Saturday, November 15, 2008
it happened again.
i woke up from my benadryl induced nap seven minutes ago and i think i had better eat some cereal. my body went into full on red, rashy, puffy grossness after a cyclocross race outside of boulder this afternoon. i took off all of my clothes to take a shower when we had finally returned to denver and i now wish i had taken a photograph because my whole body looked as if it had been colonized (colin-ized :) by the "red plague" (see also, "red mung").
Thursday, November 13, 2008
bonfire of the vanity fairs, trading a rolex for an atladl, and norman, tricia, and grandparents.
denver museum of art with a cossje van bruggen and claes oldenburg.
post-theatre cocktails and treats, one of the waiters was persuaded to eat ice cream with us.
more ice cream, this time made by a three foot seven man who toils away on the top floor of this giant milk pail. waking up early, drinking bailey's, and making ice cream. that's how he does it, three hundred and twenty five days out of the plutonian year.
breakfast (pancakes, eggs, and syrup) with cindy and tara.
"the timeless art of sedution"
the gray foxes were frolicking over all of the bread. red-staurant.
i may or may not have been in last place in this race. i actually do not think that i was, but it certainly did not go well. i will blame poor performance on the fact that i was pre-occupied with looking good for the camera, as my friend bryce was shooting away throughout the race. "oh, there's bryce at the sand pit...okay, look euro look euro, pretend you're not working hard...don't breathe through your mouth. wipe the vomit off your lower lip."
:) - insert name (verb) here.
eric moore - "...i strive to one day be a dave towle "rider of the apocalypse"."
post-theatre cocktails and treats, one of the waiters was persuaded to eat ice cream with us.
more ice cream, this time made by a three foot seven man who toils away on the top floor of this giant milk pail. waking up early, drinking bailey's, and making ice cream. that's how he does it, three hundred and twenty five days out of the plutonian year.
breakfast (pancakes, eggs, and syrup) with cindy and tara.
"the timeless art of sedution"
the gray foxes were frolicking over all of the bread. red-staurant.
i may or may not have been in last place in this race. i actually do not think that i was, but it certainly did not go well. i will blame poor performance on the fact that i was pre-occupied with looking good for the camera, as my friend bryce was shooting away throughout the race. "oh, there's bryce at the sand pit...okay, look euro look euro, pretend you're not working hard...don't breathe through your mouth. wipe the vomit off your lower lip."
:) - insert name (verb) here.
eric moore - "...i strive to one day be a dave towle "rider of the apocalypse"."
Monday, November 3, 2008
"i'd ask for a sharpie and a bucket of ice"
i just overheard this conversation in the library. i was sitting in a corner using the library's internet to watch "frida" for my art history class, and much to my chagrin these pseudo-athletic business school fuckers sat beside me...and started discussing pressing matters (camel toe, facebook, why bitches ain't shit, and "fucking, fuck, ass, whore"[their 'bro vernacular']).
"i got better things to do than vote for his ass" [his ass a reference to barack obama's ass]
"yea, son that's why i didn't register to vote"
"word"
...not sad necessarily because they're under the age of thirty and they don't want to vote for barack obama, but because they don't want to vote. what the fuck. if i was the bitchy, supercilious kid at the coffee shop that writes in his journal, i would say kids at du for the most part are big douche bags (edit: 16% of them). most of them (60%) are majoring in business, most of them (50%) are uninterested in actually learning, and most of them (80%) spend their time working in groups...getting their work done "together". too often i find myself unable to tolerate my fellow classmates, and this is a vent because i was sorely tempted, while i was trying to watch this film, to turn around and ask them to please shut the fuck up.
