Wishful everyday begins right now...

Dear Andy Reid,

This is gonna be a pretty simple, pretty nice letter, not the angry ones I usually write on here. If this proves true, you do EVERYTHING to get him. You trade both of those first rounders you have, you re-sign Runyan and Thomas for a year a piece for as much money as it takes, and you line up Crabtree opposite Desean for the foreseeable future. You've just given whoever you decide will be QB after Donovan's next season on the brink a ridiculously talented, diverse WR tandem which would probably be the 2010-15 version of Smith/Muhammad, had Muhsin not skipped those couple years in the middle. I'm gonna be reminding you of this every moment from now until the draft, or at least until it becomes painfully clear that he's going in the top 3.

Love,
Andy Click me for the rest!

Dear World: learn to fucking read

To everyone who has flamed my Examiner article about Baseball Prospectus, including the one whose comment I deleted today: read the fucking article before you miss the point. I never said stats aren't an accurate representation of what happened IN THE PAST or that they're useless, or even that they don't aid in making an educated guess at the future. I just pointed out that while predicting what will happen over the course of a baseball season always ends up boiling down to a crap shoot, fivethirtyeight.com made political predictions an actual science. Stop acting like I dissed your beloved Nate Silver. All I said is that if they need to be prognosticating, they should perhaps find a field they have a better chance of predicting accurately.

Love,
Mgmt. Click me for the rest!

I'm a new drug who's trafficked through far and distant lands...

So, as some of you know, examiner.com recently offered me a spot writing about the Philadelphian in New York's perspective on the Philly/New York teams and rivalries...sorta like Sleeping with the Enemy except there's no sleeping with anyone. So, that means the vast majority of my sports posts will go there, not here...but fret not, there'll be links. And i expect them clicked. And perhaps someday, we'll grow to the comments phase? I know there are a few of you reading this, you've admitted as much to me in person. Anyway, my first post went up today...it got buried on the 2nd page of Examiner's New York channel by the time it got approved, but that's why you've got me, right? Without further ado...

Why the Mets are doomed to fail again in 2009

Click, comment, but most of all keep checking back because there is sure to be more where that came from.

P.S. Expect more Forgive Durden lyrics, too. Holy awesome. Wish I had gotten to that party like 2 years earlier.

P.P.S. I went to Ben Folds last night. It was awesome. I have the set list, but there's not a ton more I have to say about it other than I adore Ben Folds and every time I see him he nails every note of every song and entertains the living hell out of the crowd. So if you want the set list...you must ask for it. Click me for the rest!

Further proof that our world is doomed...

So, the world's most annoying no-talent assclown is at it again. Am I the only one who remembers that the last time we devoted any attention to this dickwad, he was not only a complete and utter waste of time, he also FAILED. For christ's sake, as Chris Rock put it, this is a trickless fucking magician. And one who can't even achieve the ridiculous things he sets out to achieve. He literally wouldn't get past the first round of America's Got Talent...much as i love that show, this isn't exactly the Metropolitan Opera we're discussing. I'm not going to sit here and say I want any ill to befall him, but I beg of you world, when he fails again (i'm praying because his catheter bursts and covers his entire head and torso in urine) let this be the last time anyone is desperate enough to draw a crowd to actually grant this asshole the space or time of day necessary to suck so badly at life. Click me for the rest!

So here I am, it's in my hands, and I'll savor every moment of this

So, I don't know if you've heard, but it was pretty damn sunny in Philadelphia yesterday, perhaps all part of a grand marketing scheme in advance of this thursday? But never did the light shine brighter than during the nightcap of yesterday's doubleheader between the Phils and the Broomed Crew, as Brett became the first pitcher since my namesake and fellow southpaw Andy Pettite to throw a complete game on 3 days rest. And he did it in 95 pitches. He was essentially one Prince Fielder home run or one Astro hit from splitting national headlines with Zambrano today, but this ain't about bein a rock star and the end result is all the same. Somehow, by the grace of the baseball gods, the Phils have reclaimed control over their playoff fate. Would it be nice to win the East? Of course. But the wild card is now theirs to lose, and there are no two ways about it.

