> Uninteresting Blog

You see, I am already suffering from uninterest in my readership. It has only been a few moments since my first post, and Ensign already prefers that I commit myself to some lab experiment rather than write an actual blog. I accept that stated challenge if Ensign can bring to the table a mental blogger that actually works. However, all mental blogging will be editted and published under my own scrutiny, not any other's, including any members of BMB. But now that I think of it, isn't that what an actual blog is? I feel like a bloggin' idiot.

1:51 PM >> Links

Shipmates, if you add the follwing into the link tag (< HREF="" ...>), the link will open in a new browser window so all of our fans will not be disrupted while reading our important blog.

target="_blank"

1:37 PM >> Mental Blog

Captain, I challenge you to post a mental blog. It would be much more interesting than your actual blog. I have some wiring. If you'd like, I'll lend it to you for the purpose of mental blogging your mind. There is a red wire and a yellow wire. They are to be attached to the corresponding red and yellow mental prongs located in your brain. Included HERE is a website dedicated to brains and the mapping thereof. It may be of use to you. The prongs are quite easy to find, however the in-home brain excavating technology is only fair these days.

Good luck. Good blog.

1:20 PM >> My First Blog

This is my first blog. I don't have anything in particular that I want to express. In fact, the reason I was compelled to come here and write is mere curiosity and wonder at a blog. I guess blogs are somewhat interesting, but I can't imagine who would want to read the daily musings of an average person. I would like to read Tony Blair's blog, I think. Not his actual blog. I'm sure he doesn't have one. Anyone with anything important to do probably does not have a blog. I mean his mental blog. Or Robert DeNiro's. Even Howard Dean's mental blog would interest me, but not his real blog.

I have read a few excerpts from a few other blogs. Apparently, there are some relatively famous blogs on the internet. I always read references to Andrew Sullivan's blog when I read the OpinionJournal. [I think I am supposed to be linking in this blog, so there is your link.] If my blog were ever to become famous, I would probably feel different about blogs. I would think blogs were great. That would make me self-important, but I find nothing wrong with that. If I don't find myself important, why would anyone believe I thought they were important. Which concludes my logic. If I thought my blog were important (which I don't), I would believe that everybody's blogs were important. But, as it is, blogs are more like drivel. And, to be honest, I would be jealous of a famous blogger. I would say, "Why not my blog?" But, after reading this, you would probably understand why not my blog.

So, there you go. My first blog. It was kind of fun to write, actually. Maybe blogs are important. Or at least mine.

12:52 PM >> The Moon and Grains of Sand

To the beach I'll return
Empty-handed with a dream crushed.
Like dust It will return to the sand,
Where billions of dreams are wasted by earlier hands.

As they all fall, so too does the moon.
It disappears into the sea.
In hidden silence then it will carry this derelict heap of wasted dreams.
Pulling into its breast each grain,
Which was once a man's single dream.

Now they all lie dissolved,
A pool of tears and forgotten dreams.

10:55 AM >> Dust, Cat Hair, and Concrete

I hate these things. I hate them all. Concrete in every sense - asphalt, sidewalks, interstate highways, curbs, streets, pillars, pylons, cement. Whatever. Dust, I think, speaks for itself. And stupid long-haired cats clogging up vacuum cleaners and polluting my air. If I close the door to my room, he/she/it (that stupic cat) tears at the carpet. A gaping hole in a door jam - Damn! What is worse? Not just a little hair, but gobs and gobs and clumps and gobs of hair. Nasty little piles of cat hair.

I want grass and dirt and hills. I want to walk on gravel. I want unevenness. I want things unpaved. I want sheen. I want smooth shining surfaces. I want glistening. I want pure air. I want purity all around. And I want hairlessness. Hairless pets is what I mean. Like chihuahuas and other breeds of short-haired friends. For myself, I want hair. Not falling out though. Just a nice head of hair. Curly, full, and all around. Not just in the back but upfront as well.

As contradictory as my desire and despises seem, these are what I wants and these are what I hates.

10:37 AM >> SenseXing

See to taste >>

Take three variously colored apples. Place them in a row from sweetest to most bitter. Taste. See how well your brain was able to process color as a representative characteristic of taste.

Very good.

