every time you close your eyes

best man speech

2010-01-06T18:43:00.001-05:00

inglourious basterds: "heaped"

2009-12-30T01:46:00.001-05:00

Sixth in the series.

the hangover: "heaped"

2009-12-26T19:02:00.003-05:00

Fifth in the series.

the graduate: "heaped"

2009-12-10T21:46:00.003-05:00

Fourth in the series.

wedding crashers: "heaped"

2009-11-29T04:38:00.003-05:00

Third in the series.

there will be blood: "heaped"

2009-11-27T06:18:00.003-05:00

Second in the series.

dumb and dumber: "heaped"

2009-11-27T00:15:00.001-05:00

The first of a planned series of movie montages to the sound of "Hide and Seek" by Imogen Heap, a song that we've all seen turn all that it touches into EPIC.

evolution of a dance party

2009-11-08T17:29:00.002-05:00

28 days later in 1 minute

2009-10-11T11:59:00.002-04:00

1st coffee run

2009-07-14T12:08:00.003-04:00

My boss handed me this while he was on a conference call this morning:

steven wright quotes

2009-07-08T21:31:00.006-04:00

The early bird gets the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese.

I almost had a psychic girlfriend, but she left me before we met.

How do you tell when you’re out of invisible ink?

Hard work pays off in the future. Laziness pays off now.

I intend to live forever – so far, so good.

Join the army, meet interesting people, kill them.

If at first you don’t succeed, then skydiving definitely isn’t for you.

To steal ideas from one person is plagiarism; to steal from many is research.

Monday is an awful way to spend one seventh of your life.

Plan to be spontaneous tomorrow.

I’d kill for a Nobel Peace Prize.

Borrow money from pessimists – They don’t expect it back.

Half the people you know are below average.

42.7 percent of all statistics are made up on the spot.

On the other hand, you have different fingers.

What’s another word for Thesaurus?

When I get real bored, I like to drive downtown and get a great parking spot, then sit in my car and count how many people ask me if I'm leaving.

A lot of people are afraid of heights. Not me, I'm afraid of widths.

I was in the grocery store. I saw a sign that said "pet supplies". So I did. Then I went outside and saw a sign that said "compact cars".

Any distance is walking distance if you have the time.

If you tell a joke in the forest, but nobody laughs, was it a joke?

In school, every period ends with a bell. Every sentence ends with a period. Every crime ends with a sentence.

I was lying in bed next to my girlfriend and she asked me, “If you could know when and how you were going to die, would you want to?” I said, “No.” She said, “Forget it then.”

I went to a garage sale. “How much for the garage?” “It’s not for sale.”

I got food poisoning today. I don't know when I'll use it.

I saw a bank that said "24 Hour Banking", but I don't have that kind of time.

I went to a restaurant that serves "breakfast at any time". So I ordered
French Toast during the Renaissance.

I went to a general store. They wouldn't let me buy anything specifically.

A cop stopped me for speeding. He said, "Why were you going so fast?" I said, "See this thing my foot is on? It's called an accelerator. When you push down on it, it sends more gas to the engine. The whole car just takes right off. And see this thing? This steers it."

I hate it when my foot falls asleep during the day because that means it's going to be up all night.

Why is it that it's a penny for your thoughts but you have to put your two cents in? Someone's making a penny.

It doesn't make a difference what temperature a room is. It's always room temperature.

I have a map of the United States, life size. 1 mile equals 1 mile. It's a bitch to fold it.

Why is the alphabet in that order? Is it because of that song?

the best man is in the house

2009-04-23T20:28:00.002-04:00

I'm the best man for my brother's wedding this June. This video sums up my probable performance.

blind man

2009-03-12T15:12:00.001-04:00

excerpt #3: i had to make a name for myself

2009-03-09T00:36:00.003-04:00

This is for Anna.

I hung out with other classmates now and then, though none stood out as particularly good friends. I think being invited to others' houses or having them come to mine had more to do with our moms' scheduling than our own. One thing I liked to do with some of these friends was lie. When new friends would come over for instance, one of the first things I liked to do was escort them down to the stream and take them on a little tour, creating interesting tales along the way. One such tale involved a giant bear that I swore lived nearby. I pointed out its paw print in some poured concrete near the water (it actually belonged to Dusty, the neighborhood dog). I also showed them a tiny cave further downstream, hypothesizing that it was its home. I tried to convince them that the red spray paint on the cave's walls was blood. There was also a concrete parking block that had been thrown down by the water, and I told them how the whole area used to be a giant shopping center that had since been torn down. I remembered hearing on TV that snakes could sometimes blend in by making themselves look like sticks by being still and rigid. I took this a step further, warning my friend Ben Heyn one day to watch out for any stick, since snakes could actually turn into them.

