the end

I have moved on to a new site.

velvetcake

my empire of dirt

Today at work I was hit on by a forty five year old menopausal mother who was having trouble picking up the antidepressants her doctor at rehab had prescribed her due to the misfortunate decision of an Amsterdam City Court Judge to confiscate her ID on account of her abusive relationship with both alcohol and driving. I know all this because she told me. What's worse than the fact that of all the perfectly fine looking women who come by the pharmacy (usually to pick up their birth control so they can have sex with their chiseled boyfriends) this one decides to hit on me? The fact that I actually went along with it.

That's right, when the old hag asked me if she could give me all singles, I said, "You can give me anything you'd like." To which she replied, "Don't tempt me, you see the menopause pills?" I retorted, "Just thought you might like to settle this transaction without cash." She laughed and Phil the pharmacist threatened to fire me.

To somehow make the whole matter worse than this, she had a daughter with her that wasn't, despite the likelihood she had been railed more times than most Taiwanese prostitutes, that bad looking. She was so disgusted with the innuendo filled discourse she walked away.

I thought another person, a guy this time, was coming onto me later. He's an older Italian man who speaks little English and has a very heavy accent. The fellow pulls up to the drive through and tries to tell me want he wants but quickly resorts to hand signals due to his inability to communicate with me. He was making some motion with his hand and mouth. It looked like he wanted to suck me off. Luckily, as it turns out, he just wanted a refill on his inhaler. I was a little relieved but also a little disappointed.


I'm going this Friday to see The Wrath of Kahn. I'm really excited.


--Note--
This post was suppose to be a lot longer but my girlfriend is bugging me about it so it's going up prematurely.

living down a lie

I saw an IMAX film called Mystery of the Nile. It's about a guy who gets so bored he decides to float down the Nile in a rubber raft. He reminded me of those assholes who try to fly around the world in a balloon. I hate those guys. Start a collection, read a good book, or just sit at home and stare daftly at the wall as your dreams slowly pass you by like most people do. And it's always guys now that I think about it. You never hear about a woman who decides she wants to paddle her ass across the Pacific Ocean in a canoe or a woman who wants to break the longest underwater, two person, three inch unicycle run (no joke, that's in the Guinness Book of World Records that I have).

So this fellow prates and blathers the whole documentary about how spiritual his trip is down the Nile. Apparently nobody had ever managed making it down the Nile from start to finish before. No one ever triumphed the four month, three thousand mile journey. And you know why? Because you'd have to be a fucking moron to want to and raving retard to actually attempt it. Try and tell me how spiritual the Nile is when you're getting your face chewed on by a crocodile. I watched the documentary and personally, I think traveling down the Nile is about as spiritual as a trip down the Hudson, which is about as spiritual as fucking your car's exhaust pipe. What the hell could possibly be so transcendental about starving on a leaky raft for four months?

I've found documentary makers tend to regard everything as something otherworldly. A river is spiritual, giving birth is divine, and apparently the panda bear is a god damn saint. You know what? Fuck the river, fuck babies, and fuck the panda bear. You know what's spiritual? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It's all a big farce. Unless this joker found Jesus sunbathing on a hippopotamus, all he did was practically die countless times for the amusement of a group of people who are either so out of touch with reality that they actually buy into his whole free spirit, nature loving, inner soul, hippie ass documentary or so impressed with gigantic screens and surround sound that they'd actually sit through the shit he tries to pass off as entertainment simply for the visual and aural orgasm it induces.

Besides, I say, if you're going to do something stupid, why not do something exceptionally stupid. For example, instead of floating down the Nile on a rubber raft, how about paddling up the river on a refrigerator door, which probably doesn't even float. That I'd watch.


Now I move onto a completely different, but well worn subject. The subject of The University at Albany and my attendance at said college. I have decided, or should I say finally realized, that the professors here, despite physical limitations to the contrary, manage to both suck and blow at the same time.

I think I'm a reasonably intelligent person but despite that and the fact that I've done pretty well at this school, I feel I'm behind in what I know. This is because I've had lousy mentors for my early 100 level courses which are, in a sense, the most important because they are the foundation for all your future classes. For example, Physics-I was a train wreck because the whole first half of it I had this temporary professor from Germany who couldn't speak English. As a result, my basic Newtonian mechanics were lacking and Physics-II was subsequently harder. My introductory Chemistry course was so awful I know for a fact I wouldn't be able to move on to a higher level course. The professor I had for electromagnetism wasn't bad but he wasn't fantastic either.

