Friday, May 27, 2005


The tough looking, boyish one rushed through the door, already verging towards the two empty seats before even entering the train. Two more follow, looking more girly, more like a tourists in a situation they have yet to encounter for their first time. They feel secure around their guide, with smiles and eyes full of gratitude and admiration as they smoothly glide into the empty bench, made available by their eager heroine. They giggle and look around with that air of novelty inexperienced subway riders usually have. Something is new to them. Is it the subway itself, their guide, the destination, the situation, or little combination of it all? In any case, they giggle, giving the sign that this adventure will continue as proposed. The boyish one standing looks into them, cooing them secretly with her thoughts, making every attempt to meet their eyes for a quick show of her confidence. The train continues deeper into Brooklyn. Silence and staring eyes envelops them. The sitting girls get alarmed by the rustle of a stranger, but then calm at the touch of their standing leader. Their excited giddiness has turned into a nervous anticipation. "Of what" I ask myself as I exit. Discovering something new is my only guess.

Friday, April 29, 2005

Kiss and Make Up

In a previous post I went on bitterly about the Dog-Eat-Dog world we live in. Now, I certainly consider myself more of a lover than a fighter anyways, so I'd rather talk less about a dog-eat-dog world and more about a dog-hump-dog world. In addition to being more a lover, I like to be educated too. That being said, I'd like to share some information on dog breeding that I have recently learned:

1. Move her to help him. Males that have never mated aren't always sure how to proceed. In fact, they commonly approach the wrong end or simply have trouble making contact.

I believe they call this the Mrs. Robinson.

2. Give nature some help. When dogs have trouble with penetration, using an over-the-counter lubricant may help. Walkowicz recommends using a water-based lubricating product like K-Y Jelly.

This is plain icky.

3. Allow for bathroom breaks. "The mating act titillates more than just the libido," Walkowicz says. "It also sometimes makes them have to go to the bathroom."

I think I can relate.

4. Untie the knot. After mating, the female's muscles contract and the male's penis swells. The resulting "tie" will often keep the pair locked together for 30 minutes to an hour. "You need to watch that they don't hurt themselves," Hunt says. "An inexperienced male doesn't always know he has to get off and turn around backward."

This last point is the one I'd like to dwell upon. My female colleagues (with whom I have shared this information) were rather fond of this idea, and even pondered a world in which men were stuck (pun intended) with the same post-coital dilemma. They all agreed that this would solve many a problem between men and women.

I retorted, "as long as you wouldn't wake me up, I'd be ok with it."

For more wonderful info: click.

Thursday, April 28, 2005

hair Bands for America

This is a must see for anybody who likes Journey and/or America.

Tip: It takes a while to load, so start looking for your lighter.

Tuesday, April 26, 2005

Caveman Diplomacy

If I steal your meat, and you come chasing me with a rock, I will do one of two things: seek a protective shelter, and if not available, grab a rock and try to bash you in the head. I may deserve my own bash in the head, but I am trying to survive (that is why I fight you back and also why I stole your bread in the first place).

Why don't people admit that this is how modern nations go about their business?

Why do some people defend the people that want to kill us, and why do others pretend that we are sheep instead of wolves?

Here is one example of caveman politics:

There was no reason for the US to wage war on Iraq and not Iran and N Korea. The latter two were just as guilty as Iraq (if not more) on all the grounds that lead us into the Iraq war. The whole thing was just an offensive stratagey to serve US interests. We had many interests in Iraq that, because of the illusion of diplomacy and fairness that Bush had to uphold, Bush could never admit. Lets name them: revenge, oil, and a really convenient spot right in the middle of all those other countries that really pose a threat. I really believe that Bush was protecting US interests, and getting a little revenge on the side for his pop. Like the caveman that steals another's bounty, we took our survival into our own hands. It ain't fair. Nope. Not one bit. And anybody who gets pissed at us (i.e., France, Russia) is really only pissed because they couldn't get away with it themselves. Modern day colonialism.

The Western world in general is the most civilized and rich in the world because of 500 years of third-world exploitation.

There is nothing really new about the dynamics of the Iraq war, and nothing really new about the caveman politics we still employ.

So lets stop pretending that we live in a Star Wars film. There are no good guys, and there are no bad guys, there is only survival.

