Endorphines=Good

I had my first experience with runner's high yesterday. 4 miles in just under an hour. Burned 500 calories. When I got off the treadmill I was HIGH!!!!!! It only lasted a few minutes boy was it GOOD! Yay for endorphines baby. Bring 'em here.

BEEFCAKE HNT

OK, I promised y'all some beefcake shots and beefcake you shall have. I'm a man of my word. Couple things though. I need to take next week's at the gym. By the time I get home the blood is all out of my muscles and I'm not nearly as 'pumped up' as I wanted these shots to be.


Couple more things. As I've said before I'm an egomaniac with a self esteem problem. Thus I think you actually want to see these pictures, but I also hate myself and my body and I think I'm fat, ugly, old and awful. Strange duality, no?

The Wisdom Of Funky Bugs Pre HNT

OK, today's HNT post will be late. I have to take and post it when I get home from the gym tonight all pumped up around 8 PM EST. I hope it doesn't disappoint. I know I've been hyping the shot. Meanwhile I offer you this Pre-HNT pic. The nose knows.

Also, I need to post some props for my favorite bug FUNKY pictured below:

See, Funky pointed out in her morning's musings that she heard a bird singing in the darkness awaiting the dawn. She promised to share that feeling with the world and it hit me. I'm in a dark lonely place now and I realized I need to break free of the prison of my own devices so instead of drinking myself into oblivion at home alone again tonight I called some friends and went out. This got me a lead on a gig plus I booked myself at another bar in another bar two weeks hence and followed up on a third gig for June. Like the bird I need to sing in the darkness until the light hits me. The spark of my music caught fire today and I have Funky to thank for it. You are a gem Robyn. My thanks to you and The Family Bug. God bless. Oh and HHNT!

Cruising to Lose Her

I must be making progress because I'm hardly even sore. My neck is a little stiff. I need to stretch more but there's no good space to do so at my stupid gym.I also need to switch to the cross trainer from the treadmill. My left foot is acting up. Busy day at work and I'm depressed about Brenda. Three days later the glow has faded and I'm empty and lonely again. Utterly unmotivated to do anything but drink.I can't make progress on my record. I can't paint. I can't go out because I'm too drunk to drive and too bummed to make conversation unless I'm too loaded to do so. I've become a prisoner of my own devices. Fuck.
From an old demo I'm thinking of resurrecting for the CD:
Cruising to Lose Her
I'm just a whore because I need it
Slit my wrists just to watch them bleed
I feed my demons alcohol
But all they ever want is more
I'm a liar
I deny her
I desire
To defy her
I'm a user
And abuser
And I am cruising to lose her

A prisoner of my devices
It's so nice just the way that rhymes
Times like these are overrated
It feels so fucking good I hate it
I'm a liar
I deny her
I desire
To defy her
I'm a user
And abuser
And I am cruising to lose her
'Cause I'm such a fucking loser

Weight update!

OK, gratuitous I know but I had to say it. On my birthday March 1st this year I was DISMAYED to step on the scale and see 198 LBS. Today, after spending 11 of the last 14 days working out the scale read 188 LBS. WOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!! 10 more LBS to go! Half way to the goal!
In an ideal world that would mean I'm two weeks from the goal but even if I can sustain I'm doubtful that losing 20 LBS in a month is possible, nevermind healthy. Fuck it. 4 days a week, 2 hours a day, 1800 calories a day (or less). I burned 500 calories today running 4 miles in an hour.
Stay tuned for Thursday's even more gratuitous HNT!

You Can Leave Your Hat On

To alleviate that boring fucking post about my exericse crap I offer you these lyrics from Randy Newman's tune "You Can Leave Your Hat On" - It reminds me of my love. I can picture her as the subject of the song and me singing. It warms me all over.
I love you baby. You give me reason to live.