I haven't had a teacher yet who really showed me what I was paying for (for some reason that sounded very sexual). Not one that came to class and was so well prepared and taught the subject matter so well that I stopped and realized why I was going into debt for my higher education. Nobody has impressed me. I mean, some have impressed me with how much they know but none have impressed me with their teaching ability.

Having a Ph.D doesn't affirm you'll be a good professor; it just means you'll know what you're talking about. Personally, I'd rather have a mentor that's less knowledgeable but a good teacher than one who's brilliant but terrible at communicating his vast wealth of knowledge in a meaningful way.


Ph.D's: all three of my physics professors, both my chemistry professors, my sociology professor, my journalism professor, two out of three for math, greek archaeology, both for geography, and my computer science professor was working on one


Apparently they hand these things out like condoms at Planned Parenthood. Sadly, the best professors I had were for computer science and sociology (neither of which interest me) and neither of them took my breath away.

Do you get this everywhere? I assume you must, especially at large schools. They hire these men and women based on their credentials or how many books they've had published which doesn't mean a thing. People who don't like to teach or don't know how should stay the fuck out of the classroom.


"You can take your clothes
Put 'em in a sack
You goin' down the road,
Baby and you can't come back"


--Note--
I suppose it is possible that I simply have very high standards or have had a run of bad luck. It almost makes me want to be a teacher, but not at a college. I'm seriously thinking about being a high school physics teacher. I think I could be good at it. I'd take my time and think about the best ways to present the information rather than just slapping it on the board... or, I could try to climb Everest with no oxygen or go down the Amazon in a boat made out of silly-puddy... you know, try to find the meaning of life under a rock or something.

day after day

Wake up, drive to college, go to class, drive home, eat, go to work, come home, study and do work, eat again, go to bed. If I'm lucky I manage to beat a drifter or fondle myself a bit but usually I don't have the time. It's a lonely, gloomy routine.

To make matters worse, my calculus of the multi-variable variety professor is a certified jackass. He's from Romania or Belarus; one of those Eastern European, Baltic, bullshit countries - I can't remember which one. The only thing worse than this guy's buzz-cut hair is his ability to explain even the most simple of concepts. He comes in everyday eating his god damn muffin and proceeds to lecture the class in this indiscernible, shady-ass, commie-loving accent, all the while not making the smallest effort to convey the material in a way that even begins to border on what a normal person would describe as clear and intelligible. His lectures are about as lucid as my girlfriend's emotions. Multi-variable calculus is hard enough without help from some Bolshevist, Romanian, asshole who looks like a walking penis. If twinkle toes here had any respect for himself he'd move back to the motherland and drink himself to death on cheap vodka. Every time he speaks, especially when he says the word theta, which he says a lot, I want to commit hara-kiri with my graphing calculator (an almost impossible feat I understand but I think I could do if I really tried).


I also miss my girlfriend... a lot.


"Looking out of my lonely room, day after day
Bring it home, baby, make it soon
I give my love to you......
I remember finding out about you
Every day, my mind is all around you
Looking out of my lonely gloom, day after day
Bring it home, baby, make it soon
I give my love to you."


--Note--
I'm sorry if I offended anybody from Eastern Europe and didn't mean to insult your rich heritage. Honestly, I was a big fan of the whole Iron Curtain thing and with the exception of Poland, Eastern Europe is pretty cool. You've done a lot... I mean, nothing comes to mind but I'm sure you've contributed at least something... Slobodan Milosevic was from around there, Serbia I think; also I heard Chernobyl is really nice this time of year.

in another lifetime

The process of signing up for a new cell phone plan and buying a new phone is far more complicated than need be. It took me almost an hour and in the end I realized it probably would have been easier to jam the phone up my ass than to buy it. There were so many rules and loopholes for the company (in my case Verizon) to rape me and take my money that I began to have second thoughts on my purchase (my mother who was with me outright told the guy she wasn't ever going to buy a cell phone now). But, I needed a phone so I persevered. In the end I got a fancy little thing that I can talk into and take naked pictures of myself to send to my girlfriend. Unfortunately, I had to sign over my life to the company. A little piece of my soul will be owned by Verizon for the next two years. That was my commitment. Rather steep if you ask me. I had never had an actual cell plan before this (I used a pay as you go type thing) and I must say it's daunting.