Wednesday, April 20, 2005

Popey Poopy

So the Catholic church needs a new marketing team, and a few NY newspapers need to grow a spine. I say both of these for the same reason. Just last week the Metro and NY Post were uncovering Joe Ratzinger's duplicitous past. While Joe himself decried foul play and took no responsibility for his actions during WWII, his former comrades were sure he was faithfully adherent to the Nazi cause. A newspaper never really makes an assertion about anything in its non-editorial content, but the two above certainly presented plenty of the facts to assume Joe guilty. Now that he is Pope however, these same papers, just one week later, seem pretty sure that he was in fact forced to be a Nazi gunner. Cowards!

And now lets consider the church's decision to elect the Pope Nazi, also known as the "Vatican Enforcer." I wonder where he developed this style? Who were his role models? John Paul was considered a hero upon his death, so much that many people want to elevate him to Sainthood.
Now he had some admirable accomplishments, but lets get real here. He was incredibly conservative, and fought to maintain church orthodoxy. I don't blame a man for having convictions, but in the face of major dwindling of church participation, give it up a little. Its easy to rile the masses and get them to riot against gay marriage, but maintaining that they can't use rubbers and take the pill is a little short sighted (lets not even mention the hypocrisy of the masses, who were quick to adopt the tenet that male on male blow jobs are evil, but conveniently forgot that the Pope considered all blowjobs, gay or straigt, equally evil).

I was routing for the Nigerian and Brazillian guys, certainly the underdogs in the race. Now I'll be damned if you can find more than 5% of European or American catholics who actually follow all of Catholic dogma. Most go to church because they are supposed to, and attending Sunday mass is just enough to get coach fare into heaven. If there is any hope for the church (as far as orthodoxy is concerned), its in South America and maybe Africa. Has anybody ever been to a South American or Latin American country during a religious holiday? If not, then don't bother, because they are virtually shut down. Nowhere have I ever seen catholics so faithful and orthodox than amongst are Spanish speaking brethren. Now Brazil isn't a spanish nation, but its a major player in the South American seen, and I'm sure a Brazillian pope would inspire pride in the entire continent.

Let the people who deserve a pope actually have one. The rest of us can just pretend to care, but not actually do a damn thing the pope wants us to do.

Amen papi!

Monday, April 18, 2005

BDay Weekend Refresh

Friday: Loser. Stayed home - asleep by 12.

Saturday: Jammed with the band. Ate a teryaki turkey testicle. For a useless bird, they sure are packing.

Sunday: I went to brunch at this uber gay restaurant called Viceroy. Imagine a perfect replica of a french brasserie but serving traditional american cuisine. We had a waiter of epic proportions. If he were as good a waiter as he was flaming, then I wouldn't have suffered through the afternoon in such a caffiene deficiant stupor. Despite my decaffeinated discomfort though, the steak, eggs and cheesy grits more than provided the energy I needed to trek uptown. I generally disdain and have little patience for all things brunch, but this, aided by the weather, was pleasant and a nice treat.

Next came a grueling bus ride uptown to visit the orchid show. The theme by this point of the day was condoms, condoms and more condoms. I have to blunt, and a little insensitive, but there's nothing more aggravating to a hangover than screaming children. I have tolerance up until about age 2, after which, SHUT THE FUCK UP!

So we made it to the orchid show around 2. What is supposed to be relaxing and enjoyable never is in Manhattan. I'm realizing more and more that if you want a good experience in the city, be the first to do it, or don't bother. Once people catch wind of something good it is ruined for those perpetually lagging behind.

So then I was homeward bound. I found peace in my fortress of solitude. My female analogue, partner in crime, and personal decorating assistant and I accomplished the herculean task of carrying an extraordinarily large piece of salvaged furniture up four flights. The exertion and blood flow to my thighs and glutes sent a surge of testosterone thoughout my body. I needed a minute to cool off. My girl kept her distance, out of fear of being swept away by the wave that had just swept me.

So then I tended to my garden, made dinner, and sat down to watch the most recent Spike Lee joint, 'She Hate Me.' This movie had everything I needed: strong family values, girl-on-girl action, and a sweeping distrust of institutions and people in power. I highly recommend it to all conventional folks who prefer to think unconventionally.