The schedule includes but three more games against a team which can even be described as mediocre, and 9 against Atlanta and Washington. There is simply no excuse for letting the Brewers, who play 6 more games against the Cubs, finish out the schedule with a better record. Don't even get me started about the disgrace it would be if Ed Wade, Randy Wolf, Geoff Geary, Michael Bourn, no Carlos Lee and the rest of the Rastros come from 2 games back. 150 games in, this team has the opportunity to make the Great Drought of '08 a distant, forgotten memory. It has the opportunity to make the 8th inning's metamorphosis from Mr. Tom's Wild but ultimately pretty effective Ride into the DurMadson Triangle nothing more than a post script to the story of what was, ultimately, a wild ride back to the postseason. The only things standing in the way are themselves, and 12 games with teams with a 200-248 combined record and nothing to play for, but nothing to lose. I'm officially out of the prognosticating business, because it's a total no-win from here on out...plus I have no idea what to expect.
Click me for the rest!

You gotta...bereave?

I'd like to have something witty to say about the topic but the truth is it really just makes me queasy. This Phillies team, to put it quite simply, is not a playoff team. And it's not for lack of pitching staff, because this pitching staff is still better than it was a year ago, despite today's 8th inning meltdown -- which, by the way, is as easily fixed as Charlie accepting the fact that Durbin NEVER strands inherited runners. He's had a great year, and while he may be tiring, the truth of his recent woes is that he's been asked to be this bullpen's fire extinguisher and he's got an arm full of kerosene. Either get Brett out of the game, or at least go to the pen before the runner is on 3rd, but Durbin just doesn't react well to being brought in with his back against the wall. -- and it's not for lack of offensive talent, because even in what has been considered a significantly "down" year for the Phillies offense, they lead the NL in homers and rank among the league leaders in runs scored. This team will fall short, and in fact really has already sealed that fate with 16 games to play, because they lack the heart which their 2007 counterparts practically OD'd on. I'm pretty sure his name was Aaron Rowand, and I know he would never have let them spend so long going through the motions the way they have lately. They put on a damn good facade for the most part this year, but the grit just isn't there. The most glaring instances of it have been in games like the one they played Tuesday against the Marlins. Take a team's best shot square on the chin, get back up, and knock them the fuck out. That was the way of the 2007 Phillies, the team we saw for a couple hours about 2 weeks ago against the Mets. But in 2008, when the other team gets up from the Phils' best shot, when things inevitably get intense and the baseball suddenly gets played at a much higher level than what leads to the sorts of slugfests in question, the Phillies fold like a house of cards. They abandon the one play at a time mentality which allows them to fight out of a 9-1 deficit and start trying to do it all at once. And inevitably, fail miserably. Not miserably for them, they've maintained an impressive malaise throughout both the highs and lows of this infinitely compelling season, but miserably for those of us who have come to know it best. I never expected to wonder about the heart of this group of guys again, but I guess that's what happens when a team loses the only champion among its ranks, it loses the mentality of a championship ballclub. My only real hope, and there's documented proof of it a few times on this here blog, is that the one hallmark of the 2008 Phils is that every time they look ready to phulphill my profesy of a phade, they beat someone better than them. Click me for the rest!

Each time you smile, it'll only last a while...Life may be scary, but it's only temporary...Everything in life is only for now.

So, it's official...I'm a derelict blogger. But with no one reading, I hardly think it's a crime. Sadly, the most notable things in my life lately have been the 904 bug bites I'm sporting on my lower right leg, thanks to the astoundingly brilliant combination of Paramore, Central Park, shorts, sandals, and, because she was incredibly annoying in addition to continually leaning back into me, forcing said right leg to get tucked back under the row of bleacher on which I sat, the rather large high school girl in front of me and her two competitively slutty friends. Fuck you all.

