And To Think I Saw It On Mulberry Street

I really wish you let me write that comment to (the bretrayer "Dave")'s UTEP job prospect status. Since (a mutual friend) talked to us, I've expanded it into a full letter. Perhaps I can friend him then post an open letter as a note after I have properly inspected the propaganda newsletter he wrote and any links posted to his wall. I'm sure his response will mostly be concerned with inserting as many $10 words as possible, but let him bring it. The way (the mutual firend) focused on that we have 'wildly different political beliefs' he must talk shit about at least you as a capitalist 'dog'. I don't see how that could be directed at me as I don't lean completely in any direction, but she did group me in. All I know is he friended you and has never even tried to contact me. What a douche.

I certainly know what you mean in feeling alone, though perhaps not in the same context. All my friends have graduated and I feel as if I'm left behind in an empty reality. A dinosaur left to rot. I saw an article on a study that says meaningful conversations make people happier and it proved what I have thought for two years. Everyone is such idiots focused on things and grades. I used to have informed philosophical, political, and scientific discussions with people I truly respected, but I was left behind to try to convey what I thought were simple ideas to what are now my friends.

What do my professors know? They were too scared of the real world and ran back to a place where they were supported by the barrier to entry of a degree that made them necessary to budding children. While it's possible, I doubt they are ready for a true paradigm shift. I see myself as a new Renaissance Man, though I will let others define my skill level. Do my professors hate me for my freedom from a specialty? They constantly suggest I go to grad school and give up this undergrad stuff. "What's the point of 3 bachelors? That's like 3 high school diplomas." The fools! Tesla had FOUR Bachelor's degrees. I can already see how different the fields are and how the knowledge of only one would be incomplete. How have they lived so closed-minded a life? Do they prop themselves up with the 'success' of their Master's? A Mr. Boffo comic greatly influenced me in high school. It had a kid talking to his guidance counselor saying "I want to know more and more about less and less until I know everything about nothing." Or have I failed? Did I give up my upward trajectory for an idea I thought was great as a child?

I've never feared grad school and thesis writing. I simultaneously was president of the physics club and worked on a grant project during the hardest year(based on the collected opinions of my peers) of a physics degree. Surely, no obstacle is unbeatable. But since that year, my peers looked at me as if I was a failure. Why? I don't know. I didn't lose the presidency; I decided not to run. And for my efforts, the next president blamed all his failures on me. Who does that fuck think he is? We averaged 15 or so kids per meeting before I started. I kept that average. After he took over, within a month, only 4 people showed up to a meeting if that. The grant ran out of money before my project was finished. It still breaks my heart, but how can I keep pushing something my advisor has no interest in? And when I see him, he looks at me as a disappointed father would. He gave me no direction. I had to learn about business plan writing myself. I produced the product summary, an early market summary, and an admittedly primitive financial analysis before the money ended and all while one of my teammates worked against me and two didn't work at all (the one other was a great help and was one of the people I mentioned as being able to discuss things).

What am I? A success or a failure? Visionary or delusional? A man or a child?

PS. SPOILER ALERT! There is a scene later in Atlas Shrugged where the 3rd student John Galt meets his former teacher Dr. Robert Stadler, who has sold out to the government. Upon Stadler meeting Galt and without Galt saying a word, Stadler begins to yell that Galt can't make him feel guilty about his path, that he won't apologize for being 'practical'. Is that why "Dave" won't friend me? Because he'll see how different he is, that he's scared of my opinion of what he is.

This weekend was 49er's weekend, which is our equivalent to homecoming but we've no sports teams to come home so this is our excuse to drink. We get Friday off from school and, because the way my friends' and my schedules work out, Thursday was pretty much off too. So our 49er's weekend almost turned into 49er's week with 5 nights to dick around.

Wednesday Night
I went over to my friend's (James) room as Wed. is traditionally the big drinking night of the week anyway. From the hall, I could him and his roommate(Hunter) playing music really loud. I go in and they are laughing while lying down. They tell me to try the canned air James was using to clean his computer. I started to read the can to see what was dangerous about it and he says "Don't read it. That takes the fun out of it." I huff a hit and don't feel anything while holding in the hit. Hunter said "It will knock you on your ass." Remarking to this, I started to say I wasn't feeling anything, but, as I breathed out to speak, I really started to feel it and it did knock me on my ass so my response was "I don't feel it..ohhhhhh."

