横浜秘密

This shout out goes out to Christina L. Brown.

You are a bad person.
You are a horrible friend.
Period.

No thanks for wasting my time.

• URL |
• Comment [5]

It has been in my past experience that I have been passed over by girls. Usually, it is one girl at a time. For the most part, that is understandable. You try, and you fail, and you move on. Never have I been so disappointed. Until now.

I can now say that I have a new found definition for the acronym SIMD. To most "geeks" SIMD stands for Single Instruction Multiple Data. This is a type of CPU instruction that can work on large amouts of data in a single instruction. A real life example would be having a large mess in your house. What do you? Clean it up. Large mess is the data, and cleaning it would be your one single instruction.

What does SIMD have to do with me? Well, in one instruction, I managed to get ditched by two girls. Simultaneously. Yes. At the same time. On a Friday night.

It wouldn't be so bad if they were just some random girls I don't know from front to back. Then again, it could be my fault in assuming that I was more than just a utility belt.

• URL |
• Comment [0]

Porn ad or is this for real?

I have no idea what brings me here other than I am amazed at how difficult it is to meet cool people in this city. I like smart, motivated, and positive people who enjoy life and don't take themselves too seriously. I am dying to meet someone that knows how to ask good questions and actually cares to hear the answers. I have always had more guy friends than girl friends and can surf, play waterpolo, snowboard, play beer pong, drive, and get along with any kind of crowd (save the fanatically religious, rich or pretentious). I am an educated professional, and you should be one also. I am blunt and honest and hate playing games. I love Costa Rica, my friends, my parents, original ideas, social activists that can back up their speech making, Conan O’Brien, Dewey Beach, The West Wing, and connecting with good people.

• URL |
• Comment [0]

Since twas you that sent me here,
bombs and shit are everywhere.
Why are we the only ones,
to kill those kids with the guns?
Foxholes and humvees are my friend,
while you suck on coke and gin.
Play a round of a Texas hand.
while I'm digging beneath the sands.
Eighteen months with no end,
MREs are fucking bland.
Empty thoughts filled with waste,
padding armor with no haste.
Now I get to come back home.
homeless, jobless, all alone.
Where is my parade? Where's my band?
Where's my family? Where are my friends?
Now they're closing Walter Reed.
I still have six more weeks.
Until then I'm not yet free,
In this cup now I pee.
Year in, year out, two four seven,
short on limbs, I feel like dying.
I was better in the sand.
Dreaming in another land.
Though I'm chinky,
still a wetback,
quarter jewish.
they got my back.
The hate we fought was one the same.
Our blood that spilled was never in vain.
The pride we had came from all.
We held our ground, "OohRah" said all.
MWR is where we balled.
In the sands is where we crawled.
In each other is how we grew.
Grenade in hand is what we threw.
Pull the trigger, bitch is mine,
another car bomb, another mine.

It was you that sent me here.
Bones and shit, everywhere.

• URL |
• Comment [0]

Hide inside the house you stole,
ha, I just shot it full of holes.
Now, you're homeless, just like me.
"Bien Venidos", a tu de mi.
With these words I've just now spoken,
take heed of my juxtaposition.
It's not I want to be like you.
I can't help it if I'm just crude.
I am chinky.
Borned a beaner.
Quarter jewish.
Refried, the better.
Quarter bi.
Half a dyke.
Quarter WASP.
Cool like Mike.
Slander, cliches, news, and facts.
Sonnets, haikus, fuck all that.
You spread your lies onto me.
I use my eyes to see beneath,
Against my speech you can't impede.
I see a land that once was free.
Spread the word that's lined in chalk,
"would be action" is only talk.
I can't rap like the real shady.
I just jive about the world that I see.
Disregard my middle finger,
back the fuck up while I pull the trigger.

• URL |
• Comment [0]

With these words I've yet thee spoken,
consonants and vowels already broken,
phrases, cliches, words, and rhymes,
sonnets, haikus, quite divine.
Empty thoughts filled with waste,
padding sentences with no haste
In the roads of four nine five,
rabid checks of eight to five.
Year in, year out, two four seven
oversized house, with oversized oven.
BMW? or MDX?
AIM? or SEX?
Whoring women that wear their Blahniks,
slutty manwhores, hookers on phonics.
For those that read beyond chapter seven,
abstain from those of chapter eleven.
In this city filled with greed,
sin and lust, quite indeed.
To live with those of rich and powerful,
the road is paved on the backs those struggle.
Security for all is yesterday's news,
yoU aNd politics is just for you.
Homeland security's crayola hues,
even Blue's Clue had a clue.
Supplementals tastes the best,
now I can hit one like the rest.
Athletes, Senators, come on down,
drip by drip, pound for pound.
Ethical lawyers, dollars found,
your language sober yet profound.
Why you hate on the lincolns some made?
Why you have to discriminate?
Why you have to take away?
Shouldn you not be telling it straight?
Or you afraid to say you're gay?
Fearing your straights will retaliate?

