Blog is in the house... My new house.

I finally found a place to rest my weary head. I must admit it is not in the location that I had originally planned on, but when we walked in we knew right away. If you have not already, please refer to my post on www.thedailyblitz.org to see some pictures and a map.

I was moving some stuff in this morning and my neighbor came up to talk to me. It turns out that she is moving out because she needs more space because she is about to start a local newspaper. It's true, I don't really want to work for a newspaper, but she was very nice and they are really small so I might be able to have more freedom to do like an opinion column or something.

Anyway, it just sucks that it is so far from Denver and I will have to quit my job at the comedy club. It's not like there was a future for me in ticket-taking anyway, but I feel bad because I just started and now I have to quit. They are going to be pissed when they find out I live here:

Back in blog

So, I've really been slacking on the blog recently, huh? I'm sorry, I've just been diverting my attention elsewhere. I worked at the comedy club last night and wrote a few new Autoblogs this week, so don't think I'm not working at all. Not to mention going snowboarding, going to class, going to 2 string cheese concerts, and looking for a place to live. Now that I think of it, all in all I would say I actually had a fairly productive week, thank you very much.

I found this picture online, let's see if I can come up with a story about this guy:

After traveling almost 32oo miles from my home, my month-long journey was finally over. The sun hung low in the sky as I struggled to climb the last final steps, but even though my body ached, I could not help but smile. The monastery was exactly as I imagined it during my travels. Its design was simple; the thatch roof and sliding doors were typical of the psuedo-Asian arquitecture of the period, and upon entering the sand courtyard I had the feeling of being embraced by the loving arms of the sanctuary.

The master was seated alone in the center of the courtyard, meditating in a full lotus postion. His pale, white skin shone nearly translucent in the late afternoon sun, and he appeared to be almost glowing, radiating love and positivity. I dared not disturb him, but he must have felt my shadow on his leg, because he suddenly removed his snorkel and ski goggles before standing to greet me. "It is a great honor to meet you," I began, but he waved his hand to silence me. He did not speak, but as he motioned me closer and handed me the goggles, I somehow knew he wanted me to put them on. What happened then I can never fully understand, but through the foggy, orange tint of the lenses, I suddenly saw the world as it truly was. The sandy courtyard was alive with wildlife and vegetation, and the simple monastery around us suddenly appeared to be ornately decorated with sculptures and murals from all over the world. I turned to look at the master, but he too had changed. He was more than seven feet tall, tan, and muscular, yet I still had no trouble recognizing him.

"These goggles," he explained, "are capable of filtering the world in a way that lets us see only spiritual beauty, for that is the only true form. The forms you see without them are manipulated by evil to make them appear beautiful, and thus make you love evil. I know why you have come to me, for when I saw you with these goggles, I saw the cloud over your head. Come and join us here, and you will learn the way to happiness."

I followed him into a small room on the first floor of the monastery, which he explained would be my own, personal meditation site. I was hoping to rest before beginning my new instruction, but the master insisted that I begin immediately. As we sat down together he instructed me to put in the snorkel as well, and breathe deeply. I closed my eyes and concentrated on his voice while he softly chanted a mantra, and was once again amazed as each breath through the snorkel suddenly began to fill me with incredibly powerful feelings of peace, relaxation, and positivity.

... I think you get the idea, that's enough for now.

Home, home on the.... anywhere's fine, really.

So, no luck so far in the house hunt. We have been able to narrow it down a bit and found a couple of new places, but obviously we aren't jumping into anything yet.

I had an interesting assignment for class today, I had to write a query letter, which is essentially a pitch for a magazine or newspaper article. I really did not like doing it, but it occurs to me that this is the single most useful tool for a nonfiction, freelance writer to have, so I better learn it.