I've also finally really started the process of writing my Senior Project/Thesis/whatever you wanna calla 30-40 page paper on essentially anything media studies related. And by started the process of writing, I mean I attended my first meeting (of 7 total) of the seminar whose lone assignment is a semester-long research paper which eventually compiles to about 30-40 pages but must be delivered in many increments before then or else an A paper can get at best a 55 or so. I think my topic, which is due in a week and must eventually be boiled down to a single thesis question, is essentially "What Makes Media Independent?" with, hopefully, the most significant changes to be made to the wording of the question, and not the spirit of it. There's definitely enough there for me, given the amount of literature review required and the ridiculously vast amount of literature on media ownership, and, as a natural byproduct, independent media, and it's definitely a topic I can really dig into, and with any damn luck at all, maybe just have something compelling to say about it.

I felt like I got into a really nice groove writing papers last fall/spring which seemed to always come around to a decent point even when I had no fucking clue what I wanted to say while I was writing them. So hopefully, I can knock one more out of the park, boost my final official bullshit GPA a little more with an A, and finally complete a damn degree of some kind (damn you for costing me an IB diploma, Petrovic. The run of the mill one really feels illegit to me.) In other news, there are some sweet-ass brand name band aids (officially the greatest new tongue twister of the 21st century) with neosporinesque (neologism! score!) antibiotic ointment on them which are currently plastered all over my foot/ankle. Other than sometimes getting a little gooey, they're quite helpful.

Running out of transitional phrases here, those Phlailin Phils have their last best chance yet to come, with 7 games of their next 10 against the 2 teams they're chasing, the Mets and Milwaukee. I predict a 3-4 record and a phairly quiet phinal phade.

Fuck transitional phrases. I'm going to see Ben Folds con Orchestra and Beth(orchestra with ben, who beth and i will be seeing together, for clarity's sake. Not that Beth shouldn't be performing with Ben and an orchestra. Also, I should be linking her name to her blog...but I not sure how spell it.) in Philly on Saturday, which should be quite awesome.

And finally...I still have no job. But at least I'm seeing a couple old friends in the next few days. I'm still convinced that's really the most meaningful thing there is. It's now 2:32 as I wrap this up, proofread, and begin the interminable search for THE song lyric which sums up how I feel. Over/Under at 2:55 AM for clicking publish.

Okay seriously Apple, stop being so cognizant. Whilst I had music ADD and looked for a song which wasn't so sleepy for my lyric (at 2:37), iTunes, shuffling (not party shuffling, for true blind randomness) my entire library, has just given me THREE songs in a row with lullabye in the title (lullabye by Ben Folds Five, lullabye for wayne by Weezer, and lullabye by Billy Joel). It's not bedtime for me until 4. Any time earlier than that that i choose to go to bed, barring morning obligations, is my choice, and it's not yours to influence, Mr. Jobs. Your team of slaves is clearly picking my shuffle music for me somewhere in a bunker somewhere, thus creating the strangely cognizant abilities of itunes and ipods and iphones, and they wanna go to bed. Too bad. Don't make 24-hour devices if they're gonna not only spy on me but try and influence me. That's bullshit.

Oh, also, I'm clearly way too into parentheticals and I think I've essentially come to be a nihilist. But ya know, a nihilist who really loves ancillary cultural institutions like sports and movies which conveniently convey the most prominent signs of our imminent cultural demise. Nihilists can still vote Obama even if we think change is hopeless, right? I like the dude and I like voting so no one can tell me if I didn't vote I can't complain.

It's 2:49. Still no song. What all-encompassing song lyric could even sum this one up? At 2:55 AM I pressed publish. Click me for the rest!

This is why even Barack can't save us now...

