Even Longer Than the Last Time?
Goddamnit.
I mean . . .
Goddamnit!
I spend my entire high school career being bright enough to get into the hardest classes available, and then being either too dull or too lazy to do well in them. I get to college and figure, "Well, at last I can take some mild course of study and see how well I can do. The college lifestyle transition will be hard enough as it is, I don’t need to be all gung-ho after the tough classes." I get there, take some placement exams, and lo and behold, I have to take second level honors English, chemistry, physics, for god sakes, and, get this, what my advisor called "heavy duty" calculus. But . . . No! I skipped the friggin’ AP exam for a reason! Damnit! Life ain’t fair.
So, anyway, I went to WNEC for an orientation this past weekend. It was fun, and I got to take in most of what the college had to offer. (Like the ladytypes). But it contained way too much information to take in that quickly. I done did get slammed by all the college jargon and dates an’ book learnin’ and such. Some seminars that I went to were quite informative, like the one on how to budget one’s time properly. Some were entertaining, like the one in which the speaker was a foul-mouthed ex-cop with a PhD and a cool scar near his eye. Others were disheartening. For instance, I am apparently one of four incoming Freshman who scored higher than a 1300 on his or her SAT’s. In the school of Arts and Sciences, anyway. I enjoy being a big fish in a little pond, but I kinda wanted to be in a school with smarter people. I’m not saying SAT scores are any definitive measure of intelligence, but from bits of conversations I picked up, and in talking with upper-classmen, I realized, Harvard this ain’t.
The retreat was well done, all in all. Speaking from a Christian Leader’s point of view, I can say that the students who organized the event did admirably well. And they interrupted their summer to do so. But their speeches could’ve been better rehearsed. The faculty and students were ingratiating and amiable, the rooms were rather Spartan and drab, but the cafeteria was amazing (and I get to eat there every day as part of my scholarship.) I learned again how much I hate power point. Stupid flashy, substance-less distraction. I met a hot girl who is . . . how can I describe her . . . she’s like an Hispanic Evelyn Powell, from New York, so she has a slight accent. Her name was Lisa Sinisbalchi, and we had a couple of decent conversations. This brings me to my next point: I fear I’ll have a lot of trouble fitting in. Even in the open, friendly environment of Holyoke Catholic I didn’t fully . . . uh . . . blossom (that was a great show, wasn’t it?) until halfway through Junior year. I hope I manage to make friends.
The campus is beautiful, and I’ll have plenty to do, (student government, and I’m thinking of trying out for the wrestling team), so I’m looking forward to it.
How’s this for outrageous: I have a 25,000 dollar scholarship through the Air Force, an 8,000 dollar scholarship through the school, and am already enrolled in one of the most difficult courses of study of anyone in my grade, and I haven’t yet graduated from college! Now, if I could just get around to finishing that research paper . . . .
I’m concerned about my future, though. I have realized what I would truly love to do with my life, but my path to it seems quite circuitous as of yet. Based on reaction to this blog, both yours, dear reader, and mine, and to other writings I’ve done, I think I’d make a decent journalist. It seems to be the perfect career for me. I’d get to read, write, and be funny. But now I’m lined up to be a chemistry major. I dunno . . . .
Here’s an adequate description of me, courtesy of Dave Matthews:
I hear more than I want to,
So I boil my head in this sense of humor.
Laugh at what I cannot change,
And throw these hopes on the pyre again!
Today I just got back from a fantastic excursion white water rafting. It was in Charlemonte, MA, on the Greenfield River. It was awesome! I got a little sunburned, but all in all, it was a great day. Our guide, Eric, who resembled a young, bearded Robbie Coltrane (Valentin, from the Bond movies), was funny and friendly, and was so impressed with my rowing and people skills that he offered me a job there. I plan to apply next year. Towards the end of the voyage, he even let me steer the boat from the guide’s seat in the back. My lats became tighter than I thought possible, but I managed to row through the pain. The day includes rapids, paddling, swimming, water fights, and a hearty lunch at a campsite. The view was most likely the best part, though. The natural beauty of the river, the verdant trees on the shore, the tranquil mountains towering in the distance, all breathtaking. So, I obviously plan to return, the next time en masse with some friends. So, the invitation is open to anyone. I’m hoping to get two boats full (or 8-12 people) so’s we can battle it up right proper. Beware, ye scurvy sea biscuits! The Barnacled Afro be in a plund’rin’ mood! (Is that a good pirate name?) Oh, that was the one bad part: we had to wear helmets and with my hair you can imagine how ridiculous I looked . . . .
Movies: I sing the praises of Suicide Kings! I know I saw it a while ago, but I gotta include in the update. It’s a crackerjack thriller about a group of 5 friends who kidnap retired mob boss, played with mesmerizing dark menace and humor by Christopher Walken, in order to use his connections to find and free the sister of one of the friends, who has been kidnaped. Denis Leary is on hand for some cool intensity as Walken’s right hand man who’s trying to find the guys who kidnaped his boss. The plot may be absurd, but the performances are astounding and the movie keeps you riveted with a dark, jittery energy.
This leads me to my next point: Casting Call. The movie’s young stars turned out to be decent possibilities for some friends.
Meg Lynch: Lara Harris
Me: Jay Mohr
Andrew LeTellier: Jeremy Sisto
EJ Massa: Johnny Galecki or Ben Stiller (he wasn’t in the movie, but I could see it.)
Dan McLaughlin: Sean Patrick Flannery
and here’s the best one: Sombraro left a comment asking me who I thought should play Mr. Ranstrom, the film’s villain. Well, first off, I wouldn’t have Mr. Ranstrom be a villain, he was a decent guy, and secondly, Denis Leary. I know it seems weird, but it could work, and it’d be hilarious.
Moving on.
Wanna laugh? I know this is old news, but I keep forgetting to write this in my blog: Go to I’m Confused, my blog update, and then look at the comments. Especially Steve’s and Lisa Reist’s. I love that girl! She’s got moxxy!