I don't have anything funny or interesting to say today, as usual, but I should mention that I almost died yesterday while snowboarding. I don't mean that I hurt myself badly or that I just fell really hard or anything like that, I mean I was almost literally killed. Everything was going fine until I found myself on an unusually long, flat trail that was apparently used most often for snowmobilers. Since it was about 60 degrees, the snow was the consistency of mashed potatoes, and the trail was even slower than usual. I don't know what it is about going incredibly slow on a snowboard, but for some reason I am about 10 times more likely to fall than when I'm cruising at breakneck speeds. Anyway, there is this snowmobiler behind me who decides to go the same speed like 5 feet behind me instead of passing. Well, naturally, I panicked because of his proximity and wiped out for no reason, conveniently splaying out directly in front of him. Luckily, he swerved just in time and missed my head by about 3 inches. I wouldn't even have been injured. My body would have been perfectly fine while my head was flat as a pancake. It was awesome.

Our blog is a very very very fine blog

Hey kids! Today's blog is brought to you by the word Craigslist, and the letters A, p, and t.

If you are interested in why I don't have time to blog today, you can pretend you are looking at places with me:

2br Mountain Home in the middle of nowhere: http://denver.craigslist.org/apa/292800271.html

1 br Studio Mountain Home near Boulder:
http://boulder.craigslist.org/apa/292978086.html

1br Mountain Home w/ External Office: <-- My pre-visit favorite
http://boulder.craigslist.org/apa/296006345.html

I think I'm going to take pictures, maybe I'll let you in on a few.

Homeless, but not blogless

Well the concerts are over for a few days, time get back to the grind. We have 100 people at our first comedy show tonight, and 'das a whole lotta tickets to tear and credit card numbers to run. Plus its St. Patty's Day so there is going to be green puke everywhere. Awesome. I'm just glad I have an excuse not to get blackout drunk, fall down, lose my ID, and tear my pants tonight. St. Patty's Day sucks because you always drink too much because you think it will be fun and then , 6 hours later, you wrap your car around a tree and/or throw up in the bushes outside someone's house... I've seen it a thousand times.


Anyway, I'm on the hunt for lodging in sort of the Boulder area at the moment. I'm not sure I want to move too far away though because I am starting to enjoy my job at the comedy club and I am on the schedule at least through April, so I don't want to make the commute too long. I guess that's all.



To all the Alcoholics: Have fun getting ridiculously drunk and claiming to be Irish!

By the way, you know what I love about Google? This: You can never forget a holiday with Google around.

Let me tell you a story called the House Rent Blog

If anyone doubted the squalor in which I live, or thought that I was exaggerating, get this: The property owner is in town for a week or so doing repairs. During which time, he takes notice of the fact that I live in the closet, and that I have a space heater because there is no heat in the closet. He is very nice to me while I am there, and I try to accomodate his intrusions. To make a long story short, after I left he apparently talked to my brother and told him three things:

1) "We" told him that I would only be there for a short time.
2) It is illegal for me to stay in the "closet" because it does not have a full size window, and I could be trapped in a fire.
3) My space heater is responsible for a spike in the electric bill, thus I owe more money.

Translation: I am moving out at the end of the month. Since one of us is still welcome to stay and pay $650 to live alone in a dump, my brother generously offered to be the one who moves into a nicer place. However, considering other factors, I am choosing to take this as a blessing in disguise and haul ass out of there ASAP. The only problem will be my job, but that's later...

No blog for you!

Please refer to www.thedailyblitz.org for today's post. I am too lazy to write anything.

When a problem comes along, you must blog it... blog it good.

A few things to start with:

1) I am still going to attempt to post here every day. That said, I no longer care if I don't, and I will not beat myself up if I don't have anything to say or I don't have time. It's just not worth it, you know?

2) Sound Tribe Sector 9 is doing a five-show run in Boulder this week. I am only going on Tuesday and Thursday because I have my class on Wed and I have to work on Fri and Sat, but there are late night shows as well, so it should be quite interesting. The coolest thing, I think, is that the shows will all be broadcasted live on the internet. It is probably no good if you use a modem but for people with fast internet it is worth the 10 bucks and you can watch it the next day if you live on the east coast.

3) Autoblog Latino is up and running. It's funny that at the moment, I am the top blogger with 14 posts or so. The #2 guy posted all of his in one day, like two weeks ago, so I don't expect to hold that title for very long.