Not nearly as daunting as going to see a gastroenterologist though. It wouldn't have been that bad of an experience if I had been a masochist and/or had a fetish for older Indian women with bad teeth. Anyway, I went because I've been getting nauseous when I try to eat in the morning and even into midday. The doctor told me it's because I've been taking so much ibuprofen for my migraines. It's apparently causing the lining of my stomach to swell up along with my liver and probably some other shit down there. Ironically, it's also causing me to get headaches. How the fuck that works is beyond me but long term use of the shit will do that. So, now I can't take any pain medication and get to just live with my headaches.

What was irritating about the whole visit (besides the point where the doctor wanted to stick her finger up my ass and I had to politely explain that that sort of thing wasn't or me) is that the gastroenterologist, and then my regular primary care doctor when she sent me over to him afterwards, treated me like I had fucking smack addiction. They're like, 'Alright Matt, we've got to get you off these pain meds. You have to stop doing this to yourself. I know it's tempting to pop a few pills here and there but you have to show some restraint.' What hell is that? I thought they were going to put me into rehab for a couple minutes while I was there. I'm not addicted to Advil, I was simply taking it to deal with pain. I didn't know what it was doing to me. It's a basic over the counter pain medication yet they talked to me like I was doing heroine. Then, to make things even more insulting, my primary care doctor told me I was taking all the pills because I saw advertisements for them on cable TV. I don't even have cable TV you fuckwad. I'm not so impressionable that I'd just start taking medicine because I saw an advertisement for it. I get migraines and the ibuprofen makes them go away. That's why I took them. What a bunch of assholes.


On a completely different note, girls should put flowers in their hair more often. I picture a beautiful girl with silver bracelets on her wrists and blossoms in her curls. She would walk up to me so gracefully, and since it's obvious this is from a Bob Dylan song now, she'd take my crown of thorns. Though, I don't think I really have a crown of thorns to be taken. I mean, obviously the fellow in that song had problems, not that I don't, but none that would require such poetry. I always figured the song was a love ballad but with all Dylan songs the more I think about it the less sure I am. I think it's about a girl but I think he fucks it up in the end. I have girl. Meets the description pretty well - no silver bracelet but she does wear a silver watch I bought her and while she doesn't typically put flowers in her hair she does have the prefect hair to do so.

I was actually reading my girlfriend's blog and listening to this song earlier. She's off to college now and I don't think she's particularly enjoying it. Naturally we both miss each other. I'm just hoping I can make the whole situation work. I don't think I have much of choice since I'm completely crazy about her. I guess I just get to be miserable. Doesn't seem fair.

She wrote the other day and complained that she had to spend too much money on books and supplies, saying something along the lines of 'going into debt for college is priceless.' While I certainly sympathize with her for having to spend a boatload of money on books and supplies (and she had to spend a bit more than most kids because she has art supplies along with her books) she hasn't actually gone into a single cent of debt nor will she ever have to which makes it all a little insulting. Her financial situation is allowing her essentially a free ride at an expensive private college with no loans to be paid back. The money she spent on books came out of either the nice wad of cash she received at awards night at the end of high school or the nice wad of cash she got at her family graduation party where she also received a nice new fancy laptop and printer. And if that money ever runs out there will always be plenty more for her. So, seriously, I give her my sympathy; it's not fun spending all that money but she has it better than just about anybody else. She's extraordinarily lucky and it is a bit insulting to those of us who are going to be well over twenty thousand dollars in debt by the end of our four years (and I count myself lucky for that, some kids have it even worse).

A lot of people don't realize what they have. I'm probably just as bad though so I guess I can't talk. I mean, everyone is ungrateful for what they have. They get use to their situation and begin to take it for granted.