I wanna clear up a common misconception that people who don’t know me well might have. I’m perverted, in my way, and may seem like a jerk sometimes, but in reality I’m a really sweet guy. I’m good-natured, understanding, thoughtful, and a good listener. So don’t be so quick to judge. That said, anyone wanna have sex?
Here’re the lyrics to one of my favorite Soul Coughing poem/songs, called Screenwrtier’s Blues:
Exits to freeways
twisted like knots on the fingers
jewels cleaving skin between breasts.
Your Cadillac breathes four hundred horses over blue lines
you are going to Reseda to make love to a model from Ohio whose real name you don't know
you spin like the cadillac was overturning down a cliff on television
and the radio is on and the radioman is speaking
and the radioman says women were a curse
so men built Paramount studios
and men built Columbia studios
and men built Los Angeles
it is 5 am and you are listening to Los Angeles
And the radioman says it is a beautiful night out there!
And the radioman says Rock and Roll lives!
And the radioman says it is a beautiful night out there in Los Angeles
you live in Los Angeles and you are going to Reseda;
we are all in some way or another going to Reseda someday to die
and the radioman laughs because the radioman fucks a model too.
Gone savage for teenagers with automatic weapons and boundless love
gone savage for teenagers who are aesthetically pleasing
in other words fly
Los Angeles beckons the teenagers to come to her on buses;
Los Angeles loves love
it is 5 am and you are listening to Los Angeles
I am going to Los Angeles to build a screenplay about lovers who murder each other
I am going to Los Angeles to see my own name on a screen, five feet long and luminous
as the radioman says it is 5 am
and the sun has charred the other side of the world and come back to us
and painted the smoke over our heads an imperial violet
it is 5 am and you are listening to Los Angeles.
You are listening.
You are listening.
You are listening.
You are listening.
I love those lyrics. They are to me so insightful, so poignant, so beautiful and clear: perfect. I get chills on the parts about the sun charring the smoke an imperial violet. I like it!
How many of you like the famous B movie star Bruce Campbell? I know I do. You may know him from the Spiderman films, he’s the guy who names him in the first, the snooty usher in the second. You’ll probably know him better as Ash, from the Evil dead series. In those horror/slapstick classics he plays a badass with a chainsaw for a hand who kills demons and zombies and works at a Walmart-like department store. Well, I was reading an interview with him and the topic of an Ash vs Freddy vs Jason movie came up. Apparently a lot of people want to see it happen. I think it’s a great idea. So I’ve prepared the screenplay for the preview right here for your reading pleasure:
(Open with new scenes of all the famous horror film baddies in their natural environments. (Freddy Kreuger, Jason Voorhees, Michael Myers, Leatherface, Chucky, Pinhead, all of ‘em.) Scary, low organ music, builds to crescendo over time.
Narrator: For decades, these demons and monsters have haunted our dreams, slaughtering indiscriminately anyone they choose. They have terrorized, massacred, and brought us unspeakable nightmares. But on July 18th, they finally meet the one thing powerful enough to frighten them.
(Music stops, switch to black, chainsaw sounds, shotgun cocked, open to top view, looking down at Ash, then sweep down to front view. Full body. Then close up of his face, jet black hair, jutting chin, comic book handsome features)
Ash: Come get some, baby!
(Footage of action scenes, explosions, fights, fights, fights, car chases, footage of monsters together, switching faster and faster, music faster and faster)
Narrator: This summer, one man begins a battle against the worst killers in history for truth, justice, and the American way . . .
Ash: And I don’t wear sissy blue tights.
Narrator: Universal Pictures proudly presents, in association with Castle Rock Films, a film by Sam Raimi. Bruce Campbell in: Die Monsters, Die! (Title a work in progress)
(and then . . . Black!)
(Open to Ash standing on a pile of mutilated zombies)
Ash: Who’s the king, baby?
(Out!)
Whew.
People always ask me, Rich how can we be as cool as you? Well, the answer is, you can’t. But, you can get close with my new patented Rich-alec home speaking kit. In an effort to spread cool slang, I’ve created a system to make people’s everyday language super-awesome. Let me give you a few examples.
When it comes to expressing anger, don’t be boring, be Rich-tastic!
For instance, use any bodily fluid or part and the word "weasels" to create the ideal curse.
Examples include, Spit Weasels! Snot Weasels! Piss Weasels! The classic Shit Weasels! Or the ever popular Jizz Weasels! Body parts, too: Ahhhh Nose Weasels! Fuckin’ Ass Weasels! Tit Weasels! Or the saintly Cock Weasels!
To convey amazement, simply use "Cracklin’ Weasels." Or f-words that end in "ngo," like Flamingo! Or Fandango!
Now, what about adjectives? Remember Aussie actor Yahoo Serious? Probably not. Still, I’ve decided, in his memory, to change "Yahoo" into an adjective. So something could be Yahoo serious, or yahoo boring. Maybe a girl is yahoo hot, or a line is yahoo long. It works like a fucking charm, nigga.
My name can also be used as an adjective. But not by itself, that’s been done. No, you must add the end of a regular adjective, like -tastic, -elous -mazing, i-licious, or some such, even -tacular. The you get show stoppers like Rich-tasic! Rich-tacular, or Rich-i-licious.
Also, one should use my sleazy, nasal, Jack Black inspired cat calls, like mmmmhellllloooo ladies! A-huh-huhn-huhn, baby. How about a little hmmhuhn hmm hmm huh? Everybody loves those.
Okay, that’s all for now. Give me money.
Here’s my new motto: "Sleep in, Eat Out." Think about it.