So my birthday's eve ended on a graceful note and for that I am grateful. So now I will have to wait a full year or till my next major injury before I can get away with being a selfish, debauched, hedonistic glutton.

Thursday, April 14, 2005

Tickled pink. Posted by Hello


My feeling is that any man that doesn't get seduced by the orchid doesn't have a dirty enough imagination.

I visited Rockefeller Center today where thousands of orchids are on display. Each one is a tiny multicolored siren competing for my attention.

The thing about the orchid is that they are not particularly beautiful, at least in the classical sense. A rose has extravagance and class, and is pretty well dressed. A daisy has country charm, and is endearing with its subtle grace.

An orchid completely lacks this subtlety. It is strange, asymmetric, and kind of awkward - a lot like something else I know and love.

Fortunately with orchids, you are encouraged to enjoy more than one, even at the same time.

I certainly did that today.

Tuesday, April 12, 2005

O, que j'aime tant la bonne vie! Posted by Hello

10 Line Play

Scenario: A man in his mid-20's is strolling through the park. He pauses, looks towards the ground and fumbles a little in his jacket pocket. He pulls out a phone and presses it to his ear.

man: "Whoa, man, how's it going? Its been a while."
phone: "I know, I know. I've just been trying to catch up with things. "
man: "Well, we all deal with the same shit. Its ok. What do you say we meet up this Saturday?"
phone: "Yeah, that sounds nice. "
man: "There's this new restaurant in the Slope I read about. We should check it out."
phone: "Sure. Also, the Brooklyn Museum has got this new Basquiat exhibit. I love his stuff!"
man: "Well, its settled. Meet me at Grand Army plaza around 2ish. Call me if you're running late."
phone: "No problem. "
man: "Well, it was good to hear from you. later."
phone: "Yeah, and looking forward to saturday. Bye."

The slowly puts the phone back in his pocket and continues on his course.

Had the person on the phone been a woman, the conversation would hardly generate a second thought. Had it been a man though, the two characters would be treading relatively unkown territory, that of the Man Date.

The NY Times just ran an interesting piece titled 'The Man Date.' Here is a little excerpt:

Simply defined a man date is two heterosexual men socializing without the crutch of business or sports. It is two guys meeting for the kind of outing a straight man might reasonably arrange with a woman. Dining together across a table without the aid of a television is a man date; eating at a bar is not. Taking a walk in the park together is a man date; going for a jog is not. Attending the movie "Friday Night Lights" is a man date, but going to see the Jets play is definitely not.

I am not about pedicures and facial scrubs and that kind of stuff, but a little more metro and a little less hetero could do most men some good. At the very least two guys should be able to go to an art gallery, or taste some wines, without having to look over their shoulders fearing some gay feller in the corner is imagining them making out.

So now that I've opened up a little, and shared my feelings, I think I'll go drink a beer and fart. Maybe I'll rub my belly for luck too and eat a leftover taco for breakfast.

Thursday, April 07, 2005

Prophets and the Saving Grace

In my Kingdom there is a band called the Wifebeaters. They are what happens when Jewish Conspirators, the KGB and la Cossa Nostra meld maniacal minds together to make manic mania. It hasn’t occurred yet to the Kingdom of Everyone that these non-violent Wifebeaters have come to save music from the evil demons of the current music industry. In fact, the legendary Beatles and Bob Marley were sent as prophets to herald the Wifebeater coming.

I even have proof. The Beatles knew about the Kingdom of Del, and they sang about its King.

He's a real nowhere man,
Sitting in his nowhere land,
Making all his nowhere plansfor nobody.

Doesn't have a point of view,

Knows not where he's going to,
Isn't he a bit like you and me?

And so there you have it.

Wednesday, April 06, 2005

 Posted by Hello


I basically don’t have much of a social life these days. I'm not complaining, its just the way things are. There's an interesting phenomenon that I am witnessing develop as a result of this fact. With minimal social interaction to keep me in check, my imagination is free to create a world where I am king. I have discovered in this state that it is better to be king of no one than to be subject to everyone. I am even hesitant to post opinions on this blog, lest they be strung up by the lynch mob of fellow readers. So no opinions or social commentary from me for now on. Nothing will be spoken of if it hasn’t taken place within the Kingdom of Del, witnessed firsthand by King Del himself.