"You Can Leave Your Hat On"
Baby take off your coat
Real slow
Baby take off your shoes
Yeah I'll take your shoes
Baby take off your dress
Yes, yes, yes
You can leave your hat on
You can leave your hat on
You can leave your hat on

Go on over there
Turn on the lights
No all the lights
Come back here
Stand on this chair
That's right
Raise your arm up too yeah
Shake 'em
You give me reason to live
You give me reason to live
You give me reason to live
You give me reason to live

Suspicious minds are talkin'
Tryin' to tear us apart
They say that my love is wrong
They don't know what love is
They don't know what love is
They don't know what love is
I know what love is

The gym: day 10

Dull entry today. I met with my "impersonal trainer" yesterday. Not very productive. I get three free 1 hour sessions with a trainer so I picked the buffest looking guy thinking he'd know what was up. For all that he wasn't very helpful. I usually do an hour on the treadmill and an hour on weights. I got there ten minutes early so he said "Do some cardio and I'll be right there." So I ended up only doing the ten minutes. Then he wanted to show me all the leg machines. That's not something I do, want to do or really need to do. My legs and ass are buff. It's the rest of me that sucks, especially my abs (read: fat beer gut). But whatever, I preservered. I need more weight at least since today I don't feel like I got a workout at all. After 4 sets on 4 machines I was like "whatever" so I went on the eliptical cross trainer for the rest of the hour and went home in disgust. So today I'm going back to my regular workout. I have to waste the next two Mondays with the guy so hopefully I'll learn something then. Fact: I need to quit smoking and drinking beer. These things are holding me back considerably.What good is burning 500 calories a day on the treadmill and then putting in 1000 in beer? I ask you? Meh. I need a new drug. Nappy dugout!

Thrice told tales part IV - Run With Bulls

Running with the bulls

In eary 1999 my friend and roommate Luis AKA Tripi informed me that he was going to Pamplona, Spain to visit some friends during the running of the bulls festival and asked if would I like to go? Being a Hemingway fan and an adventure junkie I immediately agreed that this would be an excellent plan and we bought the tickets.

The flight on Iberia airlines was an experience on its own. Newark International airport is rabidly anti-smoking but the MOMENT the plane left the ground EVERY SINGLE PERSON on the plane lit a cigarette including me when I saw it was cool. It was a long flight and we drank copious amount of $5 beers. We arrived in Madrid, Spain loaded and took the bus to Pamplona along with some very smelly punks who evidently hadn't showered in weeks. Luis had a bandana over his face like a cowboy bank robber to ward off the stench as I watched the arid land roll by out the windows of the bus.

We met up with his Austrian girlfriends Birgit and Gudy and they drove us out to Pamplona to meet Pilar, the woman putting us up for the week. The atmosphere was very much carnival and we drank recklessly. I had the misfortune to get a cold and I was ill for several days but this didn't stop us from partying insanely as only the Spanish can do.

Two memorable moments from the trip: People were climbing this Pylon, and miniature washington monument looking thing and diving off into the crowd some 30 feet below. This was OK when the square was packed but results were mixed when there weren't enough people. We saw one guy land HARD and not get up. Also people were randomly thowing lit fireworks into the crowd. Good times!

After partying all night we went down to where they were running the bulls where the locals gave us the scoop. Bulls are heavy. They always take the outside of any corner. Stay on the inside and you won't get run down. Also, bulls are herd animals. If they see a bull in front of them running they will continue to run. If they get seperated and can't see the bull in front of them they will stop and take out anyone nearby. That would be a good time to climb the fences ringing the route. So they freed the bulls and we ran for a bit and when they got too close we climbed out letting them run by beneath our feet inches away. Very exciting stuff.

Hemingway was more eloquent about it but whatever. We skipped the bull fights and drank instead. It rained like crazy later in the day and I recall that all the buildings had an overhang such that you could walk on the sidewalk and not get rained on. You just went from building to building and bar to bar while it poured rain. The last day we had stayed out all night drinking and Luis was incoherent. He went to bed and I went with the girls to the Basque country. Driving through the Pyrenees mountains was amazing! San Sebastien is a beautiful old city and we had lunch and a drink and they went to lay on the beach.

Being an explorer type I walked three miles or so down the beach. To my left a stone wall rose some 50 feet and to my right the sea kept rolling in. Suddenly I realized no one was around and the tide was coming in fast. I immediately reversed course jogging along the sea wall as the tide came in faster and faster. Soon I was up to my waist in seawater. At least it was warm even though it was the Atlantic. Apparently the bay is shallow so the sun heats the water well. I eventually had to swim oout soaking my fanny pack, passport, money, etc...

At least I didn't drown but it was a close thing. They say in Spain that they have so much sun that they could export it. I dried quickly and we had lunch in the town square and returned to Pamplona. The next day we took the bus and the long flight backto NY and filed another adventure into the archives.

