Happy Motherfucking Turkey Day

Much like the rest of my life, this blog is a day late.

Happy Motherfucking Turkey Day. Mine was the usual. A bar the night before where us vestiges of the old-school brigade drank ourselves silly and began to speak amongst ourselves just like how our fathers used to at church and the diner amongst their own selves. A night replete with audacious comments and bickering and the occasional racial slur which was acknowledged by all parties, which then dove back into their primitive opiates.

Some memorable exchange of the past days was between two friends, one of which is Jewish, the other a Catholic.

Catholic: I've been going to the Jewish Community Center for exercise; really nice too.

Jew: Listen, stay away from my people. The only time I want your kind over there is to put out a fire or respond to an emergency call.

Catholic: Hey, well next time that fire gets going, nobody shows up? Right?!

I won't bore you with any other details. Pretty normal Thanxgiving. Too much drinking. Which I guess is pretty normal, at this point anyhow. Salvete.

Now that you're done devouring your turkey (or a Tofurkey, or better yet your Turdurken), take the time to devour these images:

BUY

THE

TICKET

TAKE

THE

RIDE

P.S – Your momma's so fat she could eat the Internet.

or, as Semesaurus would called it, “the Inter-web”

LAST CALL FROM HUDSON VALLEY

Although this is not a post-proper, I thought I would introduce to you a segment that will be featured on my blog for the upcoming weeks, from time to time, or until I get sick of all the bars in the area. To explain:

In searching craigslist for the cheapest possible accomodations on earth, such as Egypt, where outside of Cairo you can own an entire estate, replete with your own personal oasis, for something like 1,500 dollars month. Yes, so in searching craigslist for cheap property I started looking at the area around here. To this, I should admit I have been developing a fascination with the Hudson Valley. In the words of the H Town Hustler, it is a “very geographically rich area”. In any case, what all of this has led to is my future plan to live in a river-town, an old rail-road town in the Hudson Valley. Probably gonna be north of Indian Point. I may just keep moving north. This, or course, is not happening anytime soon. I'm getting off of track here.

The Hustler and I will be visiting the worst, down-and-out bars in the Hudson Valley every weekend and reporting to you all about it. This segment will be called “Last Call from Hudson Valley”. We will be taking pictures of the locals, the yokels, the deadbeats, the cheap beer, the fat-women, the unused buildings, all of it – in a larger attempt to see “how bad it can get”.

We came up with this last night after I told him I was going to drive out to the Pennsylvanian wilderness and check out the comet that every one has been talking about. Instead we drove clear across the bear mountain bridge, and head over to Peeksill, NY and had a few drinks at the Sunset House. Man was it horrible and we reveled in it. Next weekend will be Fishkill.

Of course, if you have any suggestions, or would want us to report on any local town, please let us know. There are requirements. It must be at least 40km outside of NYC and the local capita cannot exceed 24,000/year.

That is all. Thanksgiving in approaching us quickly isn't it? What am I going to eat for Thanksgiving dinner, now that I've given up meat?

Answer: I will continue to eat my healthy diet of “eggplant and cock” as one outstanding citizen coined it.

Anything else. Nah that's it.

SUNDAY STRANGENESS:

BE

CAREFUL

IN

THE

FOREST

BROKEN

GLASS AND RUSTY NAILS / IF YOURE TO BRING BACK SOMETHING FOR US / I HAVE BULLETS FOR SALE.

On The Bronx

Having spent a few months in the Rose Hill section of the Bronx, I think I'm getting a feel for the area, or the 'barrio' as I'm sure more people would call it. How can I best describe a typical experience? Well:

I go into the Rx to fill a prescription (I've only just begun to understand the wonderful world of prescribed medication – honestly why did I wait so long?) and a little hispanic kid points to me and says:

“Mami, look – dee White Man!”

I took it as a compliment.

Equally as amusing was another misadventure I encountered on my way back from the bodega, where I get a coffee for one dollar. Which is pretty cheap, no?