As for today's writing, I guess I will come back to this crappy plan Bee I skipped: Write about the last piece of something - pie, real estate, posterity - and the two people who want it.

Stewart Davis cowered in the corner of the cafeteria, trying his best to eat his lunch before anyone discovered him there. As he shoveled the last piece of his sandwich into his mouth, he almost choked. "Gimme your last cookie, Stewart... or else," a voice said from behind him. Stewart knew the voice belonged to Chuck Shaw, and he also knew what "or else" meant when Chuck said it. With those thoughts in mind, he slowly picked up the cookie and began to turn around, only to find himself face to face to face with not only Chuck Shaw, but also Brad Marshall, who stood behind Chuck.
Brad held out his hand, expectantly. "I want that cookie, Stewart."

Stewart froze. "Uh, well Chuck just asked me for it.

"I don't care, I'm telling you to give it to me. If you don't do what I say, you know what will happen."

Stewart carefully considered his options and began to hand the cookie to Brad, but Chuck did not back down. "I told you to give me that cookie, Davis, and if you give it to him instead, it's gonna be your ass."

"Well, what do you want me to do, you guys? I only have one cookie left and you both want it! I can break it in half and you could each have half, how about that?" Both bullies crossed their arms and shook their heads, letting Stewart know that there was no way out of his predicament without one of them beating him mercilessly. With a sigh, Stewart resigned himself to his fate. He stood up to reveal his decision, but then thought better of it, shoved the cookie into his mouth, and ran like hell from the cafeteria.

You took the words right outta my blog. Oh, it musta been while you were readin' it.

So, it's almost 2 am for me, here. What time it is it for you would depend on where you live and when you are reading this, so I will skip that part. Also, I have not yet decided whether or not this post will count for Sunday... It might turn out to be just a late night rant that don't mean nothin'. I guess you will just have to wait and find out, won't you?

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

Ok, so here is the best, slash worst, slash best again (thanks David Cross), thing about my job: During 4 and 7 hour shifts, I really only do about 45 and 90 min of actual, real work, respectively. The rest of the time is spent bullshi**ing, playing with the computer, sitting in the box office (staring into space), telling people where the bathroom is, watching the show, hanging out and drinking free beer. Now, that may sound great to some of you, but there are three very important things to keep in mind: A) After about 15 minutes, even getting paid to do nothing is nauseatingly boring. B) Although improv is "unscripted," there is plenty of repetition from night to night... Hell, I was working the door tonight, and I heard a couple of the same jokes in both shows! C) All the actors at the club think they are SOOOOO effin' funny. We have this post-work pow-wow where we all sit in a circle in this freezing cold back room where all the cast members can smoke cigarettes inside, crack lame jokes and discuss how the show went while the staff members sit there silently and stare at them. I have only tried to speak once and I was interrupted, so I gave up.

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

...AND ANOTHER THING: Don't forget that it is daylight whats-ama-jigger tonight... you know... the weekend when you have a killer excuse to go to work an hour late on Monday. I just looked at the clock and saw that it was 3:30. I was like, "I only had, like, 3 beers!! How the hell could an hour and a half go by while I'm writing this!?

Pain in the Blog

So I guess I missed another day there yesterday... to be honest, I really don't care. I got up late, ran a whole bunch of errands, and tried to write an Autoblog, and then went to Boulder. I never even thought about this all day. It brings me to two conclusions: 1) This is really starting to become a pain in my ass: It is supposed to be a helpful, even fun exercise to help my writing, but it ends up being a chore. I feel obligated to do it every day and most of the time I just don't want to and it ends up sucking and making me feel even worse about my writing. 2) No matter how enjoyable a job seems to be at first, it becomes boring and tedious after about a month. I will never be happy at any job, ever. It's a good thing the only thing worse than work is unemployment.

I don't know what to say... This has been a crappy, crappy week both professionally and existentially. I guess I had to make up for undeserved contentment last week.

It reminds me of the quote by Ray Liotta in Blow: "Sometimes you're flush and sometimes you're bust. When you're up it's never as good as it seems, and when you're down you never think you'll be up again, but life goes on."