"Oh you big mouth woman you long legged guitar pickin' man
But we can work this out uh huh yes ma'm I think we can

Well I stole the Hope diamond hopin' I could shut your mouth
But how am I gonna wear it if I got to hide it out "


--Note--
Dylan's new album is actually pretty good. Everyone should go buy it... I didn't because I'm a cheap bastard but everyone else certainly should.

"the best you can hope for is to die in your sleep"

I think the great philosopher Johnny Cash said that. I've been thinking about death a lot recently. A former employee of Eckerd just died at the ramshackle age of thirty two. And from what? Cancer. You're not suppose to die of cancer when you're thirty two. Not only that but she wasn't even diagnosed with it until three months before her death. I like how you can be going through life thinking it's not even half way over when in reality you're about to be saying goodbye to those you love. Is it natural to be frightened of getting older when you're only twenty?

On top of that, my girlfriend's grandfather just died. She was at college and called me up crying. I couldn't comfort her. I didn't know what to say and had to leave for work. Really great way to start off the day.

Death really isn't my cup of tea. I don't believe in any of that fairy tale afterlife shit and I don't believe there's a god and a plan for everyone. There isn't any point to life - death is the only thing you can ever truly count on. All I can think about to comfort myself is that hopefully her grandfather had a good life; one that he was content with when he left it behind.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

I might have just bought my mom one of the lamest birthday gifts in the long sad history of lame gifts sons have given their mothers on their birthday. I got her... a microwave. Pretty fucking sad. It wasn't a particularly great one either (A.K.A. the cheapest one at Wal-Mart) and it's by the same lovely company (General Electric) that made the piece of shit microwave of ours that broke in the first place, leading me to pick up this forlorn gift.

I think this little radiation producing box is an allegory for my penis. It's small and very underpowered. Seriously, the cord is like a foot long. Unless you have outlets installed every six inches in your house you're going to need back up in the form of an extension cord (that's sort one of those sentences where I could have just said 'you're going to need an extension cord' but used more words because I thought it would make me sound smart). Basically this gift says 'happy birthday mom; now go heat me up some left overs.'

I didn't do this on purpose - I just suck at buying gifts for people. For example, I bought my girlfriend a watch for Valentines Day (it was a pretty watch and all but still a watch - I think she just wears it to make me feel better). I'm not as bad as some people in my family though. My cousin got a ruler for Christmas once. It wasn't even a nice ruler. It was one of those cheap wooden Dollar Store ones. And two years in a row I got a bag of rubberbands in my stocking. And I'm not talking about a bag of rubberbands someone picked up at the store. This was a little plastic baggy full of used rubberbands someone had collected over the year. Honestly, if I ever get someone a gift that shitty, I'm giving them permission to punch me in the face.


"So I handed him my bottle and he drank down my last swallow.
Then he bummed a cigarette and asked me for a light.
And the night got deathly quiet, and his face lost all expression.
Said, if youre gonna play the game, boy, ya gotta learn to play it right."

a hazy way

The Past Few Months of My LIfe in Short:

Moved to Amsterdam, got a job at Finkle Distributors, quit my job at Finkle Distributors two days later, went camping with my girlfriend and her family in the Adirondacks for a week, sold my 1974 BMW 2002, and currently have tonsillitis, am buying a VW Fox, am about to start my new job at an Eckerd Pharmacy, and am about to go to my grandmother's house with my girlfriend for a day of frolicking in the water (as a guy I naturally try to keep my frolicking at a minimum in an effort to save the pathetically small amount of manliness I possess but since I'm with my girlfriend I think I'm allowed a frolic or two).

Finkle distributors takes care of the ever mundane job of providing local convenient stores with a fresh supply of stupid shit to sell to the constantly increasing horde of stupid people ( these are the type of people who think peanut butter and jelly in one jar is the greatest time saving innovation of their lifetime). My first day on the job I went out with Nascar loving Earl and unloaded goody filled totes at numerous stores in the Utica region of New York. This actually was the better of the two days. The second day I got "trained" to read a list of products and put them in totes back at the warehouse. I did that for twelve hours, from 4:30 PM to 4:30 AM. Talk about a rewarding job. If you want to know what that's like, sit in a chair and slowly jam a nail through the tip of your penis for twelve hours straight. If you don't have a penis, try sitting and blowing one for twelve hours straight. It's about that much fun.