Now, see to smell >>

Take three men - a dingy homeless man, a drunken college student, and a well off business executive. Likewise, place them in a row from most fragrant to most foul. Sniff. Again, you were able to use visual cues such as flies, untucked t-shirts, and pinstripes to accurately determine an individual's odor.

Excellent.

10:26 AM >> Quip:

"It is the innocent, hooligan bred youth that slide and slither through the hands of jubilant snakes."
- a headmaster said that at chapel once

11:22 PM >> Ya, ya, sure, eh?

On Saturday I got sunburned while scrambling across boulders in 80 degree weather. [Georgia]
Today I watched snow fall outside my window. {Minneapolis}

I ate tonight at what might be the coolest restaurant ever: Rainforest Cafe

This place is insane. The whole place, located in the Mall of America, is an open-air setup, as in there are no walls between the restaurant and the outside [outside = inside mall], but there are an A-ton of fake jungle vines hanging down. Inside, there are huge-A aquariums, fake monkeys, stone elephants with scary red eyes, a fake starry-night sky [fiber optic!], and all sorts of jungle sounds. [The elephant noises made this poor kid sitting next to me cry.] But no written description can do this place justice. You really gotta just check it out for yourself. The best part is the appetizer menu--all of the titles have some sort of jungle adjective in them, so you get to choose from Tsunami Shrimp Cocktail, Leaping Lizard Lettuce Wraps, Flying Dragon Pepperoni Pizza [because of the jungle dragons], and... Cheese Sticks. Not "Molten Lava" Cheese Sticks, not even "Tribal" Cheese Sticks. Just... Cheese Sticks.

There is an indoor pool at the hotel I am staying at. [Indoor only, no outdoor] One of the rules posted at the pool states "No running and boisterous or rough play allowed." Now, who would the hotel proprietors want to read these rules? Kids, I would assume. What kind of freakin' kid would know the word "boisterous" or EVER think that he was conducting himself in a "boisterous" manner???

Also, in the workout room there was a set of rules posted. One read "Use of workout room prohibited for anyone under the influence of alcohol, stimulants, or depressants." I drank two cups of coffee before I worked out. I hope they don't catch me...

9:43 PM >> A Mind to Unwind

When you need to unwind follow the following perscription. There's a lot of stuff going on in our lives and we need to unwind. Sometimes a cigarette and a beer are not enough to last goings on in our brains. I offer the following solution. Get a bottle of cheap wine and a good cigar. Wait for a nice sunny afternoon. Pick a seat on a back porch, preferably your own and sit, drink, and smoke. Smoke slowly, sniffing the fumes as you go. Drink slowly, but regularly. And talk to yourself. Just sit, smoke, and have a little old conversation with yourself. If you are fortunate to have speakers that carry to your porch, let some selection of your favorite tunes carry you on. Ideally, you can spend a good hour with a cigar and this bottle of wine. Most peoples minds will go an hour or more so you should be set. In the end you may come out of the experience rejuvenated. When done take a shower and have another beer or two. Isn't Spring wonderful.

1:16 AM >> Knowledge, Paste, and My New Bride

Knowledge of all sorts, I believe, is rooted in history. History is important. It is smart and fun to learn about things of the past. They come back you know. All those folks from way back then-ward return. Napoleon will one day be here -- in a different looking hat maybe, but he will return. Maybe upon his return he'll be wearing a ball cap or a turban, who knows. Perhaps a chef's hat. What if, just what if, Emeril was the return of Mr. Bonaparte. BAM! It is possible. Napoleon had remarkable teeth. An apple a day he used to say. Then that turned into apple pie. Ala mode, of course. And now, here we are in the 21st or 20th century, depending on who's counting, and apple pie is the protected intellectual property of The United States Of 'Merica. Makes ya feel proud, huh? I'll tell ya what though. I protest. Until Mickey D's brings back the truly fried, not baked, apple pie of yester yore, nothing's as American as sport fishing television. Can you believe it? A TV show devoted to catching bass? Yeah! Deep fry that Ronald. I know for a fact that the Captain uses or has used a toothpaste that tastes like strawberries. Now that is pretty damn American. I myself use Crest. Always have and always will. I think Norman Rockwell once painted a photo of a man brushing with a tube of Wintergreen Whitening Crest with sparkles. What do the sparkles do? You had to ask. They energize the children. If we can hook 'em on brushing in youth, they'll be brushers for life. And lifers never complain when they get back from the dentist. That is, if they floss regulary, which translates this day and age to 5 days a week, once daily. I floss. I brush. I eat apple pie and have been to a Nascar race. I saw a show about Puss In Boots on the History Channel before I gave up cable for Lent. But. Unfortunately. The catch is this. I still have a lousy bride, a lover and partner in life. Here name is loneliness. Not to turn this history lesson into a sap, pathetic, pity-fest, but Jimminy Crickets when's that wish I wished upon a star going to start working?

