December 3, 2007

Logic my roommate uses when asserting I lost his thermos

"it doesn't matter when you used my thermos, if you touched it a year ago and its not in its place now, you're the one that lost it"

Posted by droz0008 at 10:15 PM

November 16, 2007


I need to start being more stringent with my nutritional label reading practicing. What i thought was 4 serving sizes in a bag of cheese curds turned out to be 12. Yes I just ate 108 grams of fat and 84 grams of protein. OK, lets turn this into retroactive delayed gratification, I was just rewarding myself for working out tomorrow. So this entry is meant to flesh out some goals and the motivations behind them. Goals I have for tomorrow: Lift upper body and 30 minute elliptical. Grocery shop at the wedge. DO some studying of developmental biology. All before going to Joe's bro rape party tomorrow--I will have energy and forward momentum with this healthier life style. So i think that i should limit myself to three beers tomorrow night, which means i have to become better at beer paddle pong.

Posted by droz0008 at 6:27 PM | Motivational

February 27, 2007

The Transience of Everything

My small skim mocha-no whip- will always get cold before I finish it. The heat never lingers long enough and I am forced to recon with a tepid ounce of muddy liquid. Sadly, it stands that transience imbues every aspect of life. Each day, starting in our twenties, human beings begin to die. It’s all part of an organic decay. The sum of the enzymatic reactions that make up a person begin to fizzle and pop. Each time our cells divide, the ends of our chromosomes shorten, causing a loss in of DNA. This does not present an immediate problem because our bodies buffer the ends of our chromosomes with Junk DNA so that a little snip to the ends does not result deleteriously. However, eventually after enough cell divisions, the buffer region wears away and genes important for cellular activity become deleted several nucleotides at a time. It’s ironic—the body’s proliferation is the very source of its breakdown. Through progress comes increased disorder. Tony Kushner’s Angels In America addresses this idea directly. In the play, set in New York City during the eighties when the AIDS epidemic has exploded, angels visit the city because progress on earth has initiated the collapse of heaven. God has left heaven—his/her/zer whereabouts unknown. In a desperate and impossible plea, angels visit earth to convince humans to stop progress—that is—live outside time, in order to stop heaven’s demise. Time is a virus, symbolized by and seen in the accelerated decay caused by the AIDS virus. To realize life’s transience is to realize the mortality of everything—including the words spilling upon the page—they will eventually dry up, lost to a corrupted hard drive or just simply forgotten. Is God absent from heaven? Lately, asking that question, for me, has become analogous to asking if Santa is missing from the North Pole. Is God just another transient human construction that will deteriorate with time? Maybe that’s why I drink.

Posted by droz0008 at 10:20 PM | omiegod something serious?!

June 6, 2006


My first sleepover was in preschool with Taylor Lang. My favorite five year old comrade and I formed our friendship around play dates that consisted of tea parties with little white cakes catered by my mother. “More tea?? I asked my friend cordially extending out my Fischer price teapot.
“Why thanks,? Lisped my friend.
“One lump or two,? I giggled as the gentle splash of invisible tea filled my friend’s cup. Some invisible connection seemed to forge this friendship.
The civility of our interaction spoke of a gentle sophistication that put a smile on my mother face but left on my father’s face a scowl that of anal fissure which stung him with an instinctually aberrant unease regarding our friendship.
To me it was just your average Barbie themed sleepover between two boys. Sing along:
Now you can do what you never did before, you can snip snip snip and snip some more, for the very first time cut as much as you dare, cause just like magic she’s got long hair, snip it and twist it, spike it and then, add some more hair cut and style again, new cut and style Barbie, THIS IS FUN!

“So Mike, again, don’t you want to find out why you are homosexual? Somewhere along the line you must have turned the wrong page.?

My dad wanted me to “dig deep!? and find my root. My mind conjured up images of my friendship with Taylor and the neatly clipped bangs of my beautiful Barbie. Startled that my childhood was a reified stereotype of diagnosable homosexual behavior, I decided on a beautiful lie that would displace the responsibility from that of irresistibly glamorous Matel dolls to my father.
“Well dad, remember the one time we played catch in the backyard, and it was a total disaster? You hit me in the jaw with the baseball. Yeah my jaw has cracked everyday since. That’s why I’m gay.?

Posted by droz0008 at 11:50 PM

March 6, 2006

Chicken and Stars for the Teenage Solstice

Anastacia gregorian chants while Eminem plays the fiddle
Its midnight in my mind..things, they really start to sizzle-fo shizzle.