I was happy to be back to work last week, and I had a decent few days. Wednesday was the best, though. I got to work on this gigantic house in Amherst with a crazy Belarusian named Sergei. Just the two of us for eight hours. The house we were working on was 50 square. That means it would take 200 bundles of shingles to cover it. It took our crew of 5, without Sergei, a week and a half to finish. Sergei shingled a 45 square roof, even more dangerous and difficult than the one we did, in 8 days. By himself. "Crazy Russian, no?" Sergei says after telling me the story. Despite the fact that he spoke little English, we had plenty to talk about. Turns out this Sergei fella went to 4 years of high school (more than most roofers) then into the army, then 4 years of college, then 2 years in a seminary. Nifty, huh? Going into the army in Russia was no picnic, according to Sergei. They had to get up at 5:30 every morning and run 3 miles. And listen carefully, Pawel and Tony: In Russia every male citizen who reaches 18 years of age has to join the army. Maybe you should be a little more grateful you live in the good ol’ U S of A. And a little less draft paranoid. Hey, you could be in Russia, where, according to Sergei, "all body have to join in army." He was a friendly guy, though, and very proud of his country.
On Monday I went with my good ol’ buddy Tony to a Ba’Hai fireside. Ba’Hai is a new religion I will explain in The Way of Rich, coming up shortly. I t was a decent experience, and there was a beautiful Middle Eastern guy there, Hassan. If I was a little more gay I’d . . . well, moving on. Anyone who wants to come to the next fireside is more than welcome. Dan, Steve, and Tony have all been to them. It’s not this coming Monday, but the Monday after. And now,
The Way of Rich: Ba’Hai. Pronounced "bah-high," this is one of the newest and fastest growing religions. Founded in 1863 by Iranian Mirza Husayn ali Nuri (1872-1892), Ba’Hai is a universalist religion. Its main doctrine is that the founders of all the world’s religions were each servants of God, or embodiments of God, depending on translation. Each religion is a chapter in the book of time, and each was crucial to the advancement of its age, but is now outdated, as Ba’Hai will one day be. So the key to Ba’Hai is the connection between all creeds and races. I love that. I don’t know whether I’d take it as far as they do, but it is one of the most sensible beliefs I’ve ever encountered. Also important to Ba’Hais, and to me, is the equality of men and women. They see the sexes as the wings of a bird (humanity). If one is stronger than the other, the bird will fly in circles or fall to it’s death. But if both are strong, the bird will fly to as yet unthought of heights. The Ba’Hai’s are very open to new interpretations, have now clergy (which I don’t really like), and meet only once every nineteen days. They are the most unorganized organized religion. Back to clergy. I appreciate and am comforted by their reasoning, that in the past humans had not been evolved enough spiritually to exist without someone to explain their faith to them, but now anyone can understand and preach the word of God. However, I’v always liked the idea of having as group of people who devote their lives to the divine to try to gain deeper understanding and to give leadership and support. There is a council of elect leaders who make decisions for the followers of the glory, (Baha’is.) But they are completely isolated from the people they serve. I don’t see how that could be the best way of running things. From the beginning Baha’u’llah stressed that God goes beyond mortal concepts such as gender or race. Baha’is see the existence of separate souls and personalities. The afterlife is a realm that is more an extension of this one than a new remote one. Baha’u’llah compared the next life, the continuation of the spirit, to what happens to a baby after it leaves its mother’s womb (this world). Alcohol is forbidden. Uh? I dunno, I’m not officially a college student yet. Baha’i seems like the closest thing to the right religion I’ve seen yet.
On Tuesday ay-body kicked back at Tony’s for a good ol’ fashioned send-off party. Caitlin "The Super-Palm-Tree-Weasel-Cat-Sexilicious-Ladaytype" Szewyck headed off to sunny Bermuda to overthrow the tyrannous British oppressors and liberate the island paradise and claim it in her name on Wednesday. We miss you Cait. Enjoy the glorious isle, but come on home quick, because:
"You are our Sunshine
Our only Sunshine.
You make us happy
When skies are grey.
You’ll never know dear,
How much we love you,
So don’t take our Sunshine away!"
Anyway, some people had problems with the party. To them I say, a pox upon your house, you knaves! They say that the whole "send-off" thing is overkill, they say Caitlin wasn’t even there for a good portion of the party. Well, let me explain a few things. First, we all care about each other, don’t we? Well, if one of us is leaving for a week or more, why not all get together and have some fun before they do? It shows that we care, and hopefully makes the people feel good and loved. I know I’d feel special if someone gave me a send-off party. Secondly, some people question my choice of friends to throw send-offs for. Evelyn and Caitlin, huh? Man, you just wanna get in their pants. Well, first off, yes I do want to do that, but I’m saying good-bye in this special way because they’re my friends. I’d do the same for any friend, and have, for Dan. Lastly, they say that it wasn’t used to its full potential as a send-off because Caitlin wasn’t there as much as she could have been, and wasn’t the center of attention. Well, she got to say good-bye to everybody, so mission accomplished there. And everyone had a great time. You see, these comments, and the party itself, made me think of long ago, when friends and relatives lived so far away from each other that they cherished any time they could possibly get together, and made any of those times into a rockin’ party. Weddings, christenings, the reading of a will, and who doesn’t love a good ol’ Irish funeral? What? Me ma died? Well then get some a tha lads tahgether, an’ well have some drinks! Everyone enjoyed the party, so, when you come right down to it, what else matters? And a big thanks to Tones McKenzie, who let us use his house, and without whom none of the festivities woulda been possible. You're the man, Tones.
