inherently different

Archive for December, 2007

My friend Benja Iglesis has started a blog. In and of itself it wouldn’t be of much interest, but the guy has been all over the world shooting some amazing photographs. He seems to always be at the right place at the right time to capture some amazing things… Aside from being a great photographer, he’s a genuine person whom I am lucky to count among my friends here on Maui. Check out his blog and say hello when you get a chance.

—————-
In awe of Benja’s photography while listening to: Matisyahu – Sea to Sea
via FoxyTunes

There was a time, perhaps 10 years ago, that Madonna was relevant. While anyone with half a brain has since stopped paying attention to that rancid bag of wind, for some reason she continues to fight tooth and nail against the ravages of time and fame.

I don’t think I am in the minority believing that Madogna’s best years are way behind her. Everytime I see her these days, the more I understand why old people frighten children. I still have nightmares from the 3 seconds I saw of her sporting a leotard. Isn’t there a rule against octogenarians wearing spandex? Shouldn’t there be? Amirite? What’s worse, I am hard-pressed to discern the difference between Madonna and Keith Richards… I am beginning to think they are the same person… why don’t you ever see them both at the same time?

I honestly wish that some of the biggest fame whores like Madonna would simply disappear. I know there are still a few people who still believe there is something worthwhile about her or her music, but I just don’t understand it. If someone asked me twenty years ago whether or not we’d be listening to a new album from Madonna in 2008, I would have laughed in their face… then punched them for putting the thought into my head.

I think Madonna is much like Liza Minnelli (and judy garland before her)… a gay icon whose sole worth is giving the transgender/transvestite peformers someone to emulate well into their sixties and seventies.

—————-
This song reminds me of Madonna: Tool – Stinkfist
via FoxyTunes

What a week. I am not sure if I have ever explained how poorly I function when I don’t have ready access to the Internet.

In case I haven’t, I don’t.

On Thursday evening, I lost access to the Internet. I was essentially without a broadband connection through the weekend. I did manage to find an open WIFI and slipped in a few minutes here and there, but for the most part, I was technology deficient through Tuesday… when a major storm hit Maui (dumping 4-8 inches of rain and tossing around debri with 50-80 mph winds)… from Tuesday morning at around 9:40 am through Thursday evening at around 7 pm, Kihei was without power… Which means on top of not having Internet access, I didn’t have DVD access. I almost went batshit crazy.

It all just goes to show how completely incompetent the powers that be here on Maui are. A power outtage that lasts three days? Where does that fucking happen anymore? I have said it before, but I will say it again… the infrastructure in Hawaii is hideously underwhelming. On the mainland, a countywide black out may last six to eight hours tops… but three fucking days? Aside from having one of the worst educational systems in the free world, most of the government workers are lazy and uneducated. I kills me to know that such a beautiful place is run by some of the dumbest motherfuckers to ever walk upright on god’s green earth.

It’s weeks like this that make me wish I still lived in San Francisco… If it was warmer and I could surf everyday, I would move back in a heartbeat. Between the asshole tourists and the fucking retarded natives, I am not exactly sure which is worse.

I am back online and just now getting my fix taken care of… hopefully your week was better than mine.

—————-
Listening to: School Of Fish – 3 Strange Days via FoxyTunes

“Life doesn’t always work out the way we want.”

In the big book of truth, that statement should be listed first, followed closely by, “We always hurt the one’s we love.” I am nothing if I am not honest. Truth is the thin, pale wall between what we want and what we need. It is what keeps us from getting what we want or getting what we need. We are an unpredictable species until you start thinking in terms of truth and its place in our world.

Of course, it is the very unpredictability of human nature that makes life interesting if not exciting. The real problem with most things in life is keeping perspective from ruining the moment.

Take, for example, the idea of love. While you’re held within love’s fragile grasp, the future makes sense, your decisions are easy and the past is always seen through rose-colored glass. The moment you fall out of love though, nothing is easy, the future is suspect and everything looks dark.

I know that this analysis might seem pessimistic, but it is honest for better or worse. And in that way, I think I’m healthier than your average romantic. I know that barring death, love ends eventually. The phrase, “Til Death Do We Part,” in the standard marriage vow was created because of the relatively temporary lifespan of love. The phrase isn’t, “Eternally Yours,” because love has a life cycle of its own that can’t be controlled or anticipated.

