Here's a musical update. I think these songs are awesome; obviously, I've been listening to them recently:

Beck -- Peaches and Cream

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Why I like this song: Heard it for the first time today. Just thought the style was great.

Nine Inch Nails -- Where is Everybody? (Things Fall Apart remix)

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Why I like this song: Acquire it somehow and blast it in your car. Energy.

Andrew Bird -- Masterfade

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Why I like this song: "But I just can't remember which way the east wind blows..." That line and all surrounding. Plus it's great mellow soothing nontaxin' chillaxin'.

Infected Mushroom -- Birthday (Barry Sahkarof -- Yom Huledet remixed)

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Why I like this song: Hebrew, yet you still get a message from the song just out of the awesome techno/electronica/whateverIhateclassi fyingmusicbygenre music goin' on in the background. Those actually watching these videos for entertainment value will like this one the best.

Something Corporate -- I Woke Up in a Car

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Why I like this song: It's livin' music. Cruise around with this sometime. It's great "let's get lost" music.

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I could probably do these sorts of blog posts with a bunch of music I like every day for months, if I were so inclined. Clearly, I'm not. Anyway, feel free to tell me how much my music tastes blow or how awesome they are or whatever blows your hair back.

I can't believe my summer is over. Seems like it absolutely flew by. Terribly enough, not too many cool stories associated with this summer. News includes: done working at Domino's, laptop's wireless connection is broken so no AIM until I resolve some way of getting the thing online (read: it'll take a while... it's easier just to use other laptops or desktops in this house that don't have trillian installed and my AIM username/passwords saved).

I'm resuming my running regiment, and without the steady supply of employee discounted pizza and soda on the job, I'll hopefully start noticing some real gains in the coming weeks.

Anyway, that's pretty much all I care about writing here. The shorter I keep this, the more likely I'll cull enough responses to entertain my need for witty banter.

I close with an Incubus song I've been <3ing lately.

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Redefine -- Incubus.

Hey, the mail came today (two weeks ago)! I've just been too lazy to actually take pictures and stuff, y'know, to properly gloat to all of you and thank Tom for his generosity. I've enjoyed this site for nearly five years now, and this extra cash comes during a less than choice employment summer. So thanks again Tom, and Newgrounds, maybe one day I'll have the time and inclination to contribute to the site's media component, but until then, horray BBS.

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Unrelated IRL crap I feel like you guys want to know about: I haven't run for the past week. I jumped off this 1.5 foot wall the other day at work and the resultant impact injury to my right foot has kept me laying low. Tomorrow, my brother (Muyburrito) and I will be heading off to Upstate New York for 5 days of vacation. We'll be seeing family, and maybe even briefly meet up with Malachy, as he's from the area.

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Anyway: YEA MONEY!

Hell yea.

I'm drunk, I went to this awesome bonfire tonight where there was:
- bonfire
- fireworks
- wierdos from another town (cool wierdos)
- hot bitches

It was awesome.

Still running daily. Still workin' for Domino's. Still pumped about winning 100 bucks for depositing here. Still everything else.

... well, I guess a few things.
- Picked up shifts at Domino's (yay income)
- Meeting up with gumonShoe most likely this Friday. Barring unforeseen circumstances, that is.
- Been running 5+ days a week since getting home from school. 3.2 miles on a daily basis is starting to do me good. Maybe by mid-August my body will be eligible to make a brief appearance on a public beach, before retiring into fall/winter/spring again.
- Not attending the mod meet this year. It conflicts with prior plans. Which makes me : (
- Stole the cookie from the cookie jar.

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I've been listening to this song NONSTOP. It's called "The Wonderful Future" by Our Lady Peace (Jordy is mentioned here for being the reason I'm into 'em) and is amazing. I discovered it existed about a week ago, and have listened to it dozens of times since. I listen to it a few times in a row before I sleep, throughout the day, several times in a row whenever I get in my car. I talk about it in blogs on the internet.