A year or two later my class went on a field trip one day to see a play. Ben was sitting behind me. I don’t remember what he said but he was being mean to me. It was a palpable reminder not only that we weren’t friends at that point in time, but that we had used to be friends, too. It was a weird feeling…of changing times.

Brian liked to make use of the stream, too. He and his friend Peter Schultz used to frequently start and anxiously tend to fires down there using old newspaper.

I hung out with a classmate named Raphael Zeldin a few times. I can’t help but remember him for one thing: His eyebrows were always pointed downward as if he were angry. It was very disconcerting.

I used to accompany my dad to Home Depot somewhat regularly. He was always a big fan of buying little bits to fix whatever the household problem was, as opposed to a brand new “whatever-you’re-fixing.” I always hated Home Depot. I respected the company and its mission, but just could not stand the vastness of the place, the disorder of it all. Even more how I loathed how dirty its products, floors, and shelves were, smelling of work and manual labor. And I was never quite convinced Dad knew exactly what he was looking for or how he was going to use it once he found it. It was all a big educational journey for him, that I guess he welcomed, in the pursuit of manliness. I just always wanted to know what the quickest and easiest solution was, take the most efficient and productive approach.

Places like Home Depot are where I first learned the concept of pricing products, and how it’s all pretty ridiculous if you think about it (and I wondered if people did). I remember asking my dad, “Why would it be priced $1.99 instead of simply $2.00?” He explained that it was sort of a gimmick to seem less expensive. I thought it was pretty dumb, and still do. Is the human race really that thoughtless to think $1.99 is a considerably better price than $2.00? What’s more, that kind of spending just produces much more change in everyone’s hands. I think a clean transaction is much more attractive. I vowed then that if I ever owned my own store, everything would be rounded to the dollar. And whenever I see products priced that way, it makes me feel good.

In the checkout line for Home Depot one day, there seemed to be some difficulties with the transaction. One thing after another, we waited as people grew impatient behind. Befitting his personality, my dad tried to make light of the situation by joking to the checkout lady, “Boy, we must be the customers from hell.” I was not happy with this joke. We were raised to strictly adhere to a vocabulary void of any kind of expletives in the least, even the word “crud” for example. Standing in line, I glanced up and gave my dad a look. While walking to the car in the parking lot, I didn’t talk to him, and I think he could tell I was upset. As we opened the doors he asked me, “Are you upset because I said ‘hell’?” “Yes,” I replied. “You could have used another word, like ‘heck’.” In retrospect, I realize this word would not have been able to make the joke work. “You’re right,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

Funny how things change. After some time, “crud” became part of everyday speech and it was “crap” that was out-of-bounds according to Mom. And eventually, “crap” was alright but “shit” was not. And even now, I can get away with “shit” from time to time if I’m careful.

Around this time I acquired a liking for comic books, probably because I’ve always been in pursuit of attaching myself rigorously to an interest. And because Brian bought comic books. He liked X-Men the most, so I did too. Not that I wouldn’t have come to that conclusion anyway. They were the best superhero group as far as I was concerned, and the masses as far I could tell. But he always knew more about comic books than I ever did. It was all too confusing for me. We’d go to this comic book store, and I was just intimidated by the vast amount of different comics and storylines there were available. I didn’t know how to just pick up one and dive in, especially when I’d be starting in the middle of a story, unless I somehow had the time, money, and resources to acquire all the previous comics in a series I’d missed. I only ever bought a handful of comic books. I couldn’t get really into X-Men though, because that was his thing. I settled for the next best…Spider-Man. But I never took it too seriously.

And once I realized I wasn’t half-bad at drawing, I figured I could produce my own comic books. Heck, I could probably mass produce them, hand them out, achieve popular status, sell them! Again, the idea probably came from Brian, who would come up with his own comic book stories too, but no matter. I created ridiculous characters: Swordfish Man, Toothbrush Man (and his soon to be sidekick Toothpaste Man), Turbo Grandpa, and my longest-running series, Grunt Dog. The problem was that I was a big-idea thinker, and couldn’t ever bring my complete vision to fruition. I’d bring each story as far as to the point where the hero tragically undergoes his superhuman transformation, and then put the pencil down and think of something else to do.