There I was, just a walkin down the street, far too animatedly mouthing the lyrics to a song from Where You Want to Be when I saw without a doubt the most undeniable sign of our culture's demise I have ever seen. A pimple-faced geek of an NYU freshman (unmistakable as such with a bookstore bag in one hand and an NYUCard lanyard in the other), smoking a black and mild, wearing a t-shirt with road lines painted down the center, and the words "beatific soul jack kerouac on the road" in three rows down the center. While I'm all for the NY public library exhibit where the t-shirt came from, this child clearly has missed the point. Jack Kerouac is not a fucking t-shirt. Once upon a time, before everyone associated the word "counterculture" with a bunch of trippy hippies, it was a concept not entirely unlike dissent, or subordination. If you let Jack Kerouac become a t-shirt, you let dissent become a stylistic choice akin to being metrosexual. Take that fucking shirt off you tool. Click me for the rest!

"This word, I do not think it means what you think it means."

So, your 2007 MVP (which stands, of course, for Most Voracious Prognosticator) Jimmy Rollins thinks Phillies fans are frontrunners. He'd rather we acted like the fans in St. Louis. I wish I could've seen the look on Ryan's face as he and his hometown got pulled into Hurricane Jimmy's path of destruction (which, of course, has made most of its stops in the 1st innings of Phillies games since his return from the DL.) I can't blame you, Jim, for being a fuckin idiot, given you were already playing professional baseball by age 18, and I'm pretty sure "frontrunner" is a strictly university-level vocab word. But let me give you a quick rundown: it implies a)that the fans in question are rooting for a winning team and b)that they're new to the party. So ya know, those 3 million Phillies fans who packed the stadium last year, when Dr. Triple and the bunch stood in first place for a grand total of 3 days, they don't count for shit? All those deafening crowds which clearly got into the heads of the Mets last september, they were only there for the good times? Give me a break. I'm not gonna try to throw the one championship in 125 years thing at you, because I understand you weren't around for that. But you've been around since 2001. So I ask you, Mr. Glide, how many rings you wearin? Shut the fuck up and play baseball because there's no frontrunning team for us to be on the bandwagon of. What you surely were trying to say is you perceive Philly fans as fickle, not frontrunners, because we boo perhaps as frequently as we cheer. And lately, we especially boo you. I'm sorry if your little feelings are hurt, but trust me when I say there's nothing fickle and no frontrunning about it. Any fan who wouldn't boo a reigning MVP having statistically his worst season, getting repeatedly benched for a lack of effort and a negative attitude, and doing so all while running his usually tolerable mouth, simply doesn't care. I watched your one good game in August (which, as I worried at the time, was entirely a result of seeing Ian Snell on the mound) and more importantly, I listened to it. Mild applause each and every time you approached the plate, massive applause every time you slid into third base, as well as every time you showed off your sparkling glove and cannon arm. When you strike out on 3 pitches, or ground out feebly to second, or display your vaunted warning track power, we boo. And not, as Todd Zolecki would have you believe, because Andy Ashby was a bust...that's why we booed Andy Ashby. No, we boo you, Jimmy, because we know you're capable of better, and we know this team is capable of practically anything when you're doing it. If you wouldn't boo yourself right now, I would question your loyalty and passion as a fan. I would wonder why you even waste time watching baseball if it doesn't tear you apart inside to see your favorite team's best player acting like the last thing on earth he cares about is playing baseball. What the fuck do you want me to cheer about? Click me for the rest!

And that's why you always leave a note!

What follows is an angry letter I'll probably never send...

Dear Red Mango, Bakery Formerly Known as Beard Papa, handful of delis in my "neighborhood," and surely an army of other PinkBerry knockoffs,

Look, I understand what's going on here. PinkBerry is fucking delightful. Truly wonderful stuff. Every time I take even a little bite of it, I'm reminded of what King Gustav V of told Jim Thorpe: "you, sir, are the greatest athlete in the world." So it makes complete sense to me that you'd all feel the need to start selling frozen yogurt (which, for the uninitiated, is not Frozen Yogurt...it's normal yogurt but frozen and served from a soft serve ice cream machine) but for christ's sake, must you do literally everything exactly as PinkBerry does? The list of toppings was not brought down by Moses from Mt. Sinai. I doubt if you strayed slightly from it there'd be any kind of serious consequences, perhaps luring in customers with the promise of something not available at any of the other bullshit knockoffs: FUCKING PEACH. For God's sake what does a guy have to do? It's summer! Peaches and cream! Need I say fucking more?