Also: I'm pretty much done with this semester at school. Summer's here, and now I can't even retain the excuse that my unemployment is related to school's workload. My life's been feeling incredibly monotonous lately. I'm frustrated with myself, my environment, and my belongings, and my acquaintances. Actually, this is the second time I'm typing up this blog update. The first time was erased when my laptop decided to shut itself off, as it's grown accustomed to not asking my permission to do so.

Basically: I need to get laid, and it's turning me into a cynical and cranky douche, which I don't like. But fucking random sluts is fail, and the decent women in my life seem to only come in few varieties:
- Sorry, I am in a relationship.
- Hey we're great friends and have been for a while.
- What's your roommate up to?
- False alarm, I'm a bitch.

What's this mean to you people? Nothing. In related news (related to me and my life, that is. Which is why you're here. To read about my life. Oh you're not? Well fuck off and die, plzkthx (jk, stay and respond so that I might be entertained by your comment)): I'll be lurking around the forums a lot more than I did previously. A LOT MORE. 100% lurk-to-post ratio for the next several months. Why? Because I feel like it. I'll still be here, just kinda backseating my participation.

This summer's plans include:
- Fitness
- Fun
- Frugality

... that's all I feel like writing. Maybe I'll update this later to include a poem for your perusal. Even though I know most of you will either ignore it, not get it, or post an old joke in a psuedo-facetious manner that's been done to death relating to it. See? That cynicism just creeps right in.

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| UPDATE |

Here's a poem for you guys to ignore/critique/whatever. I really like it.

A dialogue between an individual and his environment

Modern convenience of pen and paper,
Though apt to attract many an aper,
So allowing an insight inside-out
And leaving the context mostly to doubt;
Yet hoping to instill context in you,
The reader who otherwise would eschew
A perfect description's perfect setting

Of a twelve by ten, frustrating homestead
Over bright green hill, trees, and brick buildings instead--
Of a slowly wafting coffee's ascent
Toward the morning nostrils' cognizant scent--
Of an inquisitive bee at the screen
Trying to get in, and as it is seen
Persuading my exit. Most convincing.

IRL Related things: I just left my car in the wrong lot for the entirety of the week and as a result owe parking services three $40 tickets. I'm fucking pissed. Normally I'm not that retarded about where I park my car, and certainly not in a way that gets me fucked REPEATEDLY in the asshole.
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Anyway: here's a couple poems I recently had to write for my poetry class. I think they both kind of suck, and the last one is unfinished because it really sucks. So I'm not posting the last one.

Forget about the rhyme, abandon it.
We ask you only consistently for
Meaning. Don't distract us; frighten cliché
Away. A metered iambic-of course!
How could we not have told you already?
It is as dead as Shakespeare is himself,
But he will revolve in his coffin if
You libelously use it. You got it?

I see you are the critics, so I will
Respond in kind as cynic. I think that
Your liberal art so fears conservative
Thinking you haven't noticed you've got some-
Thing don't need fixing. And rhyme to desist?
It's not nearly forced, 'cause I can't resist.

***This poem's written in blank verse and is closest to a Petrarchan sonnet, despite the fact that I have a rhyming couplet at the end.

It.

Eye color is determined genetically. Though there are only three genes re-
sponsible, there exists an immense variation between individual eye color.
Since youth I've found myself fascinated With this difference, although
with my consciousness. I grow older and it doesn't matter, we can shun
others equally aware as I stand the dull ones. Natural selection is with-
out in memory; they've instigated in us all, yet a feel for the importance
tension between all the aforementioned. of what our genes forgot seems
Some felt that others might be beneath them, absent. We're only aware
though I digress. Doesn't every branch stem 'cause of past generations
from the same trunk of the tree? Though shunned, fully understanding
isn't failure simply the prequel to their limitations and exploring results.
success? Humans are characterized by Our successes, our failures, and
needing to see to believe the why. our ability to visualize the differences
Yet faith is commonly the virtue, too. between them all set us apart. If
The glint in your eyes force my eye contact we only knew what it was,
and I find like brightness always intact. what precise differences we'd
abandoned those thousands of years ago, we might have a better idea of
where we were headed in the first place. I've an idea, but exclusion isn't

***This one is a little bit different. I was following the style of a poet I've found named Philip Nikolayev (I forget how it's spelled). His are much better than mine, and I attempted to make one that made sense when read all three ways (read the embedded sonnet, read the surrounding text, read the whole thing all at once) whereas his only make sense when read in the first two ways. Additionally: Newgrounds's formatting makes it so that the right margin doesn't line up perfectly, but you should know that it's supposed to.