Thrice told tales Pt III - Barbados

Bridgetown Barbados:
Wherein I am nearly executed for the color of my skin: In late 1995 I was waiting at the Westchester County Airport for my friend Mike to fly down and pick me up for a gig up in Boston whenI met this beautiful black woman named Sue. She was there with her hot sister and her sister's doubly hot lesbian lover. We all hit it off fabulously and I got her number ostensibly to have them sing on my new record.

She was separated from her husband and I took her on a couple of dates. Out of the blue she offered to fly me to Barbados to visit her other sister. Um, let me thinkYES! So off we went and it was a good time. While we were there she rented a car for us assuring me that she'd have no trouble driving on the other side of the road. Boy was THAT never true! I ended up doing all the driving and that was cool, though I was wasted most of the time. One night she was tired and said "You take the car and go have a good time. I'm crashing out." I said "OK" and hit the road. I went to a few bars and that sort of thing when I saw an old old rasta dude hitch hiking. Being a kind soul I hate to see an old man hitching on a dark road in the middle of the night so I picked him up. He had a big scar across his face as if he'd been mauled by a bear. One eye was missing and completely covered in scar tissue and he had long white dreadlocks down to his knees.

He was a nice enough dude and said he was headed to the capital city of Bridgetown. I said I had nothing better to do so I would happily ride him into town if he'd show me some of the hot spots. I admit this wasn't probably the wisest thing to do but I wasn't thinking clearly, what with all the beer I'd been drinking and the fine, um, tobacco that we'd been smoking.

So he takes me to some club and perhaps the two metal detectors and the armed bouncers should have been a hint that maybe this wasn't the place for me but I've never been one to shy away from a bad idea.

Let me set the scene for you: here's this long-haired hippy looking white boy in a dashiki shirt in a club in Bridgetown, Barbados at two in the morning with a great big load on, dancing up a storm and having a great time. Dozens of GORGEOUS Bajan black women were flocking around, chatting me up and dirty dancing with me. Apparenty a white face was something new here. I was having a damned good time when I noticed that the girls had sort of faded into the background and I was now surrounded but a half a dozen line backer looking dudes with unfriendly looks on their faces. The biggest one looked down at me and said "Do you know where you are white boy? You know you're going to die here tonight, right? We're going to take you out, kill you and bury you on the beach." I was formulating a suitable reply ala John Belushi in Blues Brothers ("Ohhhh Puh-LEASE don't kill us! It wasn't my fault! etc...") when out of nowhere the little old rasta guy interposed himself between myself and my would-be assailant saying loudly "You leave 'im alone mon! 'E wit me you unnastan?" jabbing him in the stomach with his knarled finger. As I braced myself for the worst these men all got an extremely chagrined look on their faces and with many apologies faded back into the crowd. The old rasta dude leaned into me and calmly said "I tink is time fa us 'a leave mon." With this I heartily agreed and we beat a hasty retreat. We then proceded to his New Yorker friend's deli where were partook of some more fabulous, um, tabacco and we talked well into the morning light. His friend was apparently born in Brooklyn and I was immediately HIS nigga and nothing was to good for me. Beer, food, um, tabacco and fine conversation ensued. We had a great time and said our goodbyes around 8AM with promises to write and I drove back to Sue's, had breakfast and regaled her with the tale after which there was nothing to do but drink fruit drinks all day and nap on the beach. I don't know who that dude was but I want to publicly thank him for saving my ass that night. God, how I love the Caribbean!

Thrice Told Tales Pt II

Here I offer you the mathmatical formula Butterfly + Knife = Hospital or another thrice told tale of my misspent youth. I was hanging out with my good buddy Mike, introduced below, at Simonds Park in Burlington Massschusetts.

I was maybe 16, and he was 18. He said "Check this out." and from his pocket produced a shiny new brass butterfly knife. I knew what they were but hadn't seen one before. He began doing what you do with butterfly knives besides stabbing people. That is to say he began twirling it open and closed with considerable speed. You may say I was less than comfortable with this as I felt that if it slipped from his grasp it would likely result in injury to one of us and I said so. He scoffed at this and said in effect "Dont be a pussy. I'm not going to..." and with that the knife slipped from his grasp as I had predicted. This produced an interesting effect in space-time. To wit: time immediately slowed to half speed as we both watched the knife fly straight up, invert itself in a graceful arc and then fly straight back down where it buried itself two or three inches into Michael's left thigh about midway down. We both stood there in shock for a long moment and then he calmly reached down and extracted the blade from his leg. This produced a lovely fountain of blood arcing out from his leg and splashing on the ground. I believe he was heard to utter an obscenity at this point and proceded to try to take a step. This was a tactical error on his part as his leg wouldn't support his weight and he went down hard. WHAM! Time returned to normal speed and then in fact sped up considerably. He said "You gotta drive." and I helped him into the passenger seat of his brand new Cutlass Supreme (ironically enough!) and I jumped into the driver's seat, turned the ignition, threw it into gear and floored it.