12:38 AM >> The more you grow...

"Useless knowledge" is a phrase I hear bantered about a lot. Mainly in regard to either myself or my friend Kenny. This phrase is completely unfair.

Is all knowledge not useless until it is known by the knower in a context wherein it would be useful? (Sorry, I fell and hit my head.) But no knowledge can have a use if it is not needed for use. And the moment it is used, it ceases to be useless. Therefore, no knowledge is useless; it merely exists until it is needed. Does knowledge exist in a vacuum?

I may know everything there is about seafaring. [Arrr, matey!] Nowadays, until I set foot on a pirate ship, this knowledge is deemed "useless." But the moment you and I are trapped on a Ghost Ship, our only hope for survival charting our way home, that knowledge sure is damn useful, ain't it?!?

Knowledge is never useless; it just needs an application. [Oh, how profound art I.]

Remember: knowing is half the battle.

RANT RANT RANT RANT RANT RANT RANT RANT RANT RANT RANT RANT RANT RANT RANT RANT
RAVE RAVE RAVE RAVE RAVE RAVE RAVE RAVE RAVE RAVE RAVE RAVE RAVE RAVE RAVE RAVE

12:02 AM >> Headcheese

The scary part is not that Arby's advertises that their Market Fresh sandwiches are made with "authentic cheese." The scary part is the fact that apparently this differentiates them from other fast-food joints.

au·then·tic
a : worthy of acceptance or belief as conforming to or based on fact <paints an authentic picture of our society>
b : conforming to an original so as to reproduce essential features <an authentic reproduction of a colonial farmhouse>
c : made or done the same way as an original <authentic Mexican fare>

3:37 PM >> ALERT

Whoa. My leg just vibrated as if there were a cell phone set to "silent ring" embedded within it. I almost tried to answer my upper calf.

12:35 AM >> To the max!

I brushed [teeth] with extreme toothpaste tonight. I am simply e-mazed that it is only 2004 and we already have extreme toothpaste! I mean, shit, how long ago was it that toothpaste itself was invented?

Oh--modern-type toothpaste, in a collapsible tube and everything, was invented before 1900. So I guess it was a long time ago. Perhaps the development of extreme toothpaste has been a long time coming then. BUT I AM STILL IMPRESSED. However, I was not overly impressed with the extreme toothpaste itself. I was looking to have my teeth burned back to their very cores, exposing root nerves to the world so the simple act of opening my mouth to common, everyday air would cause excruciating pain.

This did not happen.

I must admit it was nice to see orange toothpaste [not completely orange but orange and white swirled]. It's about time someone added a new color to our toothbrush rainbow! And the taste was very interesting. It tasted familiar, but I could not place it. BUT ONE DAY I WILL. And you will learn.

9:08 PM >> Something of Sadness

In a pocket to-do list I wrote: write something of sadness. Something of sadness. Admist all that I reminded myself to go to the dry cleaners and to research some sea shanty from a book that I am reading. So that I will remember, the shanty is titled "The Prickle-eyed Bush".

So what. What is there of sadness that I have at the moment. I am sad, I suppose. There are things in life that I wish I'd have accomplished as of yet, yet I haven't. Namely, a female to share this all with. Though what female out there would put up with a fella like me. I don't know. That's prolly a stretch. There are other things more attainable maybe. For instance, some direction. I am 27 and without work, by choice. I quit my job of five years a couple of months ago. During the days I drink coffee, check the Internet, wait for lunch, then dinner, the for my first beer of the evening, and then the cycle starts again. It is endless. Some days I'll see a movie. Some days I'll go on a temporary vacation. But. It is this endless cycle of loneliness. I think I may be talking to myself. Haven't I always done that though. I don't know. I don't know. Now I am repeating myself. Is there no one here to edit my thoughts. I suppose not.