Then there were pogs, a ridiculous game that originated in Hawaii in the 1920s, that had reached popular status again in the early 90s. Lots of the kids spent their allowance on the things, nothing more than little cardboard or plastic flat circles with designs or drawings on them. They even had special containers for them. In the comic book store, they kept the special ones in a glass case for display. I remember collecting them ravenously, and yet I can’t say I ever played an actual game of pogs before, or would know how to.

Around the same time, a card game resembling Dungeons and Dragons had become wildly popular, at least at my school…Magic: The Gathering. Here was a hobby whose time of arrival allowed me to experience it from the beginning and so on. I bought the starter kit from the comic book store, a fancy container with fifty or so Magic cards and a little bag of smooth stones. But like pogs, I don’t think I ever actually played the game. It was too confusing. I liked the idea, though.

I could only involve myself in activities for so long. I had big ideas, fantasies of great endeavors and projects. I could even make a name for myself, I thought. No, I had to make a name for myself, become something, be recognized for something. Otherwise, what meaning would my life have? Could I allow my gravestone to become an ant in a colony without any reason to notice it? I wanted to create a legacy. But I never had the patience, and still wonder if it’s something you can acquire.

It could be anything. I remember I somehow learned how to make tiny hand puppets out of paper. Then you could dress the faces up, create characters. I had fun with it for a while, so I thought, “Why not sell them to the public? Show off my great talent.” I made a few, created some price tags that I stuck onto them. Then, not ready to begin marketing them yet, I decided to go further with the project and make a little book with detailed instructions about how to make the puppets. I could sell this too, complete with illustrations, because that would really make me seem like an expert on the subject. Nothing came of it. They’re in a box in my closet… “Objects To Save”.

new blog!

2009-02-25T21:41:00.001-05:00

my thoughts on the last three months:

time (my life) flies by and it pisses me off.

L8rz

excerpt #2: i still feel guilty for that

2008-11-16T18:08:00.003-05:00

My time with Mr. Keimig was short-lived, as there came to be an addition to the third grade teaching brigade not long into the year. I speak of Miss Hejlik. All I really remember from my time with Miss Hejlik is that I was in love with Miss Hejlik. She was new, and young, and beautiful. And taken. She had a fiancé that she'd tell stories about from time to time. She actually invited the whole class to attend her wedding at the Naval Academy. My family went. Seeing her walk the aisle tore apart any notions I had of a possible life together. Perhaps I was young and naive. I still remember the feeling I had on the last day of class, when she came around one by one to give us hugs as we sat at our desks. I think it was that day that I experienced anticipation in its truest and most powerful form.

When I flipped open my old Riderwood yearbook recently, I was surprised to see the comment she wrote: "Gordon, I expect to see you someday as a famous writer! I have enjoyed your stories! You have a real talent! Be sure to be patient when you are asked to sign so many autographs! Love, Miss Hejlik"

It all came back to me, how I had once had a passion for writing stories. How I had loved it. I used to write stories for fun and make my parents read them. Mom and Dad were very encouraging. It made me sad to think that it seemed I'd lost that part of me over the years...the writer.

One day, for getting a question right in Miss Hejlik’s class, I was awarded two tickets to see "A Little Princess". A class bully, Ryan Heller (I always thought it was so appropriate that the word "hell" was actually in his name), made me give him the other ticket. We sat next to each other for the premiere, and I remember thinking how strange it was that he teared up during the movie.

In fourth grade I had Miss Skomp...not Mrs. Skomp, no, because no man would want to share his life with this woman. I know that my classmates and I absolutely didn't. She was wretched...short in stature, deadly serious, and almost never smiled. And when she did, it was the most uncomfortable smile you'd ever seen, probably because the concept of happiness was so foreign to her.

What I remember most about fourth grade was seeing Amy Sachs pee her pants (actually skirt) in front of the whole class. No one was raising their hand to go up to the front and recite the answers to the spelling homework, so Amy was randomly called on. My desk was the closest to her, part of a quad of desks, of which there were a handful about the room. Her shaky voice, followed by the sound of trickling liquid, raised an awareness in me that perhaps the unthinkable was happening right in front of me. Upon leaning down and peering under my desk toward her legs, my suspicions were verified. She finally stopped mid-sentence, and asked to be excused, and left wet footprints behind her as she walked out.

