Shabotsi!

It's not hot enough. I like my summers steamy, with temperatures hot enough to toast my skin, work my heart until it is pounding like drums heard deep within African jungles, my body glistening with cleansing coats of sweat that shed like an ice robe when I leap into a pool.
The days are long enough. Sunset at 8:45 p.m. is something I try to take advantage of. There is a holy place down the street from where I stay. It's an outdoor basketball court set next to some college dorms with the entire western side completely open to the sun. I'll go there directly after work, shoot around, work on my dribbling. I'll bring an old water bottle full of ice with me and drink it as it melts. The hotter it is, the more I run and play in the great big light, the stronger I feel. It is a very peaceful place as few of the college youth seem interested in outdoor basketball. They are far more drawn to the sand volleyball courts to the south. I am able to clear my head while getting a tan and running around. But it would have a much greater impact if we got a couple more fat 95 degree Sundays. The July 5th Sunday was picture perfect. However, the weather on the 4th was cool and cloudy. More days have been kind of disappointing weather-wise recently. The forecast says 'how about 90,' but the air only gets to 75. Outrageous. And still, I loved the Fourth of July. I want another really long holiday of patriotism and drinking mixed with fireworks and tomato and sweet corn soup. I want to be a part of toasts in a big group, and stumble around and laugh and munch and mack mad game, walking around like I got pocket Aces.

blubdububbluber

I had two-thirds of a bowl of cereal for breakfast this morning. It was the last of a bag of HyVee brand cornflakes and dehydrated berries. Plenty of milk left in the jug after filling to just below the brim of the flake pile. A positive cereal to milk ratio = satisfyingly crunchy. I thought about squeezing some grape jelly on a piece of bread and eating it to make up for that missing one-third, but I declined, telling myself if you get hungry you can eat later.
But for the time being I am stuck at my desk and my stomach is growling. It’s kind of sputtering. I can feel intestines flapping, slapping the tip of my sternum. Maybe I should have had a glass of orange juice.
I should be able to go five hours without eating, right? One of my friends from college just fasted for 20 days. He drank coffee, crystal light and water and handled the rest with mind control. To me that seems like a huge, probably not ever possible challenge.
I’m not someone who skips meals. I enjoy eating so much that a lot of the time I take extra bites of food even after I’m full. I want to be overwhelmed with taste. I’m even up for making a competition out of it, like a King Kong burger eating contest or a Last Man Standing China Buffet all-you-can-eat marathon.
Obviously there is no health risk there. I’m a seven-time Globo Gym Champion. But I was thinking about that recent economy episode of South Park. Randy Marsh was preaching about the need for everyone to be able to control his or her own consumption. Why is it that I perceive the idea of lowering my consumption – say somehow being capable of not buying nonstop beer, wine, cigarettes, Jimmy Johns, Red Bull, beer, frozen pizzas, chips, beer pong cups, beer – as an equally impossible of a challenge as fasting for 20 days?

lock it down

To me the phrase "force of nature" follows the point of my nose.
I'm an aircraft carrier covering all terrain. Volumes A to Z and 1 through 23.

With that in mind, a few goals:

goal (1) -- Maintain about the same weight while appearing to be less of a big chub.

solution mindset: i. think about considering the idea of not using the weekend as a chance to sit in place and drink for 60 hours.
ii. do stretches and exercises and move that ass around.

goal (2) -- write more for 'myself' with the intention of becoming smarter and happier.

solution mindset: i. do it. at will. like it is flowing out into jugs and cups that have to get bigger and bigger to hold it all.
ii. has to involve select reading and the letters.

In many ways, they'll miss the good old days. Someday, someday.

5-12-09

Lunch at a Louisiana cuisine restaurant called Jazz in downtown Omaha. I've never been here before. I ordered a large rootbeer and a crawfish sandwich. And extra napkins to write on. I'm on break from work and left everything but a pen behind in the office. Got on break half an hour late today because The Mall of the Bluffs was evacuated due to a gun scare. Council Bluffs troopers were posted on the mall's rooftop. The SWAT team was called in, as well as canine crews from the Omaha Police department. Nearby schools went into lockdown. Turns out it was caused by a guy carrying a big black umbrella over his shoulder. Somebody thought it was a rifle. I understand the panic. No one wants to relive the nightmares of the Von Mauer or have another school shooting. But by the time I ended my morning shift the kitchen in our building had closed so I had to go out for lunch. When I walked outside a homeless guy from across the street yelled something weird and pointed at me. Or at least I thought for a second he did. A group of homeless people hangs out in that area because people drop off free lunches for them. I had it in my mind that I was going to Jimmy John's, so I proceeded that way while avoiding the weirdos. Two blocks east and two blocks south later I arrived at JJ's, but saw Jazz sitting next to it on the corner of 15th and Farnam. I chose the path less traveled and walked into what looked like a Mardi Gras bar, but during lunch hours served as a down low food spot. I’m eating sweet potato salad and hush puppies. I’m taking my time, fully enjoying 80 percent of the bites that I take, holding off completely scarfing in order to write. I need to make a lot more time for this. I had for the most part kicked the habit of writing live in tune and on time. I shouldn't have. I should have swallowed a web cam and taken hundreds of pictures of my insides, through werds of course. Ah shit I just paid the bill. Reasonable price for a good lunch. I'll have to bring someone back here. I'm always surprised at how contagious laughter can be.

