WELCOME TO THE NEW AGE.

I'M RADIOACTIVE.

I'm actually not, but my Pizza looks that way, according to Leigh. I'll tell you more about that in a second. But first thing's first, let me say hello again! Hello, guys! I've returned from Boot-Camp. I did well.

I was a member of Division 128, in Ship 13 - the USS Marvin Shields under the leadership of CE1 Heath Lance, HM2 Crystal Bullock, and LS1 Chief Avagail Williams. We were lead by Chris Carmickle, our Recruit Chief Petty-Officer. Everyone was pretty awesome, and undoubtedly, Petty Officer Lance had the most influence on me. Carmickle was a great leader and piggybacked us through basic with his patience and willingness to understand where we were coming from: I owe Carmickle a lot for keeping an eye out for me when I was down. 

I'll try to be the best Sailor I can be for his sake, if not Leigh's, if not my own.

I've got a lot of reasons to succeed.

NMITC is a whole different ballpark from Recruit Training  Command.

The rules here are more-lax, but that means that you've no instruction sometimes and you've got to simply fall flat on your face and wait to be corrected by someone. You don't address anyone the way you do in Basic, because it's considered pretentious. This is a huge obstacle for me, because I worked to be a great sailor in Basic Training, and adhered fairly religiously to the guidelines I was given, which means I stick out like D.B. Krmmstopp in a bridal shop when I pivot in my boots despite not having to, or when I enter a room with a thousand-yard stare. They don't like that, and they laugh at me when I do it, but it's how I was taught to do it.

It's all a bit odd, I guess. I'm in transition still.

The studying here is rigorous. Four hour sessions on the weekend, two hours every weekday. 

It's not uncommon to get upwards of four-hundred pages of material a week. It's all memorization, supposedly, and you don't have to be a great student to succeed,  but I've gotten fifty-seven pages of notes in two weeks. I wanna be superlative.

I've been eating like a bachelor as of late. Like, straight up Philip J. Fry'ing it.

Buying two tins of Peanutbutter and Nutella, and some bread? Bam. Every meal for a week.

Instant noodles? You know it, baby!

And pizza. Order a pizza, eat half of it, and ration the remaining two quarters over the week.

I go out of my way to share, though, when I order Pizza - we stand a lot of watches here - if you've ever been saddled with a shitty watch before, you know that nothing sucks worse than missing lunch and standing there for four hours saluting people. As such, I always get the Coupons with a little extra something? Order of breadsticks or wings? And I give them to the Rovers or Quarterdeck Watch, 'cause I know how bad it blows sometimes.

It's the little things that make a difference, or so I hope.

Anyways - Pizza. I've been trying to branch out and try new things. Bacon gets old, just ask Leigh!
So what I've been doing is trying things like these two, you're free to join me:

The first is a Chicken Pizza, with Extra Onions, on a Barbeque Sauce Hand-Tossed Crust Pizza.
It was good. Definitely more filling than the second one, and delicious. The Onions add something delightful to it, and the Chicken's filling and flavorful, but not enough to overpower the Sauce or Onion, or the Garlic that comes with the crust. Give it a shot sometime!

The second is a Thin Crust Pizza, with White-Sauce, Double Spinach, and Feta Cheese. 

I wanted to try this bad. My old friend Kevin Macica was a huge fan of "Cracker-Crust" Pizza, which is when crust is so thin it crunches. The Feta is salty and delightful, and the Spinach is herbal and bold. The White-Sauce is garlicky and rich. It's all really delightful - my only regret is that the White-Sauce is really skimpy on thin-crust, so you might wanna try this one on Hand-Tossed if you order it!

 Another nice thing is these were just ordered from Domino's. No fancy business here!

...It was my favorite of the two. Leigh says it looks moldy~

Also, the title of this post. 

I heard one of the most awesome songs I've heard in a long time today.

Allow Me To Share It With You.

All Credit and Praise to Leigh, who hooked me up with this find.

Wake Up with the Sunshine.

It's been awhile. Let's catch up.