Lauren Heavrin, who had a crush on me and conveniently for her sat across from me, looked in my direction and tried to hold in a hysterical laugh, causing me to leak out some giggling of my own. Miss Skomp, however, mistook Nick Kavoussi, the shy redheaded fellow on my left, as the one who couldn't keep his cool, and yelled at him with full force, her face red and her finger in his face, the words accented by the manipulation that comes when passed through gritted teeth. His mouth lay open a little, and his big confused, innocent eyes met directly with their opposites in hers. I still feel guilty for that.

wish it were all true

2008-10-20T19:49:00.002-04:00

fleet foxes

2008-10-11T01:40:00.001-04:00

excerpt #1: only homosexuals could sing so high

2008-09-27T17:59:00.006-04:00

It was just about the time that they moved into the new house that I was born. If I can't expound upon the first few years of my life for lack of confident memories, it might be useful to talk more about these two people that brought me into this world.

My dad was born and raised in the same town of Riderwood in Baltimore County, and attended Riderwood Elementary, as did my mom (she was one class below...they probably passed each other in the hall, oblivious their lifelong partner was feet away). He had a sister, Gerri, eleven years older. If my dad ever got into trouble (and he absolutely did), it always seemed tame in light of the trouble Aunt Gerri incurred. As my dad has since explained to me, she apparently felt sorry for the kids with rougher backgrounds, and found herself befriending them, which in the long run probably worked to her disadvantage. She ended up marrying one of those friends at the age of sixteen, and multiple other love interests gave her three boys with separate fathers.

I remember my dad telling me stories where he'd find her sneaking out of the house, and after threatening to tell on her would sometimes find himself accompanying her and her friends for some of their fun. According to him, she was having a party in their basement one night (most likely involving some not-so-parent-friendly activities), and a male friend of hers had come upstairs and said sternly to my grandfather, "Don't come downstairs, and there won’t be a problem." The next morning Granddad had to use a hose to clean out basement. I’m still trying to guess why.

I always imagine my dad's parents as having been traditional, but it may have just been that everyone at the time was. My grandfather was a very skilled artist. While his job title may have been more along the lines of advertising, he was an artist. But he always said that you had to do something with art, because art by itself is a hard thing to sell. Part of that stuck with me, as I now test my artistic abilities in the realm of architecture. My grandmother was the best cook I ever knew. Perhaps the most vivid image of her I can recall is that of her back to everyone, preparing something over the kitchen counter. It certainly meant good things were in store.

She was a Protestant. He was a Catholic. They prayed to the same God. I may never know how truly spiritual they were, but they were adamant about things like not cutting the grass on Sunday, that sort of thing. They were fond of classical music when my dad was a boy, and still were by the time I came around. Granddad always said that you could tell music was good if they still played it hundreds of years later. When my dad was young, my grandmother had told him not to listen to The Four Seasons, since "only homosexuals could ever sing so high."

I think my Dad was a good son for the most part, but his grades were never exemplary. He wasn’t dumb by any means. He simply didn't care for school that much. He has a grand sense of humor now, and I'm pretty sure he had one then. Even when he was a little boy, he told me how he had knocked his mom's vase onto the floor while she was vacuuming, subsequently shattering it, but how she had not noticed due to the noise of the vacuum. He knew she'd find out soon though, and was quick to run and find a book, which he stuck down the back of his pants. When she saw the broken vase, she had tried to spank him, only to find he was protected by the book he had equipped himself with, and instead of getting angry, she could only laugh.

no one can call chris martin a wuss rocker

2008-05-21T01:52:00.003-04:00

Ladamagomajo

2008-05-21T01:52:00.001-04:00

I think

2008-05-01T12:48:00.001-04:00

I think that I shall never hurt a man as kind as Berty-Bert.
I think that I shall never roll with anyone as cool as Joel.
I think that I shall never hasten to let myself become like Mason.
I think that I shall never wanna get on the bad side of Anna.
I think that I shall never pester anyone as rude as Esther.
I think that I shall never see another dude like Jeremy.
I think that I shall never say, “Damn! I look as good as Seye!”
I think that I shall never blame me, for that time, you know, with Jayme
I think that I shall never toy with playing Coldplay songs for Joy.
I think that I shall never spot a journalist as bad as Scott.
I think that I shall never span the globe with as much class as Dan.
[Due to rhyming issues, certain names have been withheld from this exercise.]