It got me the highest I've ever been. The high only lasted 2 minutes at the most unfortunately. Apparently, they check ID when you buy it though. At least, when I become a bum, I'll have something cheaper than alcohol to dull myself. It will look strange with a hobo buying computer cleaning equipment,though.

We did that for 10 minutes or so then moved on to just drinking. One of the sayings that pervaded the group we were hanging out with was "It's barely Wednesday night!" which was in recognition of how ridiculously fucked up we were all getting on account of the short week. We came back to it around one in the morning because we were sitting down to watch an episode of Arrested Development. It was really hitting Hunter hard so, in my jealousy, I took a huge hit trying to get that high. As I sat there enjoying it, I started to hear echoes, though it seemed I was only hearing an echo of the sound at parts when the sound got above a certain frequency, which made me only hear an echo of the most annoying parts of everybody's laugh. This made me start freaking out a little which, in turn, made me mentally come off the high a little quicker though my body was still uncoordinated.

Jon Lee, another guy who had come in to partake, had finished his hit and no one was taking the can from him because James was looking up information about the chemical in the can that got you high and Hunter was effectively passed out. So I grabbed the can and took an even bigger hit than the previous one so I was completely fucked. While I was on this high, James was reading aloud that the chemical was a nervous system depressant. As if the universe was trying to prove a point, not two minutes after he said that, I lose complete control of my nervous system.

I had some sort of dream where I walked to another room and fell over and this girl picked me up. This was, in fact, what happened outside of the walking and it being a girl. As I look at the girl asking me if I'm okay, I realize she looks a lot like James and, eventually, I'm back in the real world and she is James. He tells me on the way down I hit his guitar stand and cut my eyebrow open. So I go to the bathroom to clean up and, as I was putting a band-aid over my eyebrow, James says satirically "It's barely Wednesday night."

In the morning, I went to the Student Health Center and had my eyebrow glued shut (I couldn't get stitches.) under the story that, as I was jumping into bed, I hit the bed post with my head. They had asked me if it knocked me out to check for a concussion and I thought to myself "Well, I was already passed out when I hit the 'bedpost' so...no?"

It's already healing well so I'm not going to look like Tony Montana (Al Pacino's character in Scarface), but I had a nasty black eye and swollen eyebrow so I was wearing these big dark sunglasses. I felt like the housewife who didn't listen.

Casino Night
Saturday was "Casino Night" where students are allowed to play casino games with fake money then bid for prizes with the money you win. Most years, they had the same paper money so my friend would keep some money then photocopy it for the next year, but another friend said they changed it to chips this year because when the house counted the money at the end of the night last year there was three times as much from the first guy bringing counterfeit money in.

I had a little bit of fun actually playing the Roulette and Black Jack tables, but every jackass asked me why I had on sunglasses when you only needed those for poker. Of course, I subsequently kicked ass at those games. I would say I kicked the jackasses' asses, but those games are more solitary games so I can't say that.

So, the challenge this year was getting illegitimate chips which I figured out. They gave out $1200 to every student at the door but weren't marking down who came through just checking that you has a student ID so I thought to come in the front entrance and go out the back exit then go back around. We made 18k that way so we cashed that in for a voucher (because the house wanted to keep the chips) that said 18k, but we just changed the 1 to a 4 and had 48. So we had most of the student population beat, but this one guy is some pro (not literally that I know of) at poker and had 117k so we thought we were fucked, but, being relatively popular, when our friends were uninterested in the prizes or saw there was no way to beat us they gave us their vouchers and our pile got huge. Because it was five of us working together, we planned to get what looked like the most expensive thing then sell it and split the cash. When we saw the prizes, the biggest things were a dvd player, a surround sound system, and an ipod nano.

