Jamesy and Shayna

Jamesy: Your days of playing the waiting game are over! Or is it? How’s things? I’m glad we can finally meet face to face.

Shayna: I’m exited too, I usually don’t meet guys off the Internet so soon.

Jamesy: I'll have to admit, reading your ad at 9 in the morning is probably not the safest thing to do. It's trippy. It's confusing. In my book, I consider that fun and exciting.

Shayna: Well, I did post it in the middle of the night, so I was kinda out of it.

Jamesy: You said that you like "you" in your ad. That translates into multiple meanings. If you read your ad, you could be referring to yourself. Self confidence, and it shows. "You" could translate into "me", which is great considering I am a complete stranger on the Internets. Safe to say that you are approachable, am I right? And finally "you" could be plural as in everything and everyone. Extraverted? I can assume so. Being an English major is worth something other than a step towards teaching.

Shayna: Really? Did you really just call a librarian extroverted?

Jamesy: Well, I realize I missed on the mismatched pair of "librarian" and “extroverted" about a half hour after I sent that email. But I don't see the "extroverted librarian" as too much an anomaly.

Shayna: Well I hope you are not looking for someone who is extroverted and the life of the party.

Jamesy: No I am not.

Shayna: I listened to an interview between Terry Gross and Jason and Wes and Jason said he was always the best friend and never the boyfriend, but Wes said that in actuality he was very charming and extroverted. Ho hum.

Jamesy: Uh-huh… who’s “Wes” by the way?

Shayna: Wes Anderson, of course. You know who he is, right?

Jamesy: Yeah, yeah, yeah. I do.

Shayna: Well, there is nothing worse than that in my opinion. Oh and Terry kept pressing about Owen Wilson even though they were both obviously uncomfortable. I wish I was Wes Anderson's friend, you automatically get to become a movie star. I want to see the Darjeeling Limited. But it really is limited, I mean release wise.

Jamesy: I’m sure there are some theaters in the city that carry it.

Shayna: I know…

Jamesy: To follow up, I can't see myself being with someone who is extroverted and the life of the party, because after a while that personality becomes grating. I am a "sit back and watch" kind of guy. I think that these lines from Pulp Fiction sum how I feel up nicely: "Why do we feel it's necessary to yak about bullshit in order to be comfortable? That's when you know you've found somebody special. When you can just shut the fuck up for a minute and comfortably enjoy the silence."

Shayna: Do you often express your feelings in movie quotes?

Jamesy: Only when they can say what I feel better than I can.

Shayna: Uh-huh.

Jamesy: …

Shayna: …

Jamesy: Well, you said you were looking for someone you can serve lemonade and rice crispies treats to. Now, I like lemonade, but I have a love-hate relationship with rice crispie treats. I used to eat them a lot in high school, buy them in boxes and cook them myself, and used to smell the wrappers when I was done with them (yes very wierd) but then one day I gave up on them. I guess I got burned out on them. But hey, one of us would be eating them.

Shayna: Hehe.

Jamesy: So, uh, what do you like to read? I don’t read much, don’t have the time, but when I do, it’s usually crime and mystery novels. I got into them after I took a course in film noir. I used to watch a lot of film noir movies but after I took the class, I got into reading the books that most films noirs are adapted from, like Double Indemnity or The Postman Always Rings Twice. At least we read literature written within the same time period.

Shayna: I hate crime and/or mystery. I watched "Breathless" which I guess is supposed to be a parody of noir films, but I think Goddard was just saying that after he realized how silly it was. I hate the word "silly". I really like to read, but only trendy post ww2 novels like "franny and Zooey". Noam Chomsky said that using the atomic bomb on Japan was the worst thing we ever did.

Jamesy: Yeah…but “silly” is an awesome word to use, it’s one of those words you can’t say seriously and without sounding silly. It’s the exact opposite of the word “moss”. You can’t say “moss” and not sound too happy or less serious.

Shayna: Well, I never thought of it that way, it’s true. But I still hate “silly”

Jamesy: Fair enough.

Shayna: Is that examining of words something you learn as an English major?

Jamesy: No. Well, yeah, I had to take a couple poetry classes, so I had to learn about all the connotations and images words create with their vowel and consonant sounds. Your writing, from what I saw, is is good, as long as you don't write abundantly in numbers or use "lolz" or "omgwtfbbq", or in all caps, you know, ways that don't make you seem like an ass. As long as I can understand what you are saying it's fine. I mean, so what if you don't like to capitalize the singular personal pronoun "I"? e.e. cummings made a career out of not capitalizing letters, why shouldn't that be your style?