The Metro-North station's second stop is the Fordham one. So naturally you have a bunch of vagrants at all times….carrying canes and limping…unshaven and bleak dark dismal angry dispositions…anyway

I am stopped at a stoplight. Man comes up to me and asks me for money for the train.

Naturally, I would refuse to talk to this guy. But I'm at a red light, and somewhat cornered by him. So I give him the time: “Sorry guy, don't got it”

To which the guy starts telling me about his troubles. Apparently he had 10,000 dollars of crack waiting for him in Connecticut, and he just took a train from VA to get there, but now he's out of money, and could I please help him?

“No, but good luck”. I wish him all the best. hahah reminds me of Tyrone Biggins from Dave Chappelle.

“CRACK ITS SO EASY!”

But back to the Bronx. In short, I would say it's more like Queens than Brooklyn. But really more like Jersey City, or Weehawken. I'm not sure how to describe it. It's definitely the city; Fordham's main campus, Rose Hill, is adjacent to the New York Botanical Gardens. Of which I have yet to visit. Too busy with work.

Not that you care, but I do about an hour of independent Latin study a day. And a weekly Medieval Latin reading group too boot. Plus my classes; I am taking 10 credits and I've never worked so hard academically in my life. Theology is TOUGH. I just don't have the head for it. At least Augustinian scholarship…I definitely find myself asking more historical questions.

I'm sure I'm boring you with this.. I'm even boring myself here.

I do need to get out. I just can't bring myself to do it. I feel too guilty that I have work to do. And by that, I mean it in a much larger sense. Not just of the semester. But that I spent a year off from academia, and I'm just playing catch up all the time. It reminds me truly of a quote from Augustine, albeit one would have to interpret it differently. The quote is in relation to God, (Augustine had just recently converted to Christianity):

“Too late have I loved thee, oh Beauty, so ancient and so new, too late have I loved thee” – Confessions

It's really a beautiful quote isn't it? I, of course, don't feel that way about God, but rather, adopt it to fit into my love for the Humanities.

Meaning that I'll never have enough to time to learn and appreciate everything that I want to.

But we can make progress! And on that note, I will leave you with my pictures and return to reading some legal documents on Roman North Africa.

STRANGE DELIGHTS FOR VISITORS OF MY BLOG:

YOU

GOT

STRANGE

POWERS.

Take care.

Again….

you simply need to get on. You don't have a choice at this point. If this is all a game, then you are losing. Pride, last night was your greatest sin. I hate feeling overwhelmingly guilty all the time. It makes everyday an incredible struggle. I hate thinking about shoving a gun down my throat or taking a bunch of sleeping pills. I hate not being able to sleep at night. I don't want to give in, either. I believe thoroughly that what I am doing is right. Blah blah. Got to pay the piper.

The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away.

I hope that this buproprion helps out. I hope I can make it through the day. I hate feeling like this. And I know that to not feel this way ultimately will consist of me moving out. Which I can do, right this instant. But I'm trying to make this work. I'm trying to do this the best way that I can see it. I don't want to get angry, not at all. I don't believe that anger is a good emotion, despite what others might say. I simply hate the fact that my Dad can have such tremendous effect on my psyche. I'll be reeling for a few days now. It happenend before and it will happen now. It is taking a toll on my life – I didn't go to school today and I have missed out on my appointments with Arvind and Fr. Lienhard. Dad doesn't want to hear any of this. What you can do is simply sever contact with him. You have his blessing, which really means nothing to him, or to yourself. It is all about money. For Him. For you as well. You do need to be secure to make this work. A good lather is half of the shave. Still, I have commitments to make and I do not feel in the right state of mind to begin working on a project. If I had to rake the leaves, I could do that. If I had to drive 500 miles, I could do that. But a higher faculty of mind completely escapes me at the moment. I feel foggy, like I have no resolution.

