I think that I will make buffalo chicken for lunch. It’s been a minute since I’ve had some really good wings and I gots me a craving. I’m not sure how I am going to go about it, but if it is a success, I will post the recipe. If it is a failure, I will also post the recipe. That way you know what not to make. Duh. Okay. Here I go. Skal. Ezra.
Tattoos are awesome. Some not, but most are. I want more ink. I only have two. One on my right deltoid, my family crest, and one across my shoulders, AEQVITAS. Both are pretty badass, but they seem a little disjointed. I need more to unify them. You can’t see them, unless I am not wearing a shirt. That is my intention.
I don’t find a public display of tattoos in certain industries and fields to be appropriate. I know that it is a reflection of one’s self on your skin. But no one wants a doctor to be attending to them with LOVE/ HATE inked across his knuckles. No one wants to hire someone with a fucking neck tattoo. Why? Because you look like a junkie that made a lot of bad decisions, so you’d be a horrible investment as an employee.
I also don’t think that you should get anything that is visible outside of a t-shirt, unless you already have extensive work that is covered by a t-shirt. Certain industries do allow heavy inking, but I am the first to say that I judge people by their appearance. I look at that sloppy ink covered book and I don’t want to read it or know it in the least. You know why? Because they didn’t have the regard for me in the first place to think about marking themselves up and making me detest them. They didn’t want my friendship to begin with.
I know this sounds incredibly trite and conceited. It is.
I also don’t like mixing of motifs and genres. If you get a tribal armband, stick with tribal. If you get a classic “Sailor Jerry” style tattoo, stick with that. I hate seeing a weird amalgam of tattoos with no unifying theme.
I tan darkly in the summer; it just happens. I wear sunscreen, but I tan. Therefore, I made the decision to stick with black and gray work. That way, I don’t have to worry about my colours fading. Why? Because I’m smart.
I don’t know why I chose this today, I will probably elaborate more later. All for now. Skal. Ezra.
This is fantastic. I love Adam Savage. His idiosyncracies are absolutely fascinating. I feel compelled in the exact same way at times. I wish that I had his resources. Oh, the crazy silly shit that I would get myself into.
In the second grade, I made a 3D copy of our Cocker Spaniel, Amber, out of printer paper and straws. It was pretty boss for a 6 year old. I had quite the inventive spirit. I took apart my little 4x4 electric car. I couldn’t put it back together, but I did successfully take it apart. In my youth, I also dismantled a lamp. Sent myself across the room with the shock, and burnt the carpet, but I did gain an appreciation for electricity that I am sure was on par with Franklin.
I digress, Adam’s insights, ideas, reflections, and revelations are inspiring. I would love to meet this man one day. I can only hope that similar inspiration comes my way soon. All for now. Skal. Ezra.
Period. GFY. Skal. Ezra
I’ve been away for a while, again. I have been really busy with the new job and partying and enjoying the city life. It’s funny, when I moved up here, I met a guy that said that he doesn’t venture much outside of Fell’s Point. I thought this was very curious. With all of the activity happening in the city, how could you not venture outside of that.
And yet, I find myself in the same routing. I don’t drive. I bike everywhere. It’s not an elitist thing, it’s a poor thing. I just can’t afford a car. Someday, I will have one again, just not today.
So, we’ve had a couple of parties. The best was the Halloween party. My costume trumped all others, for I was Ron Swanson. I grew a sweet ass mustache. It was perfect. I’m a little hungover right now. Sorry if this seems a little disjointed. Anywho… I am off to watch some television and vegetate. Skal. Ezra.
I’m getting ready to start a job at a new restaurant owned by an actor in Baltimore’s Little Italy. I’m excited and apprehensive. It’s a new place. I’m unfamiliar with Baltimore. This job just honestly fell into my lap.