This would be a good time to point out that a) I didn't have my license yet, and b) had never driven a car with power steering or power brakes. His Cutlass was thoughtfully provided with both of these amenities, for which I was thoroughly unprepared. Needless to say a number of curbs were run over and there was a good deal of fierce acceleration followed by screeching halts as I mashed the accelerator and brake alternatively. I'm sure this was uncomfortable for Mike to say the least as he held his hand on his leg to staunch the considerable flow of blood. He was a trooper however as I drove approximately 90 MPH through town towards Leahy clinic where, coincidentally, his mother worked as a nurse. I pulled into the ER where the ambulances park, lept from the car and ran through the double doors past the amazed doctors and nurses congregated there. Grabbing the first available wheelchair I sprinted back out the doors. I came out to find Mike leaning against the side of the car smoking a cigarette and holding his leg. The shock was evident on his face when I came out followed by a veritable SWAT team of doctors and nurses prepared, I'm sure, for the very worst.

As it turned out he had not, in fact, severed the artery in his leg as I had assumed. It was only a flesh wound as they say. His mother stood there and harangued him for being an idiot as they stitched him up and all was right with the world again. An interesting side effect of this sequence of events was that the police staunchly refused to believe the truth of the matter, which was that it was merely an unfortunate accident. They spent several hours interrogating us both and assuring us that they would protect us from whoever had done this. Ah, if only that were true! Finally they just let us go and I never got a ticket for driving without a license. The lesson I took away from this incident was never play with weapons. Use them only for their intended purpose; to kill.

Thrice Told Tales

It was a good day. The best of days. Rainy, cold and miserable outside and I don't care. I am happy. Content even! As such and as promised I will not whinge and moan "Poor me, poor me, pour me another one." Instead I decided to regale you all (Hi Mom!) with an oft told tale from the past because I was reading my Imaginary Internet Friend Kiki's blog and her hilarious stories made me decide to post one of my own. READ HER! Truly hysterical. This tale concerns myself, one of my best friends Mike, a fifth of peppermint schnapps and the climbing of Mount Washington. But first some background: I met Mike under what can only be the considered the worst of circumstances. To wit: standing on opposite sides of SNB's bed wondering whether to start punching each other or not. She was my unrequited love/best friend and he was her new boyfriend. We were not expecting to see each other and I believe our very first conversational exchange went as follows: Mike: Who the fuck are YOU?" Me: "Who the fuck am I? Who the fuck are YOU?" and so on until SNB broke it up. Mike:
Suffice to say that once she dumped him not long thereafter we became friends in the "Gee we both wish we had her" sense and have been thick as thieves ever since. He wanted to learn to play drums and, being an accomplished drummer, I offered to teach him. Alas, for whatever reason, (*cough* no riddim *cough*) after several attempts I declared it hopeless. I told him to buy a bass and, as I was also a decent bassist, I would teach him to play THAT instead. This we did and he's a passable bassist to this day, though his real talent is singing.

Moving on: at some point not long thereafter we decided to go camping and climb Mt. Washington. Being an inexperienced camper and hiker I decided that my college bookbag would be a sufficient backpack for the trip. Mike, knowing better, declared me insane but I would not be deterred so he made it clear that he didn't want to hear any whining about it when my arms fell off because the straps had cut through my shoulders. I agreed to this and up we went. It was a moderately arduous climb and as it began to get dark we picked a spot to camp. Indeed I did have nasty bruises where the straps were but to my credit I never complained about this. I mention that only because Mike never fails to mention it when telling this story. It is by no means the hi-lite of this missive.

So, we pitch the tent and get a fire going and I dunno, maybe eat something. I think he had a small propane camping stove, whatever. So we smoke some herb and take a few shots of the 151 proof Rumplemintz peppermint snapps we brought for the trip. We must have had a pleasant buzz going because he tripped walking past the fire and kicked one of the rocks ringing said fire and it rolled a couple of feet towards me and stopped directly in front of where I was sitting. Thinking nothing of this I reached down, grabbed it and threw it back.