"i got better things to do than vote for his ass" [his ass a reference to barack obama's ass]
"yea, son that's why i didn't register to vote"
"word"
...not sad necessarily because they're under the age of thirty and they don't want to vote for barack obama, but because they don't want to vote. what the fuck. if i was the bitchy, supercilious kid at the coffee shop that writes in his journal, i would say kids at du for the most part are big douche bags (edit: 16% of them). most of them (60%) are majoring in business, most of them (50%) are uninterested in actually learning, and most of them (80%) spend their time working in groups...getting their work done "together". too often i find myself unable to tolerate my fellow classmates, and this is a vent because i was sorely tempted, while i was trying to watch this film, to turn around and ask them to please shut the fuck up.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
wet jigsaw puzzles, the arctic tundra, and my spanish uncle.
i just bought a three pound bag of haribo gummy bears from cost plus world market. i've noticed that you can get a five pound bag if you order them from this link provided at their website, but this is the biggest quantity you can get at cost plus. lloyd braun told me about them. is it just me or is that a lot of gummy bears? that's a lot of gummy bears! the plan? lay them out on a tarp in my room for three weeks and have the miserably dry denver air suck all of the water content out of them. once their hard enough to break teeth they'll be ready for consumption...at the cinema, on twenty-five mile per hour cycle rides, in the library where i am right now, at candlelit dinners with tito and eric, and of course in my [honda] cervix.
Monday, September 22, 2008
man is born alone, and he should celebrate that day alone...in somber isolation.
before leaving tucson i covered myself in sweat and visited a famous astronomical observatory called kitt peak.
i moved in to a new apartment with "tito" (taylor), a genetically modified human from the future who lives sometimes in brekenridge, colorado. "oh, yeah my friend races for this team garmin-chipotle that finished fourth at the tour de france and you know its no big deal sometimes i train with him and jonathan vaugters, but um you know its like they pay him to ride for them but its not a big deal..."
i started taking classes in the disciplines of archaeology, human nature, art history, and electro-jazz funk.
the japanese stole my idea for an elevator to space. i recently discovered that this is popular science's idea.
i visited the freemasons temple with eric moore and found nicholas cage hiding in the catacombs.
i received a new cyclocross bike after my old one was whored out to some serial killing berk by ben quinn.
i raced my new cyclocross bike.
i went to see sigur ros play...
...with that asshole ben quinn.
i drew some pictures.
this is why you should not try to run a marathon and generally why running is "dumb".
i moved in to a new apartment with "tito" (taylor), a genetically modified human from the future who lives sometimes in brekenridge, colorado. "oh, yeah my friend races for this team garmin-chipotle that finished fourth at the tour de france and you know its no big deal sometimes i train with him and jonathan vaugters, but um you know its like they pay him to ride for them but its not a big deal..."
i started taking classes in the disciplines of archaeology, human nature, art history, and electro-jazz funk.
the japanese stole my idea for an elevator to space. i recently discovered that this is popular science's idea.
i visited the freemasons temple with eric moore and found nicholas cage hiding in the catacombs.
i received a new cyclocross bike after my old one was whored out to some serial killing berk by ben quinn.
i raced my new cyclocross bike.
i went to see sigur ros play...
...with that asshole ben quinn.
i drew some pictures.
this is why you should not try to run a marathon and generally why running is "dumb".
Monday, August 11, 2008
Friday, July 18, 2008
colin... you blow hard.
(lame summer update).
what seems like for-ev-er ago i was at the northern rim of the grand canyon working on an ongoing (eighteen years) research project that studies the behavioral patterns of my mormon extended family, to include non-nuclear aunts, uncles, and progeny. what do they eat for breakfast? why do they criticize the sinners of the family (myself) for polluting their bodies with chemicals/poison (coffee), while midway through taking advantage of a can of "caffeine-free" coca cola [ingredients: high fructose corn syrup, caramel color(?), trihydroxidooxidophosphorus...]? why do they have thirty-two chromosomes like that tang-lovin' lance armstrong asshole? why do they keep giving me shirts for christmas that have red "A"'s sewn onto the left breast? why do they have a picture of joseph smith (the spanish conquistador that romanced/seduced/enslaved pochahontas) above their mantlepiece? why haven't they read "under the banner of heaven" yet? joke...i love my family, but reserve the right to criticize their peculiarities, with examples to include refusing to do the caffeine thing, being lazy on sundays and attempting to allow others to do so by not going "out" all day except to church, wearing strange white undergarments under their overgarments, not bringing their own b to a b.y.o.b picnic, being really into milk, having more children then toes... wait, this guy is mormon also, right? if my extended family represents the far right of the weird and pious, then surely he must be situated at the far left, consequently providing ballast to a ship constructed out of pixie stix dust, microwave ovens, and elmer's school paste by romanian orphans. i have also never considered that perhaps even as christians or jews my family would still be eerie as indiana, and maybe it isn't fair to nail it all under the banner of mormonism. (again a joke, as i am fully aware that mormons too leaf off of the incestuous tree of christian religious denominations).