Clearly, we were going for the surround sound because that was getting auctioned last, which would make it seem most expensive so (using game theory if you care to note) we collaborated with the 117k guy, since at the time we didn't know how much we had outside of a pile of vouchers, and he got the ipod and dvd player and we were up against some girls for the surround sound. Since we didn't know how much we had, a couple of us were looking through trash cans seeing if anyone threw away some vouchers. When we calculated how much we had compared to how much they had, the girls had 124k and we had 129k.

So, we get back to the dorms and go to bestbuy.com and walmart.com to price the system and it's only $70.

I guess that's karma considering we didn't really earn any of our money.

Study Night
One dick professor, who is also my advisor I might add, is giving a test Monday, which is not a way to follow a weekend designated to destroy braincells. Since I am also far behind in the class, I though getting some Adderall from my friend(Craig) would have me ready for the test. I asked Craig if he really needed the medication and he said seriously "The doctor said I have no concentration...or something. I wasn't paying attention.", which was incredibly funny and also happens to be, though wasn't intentionally, a line straight out of "Dumb and Dumber". I don't seem to be reading much faster, though. One high school friend had abused it the way I am doing today and he had made it sound like your mind becomes a focused laser, but my daydreaming just seems to be going faster thus taking up less time which is what I want I guess. We'll see how the test goes.

This all happened hours after Jessica's wedding so, if it's anyone's fault...

After we left the winery, Chris and I changed at my house. Because he was
supposedly already too drunk to drive, he left his car at my house and I
drove us to Juarez to meet up with some people. After several unremarkable
hours, Chris and I decided to go do something else.

We hop in the car to go somewhere else and, upon pulling out of the
parking lot, we were immediately pulled over. The cop walks up to the car
and the first thing he asks is if I've been drinking. I say only a couple,
which is more than a lie. He clearly senses this lie and says he "smells a
strong scent of alcohol." I have to step out of the car and do some tests
of balance heavily biased towards making the person look drunk. I can't
see how if I didn't pass them anyone could have passed them, but it's not
like I can say anything because I am, though not greatly, "under the
influence."

The police officer says I have to call someone to pick me up or else I
will be arrested. This process made me wonder how things worked in the
days before cell phones. For whatever reason, I have to sit in the
backseat of his cruiser while I do this. Let me tell you, nothing is more
uncomfortable than that molded plastic called a seat. So I call everyone
in my phonebook and finally someone answers who hasn't also been drinking.
Another half hour of waiting and finally Danny gets there.

We figure out some way to get Danny's and my car away from the cops so I
can drive home, though I will take most of the credit for the genius.
Danny goes home and Chris and I sit around for a while at my dad's office
trying to get the alcohol out of our system. After about ten minutes of
sobering up, I decide it's time to drink again.

My cousin turns out to be at some party so we head there. It was dumb. No
further detail needed.

The DUI ended up costing only $35.00 so I'm content.

It seems God is trying to tell me to stop driving, which is unfortunate because I love it so. After the DUI, my car got hit by an 18-wheeler. Dramatics aside, driving to Deming, it drifted into my lane and the bottom of the trailer hit the top of my roof. While not messing up anything too badly, it broke all the windows in the car. The driver then proceeded to drive away.

The cops came after two hours of my brothers and I sitting along the freeway outside of Las Cruces (read "the middle of nowhere"). Getting my report, he asked if we were hurt. They were fine, but I had the tiniest scratch from all the glass and, unsure of its importance, told the officer about it. He said "I'm sure you'll survive." (Later and still unsure, I told the insurance company about it and they said the same thing, though kinder.)

Our insurance company wouldn't let us get the car fixed until the troopers had enough time to find the guy so the car sat in the driveway for two weeks. One day, I see outside a tow truck pulling the car onto it. I feel relief as they finally came. I talk to the guy to find out the car's been reposessed. So there's another two weeks to pay the bill.

Eventually, the car gets into the shop and stays there for a month. My dad and I go to pick it up to find out the insurance won't release it because the police found the trailer. The insurance wanted to try to squeeze the cost out of the trucker, instead of taking care of it themselves, so we must wait for them.

Friday morning, I got my car.