This was my first mistake. That rock was easily 600 degrees. Then I saw Mike's face. He was white with schock and I didn't feel a thing. Then I realized my hand was thoroughly seared. The entire inside of my hand was one HUGE blister. Then the pain hit. Arguably one of the most physically painful moments of my life. Wow! did that shit ever hurt! I ran to the bog nearby and soaked my hand in the water and steam was rising out of it. This was not good. It was dark and we were many miles hike from anything. There would be no sleep that night I was sure and I was already exhausted so I did the only sensible thing and made my second mistake. I almost immediately drank the rest of the liquor to kill the pain and hopefully knock me out. This did not work and I slept not at all. He crashed out.

In the morning plenty early Mike woke very hungover and cranky to discover that during the night I had made my thrid mistake. I had consumed all of our meager water supply. I wasn't properly apologetic either. Thus hungover, thirsty and exhausted we examined our options: Hike back down the mountain (too far with no water and injured) or continue the ascent to reach water and a ride back down. We chose option B, packed up and headed out in very poor spirits indeed.

We reached the trail and realized that it was some 10 miles as the trail went or we could bushwhack three miles across the side of the mountain directly to the camp at the base of the final ascent. Here I made mistake #4. Bushwhack it was. What I didn't realize until we were too far gone to turn back was that the terrain got worse instead of better. Soon we were navigating through scrub trees about 3 feet tall and too closely spaced to walk between. So we were teetering along actually walking ON these short evergreens and falling through every few steps. Did I mention we were on the edge of a precipice of probably 1000 feet and had one of us fallen it would have meant almost certain death? Somehow we managed this feat proving once again that God watches over idiots, drunks and little children of which I was clearly all three at that time.

Finally we reached the lodge and spent probably 20 minutes alternating at the drinking fountain there. We sat down and I guess ate something while I wrote in my journal something to the effect of "Bushwhacking across the side of a mountain. Great fucking idea!" When Mike saw this he grabbed the pen and journal and wrote "Drinking all our water:You farragin icehole." Finally we cooled down enough and climbed the rest of the way up to catch a ride back down in a car with one of those bumper stickers saying "This car climbed Mt. Washington". Yeah. I climbed Mt. Washington. Luckily my hand healed with no long lasting ill effects. So no, I don't climb Mt. Washington so much anymore.

Ben Harper is the shit

I'm taking some time off whining about how miserable I am without the love of my life. Today I'm listening to Ben Harper's Burn To Shine and Live from Mars. There are very few artists today that I really dig and he's one of them. Stylistically diverse and emotionally deep, he can wring the saddest and sweetest sounds from his slide guitar and his voice is equal parts Hendrix and Prince. He's basically everything that Lenny Kravitz purports to be but really isn't. In short he's the shit. Steal My Kisses, Please Bleed, Forgiven, Mama's Got A Girlfriend, Ground On Down...awesome! Listen, buy, see him. Just do it. You'll be glad you did.

HNT 420!!!!!!

Alas, I have no reefer... anyway I have other news. I'm going to be releasing my first CD since 2003 on CDBABY soon and I profoundly hope that you all will buy it, love it and tell all your friends. Special thanks to the lovely MG for being the first to hear my demo of the newest tune "The HMS Abandoned" and plug it on her blog. Now, back to HNT - I joined a gym last Monday and went 6 times in the last 9 days. In my usual obsessive fashion it is my plan to compulsively go until I am fully and completely fucking DIESEL. I'm pleased with the results so far. I lost 5 pounds since I started. 1800 Calories a day and an hour on the treadmill plus an hour of weight training a day. Bring that shit. I miss the love of my life so bad I can taste her. Come back baby.

The HMS Abandoned

This demo isn't perfect but I like it enough to share. Click the HERE for the MP3 file.

The HMS Abandoned
The winds a bit too strong
The waves a bit too long
And I fear that we've a good ship Abandoned
So all hands on deck for we're going to be wrecked
On Her Majesty's good ship Abandoned

Calling for the good ship Abandoned
Where we give up before we set sail
Far out at sea's where we never will be
Riding high on the waves at the rail

Two ships pass in the night
Extinguishing their lights
And it looks like we've a good ship Abandoned
So man all the lifeboats there'll be no more demands
On Her Majesty's good ship Abandoned

Here on the HMS Abandoned
Abandon ship!
Abandon ship!

Crying for the good ship Abandoned
Where we give up before we set sail
Far out at sea's where we never will be
Riding high on the waves at the rail

This here is the HMS Abandoned
Abandon Ship!
Abandon Ship!