God willing this'll be a pretty big entry. It's just been long enough for some tantalizing developments to pile-up. My fasting has concluded. I did well, and I've been reading sporadically through Liber Null, which has detailed the interconnectedness of emotions with their juxtaposed counterparts, as well as the two-pronged dilemma of relying on peaked emotions as a catalyst - as you repeatedly invoke them, you'll deaden yourself to them and become increasingly "debauched" for lack of a better word as you work harder and harder to chase the elusive peak you'd once been able to readily utilize for your spiritual endeavors. It's not unlike the unattainable initial high of any addict. A firm grip upon your wants, instincts, and even your mind is needed to push past the brink and then recompose and continue as if you hadn't.

This is all largely spiritual, however, and I probably seem a bit of a pretentious jackass discussing it. Moving onto a bit more physical of concepts, I'd been speaking to Eiki with regard to Transhumanism - the idea of humanity being surpassed or bettered through it's own endeavors. I'd actually considered just pasting the discussion here and pretending it's an entry, but that seems really dumb in retrospect. We discuss everything from Nietzsche, to Space Travel, to Deus-Ex; if you'd like to read it, I've uploaded the Entirety of the Discussion to Pastebin for your browsing pleasure, if that's your cup of tea or you're simply nosy or curious.

I've been keeping up with my jog-a-few-miles, lift-weights alternating work-out and it's doing wonders. My stamina for running has always been small because of my asthma and weak lungs, but I've managed to the point that I can run two miles uninterrupted. It's taxing, but I've been working to do it every other day to success. I have trouble doing it on the uneven roads, but I can do it without anything beyond casual stretching at the track. It feels promising, and I'm hoping to be sporting an even better physique soon.

I've been trying out some really slick recipes as of late. I'd like to cook for Emily when I've arranged to visit, the available date to do so I hope to receive today alongside my wire frames for my glasses. Emily had never enjoyed coconut as a breading, so I'd taken the liberty of learning to make...

COCONUT WHITING WITH MANGO SALSA

I am desperately hoping that this not only will serve as a romantic dish to have with Emily, but something new and adventurous for her to enjoy. As I understand, she's not a fan of coconut, because her Father
(Colossal douche.) enjoys it regularly, so I was determined to make something that would change that opinion. If you've ever had Coconut Shrimp, it's pretty amazing. This spat all over Coconut Shrimp while it was down and then smoked a cigar with its former friends.

I hope the Carrot and Sweet Potato Soup I hope to make beside it goes over half as well - the ingredients are far odder, and to my dismay include the ever-expensive but delicious carrot juice.

I also made what can only be described as the most unhealthy pancakes ever. Remember those Pancakes from a ways back? The chocolate-banana ones? They were a precedent-establishing case. Now whenever she wakes up, my little sister pulls me away from my morning coffee to ask for pancakes, heedlessly unaware of the ass-pain that is scrubbing mixing bowls at 7:00 AM. Today, I caved. I said, "We don't have any bananas," and she asserted, "We have discount M&M's!" so I wound up making M&M Pancakes. Which she then covered in chocolate syrup.

Yes. M&M and Chocolate Syrup flavored Fried Dough. I didn't get a picture. I was too ashamed.
Even the Amandine from months back were healthier than that. She ate them while watching a documentary on the Green River Murderer.
Aah, youth.

I spent last night discussing Vidya with Liam. Lately, he's on a Monster Hunter and Katamari Damacy kick. I've never played either, but EVERYONE with a soul loves the Katamari theme-song, and I happen to have a favorite monster, which I have distantly admired for years while people played Monster Hunter. It's the Khezu. The Khezu is quite possibly the most charming monster ever.

In addition to resembling a cross between an uncircumcised penis and the Scolex of a Tapeworm, it is also my favorite monster because of its titanic, electrified, tooth-ringed, and featureless face resembling the Headsucker's from the Powerpuff Girls or Ninomae's Flandre. I love it. It's also inadvertently spawned an inside joke where everything pertains to Khezu. In addition to everything pertaining to Khezu, Khezu is also known to "Use the Sun Ring," and "Think Male-Ninja is Good," both of which are kind of their own in-joke, too.

Beyond that, there's not a whole lot going on. I've been reading about Circe on the side. I've been turning the idea of writing a Fallout: New Vegas story for quite some time now, because it's been a very long time since I've ever written anything like that. I wanted to write a Gummo parallel to it about a year ago, where Jarrod Wiggley would embark on a Caravan Trip with Solomon and Tummler, who would spend their days raping dying Raiders as opposed to disabled prostitutes, killing Geckos instead of cats with a pellet rifle for Huntz for profit, and taking Jet as opposed to sniffing glue. I never did. Since, I've been turning an idea about a young Priestess in Caesar's Legion who tries to create a revolt and rises to distinction - I'd planned her to be named Circe and be defined by Circe's knowledge of flora and fauna and her treachery. I don't think I'll do it, though. I've just not got time to, but the idea's there. Dustin's pitched the idea of writing up a big adventure bit. I'll probably just expend my extra creativity there and save myself the trouble of writing alone.