Inspired by the poem by Joyce Kilmer: "I think that I shall never see a poem as lovely as a tree."

René Magritte

2008-04-24T12:46:00.005-04:00

would you rather...

2008-03-06T14:53:00.002-05:00

have a fist-sized piece of asphalt thrown at you by dan bauman?

or

be hit in the thigh with a baseball bat?

would you rather...

2008-02-07T02:26:00.001-05:00

have two kids that love you but hate each other?

have one kid that loves you and one that hates you and they get along fine?

would you rather...

2008-01-29T15:42:00.001-05:00

be stapled in the back five times by a staple gun?

or

be submerged in arctic waters for ten seconds?

would you rather...

2008-01-22T21:57:00.001-05:00

(ok so maybe keeping to ANY schedule of 'would your rathers' is too hard...just stay tuned)

be stranded on an island with your 10 best friends (not including your best 2)?

or

be stranded on an island with your 2 best friends?

men camping

2008-01-22T20:29:00.000-05:00

would you rather...

2008-01-16T16:35:00.001-05:00

(ok so maybe EVERY DAY was overambitious...every 3 days makes more sense...it's better for everyone that looks at this blog once every 3 days anyway)

live next door to Al Pacino?

or

live next door to Robert DeNiro?

for seye

2008-01-13T19:01:00.000-05:00

So Seye Iwarere says to me, "Hey Gordon, when are you gonna put up another g-damn blog? I'm sick and tired of your steel sculptures." To say the least, I was surprised by his candor and threatened by his demeanor, although by now I should be used to it. Obviously there was only one thing I could do. Post a new post. I'll conclude with an age-old question posed by the great Abraham Lincoln (who I wish was running for presidency this year btw):

Would you rather have sex with someone with no arms or no legs?

(I think I'll make a daily 'would you rather' post...spice up my blog appeal)

my sculptures of steel

2007-12-12T21:48:00.000-05:00

latest studio: library

2007-12-08T23:10:00.001-05:00

11.14.07

2007-11-15T03:01:00.000-05:00

andy's goodbye hoorah

2007-11-09T01:25:00.001-05:00

sea wolf and nada surf

2007-11-07T01:42:00.001-05:00

chinese gourmet

2007-11-07T01:10:00.000-05:00

the following 3 photographs are courtesy of joel blaine

halloween

2007-11-06T03:10:00.001-05:00

the town lit up. the world got still.

2007-10-28T21:25:00.000-04:00

we owned the night

2007-10-21T03:22:00.000-04:00

pitching "tent" in ancient ruins

2007-10-21T03:13:00.000-04:00

the morning after

2007-10-21T02:46:00.000-04:00

the scary-ass house

2007-10-21T02:31:00.001-04:00

like parents like son

the end, or, the shots before my camera battery died

2007-10-21T02:27:00.000-04:00

manly men doing manly things

2007-10-21T02:24:00.000-04:00

sorry this is the forgotten cover shot

more epic

2007-10-14T01:53:00.000-04:00

added allin and jesse...just waiting on joel, jeremy, and scott to cap it off

epic

2007-10-10T21:41:00.000-04:00

it MAY not be complete, but it's well on its way i think

i saw sparks

2007-10-10T20:01:00.000-04:00

It would be wrong of me NOT to share this part of my past with my friends.

some artwork

2007-09-24T21:18:00.001-04:00

Here's some old artwork that helped me get into studio junior year...and some lyrics to a song i've been digging.

I'm put together beautifully.

Big wet bottle in my fist. Big wet rose in my teeth.

I'm a perfect piece of ass.

Like every Californian. So tall I take over the street.

With highbeams shining up my back. A wingspan unbelievable.

I'm a festival. I'm a parade.

And all the wine is all for me.

I'm a birthday candle in a circle of black girls.

God is on my side. Cuz I'm the child bride.

I'm so sorry but the motorcade will have to go around me this time.

Cuz God is on my side. And I'm the child bride.

And all the wine is all for me.

I'm in a state. I'm in a state.