Friday afternoon, my mom told me the car has to stay in El Paso in order to get inspected by the insurance company. I leave to school in Socorro Monday morning in my mom's truck, which at 300,000 miles is expected to give shoddy performance. I'm singing along to Creedence Clearwater Revival and one of the tires blows out. I pull over and get the tire off. Unsuprisingly, while the tire is off, the jack slips and the disc brake hits the ground. That low to the ground, I can't get the jack under the truck to get it back up. So I spend two more sitting along the freeway outside of Las Cruces (read "the middle of nowhere") trying to MacGyver some way to get the spare on the truck. Using what is more than likely all the luck I have left, I get it on and get to school just in time for the dining hall to close.

What a joke.

Back Story:

I met Audrey because her dad is one of the leader's of my old Boy Scout troop. Audrey moved around since her parents' divorce but she kept in touch with Molly because they were best friends growing up. One day when Audrey was in town, she brought Molly to the meeting and we connected pretty well.

Once I started talking to Molly, we'd hang (and make) out together until it got to the point where we decided to have sex together. It would be my first time and I'm only sure that it wouldn't have been Molly's first time. Now not to say Molly is a slut, but she explained that once they audibly established a boyfriend-girlfriend relationship with each other that she would do anything with him. She also explained that she'd make an exception for me. Obviously, this boosted my ego to immeasurable heights so I had to take advantage of the situation.

Since Molly's parents went drinking every Friday night, we decided to do it then. Considering that I was not yet 16 at the time, I had to ride my bike there. So when I get there, we eventually start making out until she gives me a blowjob. While waiting for the figurative cannon to reload, we make out to keep it hot.I will always be thankful she went and drank a glass of water before we did this because, firstly and clearly, I don't want my own sperm in my mouth (Someone else's however....) and, secondly if I had had to tell her myself, there may have been a dispute and the rest of the hilarious, great story may not have happened.

While we were making out, Molly's parents come home.(We didn't hear them because the music was too loud.) Both of us are laying there naked on the sheets with her parents staring at us. As I try to apologize, her dad cuts me off saying "Just get out." I wasn't too sure how fast he wanted me out so I was going crazy thinking "Do I put my pants on? Does he want me to bike home naked as punishment? Will he give me time to get my clothes collected before he shoots me?" I eventually (really only something like 3 seconds but felt like forever in my head) grab my clothes and just cover up my private parts walking out the door. Seeing me struggle with opening the front door while still trying to keep everything covered, Molly's mom tells me "Put your goddamned pants on." Not wanting to incur any other wrath, I only put my pants on and walk out the door. Outside, I put on my shirt and shoes and stuff my underwear and socks into my pockets. I soon learned riding a bike in jeans with no underwear is hell.

In the summer of 2005, Audrey moved back to El Paso. We got to talking and went on a few dates together, but, due to her lack of social skills which was due to her being homeschooled most of her life, things never really went anywhere and I moved away to college anyways. We still talked, but it was just as friends and not a long-distance relationship.

Upon coming home for Christmas and realizing I went through all high school and was already eighteen, I was desperate to lose my virginity, which hadn't been shed due to several different ridiculous stories.(See above.) I figured the easiest way to do so would be prey on a someone socially-inadept and virtually friendless so I gave Audrey a call. She agreed to drink with me at my dad's office(There is a bed there and I rightly guessed it would be very unlikely for my parents to walk in) so I started to get ready, by which I mean get up the nerve to heartlessly steal a girl's innocence. The only way I saw to get such nerve was alcohol. I was already pretty buzzed when I picked her up and then we continued to drink upon getting to my dad's office.

After a lot of drunken banter and too many of my drunken rants, I tell Audrey "Your hair looks good like that"(which I apologetically admit it didn't look all that good) and I'm in. I begin to realize just what I am doing to the poor girl and have to turn off the lights because I can't look her in the face and turn the music up so I don't have to listen to her as much. Afterwards, I have to go to the bathroom so I put my pants on to do so because it was cold. The whole time I was going to the bathroom I was thinking "Just run. You have your keys in your pocket. You don't even have to look at her again." I didn't run, but I think she could see my distress so she didn't talk a lot after and I'm pretty sure she pretended to doze on the ride home so I wouldn't get too much more freaked out. If you haven't discerned, the event was traumatic for me (and more than likely for her as well).