Excuse me? What did you just blog?

So I woke up today tired and cranky, and I was really tempted to go back to bed like I always do. I figured it was time to actually get some work done for once, though, so instead I drank a pot of coffee and wrote 4 Autoblogs. I know that's not much, but I have to work at the club tonight too, so overall it will be a very productive day. If only I could say that for the rest of the week... Anyway I think I did a good thing today and I am going to try to see if I use that energy to like, slingshot around the weekend and come out with good momentum next week. It's worth a shot and I have to work rather than go out on Saturday night so there is a chance.

Anywho... Did anybody see the new South Park last night? For those who didn't, Trey and Matt have taken their attempts to be offensive to a new level. For shock value, the n-word was used about 35-50 times throughout the episode. And it wasn't the soft "ga" sound on the end either. It was a real hard, redneck, "gerrrr." Naturally am not offended by this, because I choose not to be, but I can imagine that many people would say it is in bad taste. It's not that I disagree, it's just that you have to consider the context.

For one thing, no black person is ever referred to with the n-word; the first time it is by accident (on national TV) and then for the rest of the episode, people refer to him as "that n----- guy" in disgust for his intolerance. Michael Richards and Mark Fuhrman(sp?) also both appear in the episode to defend themselves, so there is the social commentary aspect. But most importantly there is the sub-plot, in which a little person tries to give a speech on the derogatory term "midget" while Cartman laughs hysterically. He keeps saying that words are like bullets, and they are only powerful as long as you let them be, but he keeps freaking out and ends up fighting Cartman.

I'm not sure what the message is but there are 2 things I took from it: 1) Everyone feels bad from time to time because of the words that other people say to us, even if we try not to, but nobody else knows what it feels like to be black and hear someone use the n-word... nothing else compares. 2) Nevertheless, it is true that words like that are only as powerful as we let them be. Like I said, the word was never used disparagingly, but it was discussed honestly and openly without saying "n-word" all the time as if just uttering the syllables would turn us into ranting bigots. Most people would agree that it is never okay to say that word, but I disagree. What if you are reading Frederick Douglass's autobiography in school? Should only the black students be called upon to read aloud?

Anyway, if you just tell yourself you are not going to be offended by a cartoon and give it a chance, you will see that behind the offensive language and farts jokes is the most poignant, biting satire of contemporary American society in mass media.

Here I am... Blog you like a Hurricane

Here is my writing class assignment for this week, in case you are interested. I have eliminated the identity of my main character for his protection. Sorry it's not, like, funny or creative:

Ever since the fourth grade, C----- B------ has been drawn to the power of rock and roll music. “I was into guitar solos,” he explains, “I liked Dire Straits a lot… and Bruce Springsteen.” The sound of the guitar seemed almost mystical to his young ears, and he was eager to learn more about it. Two years later, he began taking guitar lessons, and a life-long passion for music began. He has attended lessons off and on since then, made friends in the music community, and played several gigs in small venues; all the while amassing an impressive collection of tapes, CD’s, and concert ticket stubs to feed his music addiction. After seemingly settling down to live and work for several years in Telluride, CO, however, C-----’s desire to make a living as a musician shifted into high gear.

After admitting to himself that he was not born with the talent of Hendrix, C----- decided that he needed more structure in order to become a serious musician. He applied to the D---- University music program last spring, and was somewhat surprised when he was not only accepted, but given a partial scholarship. Since his arrival in the fall he has dedicated himself completely to his studies, leaving little time for social or recreational pursuits. While he has definitely benefited from being in an environment with like-minded people, C----- does admit that he is sometimes frustrated with the rigors of academic life: “I don’t like learning, but I like to have learned something, you know? Learning makes you feel stupid at first, because you think, ‘Oh man, I don’t know any of this stuff.’ Once you have learned something you feel smart, because you think, ‘Oh, I know all about that.’”