Shayna: I used to like e.e. cummings a lot and then I realized I hate poetry, so so much. Even Bukowski who is my favorite writer, I hate his poetry. You say you hate trendy internet speech, but I am quite partial to "roflcopter".

Jamesy: “lollersk8s” too?

Shayna: Hahaha, yeah that one too. Lemme ask you three questions, you have to answer them honestly. What kind of food do you like? What kind of things do you like? And, what kind of people do you like?

Jamesy: Hot Pockets Italian Chicken Style, screw Jim Gaffigan…

Shayna: Hot Pockets really gross me out, I’m sorry. I do enjoy a nice Hungry Man TV dinner though. I even eat the corn.

Jamesy: People always laugh at me when I say I like Hot Pockets. They aren’t that bad. Well, more for me then. What kind of things do I like? I like anythings, nothings, and somethings...I hate everythings though.

Shayna: Cute. Good answer.

Jamesy: As for people… Well, as a person who deals with people on a daily basis, I can cop out and say people who are cool and fun and like the same things I do, tra-la-la la-la. But while that is nice, I necessarily like people who give a crap about something. Not necessarily those who are goal oriented, but those who have a passion for something. An individual, if there is such a thing anymore. Someone who can make the time go by fast, while sometimes on occasion slows it down. Basically, if I can see myself associating myself with a person for a long time, then I like them. It's also something when interacting with a person that I can't put into words quite eloquently. How do you feel about people?

Shayna: How do I feel about people? Well everyday I find myself turning more and more into Holden Caulfield.

Jamesy: You and I have something in common. I do find myself becoming increasingly annoyed with people. I don’t know what it is, I can’t put a finger on it, but it is like a cavalcade of reasons that blanket my mind in a white noise, and I feel that it will take little before I just go off. It has become a fascination with me, especially since most of my English papers where I have to create a topic of my own ended up with me spouting off about how much I hate people.

Shayna: Heh, well Jamesy, it was nice to meet you, nice conversation.

Jamesy: But you just got here…

Shayna: I know, it’s time for me to go…I got some errands to run, bye.

Jamesy: We’ll talk again soon, right? I like talking to you. You have a number I can call you?

Shayna: My phone’s disconnected, see ya.

Jamesy: Ok, we’ll talk online then, I guess.

The Pillow Fight

A couple years ago, I was at Depaul and I saw a flier advertising camel rides in the Quad. It was a random opportunity that was too good to pass up, and it led to my and my self-proclaimed famous photo of me riding a camel. Free shirts, free cake, good times.

This was at the same time when the world's largest rubber band ball came to my school. Again, another random opportunity. I took pictures, I got some rubber balls, good times.

Fast forward to last Wednesday. I learned of World Pillow Fight Day, and that a pillow fight would take place downtown near the Art Institute. I've seen videos of past pillow fights in Los Angeles and thought they were crazy as hell. This was another moment where a random opportunity that was too good to pass up landed in my lap.

I almost missed it, though. I woke up Saturday afternoon at 1:15 pm when the fight started at 2:00. Luckily, I lived close enough to downtown to reach the fight in less than a half hour, that is if the Public Transportation Gods were smiling upon me.

I had planned to bring a video camera to record the show, but in the hustle and bustle I could only gather my camera.

I got off the elevated train at around 2:05, and from the platform I could see the fight was well underway. I wanted to bring a nice pillow with me, but alas, the rush kept me from bringing or buying a cheap one.
As soon as I walked up the stairs of the Art Institute, there was this security guard for the museum trying to move the onlookers off the stairs. I kinda felt bad because it wasn't too long ago when I did crowd controlling. And being the only person trying to move 30 to 40 people.

But it didn't stop me from taking these pictures.

After a while, the fracas moved down the street.

To be honest, as a person looking in from above, the fights did not look as wild as I expected. Maybe because it was contained too much. I was expecting to see one on one battles...Maybe I was expecting to see something similar to a wrestling battle royale where you could see all the action. But still the energy was still powerful.



I couldn't help but get involved. Someone abandoned their pillow in the fight, so I saw it as my opportunity to join in the madness. At first, I had planned to do my attacks drive-by style, randomly clocking people as I ran through the crowd. It did not go as planned. The crowd was too centralized. The next thing I knew I was locked in a duel with this guy about 5 inches taller than me. There was no way I could go toe-to-toe with him, so I decided to aim low. Unfortunately, my friends, I lost the battle. I got my ass whooped to put it simply. He knocked the hat off my head. It also didn't help that some kid who couldn't be older than 14 got the jump on me too.