Love,

Mgmt.
Click me for the rest!

I have had it with this motherfucking snake on this motherfucking plane!

I'm sorry to my reader if you get bored hearing about the Phils all the damn time, but holy shit enough is enough. The amount of agida I've had over Jimmy Rollins in 2008 makes Sundays with Donovan look like Tuesdays with Morrie. His always questionable approach at the plate has reached an all time height in its ridiculousness, to the point that he is so mechanical I can guarantee the only pitches he's taking he was taking all the way. Lately that's been a few more, but it's pretty apparent he's been getting those signs from the dugout. It doesn't take a long memory to think back to the time when Jimmy was free as a bird at the plate -- you know, like he swings -- and rarely, if ever, looked into the dugout save for in run-scoring situations. But this year, the hole he's burning in the top of the lineup has gotten to the point where Charlie clearly feels the need to micro-manage him. It's simply time for him to vacate the leadoff spot, if only temporarily, so the Phils have a chance of starting games off without the inevitable dose of 1st inning depression. I don't even need him dropped much farther than down to 2. It actually sounds kinda perfect the way Shane's getting on base and Jimmy's grounding out to 2nd. It's almost as if he's focused on trying to move Shane over before he even gets on. Regardless, I've got 5 bucks says if Jimmy leads off tomorrow, our scoreless streak extends at least one more inning. Click me for the rest!

Guess I'll just close my eyes...

...Brett Favre...a J-E-T jet jet jet? Say it ain't fuckin so. I still have no idea if I can actually root for him. Looks like Michelle (she insists I don't need to hide her name and I feel dumb doing so) might get her wish of the Steelers being my 3rd team after all. But this late night post has nothing to do with that and everything to do with my Phils, about whom I have this to say: their ONLY chance of making any kind of a meaningful go of it IN October is with at least two pitchers starting games who are not currently doing so for this team.

As spotless as his scoreline somehow remained tonight, Kendrick is an absolute abomination against lefthanded hitters, and truthfully only has one effective pitch to righties. When he's on, and facing a team which doesn't have more than a dangerous lefty or two, his sinker alone is enough to win us some games, as it did tonight. But his fastball ain't cuttin it against anyone, including righties. He needs to spend some time in Allentown IronPiggin it while he develops that fabled changeup he's abandoned the concept of throwing since the second week of June.

Which brings us to our next conundrum. Even when Gordon is healthy, the Phils' bullpen has been getting to Brad Lidge largely on smoke, mirrors, and Chad Durbin, who no one has even tried yet to pretend is an 8th inning pitcher. His dominance the last two times out aside, there's simply no greater value for Brett Myers than as an 8th inning bridge, a role which would allow him to vastly increase his postseason trade value to a team in the closer market if successful, and further ammunition for the Phils in forcing him back into the rotation if unsuccessful. I'm guessing it would go without saying to most Phils fans where I'm headed with this by now, but I'll spell it out anyway. Their spots in the rotation are then filled by a man who's already on the roster, and didn't exactly take to his first career bullpen outing very well, J.A. Happ, and recently-promoted to AAA Carlos Carrasco, the Phils' top pitching prospect.

While Happ isn't quite a strikeout pitcher, he misses his fair share of bats, has the inherent benefit of being lefthanded, and the added benefit of being new to most hitters he'd face. Carrasco is a strikeout pitcher, and continues to flash his brilliance while constantly showing signs of boredom playing for sub-.500 minor league teams filled to the brim with minor league filler at every other spot on the diamond. Perhaps a pennant race would bring out the best in him? If his first start at AAA is any indication of his performance under pressure, he'd serve us better than what we're trotting out there now. Which, don't get me wrong, I have always believed and continue to believe is the best team in the National League East and a damn good bet to repeat as its champions. But none of us want to see the Phils get booted quickly in October again, and it's just about as late as this thing can get and still ask a couple of kids to contribute anything.