Friends: How about we learn about one a my bestest amigos? Kay? Kay. Today I’d like to tell you about Andrew LeTellier. My friendship with this good-hearted, if lanky fella began in sophomore year. Between staring at Ms. Blainey’s ass, we exchanged jokes and info on our favorite bands. We lived in up in Mr. Frigg’s class, and invented the now uber-popular "Movie Game." At which we were evenly matched. Now, if the relationship had stopped progressing here, if all I knew of Andrew was that he was an hilarious gangly jester of a kid, with the best taste in music and movies of anyone I know, counting myself, I’d still think he was awesome, and count him among my best friends. But, over the next two years we grew much closer. We saw films together, worked diligently on art projects and scripts, and created a unique brand of humor that only we share. I oddly enough have more in common with Andrew (despite our startlingly different appearances) than any other friend. Over the past three years I have come to know Andrew as an intelligent, hard-working, compassionate guy. He’s naturally great with children, but gets along well with people of all ages. He has a strong spiritual sense. Andrew loves people, he loves life, he loves God. He loves Ultimate Frisbee. He can, as mentioned in past blogs, be at once fiercely competitive and kind and encouraging while playing sports and games. He has an inhuman appetite, so eating out with him . . . and by that I mean going out to eat is always a treat. He cares about his friends. He loves to make up stories and songs on the spot. This is his closest to pure comedic genius. We work very well as a comedy team, which I love. I feel closer to Andrew than most of my friends. Some of the greatest experiences I’ve had over my time in high school have been working with Andrew on scripts or artwork for retreats. Andrew is the most human of my friends. He is strongly influenced by things like lust or jealousy, but on the rare occasion he does not triumph over them, he is completely repentant. He may be the most human, but Andrew, with his desire to make those around him laugh, with his spirituality, his concern for others, his dream to make the world better through teaching, is also the closest to being divine.
Music: Friday night I had the pleasure/pain of going to a Dave Matthew’s Band concert at the Meadows. Here’s the lowdown on the overall experience: It was not too great. First off, they were lawn seats. This wouldn’t have been so bad if it wasn’t so packed. The security personnel were all assholes and wouldn’t let us bring our blanket in, which means we had to throw it over the fence and leave it vulnerable to thieves. Back to security: I realize that dealing with drunken idiots all day isn’t fun, but I still find it so hard to sympathize with these cocksuckers. Like the guy who saw me peering through the fence on the way out, looking for the blanket, and shined his flashlight in my eyes, saying, "Where you headed, bro?" First off, don’t call me bro, you stupid bastard. Secondly, I’m not drunk. Unbelievable, I know, based on the wasted jackasses you guys let in here. Third, just because you carry a flashlight and wear the same polo as three other assholes with flashlights doesn’t mean you’re cool. So shut up. Oh, by the way, nice move letting my brother walk in with a knife, and the guys next to us with pot, but you stopped us from bringing our blanket. Good call. I feel safe. The worst thing, aside from the 20,000 drunken wasteoids on the lawn, and the security, and the filth, and over priced goods sold by cold-hearted merchants, was at the end, when the security guys allowed us to use one exit. One exit for 30,000 people, and they moved the fence gates the wrong way, in, not out, so they bottlenecked the entrance, making it impossible for more than two people to go out at one time. Not all of the drunks were bad. There was Jan, who made friends with us early on, asked us to watch her shoes, and in return acted as bouncer, pushing even the biggest, most messed up college guy out of our viewing range. And there was the guy at the end who sang improvised songs almost as well as Andrew, and I think he honestly thought I was Carrot Top. Plus, I got plenny of compliments about the hair. And one hot girl asked if she could touch it. (The hair, sadly, but cool nonetheless.)
But that wasn’t what the night was really about. What was it about? It was about the MUSIC! DMB are awesome! In concert they are even more awesome. The crowd was more entranced by their music than any I have seen before. They were near tears singing along during Grace Is Gone, they went wild during Tripping Billies, and they cheered till they passed out for What Would You Say?. Dave one hell of an entertainer. I’ve never seen any performer convey so much genuine emotion. He screamed into the mic. I know that heavy metal fellas act angry, and sometimes they come close to believable, but seeing Dave yelling as loud as he could during the song, veins bulging, eyes glistening, was quite a sight. Of all the musicians who cross over into acting, Dave is one of the few I’d like to see in a movie. He’s just such a . . . I guess there’s no other word for it . . . cool person. His arching black eyebrows perpetually raised, nearly touching his receding widow’s peak, thin lips in a pert half-smile, thin frame moving slightly with the music, he’s like the embodiment of some musical trickster god. The whole band was amazing, though. Carter Beauford banging away at the drums like a happy ape . . . (or the proudest monkey) . . . Stefan Lessard, plucking at the bass while his narrow body moved like a snake, Leroi Moore, eyes bulging, cheeks inflated, like some sort of huge, dark puffer fish, Boyd Tinesy, grinning his panther grin, moving around stage like a jungle cat, and Dave in the middle of it all, some merry ringmaster in this bombastic, flashy, loud and wild circus. Seeing DMB in concert is something everyone must experience at least once in their life. Wowie Cazowie!
And now your Rich’s Joke Corner, housewives call it the Daily:
According to an article in a Ladies’ Magazine, a woman’s sleeping position says a lot about her: Women who sleep on their sides are sensitive, women who sleep on their stomachs are competent, and women who sleep on their back with their ankles behind their ears are very popular.
Police have reported a truck carrying several shipments of Viagra stolen. They are looking for hardened criminals.
What do you call two Mexicans playing basketball?
Juan on Juan.
What two words will clear out a men’s locker room faster than any others?
Nice dick.
Some cowboys were out branding cattle. Their cook saw a sheep tied to a fence and cooked it for dinner while they were out. That night, the cowboys were all sullen and angry at the cook. The cook took one aside and said, "What’s wrong? Did I screw up the cooking?"
"No," said the cowboy, "You cooked up the screwing."
A man went out dinking one night. By closing time, he was far too drunk to drive, so he began to walk home. A policeman stopped him and asked, "What are you doing out at 2 am?"
"I’m going to a lecture," the man replied.
"Really?" the policeman enquired. "Who’s giving a lecture at this hour?"
The man replied, "My wife."
Two sexy college girls were painting a room in a hospital as part of some necessary community service.. After spilling some paint, they decided to continue in the nude, so as not to stain their clothes. They undressed and went on painting. Soon there was a knock at the door and a man’s voice said, "Blind man." After conferring quickly, they decide that since he was blind they didn’t need to put on their clothes, so they let him in. The man looked at them, said, "Nice tits. Now where do you want me to hang these window blinds?"
Zing!
Current Mood: Like 300 violins and one of them is out of tune. But Foamy is the best!
Current Music: They Might Be Giants’ Experimental Film, on Homestarrunner.com.