Oh. Shit. I forgot I have mail to get out in addition to mail to receive. I guess I'll leave out on that. Thanks for reading. Also, Khezu.

I've Had a Glass or Two.

Nobody in my family drinks red wine, with the exception of myself, who can handle it with small sips like I handle black coffee and with a similar appreciation as well.

This bottle of red wine has been sitting in my fridge for awhile. It was a housewarming gift from the apartment across from mine or something. After a bit of thinking, I realized it'd saved me the trouble of picking up port or anything for that Balsamic Chicken recipe I'd posted here after meeting Liam's girlfriend, Luna.

I took a crack at it, and it came out really well - very mellow and fragrant. I used apples for the sweetness that the figs were supposed to impart; Winter is the queue for all the figs, even dried, to vanish here in New York, so the only way I was getting fig into this recipe was scraping the contents out of a fig newton or something. The flavor of apple is a little less subtle, but the texture is nice, and you can just spear the cuts right under the bite you're taking.

If there was one thing complaint-worthy, it's the smell of balsamic vinegar and red wine boiling. My apartment's real small, so now the whole place smells like a wino's vomit.
Like grapes and a sour stomach.

Here's a peek at it:
Now I've got this bottle of red wine just sitting in there, though. I've had a glass or two to help it vanish, but I don't think it's anything I'm going to be able to knock out on my own without finding another recipe that calls for it.

Maybe a borscht or something?
I don't know.

Yesterday was supposed to be a bad day - sometimes, shitty happenings just kind of spring up and expect you to drown under them: Emily's Brother's a shameless con-artist and just cost her and her Mother $3,000 in fraud. Shawn blinded himself in a seizure and he doesn't want me to bother with anything more than a card for Christmas, which feels kind of ominous, and after that, the oddest thing happened.

I heard something like a Tarzan call? One of those undulating "AAAaaaAAAaaaAAAaaaAAAaa-!" style ones? I didn't know what the hell it was. I opened my window. In the parking-lot, my deaf-mute neighbor was sobbing. I ran down the stairs to try to see what was wrong, but he got into his car and left.

It was the most heartbreaking sound I've heard in a long time. I don't think most people cry like that - they train themselves to be reserved or something, but that sound. It was like anguish. It was the most human sadness I've ever heard or seen.

It seemed like kind of a bad night. I couldn't think. I kind of bitched-out Alex and threatened to leave him on his own, which was really immature on my part. I just wanted to have less problems to listen to, and Alex has a lot of problems.

I apologized and I left to kind of recollect my head with a shower.
I'm awesome, and problems are temporary. Moreover? I don't just have me, I have the most frick-righteous girl to walk the planet next to me.

We've got double the trouble and twice the solutions - and there's always more than one way to solve a problem.

Life can't get me down. I'll thump life in the teeth.
Or shank it with a wine-bottle.

Shame and Potatoes.

I have a lot of shame with regard to my extended family. It has a few good, adult members and most of them are dying. I think it boils down to both Grandmothers, named Linda, Charles Bly, Charles Senior, and Geoff. Of that headcount, three are essentially dying.

Charles Senior, once keen on fishing and firing rifles despite his plagued memories of being shot in the Gulf War and witnessing a grenade kill children in Vietnam, is now essentially home-ridden after a quadruple-bypass heart surgery that clinically killed him three times. He said he had witnessed "Heaven, Hell, and a place that was Neither".

Linda Shannon is due to get her diabetes-deadened legs amputated. Her immediate family is so addicted to Lortab brand Hydrocodone that she actually has been prescribed them, but hides them and goes without them despite the immense pain of her dying body for fear of them being stolen from her and for fear of being portrayed as an addict.