Nothing can touch us my love.

md friends

2007-09-15T16:11:00.001-04:00

I realize the only real "writing" post I've done was my first one, so I'm trying to even that out. I was on a road trip with Dan B. chatting it up, and we got on the topic of friends and God and all the deep stuff of life.
I came to the realization that out of the eleven places I applied to for college I figured UMD would have been the least likely to provide me with amazing friends. And yet, I firmly believe that out of the eleven colleges, no other place could have provided me with more amazing friends than UMD did. And I don't even feel like I"m being generous to UMD. That's honestly how I feel.
And I want those friends to know that. There's a lot of you, but hopefully you all know you're in that group (except Mason...sorry man I never really liked you). Even those of you who haven't become great friends, you've still been a great presence in my life. I've been surrounded by such top notch personalities, and I'm so grateful that they've all had a chance to rub off on mine.
I thought particularly of the Crazy House, and how it's in retrospect that I can now start to appreciate just how amazing a place it was (because of the people that filled its walls of course). At the time, as with most things in life, I just floated in and out of that place like it was no big deal. But looking on all those times, my head floods with such great memories of friendship and laughter.
And I'm encouraged that many friends have stayed together in community after moving on to new facets of life. That there's more reason to believe that it's people that make places great, not the places themselves. And that when it comes time for me to move on, I can do it with more confidence and less fear that those memories are a thing of the past.

fashion show with n word

2007-09-12T02:10:00.001-04:00

the actors that stole me and my friends' good looks

2007-09-10T04:48:00.000-04:00

It's gonna be a sweet movie:

Jake Gyllenhaal - Tim Watts

John Turturro - Mark Ehm

Ryan Gosling - Gordon Griffin

Luke Wilson - Dan Szumla

Matt Damon - Titus Bickel

dreamboats

2007-08-26T23:42:00.000-04:00

O's Game / Motorcycle Ride

2007-08-16T12:37:00.001-04:00

my dad's eye I like to take pictures of people, not baseball...like this bloke... or this kid eating cotton candy

I like the guy behind us in the middle who thinks he's the man.

just need to get closer

2007-07-17T02:18:00.000-04:00

I went to see Travis at the 9 30 Club in DC with my friend Theron. It was amazing! They're one of my top 4 bands. The most exciting part was before they even played. The "Rocky" theme came on and all four of them entered from the back of the place, wearing boxing costumes, and past right by us to get to the stage, shaking hands and giving high-fives on the way. It never felt so good touching other men.

I had an epiphany too: These amazing concerts we go to are a lot like being in love. I'm not even stretching it. Think about it. You wait for what seems like forever for them to come on stage (or for love to commence). Then the first few minutes (or weeks, months, etc.) are amazing! Then after you're used to the band (or lover) playing (or giving you love), you start to take their presence for granted. You get used to what you have and a lot of the excitement is gone. Then, just like that, it's over, and it's then that you really start to appreciate what just happened, and wish it had never left. And it's then that you know you were in love.

Needless to say, I was in love tonight.

Maine

2007-07-12T19:04:00.000-04:00

more b pool

2007-07-09T21:55:00.000-04:00

unmoving rock

rolling rock

beach / port

2007-07-06T00:32:00.000-04:00

foggy day at the beach

but then the sun came out...."aaaahhhhhh" (gospel-line chorus)

but chris ain't into the sunshine

then to the port w/ chris...love it

low tide on the back side...always dug the set-up...i fantasize about living in a town where decks like this would be common, with walkways and bridges all inter-connected, over the water, with people in good spirits wearing overalls out and about

how [manly word for cute] is this bookstore??

decisions, decisions

this was afterwards at taco bell...just wanted to point out the "boys' room" title...that's my style...just needs a "little" in front of it

the cottage / biddeford pool

2007-07-04T23:53:00.000-04:00

redone porch

my room

biddeford pool (it's like a beach of rocks)

runny bird poop

this is seaglass....it's what i search for amidst all the rocks while listening to music

shopping. goose rocks beach. portland

2007-07-03T23:42:00.000-04:00

So I went to the grocery store with my cousin Chris this morning. Post Selects are my favorite kinds of cereal, especially Blueberry Morning, which has disappeared from shelves in MD.

I just thought it was funny seeing "warm beer" as a category.

This is me on the beach.

A View of Goose Rocks Beach.

