Sumday
Ah, yeah, it's 4:14pm in the morning and I'm sitting in a confused haze of lack-of-coherence and some kind of dream that didn't fade properly in the waking. You ever have one of those dreams? They seem so real in the dreaming and when you awake, you're not exactly sure that you're in the proper phase of reality. Often, the dream reality seems so much better than the real reality that you promptly close your eyes and wish yourself back in Kansas, Toto. When I write of real-dreams, I'm not talking about the kinds of dreams that are exaggerated versions of real-reality. No. You're not a stud. No, you aren't a billionaire. No, you can't rape, pillage, and kill without serious repercussions. No, you don't really look like a girl when you put on a dress. I'm talking about the kind of dreams which appear lucid, in that you are in complete control of your mental facilities and can function much like you would in a real-reality. So, tell me, am I a Jon dreaming that I am a Jon, or am I a Jon dreaming that I'm a Jon?
In the mean time, I swing wildly at grasps of consciousness and listen to Chuck Brown, who very much rocks by the way.
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Chuck Brown is known as the godfather of Go-Go. Go-Go is essentially a Washington D.C. art form which combines jazz, funk, hip-hop, R&B, and rock. Basically, it's quite funky, and if you're into music that makes you want to bop around like a mad idiot, you'll like Chuck Brown. He grooves, baby.
I didn't get into the D.C. music scene until it was just about time for me to leave the city. That's partially my fault. It took me some time to get my sorry ass off campus and into the city. But, much of the city is and was inaccessible to the under 21 crowd. Luckily, the Black Cat, which is partially owned by Dave Grohl, allowed 18 year olds. The Black Cat didn't play Go-Go, though. The Black Cat played bad local punk and indie bands. Occasionally a group from New Jersey would make it down and attempt to rock up the Capitol City. More often than not, they made us cry. Abuse by guitar should be a crime punishable by death.
Dissonance is not acceptable at any time.
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I was running through Fark this morning, as I am wont to do whenever I'm bored and have a need for news (fear the news junkie for he is bound to prattle endlessly about politics until you find him some piece to satisfy his craving, ah! HST!), when I stumbled upon this article.
The article, for those of you who don't want to read it, is basically a list of the ten degrees in highest demand by corporate America. Not surprisingly, four of ten degrees listed were various forms of Engineering. The rest were corporate-slut degrees like accounting (which was number one), and management. Philosophy wasn't on the list. I could make some off-handed comment about how corporate American doesn't want degrees that teach people how to think, but both you and I know that's not the case. Corporate America wants degrees that teach people how to make useful contributions to society (like being able to balance the books such that profits appear high when in actuality they're lower than Ol' Dirty Bastard).
Again, I find myself to be a worthless piece of flotsam, at least as far as Corporate America is concerned. Daily I study the great minds of Western Europe in preparation for the almighty line of ages; do you want fries with that? What price bananas? Are you my angel?
Camus says the man who finds a purpose in life is bound to be happy, even if his life is mindless drudgery. I do believe I have a purpose in life.
I aim to get shitfaced and laid. But, next time, I'm not getting shitfaced on Blackberry Brandy. That stuff is nasty on many levels. And, it leaves a pussy-breath aftertaste. I have no qualms about pussy-breath aftertaste, but what's the point of having pussy-breath, if you haven't actually eaten any pussy? I don't know. Shit ain't right.
----------
Fark also brought me this wonderful gem, pardon the pun. See, I don't understand people. I never claimed to understand people. In fact, people fascinate me, much like the scene of an accident does. When people happen, I'm the first to gawk at the police, the firemen, the various flashing lights, and question how in nine hells does this shit happen?
Now, tell me, for what does anyone need a million quid (about two million American) vibrator? I guess diamonds really are a girl's best friend (again, pardon).
What would you do with two million dollars? I'll give my answer another time. I've pussy breath that needs attention.
In the mean time, I swing wildly at grasps of consciousness and listen to Chuck Brown, who very much rocks by the way.
----------
Chuck Brown is known as the godfather of Go-Go. Go-Go is essentially a Washington D.C. art form which combines jazz, funk, hip-hop, R&B, and rock. Basically, it's quite funky, and if you're into music that makes you want to bop around like a mad idiot, you'll like Chuck Brown. He grooves, baby.
I didn't get into the D.C. music scene until it was just about time for me to leave the city. That's partially my fault. It took me some time to get my sorry ass off campus and into the city. But, much of the city is and was inaccessible to the under 21 crowd. Luckily, the Black Cat, which is partially owned by Dave Grohl, allowed 18 year olds. The Black Cat didn't play Go-Go, though. The Black Cat played bad local punk and indie bands. Occasionally a group from New Jersey would make it down and attempt to rock up the Capitol City. More often than not, they made us cry. Abuse by guitar should be a crime punishable by death.
Dissonance is not acceptable at any time.
----------
I was running through Fark this morning, as I am wont to do whenever I'm bored and have a need for news (fear the news junkie for he is bound to prattle endlessly about politics until you find him some piece to satisfy his craving, ah! HST!), when I stumbled upon this article.
The article, for those of you who don't want to read it, is basically a list of the ten degrees in highest demand by corporate America. Not surprisingly, four of ten degrees listed were various forms of Engineering. The rest were corporate-slut degrees like accounting (which was number one), and management. Philosophy wasn't on the list. I could make some off-handed comment about how corporate American doesn't want degrees that teach people how to think, but both you and I know that's not the case. Corporate America wants degrees that teach people how to make useful contributions to society (like being able to balance the books such that profits appear high when in actuality they're lower than Ol' Dirty Bastard).
Again, I find myself to be a worthless piece of flotsam, at least as far as Corporate America is concerned. Daily I study the great minds of Western Europe in preparation for the almighty line of ages; do you want fries with that? What price bananas? Are you my angel?
Camus says the man who finds a purpose in life is bound to be happy, even if his life is mindless drudgery. I do believe I have a purpose in life.
I aim to get shitfaced and laid. But, next time, I'm not getting shitfaced on Blackberry Brandy. That stuff is nasty on many levels. And, it leaves a pussy-breath aftertaste. I have no qualms about pussy-breath aftertaste, but what's the point of having pussy-breath, if you haven't actually eaten any pussy? I don't know. Shit ain't right.
----------
Fark also brought me this wonderful gem, pardon the pun. See, I don't understand people. I never claimed to understand people. In fact, people fascinate me, much like the scene of an accident does. When people happen, I'm the first to gawk at the police, the firemen, the various flashing lights, and question how in nine hells does this shit happen?
Now, tell me, for what does anyone need a million quid (about two million American) vibrator? I guess diamonds really are a girl's best friend (again, pardon).
What would you do with two million dollars? I'll give my answer another time. I've pussy breath that needs attention.
posted by Jon at 3:57 PM
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