Thursday, March 31, 2005

Bla Bla Bla Posted by Hello

A Whole Lotta Love

Posting about the weather seems to be as cheap as bringing up the weather to a stranger to initiate conversation. There are exceptions, like when it rains so hard you can almost see an ark approaching in the distance, or when the snow comes down in such volume that the city shuts down to a crawl. The point is that at certain times the weather changes your daily routine, so much that you can't help but by occupied by it and thus must make a mention of it. Its not that you lack the skill to make small talk or post using another topic, its that the weather is genuinely on your mind.

And with that said I welcome the spring today for the first time.

When I was a kid I always wanted to adopt Greek mythology as my official religion. I wasn't trying to run away from being Catholic, I just thought that the Greek stuff more suited my personality. Since I've been conscious of my being conscious, I've always held a fascination for natural phenomena and the powers they hold on mortal men, such as myself. Catholicism never made a point to embrace any of this. Every phenomenon to a Greek mythologist, from the changing of the seasons, to rain, lightning, or snow, is dance between you and the divine. The deities are more powerful than you, but they are powerless if you don't notice them. They need you as much as you need them, and this to me is a fair relationship.

Well today, the gods gave me what I needed: a little sunshine, a little blue sky, a whole lotta love.
And to reciprocate and fulfill my end of the bargain, I give them a shout out, let them know they peeps appreciate what they doin.

So talking about the weather for me today is not a cheap shot, its an obligation!

Turn around baby, its spankin time! Posted by Hello

Wednesday, March 30, 2005

To Beat or not to Beat.

Wifebeating is wrong, apparently?

I think the Post is suggesting that the Wifebeaters get an image makeover. According to them:

There is such a thing as bad publicity — four models say their images have taken a beating since posing as woman-batterers for a city ad campaign.

Well, don’t kill yourself guessing, the four models of course are:
Jessica, Ivan, Yaron, and myself.

We are considering changing our name to the Wifespankers, and will substitute our charming and bare white t’s with vinyl halter tops.

Monday, March 28, 2005

Feeling fragmented. Posted by Hello

Performance for Someone I Really Love

I consider myself mildly schizophrenic, but in a sort of good way. I am always paranoid, but that might be an altogether different disorder. What I feel I have, and I don't necessarily suffer from this, is multiple personalities. I might be exaggerating a little bit to make this story dramatic, but I've got at least 5 different ambitions and they all seem to competing with each other. They compete for my time and attention, and much worse, compete for how I will define and live the rest of my life.

The point of telling all of this is that all of my ambitions seem to be all dried up. What am I doing with myself and what is the point, I ask myself of lately. What was once a bunch big juicy grapes bursting off of the vine is now a pile of raisins lying on sun scorched earth. I've somehow lost my overachieving drive.

The best part about it is I don't really care.

I've noticed that since feeling burnt out, my guitar playing has gotten deeper, with more melody and emotion. I'm at total ease when I'm sitting on my empty bathtub (really great acoustics in the bathroom), strumming away with no real purpose but to please myself.

Exhausting my ambitions has lulled me into a tranquil state of musical masturbation, and with each stroke I get closer and closer to this little climax called peace.

Thursday, March 24, 2005

A cross-section of my mind. Posted by Hello

Food for Thought (or rather, Thought for Food):

I love food. I love to cook it. I love to eat it. I just wish I didn’t have to do it three times a day. I am forever preoccupied with all the burdens that my food fanaticism has wrought upon me. First and foremost, the food must be delicious. I am of the mind that a body is precious, so I do my best to put into it only ingredients that came from the earth and not a lab. Next there’s my modeling career I have to think about. Everyday that I face the public is a new and informal gig (unpaid of course). A spare tire and junk in the trunk are only acceptable in and old Chevy, so there are calories, fats and carbs, too high for me to count, that I have to keep tab on.

All in all, I waste so much mental energy on obtaining physical energy that I feel little more than an unproductive glutton. Then again, in all our years of evolution, we evolved our mental energy solely as a tool to gain physical energy. In other words, our brain owes everything it has to our stomach. According to natural law, I am supposed to be and unproductive glutton. Still, I’d rather be more productive.