Anyway, What d'y'all think?

This French Roast coffee is delicious.

MTL meet was awesome.

I am the best ever.

Ha ha, this one I'm kinda fucking proud of. I think it's exactly the kind of retarded description poetry people'd enjoy.

I guess I'll lead this with the premise surrounding this thing. I was asked to write a poem in some sort of regular meter and form, since I've been interested in writing a sestina for a while now, I figured I would make this assignment it.

Anyway, I decided I wanted to finish off the remaining alcohol I had in preparation for a weekend off-campus and having Spring Break this upcoming weekend also. So a bunch of people were in my room playing cards, all acquaintances or friends of mine, and there just happened to be six of them besides me. I figured, "What the hell, sestinas are challenging enough, I can't think of anything to write about... why don't I just get a word from each of these six and I'll try to write a poem with those."

So, here it is, aptly titled, "I fucking win."

My buddy Chuck, "Lumpenproletariat,"
As if the use makes him intelligent.
My room-mate suggests simply, "blueberry."
Y'know? Collected in hefty buckets,
Only to be had in a sumptuous
amount? Raffaella says, "capricious!"

instantly, using the same capricious-
like thought that 'lumpenproletariat'
had lacked. Elmira tells me, "sumptuous,
and show me later." She's intelligent
of a sestina's challenge. And buckets?
Rosanne, I'm glad this goes with blueberry

because using these words with blueberry
in the mix eases my first capricious,
drunken decision to work. Thank buckets.
Am I a Lumpenproletariat
man? Lowest class? So unintelligent
I think a degree ensures sumptuous

living conditions later? Sumptuous,
like a remembered, ripe Maine blueberry
I enjoyed years ago. Intelligent,
it is, if you succeed with capricious
decisions. Lumpenproletariat
are not excluded here, though the buckets

they fill, blueberry-carrying buckets,
inspire interest as to the sumptuous
character lumpenproletariat
workers picking the August blueberry
crop possess. I would cherish capricious
decisions they made, the intelligent

stories; as only the intelligent,
woebegone man has--and by the buckets.
Finished vodka; another capricious
thirsty Thursday. Building a sumptuous
memory to savor with blueberry
years amid lumpenproletariat--

yes, lumpenproletariat--buckets
that have intelligent and sumptuous
blueberries of an Evan: capricious.

I don't entirely know why I'm going to insist on sharing these with you guys. I don't get many responses and the ratio of worthwhile to not is in favor of saving myself the effort.

Anyway, here's the poem mentioned two news posts ago:
(By palming the mind you've fingered the senses)
Hold That Thought

Opposability is the crux of our touch.
. . Though its digital duplicity allows also to feel
. . . . . The real.

Indexing eyes verify, but, despite physical ability,
. . Now, to hold the pen, a picture's worth: (I've heard)
. . . . . 1.0 x 10^3 a word.

Middle-man hears the word on the street and so he brokers
. . Opinion. Listen, even a bold-faced lie holds a grain of the true.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . "Fuck you."

Ring on your finger displays personal taste in your two
. . Favorite people, traditionally. If you know yourself well,
. . . . . Your choice can tell.

Pinky thinks he links me to my word. Maybe so, though I
. . Swear it correct that my tongue tastes a muffled yell
. . . . . Without smell.

Five, for thee, too, won
. . Nothing.

The periods are there just to preserve spacing. The assignment was to write a poem in which the five sense are used.