All indications are this team tried to "win now" at the deadline and came up short not on effort but on tradeable prospects/the depth to trade what we got without leaving the cupboard entirely bare. Pat Gillick and his team clearly understand, then, that the future is now, and they also see JA Happ and Carlos Carrasco as valuable enough pieces of the future to have held onto them at the deadline. Neither one has anything that much left to prove in the Minors. I doubt either of them develops into a true ace, but I seem to remember a few kids named Beckett, Willis, and Penny winning a World Series five years ago. One true ace among the bunch and a couple other guys with all kinds of stuff. Hamels, Happ, Carrasco really sound so different? Throw them out there with grampa Moyer, and a bullpen which uses Lidge, Myers, Romero, Durbin, and Madson and this team could at least sniff the second week of October. I just don't think anyone can look in the mirror and tell me Kendrick, Blanton, or Myers is gonna go out there and win a playoff game. At least with the kids, we don't have a clue. Now if only SOMEONE was reading this. Click me for the rest!

Holy Crying Fanbase, Batman!

So...the Phils really suck lately. Have you noticed? 50 days ago, which has a nice, round feel to it, if you ask me, I wrote a rather lengthy, somewhat tongue in cheek post about the pathos of the Metsies, as Keith Hernandez nauseatingly refers to them on an inningly basis, and lo and behold the very same Be Careful What You Wish For department which brought me a cat named Sharpie and a heartbreaking night in Jacksonville has delivered the very race with the Mets I longed for. Unfortunately, it's brought a bit of a panic attack to Philsville.

At that time, the Phils were 40-28, a day away from their season's current high point at 13 games over. As it stands now, following this week's incredibly lopsided on the field, but very minimally damaging in the standings 1-2 series for the Phils at Shea, the Mets are 55-47 and the Phils stand a game behind them at 54-48. One game back with another nice, round, number of games (60) left in the season. That's 60/162. It doesn't take a degree in applied mathematics from MIT to notice a few things going on here. First of all, the Phils have been a pretty putrid 13-20 since being 13 games over .500. Take out the 6-game losing streak which almost immediately followed that mark and they're only a game under .500 over the rest of that span. Hardly setting the world on fire, but hardly enough to sink a season...just ask Mets fans, they played shittier for longer earlier this year.

Which brings me to my next point...Over the same period of time, the Mets are incredibly hot. On June 12, they were 31-34. They were an organization in such disarray, taking 2/3 from Texas at Shea that weekend still got Willie Randolph fired...by e-mail...after the first game of a West Coast road trip...which he won. Since then, the Mets are 25-14. So, I'd be a fool to say there isn't any cause for concern. Clearly, if things continue on as they have for the past 7 weeks, the Phils have absolutely no chance of making the postseason again. Of course, they also probably won't finish over .500. If they continue at their post-June 12 .4117 winning percentage, they'll win 24.7 of their final 60 games. Since we're Phils fans here, we'll be generous and call that a 25-35 home stretch. Meanwhile, if the Mets continue playing .641 ball over their final 60 they'll win 38.46. In the interest of objectivity, I'll follow standard conventions with regards to rounding decimals and call that 38 wins. So when the Phils finish 79-83 and the Mets finish 103-59, I doubt anyone will be too worried about the postseason.