The rudder's made of steel
But there's no one at the wheel
Here on the good ship Abandoned
So sound general quarters we're down all hard aground
On Her Majesty's good ship Abandoned

Come back to the good ship Abandoned
Where we give up before we set sail
Far out at sea's where we never will be
Riding high on the waves at the rail
We have lost the good ship Abandoned
We surrender so we cannot fail

Stuck here on the HMS Abandoned
Abandon Ship!
Abandon Ship!

Let Me Paint You A Picture

That's not true but I wish it was. I haven't had much gumption to paint. I have however been preparing the first official release of AndyT13 on CD Baby. It will have 13 songs obviously. Right now I have nine done and two more in the works. I'm making some serious progress at The Gym. I went 4 days in a row last week for an hour a day, then took three days off. I'm repeating that pattern this week, but for two hours a day. Good news: I was under my 1800 calorie limit yesterday. Bad news: 1000 of those calories were beer. OK it was unrealistic to quit drinking with beer in the fridge when I'm alone and alternating between boiling rage and hysterical crying. I got some good writing done though. I started a demo of one tune but I'm having trouble with the melody. The phrasing is odd and it's in a key that's on the low edge of my range which makes it hard to sing. Change keys you say? Yes but then the upper notes sound too high. I won't get into too much detail but song writing for me is more like channeling a spirit on the other side of a veil than creating something new from scratch. The song tells me how it goes but often it's not sure and needs my guidance. They're wily beasts, my tunes are!

Chivalry

Here's an interesting article on Chivalry and the death thereof. Basically 80% of men on the titanic perished while 74% of the women survived because the men willingly gave up their seats to the women and children. It goes on to discuss how that's not the case anymore. I consider myself chilvalrous. I routinely offer my seat on any crowded train to a woman, hold doors, etc... ironically they usually refuse and look at me like I'm a psycho. I guess this is just how I was raised. I don't know. It wouldn't occur to me not to do so and it disgusts me when I see men behaving ungallantly. I must admit I laughed at the guy who said "What, you want the right to vote and my seat too? Sorry." I think women should certainly have equal rights but I sometimes think that feminism as an ideology has done more harm than good for women. They get all the downers of being a man but none of the benefits they used to get for being women. Just an observation. No need to fire up the blow torches and pliers.

Here's to Better Days

Me, in Aruba, with everything I need. A cold beer, a pack of Marlboros. a good book and, if you look closely, you can see Brenda reflected in my glasses. So far no progress. I saw her on Easter (today) to give back some more of her stuff. She held me for a while and I stroked her hair and looked into those beautiful blue eyes while she talked. She's not perfect by any means but for some reason looking at her gives me the profoundest feeling of comfort and happiness. But she's going through with her self improvement plan and that means I'll probably be on the rocks for the next 5 weeks until I figure out that she's really not coming back. Then I'll be sunk. Or she'll come back and all will be right with the world until the next time she hangs me out to dry.
Q: Why would you want to be with someone who feels they can break up with you out of the clear blue sky at a moment's notice for no fucking reason at all? Discuss.
I'm vacilating between "I love you so much please come back" and "Die in a fire bitch."
I got in a clever one liner though if I do say so myself. As she came out to leave she said "Do you have everything?" and I said "Everything but you." I wanted to strangle every person who said "Happy Easter" to me today including her. *sigh* DIAFB

Broken Hearts Are For Assholes

I guess that makes me an asshole. I miss you so much. I sit here at work and miss you. I go to the gym and miss you. I go to my boat and miss you. I go to the yacht club and miss you. Everyone asks how you are and I lie and say "Fine" because I don't want them to know. My few close friends are sick of talking to me because missing you is all I can talk about. Like right now. ILUSFM. Please come back.

HNT Trifecta

The View Of Me From Between Your Legs:

Since my old friend SNB was the only one to figure out last week exactly which part of me was on display she got to choose what part of me got displayed this week. Her choices were 'the small of your back' and 'your eyeball'. Per my commitment to do as I say I submit these here for you approval. Rock on and Happy HNT!

Lost Love/The One

This painting is called Lost Love by Jeff Lowe. Nice Russian Gothic Morbidity. I joined the local gym and have been working out obsessive/compulsively. The physical pain feels so much better than the Big Empty. This tune "The One" by Foo Fighters sums things up nicely.