Monday, March 21, 2005

Some people are inherently evil, but at least a posting was born out of their cruelty.

You're stuck inside Fahrenheit 451, which book do you want to be?
Any one that burns at 452 degrees.

Have you ever had a crush on a fictional character?I don't think
When I was 13 I had a passionate longing for Ariel from the Little Mermaid. There was a G rated nude scene in the movie that I'll never forget.

The last book you bought is:
I bought several books on database design and statistics for $1 total from a peddler down the street from my apartment. His trash was certainly my treasure.

The last book you read:

What are you currently reading?
My grad school admission essays.

Five books you would take to a deserted island.
I would take the bible (old and new), and then wait in vain for my Eve to show up. I'd maybe bring the Koran too, the Tao Te Ching, and whatever Buddhists and Hindu's like to read. I'd teach it all to the animals and then watch them go at it like humans.

Who are you going to pass this stick to (3 persons) and why?
I'd rather surprise them because they'll probably read it here first.

Friday, March 18, 2005

Its no joke... I'm going insane.  Posted by Hello


I'm so tired, I haven't slept a wink.

Three nights and counting. One simple bathroom break snowballs into my own personal hell. Hope, then frustration, then anger, then helplessness. You wish you were dreaming. You'd even settle for a nightmare. You just want to fade away for one long minute before the sun rises.

I'm so tired, my mind is on the brink.

Three days and counting. Bitterness. You were never really asleep, and yet you feel you've never really woken up. Irony. There is some comfort though: you're too tired to care about the mounting pressure in your life. Still, you're afraid you're losing it.

I wonder should I get up and fix myself a drink?

No, no, no...

I'll just take some Vicoden instead...

Thursday, March 17, 2005

I saw the sign, and it opened up my eyes. Posted by Hello

Disappearing Act

I was thinking about sublimating into some intangible ether, but then I saw the sign and decided to come to work instead.

Monday, March 14, 2005

Slaying my Inner Media Whore! Posted by Hello


Its getting to the point where the following poem makes more sense than the media controlled world I live in:

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe.
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mame raths outgrabe.
'Beware the Jabberwock, my son,
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch.
Beware the jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious bandersnatch.'
He took his vorpal sword in hand;
Long time the manxome foe he sought.
Then rested he by the tum-tum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
And as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One! two! and through and through
The vorpal blade went snickersnack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
'And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjious day! Calooh! Calay!'
He chortled in his joy.
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe.
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

I would be all mimsy myself if I could outgrabe the powers that be and tune out all that mine own two eyes doth not admit.


Thursday, March 10, 2005

I'm So Special

Forget birthdays. Surgery days are better. Both give you the feeling that you are growing older and that you are falling apart. These feelings are inevitable so I dismiss them. What I don't dismiss is how special getting cut open makes me.

On birthdays you are supposed to be special, but in my experience, people don't really put in the effort to make you feel this way. We have all have them, once a year even, so who really wants to make a fuss of them. On surgery days however, you are special. You are royalty and everybody wants to be your servant.

From the minute you wake up nice ladies are fluffing your pillows, bringing you warmed blankets and they even hold your IV bag up while you tend to waste management business.
After that, people drive hours out of their way to be your personal chauffer and nothing is expected of you, except to be comfortable. "Thirsty? Sit down, I'll get it for you." "Hungry? Don't you dare move."

Its the life. You are even encouraged to take drugs. Birthdays just don't even compare.

Monday, March 07, 2005

White Chicks

Much to the chagrin of my movie snob friends, and the general intellectual elite, I rented the White Chicks DVD and really enjoyed it. I grew up watching the Wayans Brothers brand of comedy on the show In Living Color, so I was not at all surprised at watching my laughter unfold as Marlon and Shawn Wayans went undercover as two Hilton sister clone white chicks. This movie gets straight to the point, and isn’t shy about delivering it: gender and ethnic based stereotypes are meant to be exploited and laughed at. And for the PC faint at heart, there are enough poopie and fart scenes to forget about the racial stuff and bring out the true philistine in all of us.

Really though, the movie does deliver an interesting lesson: a good way to make a good man is to make him a good woman first. A little bit of femininity in a man (but not too much) can sure go a long way.