Geoff's the newest addition. Let me tell you about Geoff. Geoff, which is pronounced "Jeff" and not "Gee-off", is kind of an odd person. He's essentially my ex-uncle. Geoff married my aunt, Temperlynn. My aunt's an odd person, though - she lives for the thrill of chasing married men, and Geoff was the first man she'd had affections for that -wasn't- married. After a brief stint with Geoff, my Aunt abandoned him shortly after the death of his mother to begin an affair with a married police officer named John.

John's very controlling. Essentially for fear of my Aunt being seen as anything more than an affair. She goes out of her way to raid Linda Shannon's home for food and money to try and out-do John's wife by being a better care-taker to his kids, who are quite simply spoiled.

Geoff was on hard times. He worked at a Gas Station that would later part ways with him when the economy got rough. My Aunt worked, but she quickly lost interest in him and that left him living on his dwindling savings. His mother loved him very much though, and left her furniture, savings, and dishware to Geoff after her passing. Geoff gave the dishware to me when I explained to him my intentions of escaping home, and it resides packed away with my dishcloths, knife-set, and a few appliances that I'd purchased on Christmas.

In an odd way, in her passing Geoff's mother kept him alive.

You already know a lot about Charles Junior. Charles Junior is my other uncle. Charles didn't exactly have a good life, and was in and out of police scrutiny and foster care with my mother, who looked out for him when he was small. In a similar situation to Geoff about a decade ago, he called my mother, desperate for a place to live when we were still on the Canadian Border. He came up for us on a train and lived in our basement. He was a brilliant handyman and enjoyed grilling chicken. He made many friends and held many jobs, all of which seemed promising, and all of which payed far more than my parents' did. He would work hard, get comfortable, get drunk, and then lose each of them.

Thankfully, he had a very good girl named Kayla who nursed him back up and got him on the right track. She was a little homely, but with very fair, wispy hair, a medical education, and dark, romantic eyes. She would laugh at his antics, like throwing snowballs at her, and even return them. She was very fun and kind to me as a child, and they shared an apartment that we sometimes visited.

He would later get drunk and wreck her house after breaking the door to get in. I don't think he ever payed off his damages to her belongings, but they did bar him from the area, and the police guarded Kayla after he threatened to cut her brake-cables, which he could've done as he worked part time as a mechanic before his drinking would ultimately kill that, too.

He sank into bitterness. He drank heavily, and finally he called us fuck-up children, and said that my parents' only claim to fame was raising us, which they did poorly. Prior to that, there had been mild excursion in the house, but they were always resolved with Charles apologizing and quietly going to bed. My parents would not stand to have their integrity as people questioned, and they ultimately told him to leave.

They were very good to him about it. They payed his ticket. They packed his bags for him. He left smiling, and he used the last of his savings to buy a laptop, from which he kept us posted about his budding new life.

Things were initially promising. He wrote from a bar and told us that he was ashamed for having bought a laptop, and planned to sell it. He said he had a job lined up for him, and we replied by telling him to get out of the bar. He did. He had a fairly good job at an auto-body shop, and he claimed to have quickly risen through the ranks there. He got into a relationship with a girl not even worth mentioning - he had a lot of those. Kayla, and another woman named Sammy, are the only ones who were legitimately kind and good people - and she later kicked him out of her house for getting into a drunken fight with her boyfriend, I believe.

Charles had stabbed her boyfriend, who had drawn a knife first. He was so scared after sticking him in the shoulder that he hid the knife and waited for the police to show. When he was certain he wasn't in trouble, he quietly gave the police the knife and apologized.

Charles was homeless. Geoff took him in.

Things were good for a bit, as they tend to be with Charles. Charles was comfortable and complacent, drinking heavily and stealing Geoff's Lortabs. Charles held a job. Soon, Geoff held one too, and everything was evermore promising.

Charles got drunk and fucked it up like most things in his life. He got into a drunken argument in the apartment lobby and they barred him from the area. A good person, Geoff refused to let Charles brave the oncoming winter homeless and essentially smuggled Charles into his home. After a bit, Geoff was laid-off and he quickly was running out of money caring for Charles too. Charles has always been a frivolous spender. I just mailed Geoff shoes recently. They were a hard buy because he needs support for his bad feet, and he's a size-fourteen. He said he needed them though, and he couldn't really afford to spring for them.

Charles came into Geoff's apartment while Geoff was purchasing groceries. He was drunken and thoroughly drugged and tried to start a fire in the fireplace without opening the flue. A few pieces of furniture caught fire. Charles put them out, but the damage in fire and smoke was done, and he'd essentially ruined the memento furniture that Geoff's mother had left him.