(As you can see, I had plenty of fun with the new color options)
I mean . . .
Goddamnit!
I spend my entire high school career being bright enough to get into the hardest classes available, and then being either too dull or too lazy to do well in them. I get to college and figure, "Well, at last I can take some mild course of study and see how well I can do. The college lifestyle transition will be hard enough as it is, I don’t need to be all gung-ho after the tough classes." I get there, take some placement exams, and lo and behold, I have to take second level honors English, chemistry, physics, for god sakes, and, get this, what my advisor called "heavy duty" calculus. But . . . No! I skipped the friggin’ AP exam for a reason! Damnit! Life ain’t fair.
So, anyway, I went to WNEC for an orientation this past weekend. It was fun, and I got to take in most of what the college had to offer. (Like the ladytypes). But it contained way too much information to take in that quickly. I done did get slammed by all the college jargon and dates an’ book learnin’ and such. Some seminars that I went to were quite informative, like the one on how to budget one’s time properly. Some were entertaining, like the one in which the speaker was a foul-mouthed ex-cop with a PhD and a cool scar near his eye. Others were disheartening. For instance, I am apparently one of four incoming Freshman who scored higher than a 1300 on his or her SAT’s. In the school of Arts and Sciences, anyway. I enjoy being a big fish in a little pond, but I kinda wanted to be in a school with smarter people. I’m not saying SAT scores are any definitive measure of intelligence, but from bits of conversations I picked up, and in talking with upper-classmen, I realized, Harvard this ain’t.
The retreat was well done, all in all. Speaking from a Christian Leader’s point of view, I can say that the students who organized the event did admirably well. And they interrupted their summer to do so. But their speeches could’ve been better rehearsed. The faculty and students were ingratiating and amiable, the rooms were rather Spartan and drab, but the cafeteria was amazing (and I get to eat there every day as part of my scholarship.) I learned again how much I hate power point. Stupid flashy, substance-less distraction. I met a hot girl who is . . . how can I describe her . . . she’s like an Hispanic Evelyn Powell, from New York, so she has a slight accent. Her name was Lisa Sinisbalchi, and we had a couple of decent conversations. This brings me to my next point: I fear I’ll have a lot of trouble fitting in. Even in the open, friendly environment of Holyoke Catholic I didn’t fully . . . uh . . . blossom (that was a great show, wasn’t it?) until halfway through Junior year. I hope I manage to make friends.
The campus is beautiful, and I’ll have plenty to do, (student government, and I’m thinking of trying out for the wrestling team), so I’m looking forward to it.
How’s this for outrageous: I have a 25,000 dollar scholarship through the Air Force, an 8,000 dollar scholarship through the school, and am already enrolled in one of the most difficult courses of study of anyone in my grade, and I haven’t yet graduated from college! Now, if I could just get around to finishing that research paper . . . .
I’m concerned about my future, though. I have realized what I would truly love to do with my life, but my path to it seems quite circuitous as of yet. Based on reaction to this blog, both yours, dear reader, and mine, and to other writings I’ve done, I think I’d make a decent journalist. It seems to be the perfect career for me. I’d get to read, write, and be funny. But now I’m lined up to be a chemistry major. I dunno . . . .
Here’s an adequate description of me, courtesy of Dave Matthews:
I hear more than I want to,
So I boil my head in this sense of humor.
Laugh at what I cannot change,
And throw these hopes on the pyre again!
Today I just got back from a fantastic excursion white water rafting. It was in Charlemonte, MA, on the Greenfield River. It was awesome! I got a little sunburned, but all in all, it was a great day. Our guide, Eric, who resembled a young, bearded Robbie Coltrane (Valentin, from the Bond movies), was funny and friendly, and was so impressed with my rowing and people skills that he offered me a job there. I plan to apply next year. Towards the end of the voyage, he even let me steer the boat from the guide’s seat in the back. My lats became tighter than I thought possible, but I managed to row through the pain. The day includes rapids, paddling, swimming, water fights, and a hearty lunch at a campsite. The view was most likely the best part, though. The natural beauty of the river, the verdant trees on the shore, the tranquil mountains towering in the distance, all breathtaking. So, I obviously plan to return, the next time en masse with some friends. So, the invitation is open to anyone. I’m hoping to get two boats full (or 8-12 people) so’s we can battle it up right proper. Beware, ye scurvy sea biscuits! The Barnacled Afro be in a plund’rin’ mood! (Is that a good pirate name?) Oh, that was the one bad part: we had to wear helmets and with my hair you can imagine how ridiculous I looked . . . .
Movies: I sing the praises of Suicide Kings! I know I saw it a while ago, but I gotta include in the update. It’s a crackerjack thriller about a group of 5 friends who kidnap retired mob boss, played with mesmerizing dark menace and humor by Christopher Walken, in order to use his connections to find and free the sister of one of the friends, who has been kidnaped. Denis Leary is on hand for some cool intensity as Walken’s right hand man who’s trying to find the guys who kidnaped his boss. The plot may be absurd, but the performances are astounding and the movie keeps you riveted with a dark, jittery energy.
This leads me to my next point: Casting Call. The movie’s young stars turned out to be decent possibilities for some friends.
Meg Lynch: Lara Harris
Me: Jay Mohr
Andrew LeTellier: Jeremy Sisto
EJ Massa: Johnny Galecki or Ben Stiller (he wasn’t in the movie, but I could see it.)
Dan McLaughlin: Sean Patrick Flannery
and here’s the best one: Sombraro left a comment asking me who I thought should play Mr. Ranstrom, the film’s villain. Well, first off, I wouldn’t have Mr. Ranstrom be a villain, he was a decent guy, and secondly, Denis Leary. I know it seems weird, but it could work, and it’d be hilarious.
Moving on.
Wanna laugh? I know this is old news, but I keep forgetting to write this in my blog: Go to I’m Confused, my blog update, and then look at the comments. Especially Steve’s and Lisa Reist’s. I love that girl! She’s got moxxy!