OK, there are two paintings I intend to paint as soon as the inspiration passes. They are, as my pocket notes describe: Miller and Ravenous. Miller I know is a painting of a Miller High Life can of beer based on a late-night conversation that Ben and I had. Ravenous--I forget. I cannot remember what the painting is ...ah yes, It just came to me. I am going to get blitzed in some fashion, put on the Ravenous soundtrack and begin painting. We'll together see what the outcome is. Together. Yada yada yada

1:36 AM >> Cheap Red Wine

Marked down from $6.99, I found the bottle of wine I was looking for. It would do any how. At $5.99, it would do. I had a taste for port wine (a cheap bottle), but $5.99 was the cheapest alternative in the port-less store. The red would do. Not to mention the label would look nice with the collection of bottles above my cabinets. The label actually read -- Cheap Red Wine. Perfectly tackey. Perfectly out of place with my brother's expensive wines on display.

I haven't developed much of a seasoned taste for wine. A good wine does taste better to me most times, but price is a bigger draw to me than tastes as far as wine goes. This night I just needed something heady. Something cheap and something heady. Being out of anything at home but a couple of shots left of a cheaper than Bailey's Irish cream, the Cheap Red Wine was gold.

As soon as I had touched the bottle and turned to head up front, the cashier nodded my purchase off. "No sales. It's past twelve," he pointed out.

Dammit. The rumors WERE wrong. I had always been told that Buddy's convenience store sold at all hours. Monday through very late into Saturday night. I never believed it. Tonight I needed the buzz, so I took a chance and bought into the myth. And dammit all I was right. Why couldn't he have told me as I browsed the wine section for five minutes, up and down the aisles searching searching searching? Why now with my savior already in my hand? Why? Why now?

Empty handed I went and drove home in the rain. Now I am left staring at the two remaining chilled shots of Cheap Irish Cream in the fridge, which taste like hell alone. Standing, thirsty, contemplating.

10:24 AM >> The Beard?

Here's a tiny little essay I wrote in my truck on a recent trip to Athens, GA to visit a friend. While it is dangerous, most of my tiny little essays are written while driving. As of yet, I haven't wrecked as a result of one. I have, however, wrecked as a result of exploding bladder, stupidity, rain, and poorly placed pylons at the bank. Here we are >>

Is the beard anymore a sign of wisdom and age than it is of laziness? Day after day fullness is cultivated, and while time passes feelings are hidden. They grow fallow blanketed in mask. They burn inside unseen. The face looks lonely, contemplative, like a man in old age pondering life. He is content to let nature course as it will. Without daily grooming a tangle of ends prevails. Fidgity hands are drawn to it in concentration. In it passing years are nested.

It is the symbol of ill-managed sloth or scholarly intellect? Is the genius victim to undeterminateness? Is the beggar only being humble on the verge of some great expound? Who am I beneath this beard? What does it conceal? What does it exude?

9:44 AM >> Did you get an email like this?

Yes, I did. I received an email of this sort. I followed the instructions. I was Mind Melted to a degree. A low degree. A 32%-er. Now, all I need to know is did it work? Am I blogged up? Let me know B to the K.

1:20 AM >>

I am such an idiot. Why can I never see what is right in front of me? The spellcheck button is RIGHT F-ING THERE! What scares me is if this inability to see physical, tangible things that are obviously, directly in front of me carries over into more the intangible arenas--opportunities, hopes, etc.

1:05 AM >>

I must be insane because every year I make the same philosphical mistakes when filling out my March Madness bracket [i.e. SO many upsets], yet every year I am confident I will win the pool.

I can't believe I never bothered to learn how to type.

mp3 players are one of the top inventions ever.

And why doesn't blogger offer spellcheck?

3:08 PM >> What the Blog?

So this is our new blog page? What the Blog? I am confused... must take the weekend to understand.

1:50 AM >> And lo, it begins

So on Monday I made a vow to do something creative every day. [creative = create something or be inspired]

Monday night was a virtual createplosion: worked on one of the screenplays AND started this blog. Last night I watched Secret Window.

Tonight, I went to a skanky-ass titty bar.

1:35 AM >> MM Rising

84%

1:31 AM >> Mind Melt Begins

Mind Melt level 78%