Stealing candy from a baby is operative one.
Crying. the childs eyes mirrors a deep and pure pain in your own. Pudgy, romantic cruves of infancy.
North American Man Boy Love Association.
Buddah reminds you that from desire comes suffering.
It stings constantly and burns the intense hot of the smoldering crimsone embers of campfire past its prime.
Lingering, but past potential for productivity. No more s'mores.
A cold black charred future lays in store for the mind.
Blood stream is an injection of epinepharan.
Nerves excoriated by years of gnawing dull sick anxiety.

Posted by droz0008 at 11:33 AM

January 18, 2006

A good host

Don't you hate it when...? Apparently this is what is known as a rhetorical question, a 'well crafted' tool according to "Simply Stated, theory and practice in public speaking" used to connect with your audience when presenting a topic of discussion or debate. Its intensions serve to draw on common experience thereby pulling your reader into your vivid world of self-discourse. You become a peterpan of sorts: peppering the rhetorical question, the pixie dust which whisks your audience off to Never-Never-land, where great stories and speeches stay young forever, long after the flesh from hand that wrote them rots off the bone, like dripping wax from a burning candle. I suppose then - taking the advice of Dianne S. Blake and Laura Jacobi, I shall begin with a rhetorical question. "Can I touch it?" Last night I was asked that very same question. Quarantined to a twin sized bed, the result of having a closet sized room, I economized my space as I lay next to another warm body. It had been months since I had felt the sensation of contact comfort, a primary human need on maslow's pyramid (right above TV and toilet paper). I will not fictionize, as I rarely do in my blog entries or any other avenue of my life for that matter, so I do submit that I did enjoy the warm heat that radiated off that firm body. However, I felt awkwardness creep over me. My bedmate was not a friend nor a date, nor even a candidate. His presense was merely the result of too much hospitality. The situation seemed about as Kosher as a pig's hoof and seedier than the grit from the bottom of a fem cowboy boot after a night of line dancing at a lesbian bar. An elegant and statuesk robed woman, wearing a blindfold, began to tip the scales where discomfort greatly outweighed enjoyment. Seeking escape from the groping hands, and appeasement from my moral abjection Resolution took hold an guided me to the bathroom. The plan clearly materialized in my brain like a embolism. Grabbing the Jerkins, my weapon of choice, I flung the bottle at the boy. My feelings about the situation shifted from weird to practical...howelse was I going to get some sleep. Heavy breathing ensued, followed by an acute vocalized burst- the demons had left his body. Tension and release. I could finally sleep.

Posted by droz0008 at 7:53 PM

March 7, 2005

Milk Mustache

As children we are told to drink enough milk to ensure strong teeth and bones. As Catholics, the message is similar: we are told to eat enough Jesus and drink enough Christ to ensure a pure spirit. Regardless of your stance on the catholic religion its quite clear that being catholic takes a lot of sacrifice. It forces you back to the kitchen table with your glass of milk. Its from this mindset that the milk is digestible with a child's naivety. However, as the child grows he becomes less tolerable of the milk, as logic and reason make digestion more difficult. To drink without question, that is to believe without reason, is to remain a child. This, however, does not suggest faith and logic are incompatible. Faith like any truth or principle should be a struggle. There is too much at stake for the human condition to gulp down that glass with a disregard for subsequent repercussion. Thus, it is important to own your principles and beliefs before you legislate your stances on political and social issues. Otherwise, as I recently witnessed, you may find yourself with fractured value system and a serious case of cognitive dissonance. I was checking my student email account, all very important business - no hotornot emails or facebooking of course - an AIM dialogue box pops up with a screen name that I don't recognize and red white and blue abomination of an buddy icon celebrating the glory that is GWB...*cough* four more wars. Anyway, it turns out this was one of those facebook stalkers who IMed me because my profile makes me seem 'nice'. This made me slightly skeptical because my profile really does nothing to make me come across as anything other than maybe sarcastic and slightly vindictive, certainly not 'nice'. I decided to do a little detective work and check out the guy's aim profile where I was directed to his facebook profile. Most interesting pieces of information I found: Political Views- Very Conservative, Interested in- Women. Further confusion ensued when he told me in addition to the kindness i possessed, I was also 'hot'. Well, trying to sort things out without stepping on his feelings too much (he had seemed to have become slightly attached by this point), I said, "you must be confused, I have a penis." He was quite confused as to my comment, astonished with my ability to left click and link to his profile when I explained about my confusion with this alleged 'interest' in women in his facebook profile. Apparently, he was interested in women, but had a curiosity in men. Bottom line, he wanted to come over and as he put it, suck me. I explained to him that I wasn't into hooking up with random people, I was a relationship oriented and went further to explain how I did not find him attractive at all, when he persisted offering me money for the blow job. Get paid and get off? Did I win the lottery? No, I had not. Between the Flannel, chubby profile, sagging chin, token all american pick up, all displayed in the facebook picture, and the hyper-conservative views I was left limper than Bob Dole pre-Viagra. Curious about his political views and their basis, I steered the conversation towards the GOP. He vigorously fought my liberal propaganda proclaiming George W. as the Best gosh darn president this country as ever seen. Apparently his views against abortion, gay marriage and support for military control of Iraq had a strong root in his Catholic upbringing. He maintained homosexuality and same sex marriage as morally abject. I asked him then, "Where does paying a stranger to allow you to suck their dick fit in with your moral bedrock?" He responded, "Eh, everyone's got to live sometime...Plus if I enjoy it, maybe I'll change my views." I had been discouraging him from 'trying it', not only because of the obvious health risks, but also because it directly interfered with his 'moral principles'...which are the foundation for his entire belief system. And here he was, ready to change his moral system simply because a different set of principles made his dick hard. I found it appalling, that his views, which I consider oppressionary, are held in place by a fickle, childlike ignorance. While he may continue to drink his milk, he'll be left with an entirely different kind of milk mustache.