Geoff came home to a smoked-out house full of ruined memories, and was livid. He confronted Charles about it, who answered by stabbing Geoff four times with a serrated steak-knife.

He didn't have remorse. He was so violent when the cops responded that it took four officers and three deployed Tazers to subdue him. Even in the car, Charles kicked the passenger window out, to which the Officer is said to have quietly said, "Boy. You don't even know how much trouble you're in."

Geoff was rushed to the emergency room where he is right now.
He doesn't even know shoes are on the way.

Charles was ushered out in cuffs, screaming threats that he'd murder the officers.

Linda Shannon stands by Charles asserting that it was self-defense despite Charles stabbing Geoff in the back. She just wants to see her son in a positive light, but it's starting to grate a bit.

This is the kind of stuff that makes me want to amputate myself from my extended family.

I wasn't feeling so hot to trot today for obvious reasons.
I know I still have Emily, so the day can't be as bad as it seems, but a stabbing makes for a real shame of a day-after, and nobody's an island.
I didn't eat much, but I did prepare a potato.

Emily's a very meat and potatoes kind of girl, so I'd been looking for an exciting way to prepare them for her. This way is called "Fanning" a potato:I won't get into it. I don't feel like it. I'll just tell you that you should put two chopsticks on either side of the potato to make sure you don't cut all the way through it. Cook it in foil with parsley and butter.

Plat du Jour.

So it's been awhile since I've done one of these. The plate of the day is Amandine, and it was recommended by Hjalmar. It's a Romanian dessert, and while mine looks suspiciously like any other slice of chocolate cake would, it's glazed with dark-chocolate, filled with a cocoa butter-cream, and soaked in a cappuccino-flavored syrup.

You are gaining weight just by looking at it.

It was thoroughly eaten by my sister, but not me as I was ill at the time, and couldn't taste anything; I think this is largely a product of the unseasonably cold weather that's been plaguing Upstate New York for awhile now - it actually snowed last night, though nothing stuck. It's nice, until your feet get cold. If your feet get cold and you've already taken a shower, you'd better deal with it, Chump, because you're having perpetually-iced feet until you sleep.

I believe I've found work in the form of a man with an extraordinarily thick Jewish accent. His name is Dominick, and he operates a local Pharmacy. I had gone in to apply for lousy clerk-work with a man named Niles, and he essentially said, "How's about I dial up the Pharmacy, and see if they can help you?"

I explained to Dominick that I would be limited hours so long as I didn't own a car, but that I was content to walk if need be, to his Pharmacy. He said he was willing to accommodate me and let me work weekends, which leaves me with some time to work a second job, possibly Bayberry Uniforms who I am meeting with next week, if I would like to.

It's kind of unfortunate that all of this good favor hits me just as I prepared to shack-up with Meiling to play Ragnarok Online in my spare time, but I can't complain. Perhaps, with employment sorted and all going well, I can feel free to be a bit more generous with mail, and that's more than hopping about as a Taekwon would net me.

I've upped my weight at the Gym a little. I'm slowly inching towards my goals.

It was also John and my Mother's birthday last night. I treated my mother to Sushi, and I'm treating John to a Cucumber Soda I've been saving for him.

I also won a Cooking Contest. I feel very esteemed. I won with Chili, which is not usually my favorite thing to prepare, but I prepare it well.

In closing, I've been on a bit of a PREPOSTERONE kick. It's rather troublesome, as I've begun to lose my polish in favor of my sexual appetite. I'm trying to keep it managed, and I've dodged a lot of oncoming advances...

...It feels really good to do that. It reassures me that I'm thoroughly and happily enchanted by my special someone.

Soul Food.

My kitchen's getting pretty barren again, and the cold pizza (Which is Breakfast of Champions) was taken to work for lunch by my folks. I was kind of sweating this last night along with how to prepare rice, with Emily. Whenever I prepare rice without the use of a rice-cooker, which I scored at a garage sale for a paltry fee of six dollars, I wind up with this gross bowl of white starch that's on its way to being Congee.

Not only is it unpleasantly textured and flavorless, but it's a pain in the ass to clean, and leaves me short a cup of rice.

Discussing this, I was given a few tips:
Add butter to the water before adding the rice,
Cook just below medium heat,
Season it while it cooks as opposed to later.