Water

water. blub. blubble. burble. bubble. boil. bubble. boil. burn. foam. flare. vaporize. fizz. fulminate. evaporate. bubble. steam. seethe. smolder. gurgle. bubble. boil. bubble. gush. sputter. burble. simmer. bubble. blub.

The world needs sun. The hood needs funds.

Two Red Bull spokegirls came into work yesterday offering up free classic RB, as well as the new RB cola. I, in my wise and sage-like ways, grabbed a classic, took a few gulps and proceeded to get extremely jazzed up. I know Red Bull gives you wings, but I was shocked at how much energy it gave me. When I need the occasional-to-semi-often caffeine boost I grab 20 ounces of Coke. Always a delicious treat. But drinking Red Bull at midday puts a super-charge into you, like Iron man’s pure-energy core or Scooby Doo’s Scooby Snacks.

I exchanged a couple lines of dialogue with the RB babies, then dove into my work headfirst. I did four interviews over the next two hours. I had been a little down on my new job the last day or two, but I realized I will get what I put into it. The Red Bull somehow motivated me to conduct high quality interviews with conversations that went somewhere.

Three of the interviews included discussion about something called “The Donut Effect.” My beat four days a week in the p.m. looks at people taking an interest in their community. In terms of a city or neighborhood, the Donut Effect describes what happens when the life origin – or core – begins to disintegrate. Most cities start off with a downtown and continue to grow outward. But once the outward growth reaches a certain capacity the core can’t sustain and begins to suffer. It’s the same theory that explains why life is hard in the inner city. Infrastructure collapses. The environment becomes toxic. And the life, the history and the culture that started it all dies.

My interviews yesterday were about Council Bluffs, and according to the people I talked to their downtown has already died. In an effort toward rebirth, people are organizing neighborhood associations and cultural events. Businessmen and artists are acting as partners. Families are being sought after. Walking plays a key role.

February 13th, I’m invited to downtown CB. There will be 40 artists displaying their work and wines from five vineyards. But I probably won’t go until I can get someone to go with. So come on! Restore the core. I can get us into a private party with special snacks.

If you say "real talk" I probly won't trust ya

Jason Chan is writing letters. Glorious. Because of this I have been reminded that, in our hearts, I think many are willing to write letters, but like anything it takes practice to see results.

Don’t feel like practicing letters? Hmm, I wonder what other human stuff is going on.

I really like Rock, Paper, Scissors.

Let's take a look at RPS strategy.

According to the World RPS Society, there are two ways to win at RPS:

(1) Limit your opponent to two of the three throwing options. If you can persuade someone into thinking one of the moves, say Rock, sucks then you can just keep throwing scissors and either tie or win every time.

(2) Use a combination of intangible intimidation tactics to allow you to predict the play of others, like the pseudo-intelligent methods involved in reading your opponent in poker. Be Aggressive. If you talk enough smack you can put your opponent “on tilt” and drive them into a reactive mode, where you take control of the match. Once your opponent’s feathers are ruffled you should be able to naturally steer the action.

These are broad explanations of the strategy behind the most competitive game known to man. Let’s take a closer look.

"The Double Run"
Make a note when someone makes the same throw in consecutive rounds. If they throw Rock twice in a row they are less likely to throw Rock a third time. If you notice this you can protect yourself by throwing what Rock beats **scissors**. Here you will either win or tie unless they throw Rock a third time, which would be weak Rock shit.

Also, supposedly, if you get lost in your own strategizing, throwing paper is a safe last resort. I have no idea if this is true, but statistically, scissors is thrown the least often, about 29.6% of the time. Seems reasonable, right? Noobs and many others often throw Rock.

And I will conclude this introduction by saying RPS is underplayed in homes in America and it’s because all ya'll is bustas.