Everyone makes one mistake
One more time for old time's sake
One more time before the feeling fades
One that's born of memories
One more bruise you gave to me
One more test just how much can I take
You're not the one but you're the only one who can make me feel like this
You're not the one but you're the only one who can make me feel like shit
Something never meant to be
Everything you meant to me
Wake me when this punishment is done
Those who try and get away
From the one who gets away
Someone's always someone else's one
You're not the one but you're the only one who can make me feel like this
You're not the one but you're the only one who can make me feel like shit
Until the end of time
In another life
Until the day I die
Just save it up for one more try
Save it for the next goodbye
We go on again off again on again off
You're not the one but you're the only one who can make me feel like this
You're not the one but you're the only one who can make me feel like shit

Zero on the Care-O-Meter

If I had a flying fuck I wouldn't give it away.

I am Jack's Very Bad Mood

My basic feeling on the day is "Fuck You And A Half." Do whatever your heart desires. I vant to be alone.

New beginnings

Ironically (or perhaps unsurprisingly) a year after starting this blog I find myself in nearly the same predicament as when I started. My life is a J.Geils song. Love stinks. Bah. Go Sailing. Saturday I went out on a serious race boat and the conditions were inarguably HORRIBLE. Freezing cold, rain, hail, sleet, you name it. Fucking insane. On the first downwind run the spinnaker (big balloon sail) exploded and it was a panic retrieving the lines and pieces. Then after a particularly hard jibe the fitting that holds the boom to the mast sheared off leaving the boom flailing about dangerously. Another panic to get it lashed down so we can motor in. True craziness. Thank God actually as I was freezing. Anyway I'm in a shitty mood and having a very bad time emotionally but I shall perservere. I'm young, rich, single and good looking. What's not to love? Anyway my boat is coming along nicely so I'll get some relaxing sailing in too I hope.

Gaaa! Tagged!

I got TAGGED by The Zoomie
Four Jobs I've Had:
1. Hardawre/Software Quality Assurance manager/leader/tester/programmer
2. Musician (bass, drums, guitar, keys & voice but not all at once)
3. Sailboat Rigger (put up and take down masts, tune and tape rigs, etc, etc...)
4. Cashier/Stockboy/Cook/Dishwasher/Landscaper/Mover/Truck driver/every kind of dead end job you can imagine
Four Movies I Can Watch Over and Over:
1. Chroncles of Riddick
2. What Dreams May Come
3. Anything Star Wars
4. Anything porn - wait uh...Anything Lord Of The Rings?
Four Places I Have Lived:
Burlington, MA
New Bedford, MA
Yonkers, NY
Jersey City, NJ
Four T.V. Shows I Love:
I hate TV and generally don't watch but if I do...
1. Simpsons
2. South Park
3. Family Guy
4. Futurama
Hmmm. Anyone see a trend there? Anyone? Also any Bugs Bunny related cartoons.
Four Places I Have Vacationed:
1. Paris, France
2. Madrid, Spain
3. Montreal, Canada
4. Cozumel, Mexico
Bonus: Many Caribbean Islands (Jamaica, Barbados, Grand Cayman, Aruba, Bahamas, etc...)
Four of my Favorite Dishes:
1. Tom Yung Koog and Koong Kaprow (Thai Shrimp soup and shrimp Basil)
2. Super hot buffalo style chicken wings
3. Filet Mignon and fresh Maine lobster tail
4. Bacon, eggs and hash browns
Four Sites I Visit Daily:
1. http://www.fark.com
2. http://www.wwtdd.com
3. http://www.lucianne.com/
4. http://www.gapingvoid.com
Four People I Am Tagging:
Eh, a lot of people that I know have done this one so if ya haven't...TAG!

Right Arm was the correct answer

This is the shot that I built yesterday's HNT from. The inside of my right arm. To my surprise only one person guessed and only after several tries naming just about every other part. Neverthless ScreenNameBoycott gets to choose next week's featured HNT body part. Go SNB!

The Great And Powerful HNT

Jumpin Atcha!! This is all one body part. Which one?

Silence! Pay no attention to the man behind HNT!

Ceci N'est Pas Une Pipe

Mais si elle veux donner moi le pipe....porquoi no? This joke is so inside that no one but me would get it. meanwhile the skirt she's wearing? Wild Rubber. Yes, you read that right, Wild Rubber brand skirts. Ceci N'est Pas Une Pipe.