Where lost that big battle, I won many small ones, maintaining my aim low offense. Although, in retrospect, constantly aiming low on the girls there and eventually hitting them on the ass may have communicated the wrong type of message. But who cares!

I only regret that I wore mostly black that day, because when a down pillow exploded in front of me, it all got in my hat and on my coat. And I'm still picking them out now as I speak. I should take the advice from a couple people nearby and invest in a lint remover.

There were contests, best dressed and best decorated pillow. All I can remember from that is a battle for the prize between a girl in a Rey Mysterio mask and a dude in an afro. The little kid who got the jump on me won the prize of best fighter, so I can feel better because I evidently wasn't the only one who got creamed by some 14 year old. But, the joke was on him, since his title made him a target. I never exacted revenge. Well, maybe I did and didn't realize it. The fighting afterwards became so random and partners switched quickly, I couldn't keep track of who I battled with.

I did notice this guy substituting his orange fleece sweater for a pillow though.


As I had expected, with the new snow that had fallen the night before, the pillow fight soon evolved into a snowball fight. I realized that I had forgotten how great an aim I had, surprisingly without my glasses.

The cleanup had resulted in garbage bags filled with feathers mixed with sleet.


It was fun.

But it all seemed to end as soon as it began, and when it was over, people dispersed rather quickly. Some people shook hands with each other and exchanged compliments for their valor in the battle.

For what it was, the idea of randomly hitting strangers with pillows brought people together for the moment. Everyone in this mob of "pillowers" were conformed in the agenda to beat the crap out of each other with pillows, and to have fun.

I certainly look forward to the next pillow fight. And hopefully, it will be in the summer, which would present a more interesting and sweaty experience.

Here are videos:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rT5-zXO9WDE
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oghR4AzZlC4
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2VF14Rfbruc
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nAaQhuHQoBc

If I had done a video, I probably would have dubbed in the Amok Time music from the Cable Guy/Star Trek, but feel free to hum along when watching these videos.

That Damn Cat

One night, I was coming home from work. As I walked up the stairs fumbling through my pockets for the keys, there was this cat sitting in front of my door. As soon as it saw me, it ran past me and down the stairs. I must have scared the hell out of it as much as it startled the hell out of me. It looked hungry so I pulled a slice of meat from a sandwich I hadn't finished for lunch at work, placed it on a napkin, and set it near the top of the stairs. I beckoned for the cat to come and get the food, until I realized that it was no use getting a cat to understand what I was saying, and in a high pitched voice to boot. I felt silly and went into the house. I went and looked out the window to see that the cat had come and picked up the meat and dragged it away to some secluded place.

I felt good. Feeding a hungry cat is a bit of a boost.

That was two years ago. Now that cat, she, has become a well known hobocat around my neighborhood, making my front lawn and stairs her top squatting place. I am not generally a cat person, I never owned one, but they can stink up a place. Cat funk permeates the halls leading to my front door.

I tried to get rid of her. I stopped feeding her. I shooed her away, a lot. But she keeps coming back.

I called my grandmother and told her about the cat. My grandma, being an old country gal, told me about how cats that hang around your house are bad luck. They are harbingers of death, to put it simply. Awesome, I have a brown and white little death magnet at my doorstep.

My grandma told me to put cayenne pepper around where the cat usually sleeps, that'll get rid of her. So I buy some pepper, sprinkle it around where I know the cat sleeps. And it worked.
But the cat found a new spot. The process repeated every time I sprinkled places with pepper. All it got me was watery eyes and sneezing fits.

I recall many times at night during the summer where I was awakened by the The yowling...the yowling when she was in heat, only to go outside with a bucket of water to find that my porch is littered with 3 or 4 more cats.

Every time, I come home she follows me to the door looking for handouts. Actually, it's more like she ambushes me from different angles depending on the night. She can hop down from the tree in front of my house. From behind the banister. From my neighbor's lawn. From the window sill to the right of my door. I live with two other people, so one or both of them had to be feeding her. I shoo her away, she doesn't go very far. She sits in front of the door, for a half hour at least, waiting for someone to come back. It's creepy dedication.

When I leave for work in the morning, she's the first thing I see outside. I always brush past her. But she stares at me as I walk down the street. Staring at me as I wait at the corner to cross the street. Little white and brown ball staring at me. I thought it was kinda funny for a moment.