...?...
oh, i remember...
okay, in reality the project i have been consumed with every summer for the last eighteen years is a study of "how effing great bats are", coincidentally the title of the research paper. in concordance with annual ritual i hike out to the canyon's edge, approximately sixty-four meters south of my cabin, late at night armed with a camera, a pen/research log, a police issue "COPS signature series" flashlight, a large fishing net, and a can of deer mace. only problem with bats is that they are somewhat of a tricky species, due to their nocturnal(werewolfesque) nature. i can't really make out much in the dark most of the time unless i squint real hard in the light of a full moon or make use of the flashlight...and i know what you're thinking, but the whole net thing is to a greater extent rooted in tradition than actual function these days. i managed to capture a bat using the net in the summer of '99, but was quickly bitten in the lower stomach and sent to utah for a series of rabies shots, which also would not have happened in this day and age because since '99 nighttime bat research attire has also changed drastically to now include shoes and a shirt. regardless, i don't need meaningless visual information to study bats, although once in a while it might be nice so that all of the drawings in my research log don't keep looking like pictures of the mothman drawn by richard gere's unhinged wife. speaking of moths, entomologists hate bats, and not for the reason you might think... namely that they are more sexually successful. actually, during my latest eye examination i was waiting for the effects of the dilating eye drops to kick in and was reading this article in some amateur bug collector children's magazine, called "BUGZ RULE", about crime and how adolescent bats have been breaking into entomology departments in universities across the country. the target of these raids? bug collections.
:)
the real fact is that in the last eighteen years my research has yielded less useful facts about bats than the ones in this book, which i read as a child and may have plagiarized heavily in all of those unpublished papers that i submitted to "nature".
passing through flagstaff on the way back from the grand canyon i stopped for a somewhat impromptu bike race and I WON I WON I WON...the category three road race, and i think i placed sixth in the hill climb, which yielded second place in the omnium. yes it was quite neat, and after throwing countless hours and money from my parents (joke) into cycling it was nice to get something back in the form of two checks with a sum totaling two hundred and twenty five dollars, which paid for food and my share of the gas on the car ride home.
weeks later i found myself fishing in alaska with fourteen of my fathers closest colleagues and some of their sons. as one of the only non-fisherman i was unsuccessful in catching fish for several hours, and no joke i made a deal with some sort of benevolent god of the salmon [and the captain of our boat] that i would consume the beating heart of the fish that would grab my line, and in doing so allow its memory to live on and be preserved in my lower intestine for-ev-er. this was dumb as ten minutes later i was eating the pulsating brussel sprout-sized heart of a king salmon.
in order to make some more money, and thusly fund cyclocross and my chemical habits this fall, i agreed to take care of the pets of our family friend about a month ago. in the span of a month i was asked by three other families to do the same thing...all approximately during the same two week period. i have been cleaning up feces, hating animals, and regretting my decisions ever since.