• URL |
• Comment [0]

Maybe I don't have a chance. But I at least try. I certainly try a lot. But to simply say that "you care oh so much about" with such sarcasm, it does hurt. If I didn't care, I could just cut and paste. But I do sort of care.

I sort of care because there is always a little voice in the back of my mind hoping that the person will write me back. At the same time, there is a loud voice in my mind telling me that each response I write is just another failed attempt. Why should I even bother?

I try to tune it out. The risk of not writing is far worse than tried and failed. At least i can say that I tried.

Thomas Edison once said something that he didn't failed 2000 times, he just found 2000 ways how not to do something.

I am far from being Edison, but I sure as hell am trying to my hardest find as many people that aren't interested in what I have to say...

Oh well... I could send this to Lisa ... but I am just afraid that she will just give me a reality check and well ... let's face it. I do live in a fantasy land.

• URL |
• Comment [0]

I live in a fantasy world and I am an idiot.

No sarcasm there.

I know Lisa is right in that people don't just get "interested" by 1 or 2 e-mails. But I wish she would be more supportive or at least perhaps offer some constructive advice like "instead of saying something like that, why don't you shorten it to something like this?"

Yeah, I think I do a pretty good job at even pissing of someone 14 years older than I am. I guess when it comes to disappointing the opposite sex, I am equal opportunity across all ages.

I was not being sarcastic when I said I am an indiot and that I live in a Fantasy world. Perhaps I do live in a fantasy world because I would like to think that the things I write do have some meaning in them. Granted, I do write a lot, but does that mean what I write does not matter? I could easily cut and paste, but with each letter that goes out, there is a little piece of me that goes out with it. It may be questionable as to how good or how bad each piece is, but at least, it is me, and I put thoughts into what I write. Even the ones that I think I don't have a chance in hell or heaven that I would have a chance to hearing back from, but, I thought that is what it means to pick yourself up, dust yourself, and get back on the saddle.

• URL |
• Comment [0]

I don't think anyone will actually visit this blog so at least it's not a big deal that I will write something here. I can't believe she wrote me back. My friend Lisa said that my response was a bit weird, and I can see her point. My response are usually a bit complex ... ok, really out there. Probably one of the main, if not, only reason why I don't hear back from many people at all.

Is it really that weird?

Anyways, she wrote me back. I can't believe it. It's hard to imagine that someone wrote me back. Which maybe it is the the reason why I was afraid all day to write her back because I am afraid to screw it up. I mean, she wrote me back. That's awesome. Should I wait to write her back, or should I write her back right away? I mean if I didn't write her back that means I didn't screw it up... per se.

I got her email this morning and I wanted to write back but I was afraid that if I wrote her back, she wouldn't like me and worse, see my picture... Yeah... she hasn't seen my picture yet. She wrote me back solely on the content of my e-mail. That should be awesome right? To be able to capture someone's interests soley on words alone? But to lose that interest once they see my picture... *sigh* That makes me really sad.

Well, here is her picture. She is very attractive and has such a wonderful smile. I hope we can at least be friends even if nothing come out of it.

• URL |
• Comment [1]

So where does Guzen Radio fit into this stroll down through memory lane?

Well, as I was listening to Episode 2 of Guzen today, Chaz discussed a quick brief history of where Guzen originated. Apparently, Guzen Radio, very much like Cool Edit, gone through a few transformations, dating its origins to approximately 3 years ago on one of the streaming stations on live365.com. Wow. I remember live365.com from my college days from the late 1990s. Back then you only found mp3 players in cars that people spent countless hours of tinkering and hacking.

Now they are everywhere.

So anyways, check out Guzen Radio. It is a very educational, entertaining, humorous, and informative look at the daily life in Japan.

End Part III.

It is unfortunate that I had to break my original post into three separate parts.

• URL |
• Comment [0]