Camping was enjoyable despite the driving. I didn't have to do any of it, I just had to listen to my girlfriend complain about it, which is understandable except I was perfectly willing to do some of the driving if only she would allow my to drive her car which she wasn't. It was fun though. We did some camping stuff and even saw a bear. Though, I think the best part was watching my girlfriend's father get trashed each night and then insist he was as sober as a duck, which if you're saying you're as sober as a duck you're clearly pretty fucking drunk because that's not a saying and you'd have to be drunk to think it's witty.

Having tonsillitis really isn't as much fun as I thought it would be. It actually hurts quite a bit. I have disgusting breath too so there's no smooching with the lady who calls me her boyfriend either. Also, there's disgusting white mucus like fungus shit in the back of my throat. Really attractive.

Having to sell my BMW is a travesty but it has to be done. I got more than I paid for it and I'm getting a much more reliable car out of it so it's a deal; I just wish I could keep my car. The job at Eckerds will probably be crap but it's part time so I can still see my favorite person.

Speaking of my favorite person, we've been spending all our time with each other lately. I don't think we haven't slept next to one another in over a month nor do I think I've gone more than a couple hours straight without out her in that time either. We get at each other's throat a bit more now but I think we've done pretty well considering. Besides, once the end of the month rolls around we're off to separate colleges and that will be that. We can talk on the phone but we'll have to go quite some time without seeing one another. I'm not looking forward to that.


--Note--
Saw Clerks II, Lady in the Water, and the new Pirates of the Caribbean. They were all good. Everybody hates Lady in the Water though, but I think that has to do with Everybody sucking so much. If you don't suck then go see it because it was cool.

my fatherless father's day

After my dad let my birthday pass without so much as a phone call to me, I called him the following day to wish him a happy Father's Day. I talked and he ignored, never making any mention of his only son's birthday. There isn't anything quite like going completely unnoticed by the man who made your existence possible. He promised help a while ago with getting me a car to get back and forth to college; he use to take a small interest in my life but now he's completely dismissive whenever we talk. He's trying to say goodbye as nicely as he can.

I think, regrettably, I must say goodbye to him now. I keep telling myself he cares but it's finally time I accept my father's new life; a life without me. He has a new wife, a new daughter, a new business, a new house, and a new car. There's no room in there for me. I wasn't trying to take up too much space, I just wanted a small slice of his life, but no piece of time is small enough for me, none of his fleeting thoughts are worthy of my image.

A bit of a catharsis for me. If he wants to leave me behind I will let him do so without a fuss. It's okay now.


Dear Dad,

I did my best to make you love me. Maybe I didn't do enough, maybe I'm just not worth it. Whatever it is, it's alright. I do not hate you. I hold no resentment towards you. You did more than you had to. At twenty years of age now I expect absolutely nothing on your part. I free you from any obligation to me, any commitments. Poise the memory of me at the edge of some distant cliff in your mind and I'll let go without any pleas for help. I'll fall to your minds abyss without complaint. I've always thought you were a great man and when I look back years from now I'll remember you as that. Goodbye Dad.

With Regards,
Matthew DeVall


"I'll take my horse and I'll ride the northern plain
To wear the colour of the greys and join the fight again
I'll not rest until I know the cause is fought and won
From this day on until I die I'll wear my father's gun"


--Notes--
I've been meaning to write this for a while. You may laugh at me, this may be silly, but it's the only way I have to bring even the smallest amount of closure to my jagged relationship with my dad. I wrote it tonight to take my mind off something else. It's my girlfriend's birthday (three days after mine) and she ditched me to spend the night with her friends. We were suppose to spend the night together. I gave her my gifts yesterday, took her out to lunch this morning, then to her surprise birthday party.

This guy who's obsessed with her was there. He gave her a $70 pearl necklace. He really wants her and has been writing her little poorly written letters describing how much he wants her. This is really upsetting because now I have to kick his fucking ass which is going to suck because I'm not a violent person and he is. He was in my gym class one year. I use to make fun of him because he spent half the period kicking and karate chopping the walls. He's totally fucked in the head. I think I might run him over with my car. I don't know. I was upset tonight because she ditched me but it's her birthday so I tried to be nice. I told her I wasn't mad or anything and went home. Now I'm home and well, I'm kinda mad I guess. More sad really. Fucking pearl necklace. I need a sawed off bat or something. Maybe a bike chain. It'd be pretty fucking sweet to kick a guy's ass with a bike chain. I'll work it out.

what do you like?