I wanna clear up a common misconception that people who don’t know me well might have. I’m perverted, in my way, and may seem like a jerk sometimes, but in reality I’m a really sweet guy. I’m good-natured, understanding, thoughtful, and a good listener. So don’t be so quick to judge. That said, anyone wanna have sex?
Here’re the lyrics to one of my favorite Soul Coughing poem/songs, called Screenwrtier’s Blues:
Exits to freeways
twisted like knots on the fingers
jewels cleaving skin between breasts.
Your Cadillac breathes four hundred horses over blue lines
you are going to Reseda to make love to a model from Ohio whose real name you don't know
you spin like the cadillac was overturning down a cliff on television
and the radio is on and the radioman is speaking
and the radioman says women were a curse
so men built Paramount studios
and men built Columbia studios
and men built Los Angeles
it is 5 am and you are listening to Los Angeles
And the radioman says it is a beautiful night out there!
And the radioman says Rock and Roll lives!
And the radioman says it is a beautiful night out there in Los Angeles
you live in Los Angeles and you are going to Reseda;
we are all in some way or another going to Reseda someday to die
and the radioman laughs because the radioman fucks a model too.
Gone savage for teenagers with automatic weapons and boundless love
gone savage for teenagers who are aesthetically pleasing
in other words fly
Los Angeles beckons the teenagers to come to her on buses;
Los Angeles loves love
it is 5 am and you are listening to Los Angeles
I am going to Los Angeles to build a screenplay about lovers who murder each other
I am going to Los Angeles to see my own name on a screen, five feet long and luminous
as the radioman says it is 5 am
and the sun has charred the other side of the world and come back to us
and painted the smoke over our heads an imperial violet
it is 5 am and you are listening to Los Angeles.
You are listening.
You are listening.
You are listening.
You are listening.
I love those lyrics. They are to me so insightful, so poignant, so beautiful and clear: perfect. I get chills on the parts about the sun charring the smoke an imperial violet. I like it!
How many of you like the famous B movie star Bruce Campbell? I know I do. You may know him from the Spiderman films, he’s the guy who names him in the first, the snooty usher in the second. You’ll probably know him better as Ash, from the Evil dead series. In those horror/slapstick classics he plays a badass with a chainsaw for a hand who kills demons and zombies and works at a Walmart-like department store. Well, I was reading an interview with him and the topic of an Ash vs Freddy vs Jason movie came up. Apparently a lot of people want to see it happen. I think it’s a great idea. So I’ve prepared the screenplay for the preview right here for your reading pleasure:
(Open with new scenes of all the famous horror film baddies in their natural environments. (Freddy Kreuger, Jason Voorhees, Michael Myers, Leatherface, Chucky, Pinhead, all of ‘em.) Scary, low organ music, builds to crescendo over time.
Narrator: For decades, these demons and monsters have haunted our dreams, slaughtering indiscriminately anyone they choose. They have terrorized, massacred, and brought us unspeakable nightmares. But on July 18th, they finally meet the one thing powerful enough to frighten them.
(Music stops, switch to black, chainsaw sounds, shotgun cocked, open to top view, looking down at Ash, then sweep down to front view. Full body. Then close up of his face, jet black hair, jutting chin, comic book handsome features)
Ash: Come get some, baby!
(Footage of action scenes, explosions, fights, fights, fights, car chases, footage of monsters together, switching faster and faster, music faster and faster)
Narrator: This summer, one man begins a battle against the worst killers in history for truth, justice, and the American way . . .
Ash: And I don’t wear sissy blue tights.
Narrator: Universal Pictures proudly presents, in association with Castle Rock Films, a film by Sam Raimi. Bruce Campbell in: Die Monsters, Die! (Title a work in progress)
(and then . . . Black!)
(Open to Ash standing on a pile of mutilated zombies)
Ash: Who’s the king, baby?
(Out!)
Whew.
People always ask me, Rich how can we be as cool as you? Well, the answer is, you can’t. But, you can get close with my new patented Rich-alec home speaking kit. In an effort to spread cool slang, I’ve created a system to make people’s everyday language super-awesome. Let me give you a few examples.
When it comes to expressing anger, don’t be boring, be Rich-tastic!
For instance, use any bodily fluid or part and the word "weasels" to create the ideal curse.
Examples include, Spit Weasels! Snot Weasels! Piss Weasels! The classic Shit Weasels! Or the ever popular Jizz Weasels! Body parts, too: Ahhhh Nose Weasels! Fuckin’ Ass Weasels! Tit Weasels! Or the saintly Cock Weasels!
To convey amazement, simply use "Cracklin’ Weasels." Or f-words that end in "ngo," like Flamingo! Or Fandango!
Now, what about adjectives? Remember Aussie actor Yahoo Serious? Probably not. Still, I’ve decided, in his memory, to change "Yahoo" into an adjective. So something could be Yahoo serious, or yahoo boring. Maybe a girl is yahoo hot, or a line is yahoo long. It works like a fucking charm, nigga.
My name can also be used as an adjective. But not by itself, that’s been done. No, you must add the end of a regular adjective, like -tastic, -elous -mazing, i-licious, or some such, even -tacular. The you get show stoppers like Rich-tasic! Rich-tacular, or Rich-i-licious.
Also, one should use my sleazy, nasal, Jack Black inspired cat calls, like mmmmhellllloooo ladies! A-huh-huhn-huhn, baby. How about a little hmmhuhn hmm hmm huh? Everybody loves those.
Okay, that’s all for now. Give me money.
Here’s my new motto: "Sleep in, Eat Out." Think about it.