Timely words from Mark Twain

Against our traditions we are now entering upon an unjust and trivial war, a war against a helpless people, and for a base object — robbery. At first our citizens spoke out against this thing, by an impulse natural to their training. Today they have turned, and their voice is the other way. What caused the change? Merely a politician's trick — a high-sounding phrase, a blood-stirring phrase which turned their uncritical heads: Our Country, right or wrong! An empty phrase, a silly phrase. It was shouted by every newspaper, it was thundered from the pulpit, the Superintendent of Public Instruction placarded it in every schoolhouse in the land, the War Department inscribed it upon the flag. And every man who failed to shout it or who was silent, was proclaimed a traitor — none but those others were patriots. To be a patriot, one had to say, and keep on saying, "Our Country, right or wrong," and urge on the little war. Have you not perceived that that phrase is an insult to the nation?For in a republic, who is "the Country"? Is it the Government which is for the moment in the saddle? Why, the Government is merely a servant — merely a temporary servant; it cannot be its prerogative to determine what is right and what is wrong, and decide who is a patriot and who isn't. Its function is to obey orders, not originate them. Who, then, is "the country?" Is it the newspaper? Is it the pulpit? Is it the school-superintendent? Why, these are mere parts of the country, not the whole of it; they have not command, they have only their little share in the command. They are but one in the thousand; it is in the thousand that command is lodged; they must determine what is right and what is wrong; they must decide who is a patriot and who isn’t. In a monarchy, the king and his family are the country; in a republic it is the common voice of the people. Each of you, for himself, by himself and on his own responsibility, must speak. And it is a solemn and weighty responsibility, and not lightly to be flung aside at the bullying of pulpit, press, government, or the empty catch-phrases of politicians. Each must for himself alone decide what is right and what is wrong, and which course is patriotic and which isn't. You cannot shirk this and be a man. To decide it against your convictions is to be an unqualified and inexcusable traitor, both to yourself and to your country, let men label you as they may. If you alone of all the nation shall decide one way, and that way be the right way according to your convictions of the right, you have done your duty by yourself and by your country — hold up your head! You have nothing to be ashamed of.Only when a republic's life is in danger should a man uphold his government when it is in the wrong. There is no other time.This Republic's life is not in peril. The nation has sold its honor for a phrase. It has swung itself loose from its safe anchorage and is drifting, its helm is in pirate hands.

A Very Serene Picture

Even though I've a metric assload of things to do life is seeming serene as in this picture. I'm feeling like I know what I want and what I have to do to get it. It's a bit daunting but at the same time exhilirating. Don't stop de carnival! I look kind of fat and happy in this picture but even though I've gained some weight I've been working out and doing yoga and I'm more fit and flexible than I've been in some time. Here's to continuing that trend. L'chaim!

Celebrity sighting!

I literally bumped into Keanu Reeves at JFK on my way to Aruba. I stood behind him in line at the sandwich shop with no clue who he was. He ordered a turkey sandwich and the waitress said "What do you want on it?" He replied, "Whatever comes on it." which made me want to laugh and I thought "Hmm that voice sounds familiar." He got it on rye with cucmber, lettuce, tomato and mayo. My sandwich came up so I said "Excuse me." and pushed by him like a good New Yorker and went to the checkout line with my sammich. He got in line behind me and the cashier recognized him. Her eyes lit up and she said "Omigod! It's you!" and for a second I thought she was talking to me and any number of bad-to-worse things came to mind. Then she said "I loved you in Constantine." I thought "Constantine? Where's that." Then he said "Thank you." and it clicked. He had a scruffy beard and was somewhat shabbily dressed (I thought) but anyway I turned around and said "Oh, hey! I'm a fan too! Rock on!" and he smiled and thanked us both. Then I paid for my sandwich and walked away. Pretty cool.

Palm Beach Aruba

Well, there it is; Palm Beach Resort in Aruba. We sailed, we ate, we drank, we gambled and otherwise did all the usual stuff you do at such a place. Just another crappy week in Paradise. I did something I rarely do on vacation: I relaxed. Usually I'm all about adventure but I just wanted to chill and chill I did. I worked out a bunch at the gym, got a light tan and just hung on the beach. Sat in with an island band; that was cool. There was beaucoup security at the airport; double screening on everything. I wanted to ask if they were looking for something in particular but I hate jail so I didn't. I can't take this hectic NY lifestyle anymore. I fear I have contracted a fatal dose of Island Fever. Anyway I missed you all; I hope everyone is well. Peace.