Nevertheless, C----- remains dedicated to his studies and his craft, a fact reflected by his excellent grades in the fall and early spring. When asked why he is so committed to his goal, C---- openly admits to a greater than average reliance on music. “I’m not very articulate with words,” he concedes, “I can express myself so much better with music.” By focusing on his work at DU, C---- helps to hone that expressive ability and find his own musical “voice.” Although he insists that his main concern is just not wasting his life, and that he would be proud to work in a soup kitchen or invent a revolutionary agricultural technique, C----- feels that talents would best serve the greater good if applied to artistic pursuits. “Music,” he concludes, “unites people like nothing else can, because notes and melodies can say so many things that words can’t.”

Two guys walk into a blog...

The plan bee that I got today is no good. I'll come back to it. Instead: A man walks into a bar, but it isn't a bar.

As Donald Wilks parked his beat-up sedan in front of the back-country saloon, he couldn't help but notice that there did not seem to be any other vehicles around. The door was wide open, though, and as he peaked his head into the dark, musty room he saw that it had been out of operation for some time. Many of the floorboards were loose and rotting, such that Donald dared not take a step past the doorway, and the lack of tables or chairs seemed to indicate that scavangers had picked the place clean over time.

As he turned to leave, Donald thought he heard a noise... a soft shuffling. He turned to look and was instantly floored by a savage blow to the head. He sheilded himself as best he could as his assailant began kicking his back and ribs, but quickly realized that his only hope was to fight back. He quickly whipped out his switchblade and jammed into his attacker's ankle, sending him instantly to the ground. Donald, taking advantage of his opportunity, pounced on top of the supine enemy, pinning both his arms with his knees and holding the bloody knife up to his throat.

"How did you find me?," the man asked. Donald replied that he was in no mood to explain himself, but that he would have plenty of time to put all the pieces together in prison. "I will tell you one thing, though," he chuckled, "you fight almost as badly as you kidnap. Maybe you should think about another line of work."

To blog the unbloggable dream...

Well, the unthinkable has happened: I forgot to post yesterday. You know what that means...

I'm sorry. I let myself down... but more importantly I let you, my millions of adoring fans down. Here is a fun little thing to start the next string of consecutive days. I have to use homonyms, homophones, and homographs:

Billy and Mark playfully shoved each other as they ran from stall to stall at the County Fair. There was a large crowd over by the farm displays, and the two struggled to get close enough, but they squeezed their way to the front of the crowd just as a large, red curtain was being pulled back. When they saw the size of the pumpkin that the farmer revealed, the boys were awed; the sign below the huge orange globe said that it weighed over 200 pounds, but the official weight had not yet been determined. The competition began only 30 minutes later, but Billy and Mark could hardly wait. After asking the farmer every possible question about the pumpkin, they finally decided to make their way over to the main stage where the official weigh station was located. There they waited for a short period, until finally the bleachers began to fill with people and the entries were brought on stage. The final weight of the pumpkin was determined to be 252 lbs. 5 oz., more than 75lbs more than the next biggest. As the crowd waited for the trophy presentation, however, a man suddenly ran onto the stage, shouting, "Wait! Do not give this man a prize! His pumpkin is artificially weighted!" He proceeded to demonstrate the way in which the clever farmer had added weight to his pumpkin, but ran off the stage and disappeared before waiting to hear any ruling. The farmer was nonetheless disqualified for his dishonesty, and will end up waiting at least five years before he will be allowed to enter the contest again.

It's a blog eat blog world

Thanks, Holly.

I think yesterday's story had potential to be a lot longer and I could continue it here but I don't really want to. Sure I could have told a long story, but it would be a long, boring story. The idea of a bank robbery is so cliched, unless you have some new, crazy way to escape or open a safe it's just not worth writing. It was a learning experience though, and I'm glad I did it so that now I will never do it again.

Also, I have an exciting announcement. Yesterday, I received a check in the mail from Philadelphia Research for $75. I know that is not a lot, and it's for a research paper rather than fiction, but it marks the first time in my life that I have been paid for writing something. From what I understand, a person who gets paid to write stuff is known as a "writer." Although in my case it is preceded by "freelance," it's still pretty cool to say, ahem... "I am a (freelance) writer." Yeah, I like the sound of that. Cheers.