Something I was thinking about last night is a situation wherein Brendan asks me, and this is occuring at the Thanksgiving table, which I am sure will just be a breeze this year, he asks me for simple undergraduate advice – what should I do – to which I take a moment (and here everyone thinks how weird I am or I'm just putting on a show or something that they can't understand) and I tell him that before I say anything that I would need to consider what his strengths and weaknesses are, as well as his goals. I then would amend what I had just said and would propose that the most important advice that I could give him, or anyone, would be the idea of Self-Reliance. I would explain how it is very important to be Self-Reliant at all times, because at the end of the day the only person that you can rely on is yourself. And this point I figure my dad would be thinking how he is a self made man and I would argue that he is not, and that he is simply the part of a larger financial system, and if the market collapses, so does his job, but in any case, I would argue that it is important to be Self-Reliant because no one can ever be sure where they will end up. And when I say Self-Reliance, I mean to say it consists of an emotional and psychological capacity as well. Most people would probably just think “Oh I'm Self-Reliant, I pay my own rent”. And I think that statement would be far from the truth.

In any case, perhaps what that shows is that I want to be as Self-Reliant as I can possible be. But everyone has a benefactor. Everyone has to serve somebody. Everyone is part of a larger system. You must compromise in some sense. I don't see how else you could do so and survive.

But I don't believe that writing is going to help the way that I feel today. I think only time can heal the wound, much as it did last week, or whenever I was rocked and shattered by horrible and severe words from my dad. It was like a hammer shattering a sheet of glass. Just lying there, my mind in pieces, this is what I hate. I do not, and should not have to feel this way, in a tantamount sense, perhaps in what way Dad should not be financially responsible for me anymore. Are his words out of love? It would seem that he is pushing me out of the door, but I'm just going to be studying where-ever I go.

Arvind is a really good guy. Manic almost. But a real thirst for learning. There is an incredible sense of urgency that surrounds him as we decode Latin sentences. I feel very badly that I can't keep up with him. The best you can do is keep studying.

Keep Keeping On. Just Do it. Literally, force yourself. Recall the words of St. Augustine – “do what you command, and command what you will”

Which is hard because I feel as if I cannot control my own mind. It has free rein over me. I'm kind of at its mercy. Another argument, another week shattered. Completely gone.

Positivity.

BLUE BALLS

“I asked for a car, I got a computer, how's that for being born under a bad sign?” – Ferris Buehler

Honestly? I don't mean to be rude, but my case was iron-fucking-clad, textbook mate….

I go into the psychiatric office of Fordham. Free health-consultations…I tell the doctor I can't study, have trouble concentrating, coupled with anxiety, is there anything you can do to help me out?

It was a textbook case for an Adderall prescription. Fucking textbook.

Of course, I get the fucking tree-hugger lesbian who works in a detox clinic. I bet she could damn near smell of a guy like me walking in there. In any case, she's wearing multi-colored socks, and wearing shoes a hobbit would wear. She looks very concerned and is staring straight into my face the entire time. Like I was being interviewed. I play the game. I feel bad about this. I can't get my work done. Wah wah wah wah wah.

The fucking bitch prescribes me Wellbutrin. She says this is for ADD people without the harmful side-effects of strong drugs like Adderall and Ritalin. IT WAS LIKE PHARMECEUTICAL BLUE BALLS.

I LOVE THE FUCKING SIDE EFFECTS. If it's a recreational drug, i'm a fucking gold-medal olympic-throro-bred-motherfucking stallion.

What's a guy gotta go to get some speed?

In any case…what else…I do not understand why people from Long Island use these words consistently:

OSTRACIZE

and

GALLIVANTING.

If you come from Long Island, these words are embedded in your frontal lobe, or wherever we store our lexicon.

I have made a friend at Fordham, someone who is taking the time to more-or-less teaching me Latin. We meet every other day in the cafe at Walsh Library and translate about 20 lines of Latin a day. Last week we worked on some letters of Seneca. What a beautiful language. When I start getting a hold on it, perhaps I can write about the structure a bit on this forum.

I do have to promise myself to start writing my papers this week. You can research all you want, but if you don't start writing, you don't start finishing.

What is keeping mankind alive these days? Definitely episodes of The Office, starbucks coffee, vegetables, and positive reinforcement.

http://WEIRD_PICS_FOR_YOU_TO_ENJOY.com:

I

GOT

TO

GET

RIGHT

WITH THIS.

Valete.