But it still continued.

Just a blank stare.

I guess it's a step down from when she used to follow me to the bus stop.

However, lately it has gotten better, though I still look over my shoulders every time I open my gate. I have to sneak up the stairs. Make no sounds as I close the gate and search for keys, I usually have them out when I get off my bus.

The other night, I came home from work and she was sitting in the middle of the sidewalk cleaning herself. As soon as she saw me coming out from the corner of her eye, she stops what she was doing, and stares blankly at me.

I walk past it trying not to make eye contact with it, just like what people do when they try to ignore people they want to avoid. I was hoping that she would scamper off somewhere else upon the realization that I wasn't who she thought I was. I got a half a block away from my house, looked over my shoulder to find that blank stare was still aimed at me.

"Shit, shit, she knows it's me!"

Stopping in the middle of the sidewalk and looking back probably gave me away.

But she eventually turned around and continued what she was doing.

While her back was turned, I felt it was an opportunity to sneak in my house. Any noise I had to make, I had to cover up with the sounds of the passing cars down my street. I felt so stupid.

However, as I walked up the stairs, keys out, I was feeling victorious. I felt a rush, as silly and overblown the situation was, it was a rush.

I was home free...

Until I kicked over an empty tray on my stairs.

I winced.

A car passed by as it happened, so maybe the sound was covered up.

I looked over my shoulder and saw her coming from the sidewalk, through my gate, and up the stairs. That cat could probably hear the sun come up.

A situation similar to that of a horror movie as the potential victim rushes to her apartment door and fumbles for her keys, racing against time and the killer's advancing footsteps.

Except the woman was replaced by a 6-foot 200+ Lb. black guy, and the killer, a 3 lb. cat.

I made it inside my house just in time, as that damn cat waited outside in normal fashion.

Cats are a lot smarter than I thought. And more than capable to fuck with you with their mind games.

I know, I know

It's been a long time since I added something here. It's not because I had nothing to add, I had stuff. It's not because I didn't love you anymore, because I do. It's because I'm lazy. Yep, too lazy to get the stuff I had written down to put on here. But do not lose your interest just yet because I have come with new gifts.

I got a new job, you know the particulars of that already so I'll spare you. But with that new job my income has increased considerably. So to celebrate I decided to treat myself with a little something. For the past year or so I've been meaning to get a new guitar. My old epiphone hasn't been cutting it, it fizzes, cracks, and I am too lazy to go take it to get repaired. Maybe someday I will, but not now. I was set on getting a new guitar.

As I had learned when searching for my now old guitar, left-handed guitars are limited in variety. There are some really good ones, but they are so good that they are out of my price range at the moment. Maybe someday I will break down and get that Gibson Custom Shop SG Custom Reissue (Huge maybe).

I could have gotten a Fender. Could have gotten a cheaper SG, and I was about to until I saw the guitar I eventually bought. I've read reviews about this company, and they are all good, great considering who they tend to market their gear towards. I thought most of their guitars looked pretty nice, even better considering the price. I mean, so what if these guitars are supposed to be for girls?

Yes, I ended up purchasing a Daisy Rock, go look it up if you want, but I've heard good things about their products, and I can say after a few weeks of playing that I enjoy what this guitar has to offer so far.

At first I started to pick up this one:


The Daisy Rock Stardust Venus...

I thought that it was a very pretty guitar, despite the fact it has flowers and stuff on it. The thing about Daisy Rock guitars is that most of them guys can play too, cosmetically speaking. Yeah they have flowery and pink guitars, but there are some that any guy could buy and not look fruity playing it.

Although, I ended up getting this one:



Daisy Rock Tom Boy


But the pictures do not do the guitar's blingee-ness any justice, so I took some pictures.









My uncle's first response when I unveiled it to him: "Why did you go and do that for, are you gonna play it in June [at the Pride Parade]?


As fruity and blingee it looks, this guitar is very nice for what it's worth. Nay, much more nice.

Supposedly Daisy Rock's answer to the Telecaster, this guitar has produced a lot better range of tone than my Epiphone has ever had. With the amp I use I can get that crisp and clean sound, some crunchy sounds, and some warm and fuzzy sounds. I'd figure if I get a better amp and replace the stock pickups, I'd be on to something.

Of course there was the issue of the neck being too thin for me, but it is no different from the width of my old guitar, and it's a lot lighter.

Overall, I am pretty satisfied with my purchase, despite the fact it looks girly.


Edit: Blogger pisses me off when it comes to uploading pics.