Top Story:

While coming back home for the weekend, I was looking for something to do and Audrey invited me to the birthday party for Molly's sister Naomi at Molly's house. Upon my agreement, we had to get it cleared with Molly's parents that I was, in fact, allowed to step on their premises without fear of being shot. While I was walking up to the house, I realized that I wouldn't know anyone at this party and alcohol would likely be the only friend that paid attention to me. Lucky for me, they had a 5 gallon water-cooler full of Tequila Sunrise, which happens to be my favorite drink but I am too cheap/poor to pay for them so they remain a delicacy, so I got more than a few refills through the night. I even shared a joint with Molly's mom so either she didn't recognize me or didn't want to ruin the party because of me.

As the night went on, I figured I wouldn't be getting much in the way of sex because Audrey went to bed early (though she slept at Molly's house which is important later in the story) and Molly had a boyfriend. (I'm not that vile knowingly.) However, as I was sitting there watching one of the bands that played that night playing, a girl came up to me and asked if I had a lighter. I said I didn't and we introduced ourselves to each other. She asked me how old I was and, when I said 18, she said "Oh. Good thing you're legal." At this point, I realized it was going to be one of the best nights of my life.

Through whatever turn of events, Lisa and I get to talking later and decide to leave the party for a bit. We go to Dos Lagos Golf Course a little ways away because I thought it would be deserted and the grass would be soft enough to where we wouldn't have to stay in the car and get it dirty with whatever we would end up doing. Semi-unfortunately, we just had a big make-out session. She kept trying to interject these stupid comments, which I got the feeling were just to patronize me, so I effectively told her "Shut the fuck up, bitch" by forcing another kiss over her words. Eventually, we decided to head back to the party.

On the way back to the party, she kept kissing my neck and I would try to return an odd kiss or two while still staying on the road. Predictably, one kiss went too far and we drove off the 2-foot slope on the side of the road. However, while flying through the air before landing, I came to a realization. Kissing + Flying = Electric.

(My car doesn't seem broken, but the interior of my car (not the engine apparently) is now hot all the time though I couldn't be sure it's not just the time of year and the lack of tint on my car.)

When we got back to the house, Lisa said she'd give me her business card with her e-mail address on it.(She works at a salon named West End which becomes important later in the story) Hearing her say this made the thought arise in my mind that I had no idea how old this woman was. Just the thought that I would want to have some e-mail correspondence with her after the junk I heard her spew is ridiculous. That doesn't mean I'm not going to e-mail her, though. Have to line up my booty e-mails. I asked her how old she was and, when she said 28, I said "Oh. Good thing you're acceptable."(I didn't physically say that. Just in my mind.) She wrote her e-mail down and I saw how immature she was. It is "babyducks."

Lisa left the party after that and I stayed because I didn't feel like going home yet though the party was down to less than 15 people by that time. Standing around listening to different conversations, the birthday girl Naomi somehow got next to me and she asked if I wanted to go to the house for menudo. Since when I am in El Paso is the only time I can get menudo, I agreed. Thinking back on it, I don't think more than 100 words were exchanged between she and I, which I felt was incredibly pimp. The only things I really remember being said was some joke I made she laughed at and her asking what was happening with Lisa and I (since her and Lisa were friends).

When we finished eating and Naomi got all the drunken idiots still up to sleep, we went to her room. She said we would have to keep quiet so her parents wouldn't come in.(A lesson I had already learned from them) We were clearing her bed so we could get in it when I saw some children's books lying there and remembered Molly telling me a story about her niece so I began to wonder if this was the mother of said niece. (Naomi is 28.) It didn't bother me once I got the books out of my sight and we started getting down and dirty. However at this point, the Tequila Sunrises kicked in and whiskey dick soon followed.(If you are unfamiliar with whiskey dick, it is when you have drank so much that your penis can't get hard.) While remaining pretty much hard, I wasn't able to cum though she supposedly did so I felt like a pimp. She tried everything to try to get me to cum so I was able to cross more than a few debaucherous things off my list of things to do in life.