Today's plan bee is way more up my alley: Write a scene that depends on the failure of a reasonable expectation (anchorman refusing to speak, faucet w/ something other than water, etc.)

Oh my God, you guys, I have to tell you about this crazy new store in my town. It's called "Plastic." Last week, me and my friend Kelly were at the mall and we saw that they had this new store. So, we go check it out and it is like, unbelievable. They have like, a separate room for all the major designers, and all these crazy lights and loud music... It was awesome. We started picking out all these clothes to try on, and you wouldn't believe how cheap they were!

We each picked out like 4 or 5 things in the end, but when went to pay, it was the weirdest thing. The woman at the desk told me how much it would be, but when I start counting out the money she just laughs and goes, "Sorry, honey. Plastic only." I was like, "We've only got cash from babysitting, what do you want us to do?" She picks up the credit card machine and goes, "Does this look like a cash register to you? We can't accept cash." Can you believe that? Me and Kelly were like, "Whatever, what the hell kind of store doesn't take cash?" And she goes, "This one, and if you can't pay for these things, you'll have to leave," and starts like, pushing us out the door. We were so mad, and Kelly was all like, "F*%# you lady. We can pay, but you won't let us." And she's like, "Come back when you have a charge card." It was crazy... I can't wait to get a debit card.

World's Worst Blog

Write about the one that refuses to fit in:

I had the plan in mind before I even handed in the application. It was simple really. Everyone knows that the hardest part of robbing a bank is the getaway. The way I figure, the getaway is only a problem is the bank knows it's being robbed. If I were the bank manager, for example, I could just drop in whenever I pleased, take as much as I wanted, and have a new face and name before anyone was the wiser.

I have always been honest and hardworking, and I have some accounting and managerial experience, so getting the job wasn't as difficult as I expected. Hell, the money and benefits weren't even that bad. Certainly better than my last job, but to tell you the truth, this wasn't really about the money. I wasn't doing too bad financially, and there is really nothing I needed that I didn't have. I was just sick and tired of eeking by unnoticed as a corporate lackey.

From the moment I walked in the first day I knew it would be a piece of cake. The job did itself; a trained monkey could have done it. which gave me plenty of time to study the habits and schedules of my coworkers.

--I feel like this is an interesting excercise, and this is kind of a good/crappy start, but this is shaping up to be a long one and I just don't have the energy right now. I was up until about 4 writing an urgent paper and then got up at 7 to finish it, and I have to be at the comedy club in about an hour so this is going to have to wait. Sorry.--

A blog without sarcasm is just homework

Yesterday's story went over pretty well in class. I had to go first, so I was really nervous. I thought that was weird because public speaking is usually my thing but I guess it's been a while. Anyway, we all had to comment on each other's stuff although we were only allowed to say positive things so it was hardly "honest feedback." It was good ego padding though, here are some excerpts:

"Great ending" "Captivating and interesting" "What mystery!... made it compelling!"
My favorite is the professor though: "Great intro - action - tension - danger - suprise ending - humor" ...I guess that is enough horn tooting.

On to today's Plan Bee assignment:
(I want to keep it short today, but I'm going to start varying the length more.)

Write about the inexplicable menace in a seemingly neutral object:

--WE INTERRUPT YOUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED BLOG TO BRING YOU THIS URGENT PRESIDENTAL ADDRESS --

My fellow Americans, it is my sad duty to report to you this evening that the United States is once again at war. The enemy is not halfway around the world, and he doesn't fight with guns or bombs or even planes; he is right here in our very homes, putting our friends and family at risk. That's right, I'm talking about iced cream. Ice cream, especially after a meal of fast food, is the leading cause of spare tires, camel toes and front-butts, afflictions which plague this great nation. My fellow Americans, I call upon you to gather your courage and take a stand against this senseless consumption of congealed cream, only together will we rid ourselves of Ben, Jerry, Hagen, and the Bryer coalition. Good luck, and God bless.