I was happy to be back to work last week, and I had a decent few days. Wednesday was the best, though. I got to work on this gigantic house in Amherst with a crazy Belarusian named Sergei. Just the two of us for eight hours. The house we were working on was 50 square. That means it would take 200 bundles of shingles to cover it. It took our crew of 5, without Sergei, a week and a half to finish. Sergei shingled a 45 square roof, even more dangerous and difficult than the one we did, in 8 days. By himself. "Crazy Russian, no?" Sergei says after telling me the story. Despite the fact that he spoke little English, we had plenty to talk about. Turns out this Sergei fella went to 4 years of high school (more than most roofers) then into the army, then 4 years of college, then 2 years in a seminary. Nifty, huh? Going into the army in Russia was no picnic, according to Sergei. They had to get up at 5:30 every morning and run 3 miles. And listen carefully, Pawel and Tony: In Russia every male citizen who reaches 18 years of age has to join the army. Maybe you should be a little more grateful you live in the good ol’ U S of A. And a little less draft paranoid. Hey, you could be in Russia, where, according to Sergei, "all body have to join in army." He was a friendly guy, though, and very proud of his country.
On Monday I went with my good ol’ buddy Tony to a Ba’Hai fireside. Ba’Hai is a new religion I will explain in The Way of Rich, coming up shortly. I t was a decent experience, and there was a beautiful Middle Eastern guy there, Hassan. If I was a little more gay I’d . . . well, moving on. Anyone who wants to come to the next fireside is more than welcome. Dan, Steve, and Tony have all been to them. It’s not this coming Monday, but the Monday after. And now,
The Way of Rich: Ba’Hai. Pronounced "bah-high," this is one of the newest and fastest growing religions. Founded in 1863 by Iranian Mirza Husayn ali Nuri (1872-1892), Ba’Hai is a universalist religion. Its main doctrine is that the founders of all the world’s religions were each servants of God, or embodiments of God, depending on translation. Each religion is a chapter in the book of time, and each was crucial to the advancement of its age, but is now outdated, as Ba’Hai will one day be. So the key to Ba’Hai is the connection between all creeds and races. I love that. I don’t know whether I’d take it as far as they do, but it is one of the most sensible beliefs I’ve ever encountered. Also important to Ba’Hais, and to me, is the equality of men and women. They see the sexes as the wings of a bird (humanity). If one is stronger than the other, the bird will fly in circles or fall to it’s death. But if both are strong, the bird will fly to as yet unthought of heights. The Ba’Hai’s are very open to new interpretations, have now clergy (which I don’t really like), and meet only once every nineteen days. They are the most unorganized organized religion. Back to clergy. I appreciate and am comforted by their reasoning, that in the past humans had not been evolved enough spiritually to exist without someone to explain their faith to them, but now anyone can understand and preach the word of God. However, I’v always liked the idea of having as group of people who devote their lives to the divine to try to gain deeper understanding and to give leadership and support. There is a council of elect leaders who make decisions for the followers of the glory, (Baha’is.) But they are completely isolated from the people they serve. I don’t see how that could be the best way of running things. From the beginning Baha’u’llah stressed that God goes beyond mortal concepts such as gender or race. Baha’is see the existence of separate souls and personalities. The afterlife is a realm that is more an extension of this one than a new remote one. Baha’u’llah compared the next life, the continuation of the spirit, to what happens to a baby after it leaves its mother’s womb (this world). Alcohol is forbidden. Uh? I dunno, I’m not officially a college student yet. Baha’i seems like the closest thing to the right religion I’ve seen yet.
On Tuesday ay-body kicked back at Tony’s for a good ol’ fashioned send-off party. Caitlin "The Super-Palm-Tree-Weasel-Cat-Sexilicious-Ladaytype" Szewyck headed off to sunny Bermuda to overthrow the tyrannous British oppressors and liberate the island paradise and claim it in her name on Wednesday. We miss you Cait. Enjoy the glorious isle, but come on home quick, because:
"You are our Sunshine
Our only Sunshine.
You make us happy
When skies are grey.
You’ll never know dear,
How much we love you,
So don’t take our Sunshine away!"
Anyway, some people had problems with the party. To them I say, a pox upon your house, you knaves! They say that the whole "send-off" thing is overkill, they say Caitlin wasn’t even there for a good portion of the party. Well, let me explain a few things. First, we all care about each other, don’t we? Well, if one of us is leaving for a week or more, why not all get together and have some fun before they do? It shows that we care, and hopefully makes the people feel good and loved. I know I’d feel special if someone gave me a send-off party. Secondly, some people question my choice of friends to throw send-offs for. Evelyn and Caitlin, huh? Man, you just wanna get in their pants. Well, first off, yes I do want to do that, but I’m saying good-bye in this special way because they’re my friends. I’d do the same for any friend, and have, for Dan. Lastly, they say that it wasn’t used to its full potential as a send-off because Caitlin wasn’t there as much as she could have been, and wasn’t the center of attention. Well, she got to say good-bye to everybody, so mission accomplished there. And everyone had a great time. You see, these comments, and the party itself, made me think of long ago, when friends and relatives lived so far away from each other that they cherished any time they could possibly get together, and made any of those times into a rockin’ party. Weddings, christenings, the reading of a will, and who doesn’t love a good ol’ Irish funeral? What? Me ma died? Well then get some a tha lads tahgether, an’ well have some drinks! Everyone enjoyed the party, so, when you come right down to it, what else matters? And a big thanks to Tones McKenzie, who let us use his house, and without whom none of the festivities woulda been possible. You're the man, Tones.