The whiskey dick eventually got to the point where I couldn't get hard anymore so we stopped. We put our shirts and underwear on so no one would get too upset if they walked in. Lucky we did this at that exact moment because, just as Naomi got her shirt on, Molly walked in. When she saw the two of use lying there, she said "Oh." then walked back out. Of course, a few seconds later, we hear Molly telling the story to Audrey, who had woken up as it was 6:30 in the morning. To make things worse, Audrey "accidentally" walks in for a peek right after.

We talked a little afterwards. When I saw how late/early it was, I told her I had to go home. Of course, she asked me to stay but I explained how my parents still have this image that I am a good kid and she gave in. She asks if I want to get together later in the week and, despite telling the truth, I felt like a dick telling her I wasn't coming back from school again until summer. She said "Well....you know where I live if you want to do anything." which was really a sad ending despite how much of a better experience it was than my first time, but I really had to go home. So I kissed her and left.

The next day I couldn't find Lisa's business card and I remembered my mom saying in the morning that she was going to go get her hair cut. The more I thought about it the worse it was. Who gets their hair cut on a Sunday? Plus, my mom used to get her hair cut at West End and I wasn't certain if she still did. I thought it would be badass though to see my mom kick the shit out of someone. However, my mom got home after I left so I didn't get to see if anyone won the fight that may have occurred.

First Moral of the Story: Thank God for sluts. (Not an insult. As you can see, I am quite a slut.)

Second Moral of the Story: I don't know what I am going to do once I become too old or fat and lose whatever good looks I have. Guess I better start developing something resembling game to get girls out of their pants.

I quit


If you can't see it, it's here http://members.tripod.com/jschaech2k/0f020bd0.jpg
There's something wrong with me.

Quit funny the juxtaposition of these two discoveries.

"Tears, the first I had shed for many months, streamed from my eyes, and I resolved not to fell before my enemy without a bitter struggle." Frankenstein

"And so it's begun
This is year one
The birth of a child in the form of a man
Wrapped in towel
Passed out on the floor
These drunken hours -- graces deflowered

Cast down by an angel
She used to kiss his weeping eyes
Depressed in her bosom
Tears roll off her nipple

Sweet baby, don't cry...
Your tears are only alibis
To prove you still feel --
You only feel sorry for yourself
Well, get on that cross
That's all you're good for...

And thusly it ends
Depression seeps in on a lonely messiah
Now he drinks with the lepers
Losing a limb, his better half
A glass once half full
A head hung half-mast
He claims he's the victim
Strangled by the nine-to-five
And a pattern of stillness
That haunted this still life

Your tears are only alibis
To prove you still feel
You only feel sorry for yourself
And that's how you thrive
Your sorrow's your goldmine
So write some sad song about me
Screaming your agonies, playing the saint" The Martyr by Cursive

Part 2(What You've Heard Before)

You tease me with all the pretty words
"You're perfect" seems to be your motto
"I wonder what it'd be like if we..."
Always on the horizon of our(my/your) reality
Empty promises seem to be nothing more than
Your desire to hear your voice engage in vapid conversation

You say we should hang out more
I've yet to see anything resembling follow-through
Since you left, we don't hold any weight
On the verge of coming back, we float on quickly
Unless there's a sequel, I don't see this happening
Unless there's a sequel, I don't see me happy

Never follow through on engagements
Willing to give it up for a "much-needed" nap
"You can't expect me to be there..."
Always at the center of my consciousness
Empty promises want to be more than nothing
You can remember as you hang up the phone

Grendel

I read a book called Grendel. Quite good at depicting the fall towards insanity. Here are bits that I liked very much. Some describe what I feel like now.

"Futility, doom, became a smell in the air, pervasive and acrid as the dead smell after a forest fire-my scent and the world's, the scent of trees, rocks, waterways wherever I went."

"So sad so young? And even in sleep?
Worse times are yet to come, my love."

"Tedium is the worst pain. In my cave the tedium is worse, of course."

Soon to come are Girlfriend 44 excerpts.