But love is much more than an ethereal benchmark of longevity. It is also an exhibition of control or more appropriately, the complete loss of it. It is that freefall of emotion, that undeniable sense of chaos, that makes loving someone the scariest undertaking known to human kind.

The pursuit of love is the only reason we still exist as a species. If it weren’t for love, nothing on this planet would exist. Love is the great motivator. Men, and some women, have been pushed to do incredible things, all in the name of love. Of course, not all that love has wrought has been good. Wars have been waged, civilizations changed, and lives ruined in every imaginable way, all for love. Is there any question then that love is the currency that makes the world go round?

Yes, love does make the world go round. Love, and the pursuit of it, forces us to wake up in the morning. Among us, the hardworking might think money is truly the reason why you get up and go to work, but what is that money for? If not to buy some bauble, clothes, a car, a home, all in the pursuit of love is it not? Even those who can’t be bothered to love someone else surely love themselves enough to work hard to get the things that please them. No one works purely to survive these days, so what do they really use the money for? My guess, if I spent any real thought on the subject, is that they use it to grease the wheels of attraction.

While money can make someone attractive, only love can keep that attraction from fading once the money is gone. Am I a romantic? Well, some might disagree, but in my own rational and pragmatic way, yes. Of course, your mileage may vary.

A few links for a sunday morning:

Maui Vice
I have often sat quietly considering the great creative minds throughout history. If I, as a man who considers himself creative, am to ever reach the heights of both fame and noteriety as a writer of fiction, the I must look to those who have tread this lonely path for inspiration and advice.

The one shining characteristic highly creative people share is vice. Or more specifically, seven vices. I unfortunately don’t drink, smoke, eat, fuck, spend, gamble, or dress well enough. I knew the reason why I haven’t sold a manuscript was because I wasn’t a big enough fuck up… I can fix that.

Sunday Comics
I have read/collected comics for most of my life. Funny that I have never considered writing them. I firmly believe that comics are great literature. Disagree if you will, but comics are the last remaining repository for cultural myth and legend. Lately I have been visiting Marvel’s Digital Comics and eating up all I can while it lasts.

All The Right Movies
I have a growing list of movies I am excited to see. In no particular order:
The Bucket List
The Dark Knight
I Am Legend
Slipstream

In a surprising turn of events, apparently women’s breasts can have an effect on a man. Who knew? I love science.

I used to have a roommate with double D breasts. When I first met her, I did my best to ignore them. Ignoring them was extremely difficult as they usually entered any room two or three minutes before she did. Whenever I spoke to her, I would look directly into her face lest she think I was kneading her funbags with my eyes.

For the first month or so, I was almost capable of ignoring them. I say almost because quite often her mammaries were like two small moons orbiting my head with an oppressive gravitational pull that seemed to only affect the eyes. It really wasn’t until I joined my roommate and few of our friends in New Orleans during Mardi Gras that I was finally able to see them for what they were… huge fucking tits!

While in New Orleans, she unleashed her dual Mausers on the unsuspecting populace of the French Quarter. To say she drew a big crowd would be an understatement on par with calling the gentlemen from Queer Eye For the Straight Guy a little gay. Over the course of the ten days in New Orleans I saw more sweater puppies than a technician at a free mammogram clinic and my roommates Tatas were not immune to my gaze. I saw her lady lumps so often I stopped even noticing they were out… unless she moved and they would swing slowly back and forth like two large fleshy pendulums… I mean, c’mon… who wouldn’t be hypnotized by pendulous flesh? On that day, I came to understand that the only way a man can become totally immune to a woman’s milk sacks is repetition. Total immersion therapy… like the guy from A Clockwork Orange only with Hoohas instead of with violence.

Anyboob, I mean anywho… the article i linked above is interesting if only as an exercise in acknowledgement of someone stating the obvious. Saying that, I am almost tempted to write a companion piece… you know, stuff like a four pound potato in the front* of my pants and see how I am treated by the opposite sex… you know… for the sake of science.

* I had to put the word FRONT in that sentence so people would understand what I was going for… cause if I didn’t put FRONT there, who knows where you might imagine I would put a four pound potato.

—————-
Pondering the effect of sweater puppies whilst listening to: Electric Light Orchestra (Elo) – Evil Woman via FoxyTunes