I was at my brother’s sister- in- law’s. We were partying hard. Jello shots and video games ensued. Midnight rolls around and I get a phone call from mi madre. It’s midnight. I’m near plastered. She is out for after dinner drinks with her friends and they went to this restaurant. She talked up my mad skills as a pizzaiolo, someone that can throw dough like a beast, and got me an interview the next day. I completely forgot. She brought me a brief of the owner and his restaurant to read on the way up. 20 minutes into the interview, they offered me the job.
So now, I have a job 40 minutes away. I don’t drive, as I couldn’t afford to keep my car after the economic collapse in 2008. So, I need to find a place. I put my feelers out there and try to find a place. I found a couple, but the real winner came when a server at the restaurant heard of my plight and said that she was in a similar situation and offered that we should find a place together. Boom.
Place found. Moving in as early as next week. This is crazy. It gives me a completely new opportunity to explore. It gives me the chance to get back into school. It gives me the chance to be a plank owner at a new celebrity owned restaurant and endless upward mobility.
So, I am apprehensive, excited, nervous, jubilant, exhausted, overcome, and fucking freaked the fuck out. Wish me luck.
Skål.
Ezra
The Rite
Sir Anthony Hopkins “becomes possessed” after years of dealing with “possessed” people. Or he’s just tired of dealing with the mentally ill or troubled and it begins to wear on him. “Exorcism” is magic bullshit. Those people need help. Your magic spells are a placebo. Let a real medical professional help them.
I think that death most certainly has a lighter side. Not particularly believing in heaven myself, but acknowledging that people do, you can only wonder, “Why are people so sad at funerals?”
That’s silly. If ultimately, someone is going to enjoy the afterlife or reincarnation, or nirvana, wouldn’t their passing be a joyous occasion. Fuck yeah. That’s why I want a party.
I want to set aside enough money that I can send all of my friends to the bar for the night, so that they can just get all sorts of shitty. I want them to roast me. I want them to tell my most embarrassing moments. I won’t “be there,” so what’s the harm in poking fun. If anything, it will help them in their grieving process. I don’t want to be grieved. I want to be missed, if only for my absurdity.
I want my ashes to be placed in a papier-mâché form of sorts, hopefully a beast of legend. And I want that set on fire. I, then, want that launched from a fucking trebuchet into the ocean. I want there to be a gigantic explosion, because, there will be dynamite in the papier-mâché beast of legend.
That will be it. I will have a lawyer scribe that into my will. I just had that thought and thought that I would share.
All for now. Skål.
Ezra
He’s a talented guy. That is beyond question. His humour is intelligent, insightful, and insulting. He cleverly twists phrases, makes obscure references, and pisses on the people that love him. He seems to scorn his audience for enjoying his art. This makes me angry, because I truly enjoy what he does, even when he is berating me for enjoying it, I appreciate it even more. It’s a vicious cycle. In the end, I am pissed to the point I want to hit him with a baseball bat. I can’t find the speaker of it but someone said of Charlie Chaplin, “If he weren’t suck a great dancer, I’d break his fucking legs.”
That’s kind of how it is.
But Charlie Chaplin also said, “Actors search for rejection. If they don’t get it they reject themselves.”
But God Damn You, Bo. You fucking ass clown. If you want to be a martyr, feel free to give away your fortune, perform free concerts or benefits, and live in squalor. Until then just play the fucking piano. I don’t want to be insulted. I could go to any bar and start making vulgar comments to a hot chick and get that. Tell your jokes, sing your songs. Douche Fuck.
So, I met my niece, Camilla,(http://www.kovd.tumblr.com/) for the second time today. It’s crazy to marvel at how fast they grow. In a recent conversation with a friend, we were discussing gestation of every other mammal and how their offspring come out ready to walk and almost forage on their own. Human babies come out and they are almost still larval. Their exoskeleton has yet to harden. They need to be constantly tended to. They aren’t able to run, they don’t have any teeth and their communication skills are limited to burping, screaming and cooing. I’m excited to have kids someday. I’m terrified, and have no desire to do it right now. I could not responsibly rear a child right now. But when the moment comes, I feel that I will be better prepared than most. All for now.
Skål.
Ezra