Posted by droz0008 at 9:11 PM

February 8, 2005

Fishing for the truth

FindingNemo2.jpg I recall from reading a book on the scientific theory of the Omega point that the author suggested that the human brain has the capacity to record aprox. 10,000 years worth of memories, provided that an individual could survive that long. Honestly I wouldn't volunteer for the job. I've always said that I would prefer to make that oneway six foot journey as soon as I had enetered my cathider days....perhaps that's why they call them the 'golden years'. Anyway, this got me thinking: If my brain can encode a capacity this volumenous, why am I having difficulties memorizing my zoology terms? Could our text book have covered 10,000 years worth of information in only the first 4 chapters? Or am I seriously to believe that the book was mistaken. That a scientist with a PhD, in something quite impressive im sure, got it wrong claiming that computers will eventually make copies of the human personality that will endure until the collapse of the universe, effectively carrying a binary encoded copy of every person into the afterlife? Anyway, I guess zoology is interesting enough. Apparently, Disney is filling children with equally poposterous ideas. Finding Nemo, it turns out is filled with lies and deceit. Michael Eisner would have you believe that the story goes as follows: Merlyn, a clownfish, lives happily in a coral reef with his wife. The perfect aquatic family ideal, a happily married couple with 2,000 fertilized buns in the oven, or perhaps eggs in the anemonie for accuracy's sake. However, tragedy strikes when the mother is devoured by a heartless baracuda. Now, everything in the story is plausable to this point. However, it is beyond this point that disney producers, probably high from snorting tinkerbelle's pixie dust, maliciously diverge from the truth. Nemo is born to his widower father. We are to believe that this is the final fate of the family unite, a father fish and a son fish. This couldn't be further from the truth. Nature has a more debaucherous tendency, reminicent of the old testament. Marlyn, as a clown fish, upon finding his wife dead with only one remaining egg would have switched his sex. Once he had, bluntly speaking, twisted his little fish penis into a fish vagina, he would wait for his precious nemo to immerge from the membrane of the egg so that the two could have hot fish intercourse. That's are not god fearing, which liberates them to have sex with who ever they want, even if that includes family members. They don't feel limited by their sex either and thus avoid harmful gender prescriptions which plague the human world by being ambisexual. Loooks like we have two new prospective members of Nambla.

Posted by droz0008 at 12:39 AM | Classes and Such

February 6, 2005

Dead Chix

My boyfriend at the time in no way could be considered fat. Joe was from Missouri and had inherited a love for food from his state while somehow, against all odds, managing to avoid the high rate of obesity, diabetes, inbreeding and country music appreciation. He just really enjoyed eating. He was shocked to find I had never heard of Chicken in a biscuit. Butchered poultry in a bite sized cracker must be a southern thing. I found the concept of dead chickens haunting the inside of a Nabisco cracker more frightening than the actual wafer of grain itself. Ive never been one for eating foods like water melon or cherries where you had to expend extra work removing the seeds or pit from your mouth. So an even more disturbing thought was that eating these crackers may involve picking feathers out of my teeth.

Posted by droz0008 at 3:24 PM | Ex Files

February 5, 2005


February 5, 2005...a new online journal is born. Why live journal? I guess its about time to get started documenting my life since one day im going to have a best selling book of my personal memoirs. Lets hope my publisher doesn't take over all artistic control with the cover art. In a country where only a tenth of Americans get their news and information from the printed word, a picture is worth a thousand words. Unless of course we're speaking of the blind. But since my blog as it were is not currently accesible to the visually impaired I suppose we can politely overlook our nonseeing neighbors for the time being. Anyway, lets face it...people judge a book by its cover. That's why it is imparative that I have the proper cover for my memoirs. I've posted some specific examples of book covers that immediately scare away the reader......

Continue reading "Genesis"

Posted by droz0008 at 12:04 AM