Friends: How about we learn about one a my bestest amigos? Kay? Kay. Today I’d like to tell you about Andrew LeTellier. My friendship with this good-hearted, if lanky fella began in sophomore year. Between staring at Ms. Blainey’s ass, we exchanged jokes and info on our favorite bands. We lived in up in Mr. Frigg’s class, and invented the now uber-popular "Movie Game." At which we were evenly matched. Now, if the relationship had stopped progressing here, if all I knew of Andrew was that he was an hilarious gangly jester of a kid, with the best taste in music and movies of anyone I know, counting myself, I’d still think he was awesome, and count him among my best friends. But, over the next two years we grew much closer. We saw films together, worked diligently on art projects and scripts, and created a unique brand of humor that only we share. I oddly enough have more in common with Andrew (despite our startlingly different appearances) than any other friend. Over the past three years I have come to know Andrew as an intelligent, hard-working, compassionate guy. He’s naturally great with children, but gets along well with people of all ages. He has a strong spiritual sense. Andrew loves people, he loves life, he loves God. He loves Ultimate Frisbee. He can, as mentioned in past blogs, be at once fiercely competitive and kind and encouraging while playing sports and games. He has an inhuman appetite, so eating out with him . . . and by that I mean going out to eat is always a treat. He cares about his friends. He loves to make up stories and songs on the spot. This is his closest to pure comedic genius. We work very well as a comedy team, which I love. I feel closer to Andrew than most of my friends. Some of the greatest experiences I’ve had over my time in high school have been working with Andrew on scripts or artwork for retreats. Andrew is the most human of my friends. He is strongly influenced by things like lust or jealousy, but on the rare occasion he does not triumph over them, he is completely repentant. He may be the most human, but Andrew, with his desire to make those around him laugh, with his spirituality, his concern for others, his dream to make the world better through teaching, is also the closest to being divine.
Music: Friday night I had the pleasure/pain of going to a Dave Matthew’s Band concert at the Meadows. Here’s the lowdown on the overall experience: It was not too great. First off, they were lawn seats. This wouldn’t have been so bad if it wasn’t so packed. The security personnel were all assholes and wouldn’t let us bring our blanket in, which means we had to throw it over the fence and leave it vulnerable to thieves. Back to security: I realize that dealing with drunken idiots all day isn’t fun, but I still find it so hard to sympathize with these cocksuckers. Like the guy who saw me peering through the fence on the way out, looking for the blanket, and shined his flashlight in my eyes, saying, "Where you headed, bro?" First off, don’t call me bro, you stupid bastard. Secondly, I’m not drunk. Unbelievable, I know, based on the wasted jackasses you guys let in here. Third, just because you carry a flashlight and wear the same polo as three other assholes with flashlights doesn’t mean you’re cool. So shut up. Oh, by the way, nice move letting my brother walk in with a knife, and the guys next to us with pot, but you stopped us from bringing our blanket. Good call. I feel safe. The worst thing, aside from the 20,000 drunken wasteoids on the lawn, and the security, and the filth, and over priced goods sold by cold-hearted merchants, was at the end, when the security guys allowed us to use one exit. One exit for 30,000 people, and they moved the fence gates the wrong way, in, not out, so they bottlenecked the entrance, making it impossible for more than two people to go out at one time. Not all of the drunks were bad. There was Jan, who made friends with us early on, asked us to watch her shoes, and in return acted as bouncer, pushing even the biggest, most messed up college guy out of our viewing range. And there was the guy at the end who sang improvised songs almost as well as Andrew, and I think he honestly thought I was Carrot Top. Plus, I got plenny of compliments about the hair. And one hot girl asked if she could touch it. (The hair, sadly, but cool nonetheless.)
But that wasn’t what the night was really about. What was it about? It was about the MUSIC! DMB are awesome! In concert they are even more awesome. The crowd was more entranced by their music than any I have seen before. They were near tears singing along during Grace Is Gone, they went wild during Tripping Billies, and they cheered till they passed out for What Would You Say?. Dave one hell of an entertainer. I’ve never seen any performer convey so much genuine emotion. He screamed into the mic. I know that heavy metal fellas act angry, and sometimes they come close to believable, but seeing Dave yelling as loud as he could during the song, veins bulging, eyes glistening, was quite a sight. Of all the musicians who cross over into acting, Dave is one of the few I’d like to see in a movie. He’s just such a . . . I guess there’s no other word for it . . . cool person. His arching black eyebrows perpetually raised, nearly touching his receding widow’s peak, thin lips in a pert half-smile, thin frame moving slightly with the music, he’s like the embodiment of some musical trickster god. The whole band was amazing, though. Carter Beauford banging away at the drums like a happy ape . . . (or the proudest monkey) . . . Stefan Lessard, plucking at the bass while his narrow body moved like a snake, Leroi Moore, eyes bulging, cheeks inflated, like some sort of huge, dark puffer fish, Boyd Tinesy, grinning his panther grin, moving around stage like a jungle cat, and Dave in the middle of it all, some merry ringmaster in this bombastic, flashy, loud and wild circus. Seeing DMB in concert is something everyone must experience at least once in their life. Wowie Cazowie!
And now your Rich’s Joke Corner, housewives call it the Daily:
According to an article in a Ladies’ Magazine, a woman’s sleeping position says a lot about her: Women who sleep on their sides are sensitive, women who sleep on their stomachs are competent, and women who sleep on their back with their ankles behind their ears are very popular.
Police have reported a truck carrying several shipments of Viagra stolen. They are looking for hardened criminals.
What do you call two Mexicans playing basketball?
Juan on Juan.
What two words will clear out a men’s locker room faster than any others?
Nice dick.
Some cowboys were out branding cattle. Their cook saw a sheep tied to a fence and cooked it for dinner while they were out. That night, the cowboys were all sullen and angry at the cook. The cook took one aside and said, "What’s wrong? Did I screw up the cooking?"
"No," said the cowboy, "You cooked up the screwing."
A man went out dinking one night. By closing time, he was far too drunk to drive, so he began to walk home. A policeman stopped him and asked, "What are you doing out at 2 am?"
"I’m going to a lecture," the man replied.
"Really?" the policeman enquired. "Who’s giving a lecture at this hour?"
The man replied, "My wife."
Two sexy college girls were painting a room in a hospital as part of some necessary community service.. After spilling some paint, they decided to continue in the nude, so as not to stain their clothes. They undressed and went on painting. Soon there was a knock at the door and a man’s voice said, "Blind man." After conferring quickly, they decide that since he was blind they didn’t need to put on their clothes, so they let him in. The man looked at them, said, "Nice tits. Now where do you want me to hang these window blinds?"
Zing!
Current Mood: Like 300 violins and one of them is out of tune. But Foamy is the best!
Current Music: They Might Be Giants’ Experimental Film, on Homestarrunner.com.
(As you can see, I had plenty of fun with the new color options)