Sex and money. Both of which I've been seeing very little of recently.


My girlfriend said to me the other day that I was very special. Very sweet of her, right? Sure. But I immediately thought special as in mentally retarded. You know, when someone is handicapped they're called 'special' and I took offense. I have since come to the conclusion that 'special' people have ruined the word special for the rest of us especially since they are in fact the exact opposite of the word. They are retarded so, in fact, they are not special and I think from now on we should refer to them as that. Pete Sampras who won Wimbledon seven times is a special person; he did something amazing. Someone who drools on themselves and has to wear velcro shoes because they can't tie a bow is not special. They are less capable than normal people. Being above, not below, the capabilities of an ordinary person makes you special. So, from now on, I'm calling retarded people what they really are - not special. They aren't even average people. They are below average.

All this political correctness gets to me. It's this American Dream rubbish that they start feeding to you when you're in kindergarten. "You can do anything you want if you put your mind to it." Nonsense. Some people can't. I, for instance, could never be a pro football player. It just isn't going to happen. Some people are born stupid (and by some I mean most). That's life. I'm sorry if it hurts your feelings for other people to acknowledge it but it's true. If you're retarded, I'm sorry. But you're not special. Not even close. Get use to it and stop ruining the word or people who are actually special are going to start hurting you.


"On A Monday I Was Ar-rested (Uh Huh)
On A Tuesday They locked me in jail (poor Boy)
On A Wednesday My Trial Was At-tested
On A Thursday They Said Guilty And The Judge's Gavel Fell"


--Note--
I honestly don't mean any offense to not special people. I'm not saying they're bad people or that they shouldn't be treated with respect. I'd hate to be retarded. I don't know what I'd do - I guess I'd have to start by buying some sweat pants and tucking a Mickey Mouse shirt into them and then maybe getting one of those hats with the little propellers on top - hell, I might get one of those regardless. But seriously, retards have it rough and I respect that. I had a cat once. He got hit by a lawn mower. I was sad. I guess being retarded must feel something like that but I wouldn't really know because I am special.

the world needs a clown... fuck happy people

What's the best way to say goodbye to the house your grew up in? What's the best way to leave behind a piece of your childhood that's being forcefully taken from you? What's the best way to spend $280? If your answer to these questions is to throw a colossal party so a horde of vapid assholes can get drunk, become even more retarded, and trash that home you love so much then you might just be as dumb as my sister.

If you aren't busy tonight come on over and enjoy the party; throw back a bottle of Black Velvet and toast to the destruction of a young man's boyhood memories. Join the laughing, giddy throng of idiots as they trample the last vestiges of the home that's soon to be ripped from under my feet. Embrace the booze and drugs in celebration of my torture.


Maybe I overdid it a bit but maybe that was just perfect. It's five o'clock and a couple of rejects went ahead and showed up early. My girlfriend is off at one of her friends birthday parties, my car is out of commission, I'm soon to be without transportation at all, and I have no plans for the night. I just packed a bag with some clothes and my Powerbook. I think after I pick my mom up from work (she's spending the night in the new apartment so my sister and her semi-conscious 'friends' can have the house to themselves) I'll head out on the old shoe leather express and see what the evening has in store for me.


--Note--
I think I have seven dollars to my name at the moment. A friend suggested that I, along with my beautiful girlfriend, should engage in some recreational drug use with him tonight. I usually shun such things but Beautiful enjoys it so maybe I will. She says I need to do something different and fun in order to compete with my sister. I don't really have any desire to anything tonight though. I miss my car. I think she actually wants to stop by the party so I'll undoubtedly end up having to despite my oath to myself not to.

--Note II--
This post isn't funny. Sorry.


Oh God said to Abraham, "Kill me a son"
Abe says, "Man, you must be puttin' me on"
God say, "No." Abe say, "What?"
God say, "You can do what you want Abe, but
The next time you see me comin' you better run"
Well Abe says, "Where do you want this killin' done?"
God says, "Out on Highway 61."