Thankfully for me, the Phils and Mets still have over a third of their seasons left to play, and if the first 102 games taught us anything about these teams, it's that they're both vastly flawed but capable of being the best team in the National League over an extended period of time. The chances of either of these teams, as presently constituted, playing in the same manner as they have since June 12 are miniscule. Neither of them has ever shown anything resembling that type of consistency and baseball teams simply don't win 64% of their games. I wouldn't pretend the phils can't be as bad as a .412 team, but I'm gonna go out boldly on that limb and say that if J-Roll can manage the simple fucking task of following the two easiest rules on earth, the Phils will play better down the stretch. It's with that, that I get to the true reason for my post...my brethren in Phillies land need a hug. Badly. And perhaps after the hug, someone slapping them across the face and screaming man the fuck up, there's 60 games left to play. As always, the best-written and most heartfelt take on the subject goes to Jason Weitzel at Beerleaguer, who, in quintessentially Philadelphian fashion, has gone off the deep end. I'll end this beast with a snippet from Beerleaguer. Jason, if you ever need cheering up, remember you have readers who generate hundreds of interesting, passionate comments over the course of even the most mundane Phils game...I'm pretty sure 3 people know I'm here thus far.

"This team has problems, brother. Do they ever. Chief among them: the New York Mets, who were better than the Phillies in approximately 26 out of 27 innings this series. Perez becomes the latest pitcher to set a season high against the vaunted Phillies offense. A close second: the vaunted Phillies offense, past the point where dysfunction can be blamed on "pressing." Third, the Marlins. Or the pitching. Take your pick.

So is it inappropriate to use the word "collapse" in July? Because this one is starting to mix in all the wonderful ingredients (comfortable lead followed by controversy, dysfunction, underachieving) that sunk the Mets in '07.

Or do we skip all that and say the Phillies just aren't good enough?"

Click me for the rest!

If you don't like it, you can shove it, but you don't like it, you love it, so I'll be up here in a rage till they pull the curtain down on this stage

So...let's see if I remember how to do this. It's been quite a while since I've had a public conversation with myself, and truth be told it doesn't quite feel like second nature as it once did. But alas, I press on, as my pseudonym's inspiration would demand. I suppose the most logical place to kick this off would be with some sort of an introduction. So welcome, I guess, to my brand new little corner of the Internet.

I'm not really convinced anyone will read this at all, but I'm quite certain no one is going to arrive here who didn't come knowing exactly who I am and what I'm all about, so I'll spare you the personal history. What I would guess is more interesting to any of you who have landed here anyway is where I've been, because, save for a few exceptions, I really haven't spoken to or seen the people who would be interested enough in my ranting and raving to be here in quite a while. Truth is, there isn't a whole lot to tell. I've returned to and theoretically graduated from NYU, though not without a couple loose ends to tie up over the course of the next few months. And my beloved girlfriend, who we'll just call ML here for privacy's sake, and I have moved in together, still in the same old DisAstor you all knew and loved (and, it bears noting, would be more than welcome to drop by any time). And that's basically it. For the most part, I'm still the same old ultra-opinionated, never-serious procrastinating addictive personality you remember, falling in and out of love and hate with whatever mediated sludge the world throws my way.

So what brought me back to the world of spewing forth my verbal diarrhea at an indeterminate number of people who simply don't care at all? I'm glad you asked. As none of the people who were once a part of my life and who are no longer need reminding, there have been an inordinate number of relationships which were once integral to my life, and to my happiness, which through no malicious intent or falling out on anybody's part, have fallen by the wayside. Personally, I blame the very communicative tools which let me have this blog. It's hard for me to accept, and surely I'm overstating the matter to some extent, but the truth is, the way we communicate now, if you aren't involved in a never-ending conversation with a person spread across a dozen different platforms, you're out of touch with them. And I'm tired of feeling out of touch with my past, and with all my friends. It's one thing to keep moving forward, but to do so without ever taking time to make sure you're bringing the worthwhile parts of the past with you is empty, and it isn't how I like to live. So this is going to be my place to dwell on shit again, with the hopes that even one of the people I've lost to laziness and the sheer speed with which everything moves now a days will stumble here and dwell in shit with me again, like the good ole days.


All that, and I need a place to post all of my random thoughts so as to maybe shut up long enough not to drive ML totally fuckin crazy.

Until next time, you can derelick my balls, Mugatu. Click me for the rest!