A sweet beachside house. nbd

This is dedicated to my dear friend Joy...from our trip to Portland this evening.

Some fiery dude.

Saw this poster in a burrito place. Reminded me of something that would

come straight out of D. B.'s warped artistic (genius) vision.

got the new digital camera joint

2007-07-03T03:08:00.000-04:00

It's backwards cuz I took it in the mirror.
This little guy will be crucial to my blog's success. More to come...

This is really happening. Gosh dam* it.

2007-07-01T22:27:00.000-04:00

Well folks (and I'm not sure who I mean by that exactly...who's reading this anyway?...maybe you could comment afterward and let me know...thanks),

What better time to start a blog then summer? Wait let's back up. I should start by telling you what you can expect from my blog. Nothing, anything, and everything. I often ramble and indulge myself in my own self-important thoughts. I contradict myself frequently. I have strong opinions that I often don't believe in. And I'm going to be frank in my speech (Gordon actually, but you get it). Oh and corny. I also tend to place commas and periods wherever the he** I feel like it. And I'm going to edit all of my f**cks and sh*ts and dam*s and even he**s for my friend Mason, whose stance on foul language I have the uppermost of respect for. And I'm going to word things oddly often (and probably make up my own words too...write them down when you find a new one...maybe we can catalog them). Now that I've prefaced my blogging style, I expect no complaints.

I guess one of the things that kept me from starting up a blog was not knowing who the he** was going to want to read my thoughts. I often don't even record them for my own purposes. Not that I don't find my thoughts important, or wish to impart them to others (I do!), I just can't imagine who would VOLUNTEER to do so. But hey, it's summer...maybe some of my friends will check it out (after first checking out Charlie's, Dan B.'s, Mason's, Seye's, Anna's, and all the rest). I'd imagine Lanny would still be after me though. Oh yeah, I'm also unrelentingly sarcastic (in the over-the-top, bad way, not the good, lighthearted way...but I try to turn that off for certain audiences...considering I won't know my audience with this form of communication, I'm warning you all upfront). I gotta be honest, I barely keep up with all the blog postings of my friends. There's so many! I don't know how you guys do it. But I may be inspired by this new blogging experience to really embrace all those posts out there. Am I gonna have to catch up? Maybe you guys could like condense all your past posts into one summary (under 500 words or something). And maybe a last thing that kept me from starting a blog was the idea that a blog indicates right off the bat that the author found their own dialogue (devoid of anyone's opinions but their own) to be so important that they would solidify those thoughts electronically, and not for their own purposes (which could easily be recorded via Word or something [I actually prefer WordPad myself]) but for the purpose of exposing those thoughts to the world, without even giving that world the decency of hearing it in person. I guess that's kinda harsh, but I'm sure the idea at least stands true for a chunk of bloggers out there. I'll put good faith in thinking that my friends (and now myself it turns out) simply look at blogging as an extension of ourselves to others...a convenient and organized way to share an abundance of pictures and information with our friends that we would have otherwise not been able to.

Speaking of pictures...I think they're great. I love photography. You probably wouldn't know that...as I'm reluctant to tote my 35 mm around...it's big, and I'm scared of hurting it. I'm clumsy. Have been since toddlerdom. I have no problem however grabbing other people's cameras and damaging them (ask Mason). And if my blogs lack pictures, it's because I lack a digital camera. But that's a problem that I expect to be solved soon, as my good-natured mother intends on helping me get one in the coming days. That'll be a nice addition to what would otherwise have become quite the boring blogpage. While many of the pictures on my computer are not my own, I'm rigorous in my organization of pictures on my computer, most of which I snag off of Facebook about a week after whatever event has transpired. I like documentation...I think I somehow believe that when I'm 80... ...I'm going to have nothing to do except look back on these documents and organized memoirs I've created for myself over the years (hey, maybe this blog will serve that purpose too).

To conclude, I'm taking a 2-week break from work life (ok part-time work life) to be in Maine, the state where I smile more. I consider it at least as much home as Maryland. I've come every year since I was a fetus. I'll bore you with all the reasons I love it in a later post...hopefully with pictures. This could be good. But I really dig back-and-forth dialogue...the exchange of ideas (a good argument even)...so maybe you guys could help me with that in making this blog an interactive experience...where people can reply and tell me what a dumbhead I am (and I can delete your comments thereafter). Talk to you soon.