what seems like for-ev-er ago i was at the northern rim of the grand canyon working on an ongoing (eighteen years) research project that studies the behavioral patterns of my mormon extended family, to include non-nuclear aunts, uncles, and progeny. what do they eat for breakfast? why do they criticize the sinners of the family (myself) for polluting their bodies with chemicals/poison (coffee), while midway through taking advantage of a can of "caffeine-free" coca cola [ingredients: high fructose corn syrup, caramel color(?), trihydroxidooxidophosphorus...]? why do they have thirty-two chromosomes like that tang-lovin' lance armstrong asshole? why do they keep giving me shirts for christmas that have red "A"'s sewn onto the left breast? why do they have a picture of joseph smith (the spanish conquistador that romanced/seduced/enslaved pochahontas) above their mantlepiece? why haven't they read "under the banner of heaven" yet? joke...i love my family, but reserve the right to criticize their peculiarities, with examples to include refusing to do the caffeine thing, being lazy on sundays and attempting to allow others to do so by not going "out" all day except to church, wearing strange white undergarments under their overgarments, not bringing their own b to a b.y.o.b picnic, being really into milk, having more children then toes... wait, this guy is mormon also, right? if my extended family represents the far right of the weird and pious, then surely he must be situated at the far left, consequently providing ballast to a ship constructed out of pixie stix dust, microwave ovens, and elmer's school paste by romanian orphans. i have also never considered that perhaps even as christians or jews my family would still be eerie as indiana, and maybe it isn't fair to nail it all under the banner of mormonism. (again a joke, as i am fully aware that mormons too leaf off of the incestuous tree of christian religious denominations).
...?...
oh, i remember...
okay, in reality the project i have been consumed with every summer for the last eighteen years is a study of "how effing great bats are", coincidentally the title of the research paper. in concordance with annual ritual i hike out to the canyon's edge, approximately sixty-four meters south of my cabin, late at night armed with a camera, a pen/research log, a police issue "COPS signature series" flashlight, a large fishing net, and a can of deer mace. only problem with bats is that they are somewhat of a tricky species, due to their nocturnal(werewolfesque) nature. i can't really make out much in the dark most of the time unless i squint real hard in the light of a full moon or make use of the flashlight...and i know what you're thinking, but the whole net thing is to a greater extent rooted in tradition than actual function these days. i managed to capture a bat using the net in the summer of '99, but was quickly bitten in the lower stomach and sent to utah for a series of rabies shots, which also would not have happened in this day and age because since '99 nighttime bat research attire has also changed drastically to now include shoes and a shirt. regardless, i don't need meaningless visual information to study bats, although once in a while it might be nice so that all of the drawings in my research log don't keep looking like pictures of the mothman drawn by richard gere's unhinged wife. speaking of moths, entomologists hate bats, and not for the reason you might think... namely that they are more sexually successful. actually, during my latest eye examination i was waiting for the effects of the dilating eye drops to kick in and was reading this article in some amateur bug collector children's magazine, called "BUGZ RULE", about crime and how adolescent bats have been breaking into entomology departments in universities across the country. the target of these raids? bug collections.
:)
the real fact is that in the last eighteen years my research has yielded less useful facts about bats than the ones in this book, which i read as a child and may have plagiarized heavily in all of those unpublished papers that i submitted to "nature".
passing through flagstaff on the way back from the grand canyon i stopped for a somewhat impromptu bike race and I WON I WON I WON...the category three road race, and i think i placed sixth in the hill climb, which yielded second place in the omnium. yes it was quite neat, and after throwing countless hours and money from my parents (joke) into cycling it was nice to get something back in the form of two checks with a sum totaling two hundred and twenty five dollars, which paid for food and my share of the gas on the car ride home.
weeks later i found myself fishing in alaska with fourteen of my fathers closest colleagues and some of their sons. as one of the only non-fisherman i was unsuccessful in catching fish for several hours, and no joke i made a deal with some sort of benevolent god of the salmon [and the captain of our boat] that i would consume the beating heart of the fish that would grab my line, and in doing so allow its memory to live on and be preserved in my lower intestine for-ev-er. this was dumb as ten minutes later i was eating the pulsating brussel sprout-sized heart of a king salmon.
in order to make some more money, and thusly fund cyclocross and my chemical habits this fall, i agreed to take care of the pets of our family friend about a month ago. in the span of a month i was asked by three other families to do the same thing...all approximately during the same two week period. i have been cleaning up feces, hating animals, and regretting my decisions ever since.
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