I didn't have too much laying around: a chicken breast in the freezer, a bag of baby carrots, and a potato. I know Pyon's not a fan of meats in curries, but I just couldn't have carrot-and-potato curry. It would be too plain without, at the minimum, an onion. I compensated for the lack of onion in mine with some powdered onion that I happened to have on hand. It worked very well.

I cooked everything at medium-low for an extended period of time, probably around...12:00 AM today, and it finished at 2:00 PM.

I actually covered the roux while it was simmering - it is initially pretty watery, and you boil it after adding the meat and vegetables until it thickens around them, essentially and went to the Gym. Everything was pretty slick because once I came back, bam - Instant MSG-less lip-tingling satisfaction.
Curry's pretty rib-sticky too. I probably won't be hungry for dinner.

Also, Emily's a practitioner of the occult. Yes. I did go the extra mile to work in that very stupid pun.

I talk to Onni at 9:00 - I had to do some generic meddling this morning. He's doing pretty well, and he took the time to educate me on the changes of World of Warcraft that have occurred in my absence. I used to play when it lacked any expansions, and it'd seem everything has been turned on its head. In addition to furries and LGM's, they've added all sorts of bullshit professions, changed the perk-system previously implemented, added, removed, and then re-added all sorts of titles, and...

Well, you get it. A lot of shit's changed.
Every now and then, I lament not being able to have enjoyed the Role-Playing aspect of the game, because I was rather young during my stay, and figured, "If I click that Roleplaying Server's checkbox, I may as well get fitted for a pocket-protector and start bidding on a first-edition of Dungeons and Dragons."
If I ever pick it back up, which I doubt, as I can't handle too many role-playing games short of Arcanum (as it largely lacks a multiplayer community) and Ragnarok (which has largely assassinated my patience, though Hjalmar and I once entertained the notion of swapping places and having me be a Taekwon while he got the feel for Monk.) I'd try for like...Paladin. The White Knight Class. Only I'd be all pompous and holier-than-thou until I found common ground with people.

...Or something.

It'd let me finally use that name I've been saving, too, "G.B. Krmmstopp".

...Gerbera Bernadette...Yeah. That sounds pretty pious.

Also, my family: it's in a bit of turmoil.
This is largely because of my little sister's education.
I'll keep that under my hood, though, until I know what's certain of it.

A Recipe for Balsamic Chicken, and my Pre-Bed Thoughts.

Season four chicken-breasts with salt and pepper, then lightly dredge them in flour. Pat off any excess flour with a paper-towel. Heat two tablespoons of Olive Oil in a skillet, add one tablespoon of butter, and stir until it melts. Place the chicken-breasts in, and saute them for about seven minutes, flipping them once. Each side should be lightly golden.

Deglaze (i.e. scrape with a spatula) the bottom of the pan, but don't empty it.

Add one chopped shallot and saute for two minutes.

Add two tablespoons of balsamic vinegar, and simmer until the vinegar is almost evaporated before adding a half-cup of red wine or port.

When the port has about half boiled-off, add one-half cup of Beef Stock, six dried and quartered Mission Figs, and a fourth-teaspoon of salt as well as a fourth-teaspoon of pepper.

Simmer until the sauce thickens, which should run you about three minutes.
spoon it over the sauteed chicken, and serve with brown rice, orzo, cous-cous, or any other starchy grain side-dish you could delight in.

I would have an ingredient list, but I imagine that will be pretty lengthy to put up here, and I have a sneaky suspicion that because of the backasswards nature of this particular entry, it will be on the lengthy side without including that bit of convenience anyways.

Today's ended on a bit of a bruised note, but I'll get to that later. First I have to tell you about a stranger I met at 1:38 AM last night. It was raining, you see, but it's been extraordinarily cold as of late, so I'd figured not to go out in it like I usually do, and that I would just lay in bed until I fell asleep. However, then I heard the steamwhistles of the trains, which for some reason are extra-audible in the rain. I could resist myself after that, and I knew I had to go out.

I hoofed it down the stairs to the parking lot of the apartment plot, and just kind of stood there for a bit. Eventually, a man got out of his car, lit a cigarette, and said:

Mysterious Stranger: "...Are you just standing in the rain?"
Me: "Yes. I like it."
Mysterious Stranger: "I like the rain, too."
Me: "I think it gets a bad reputation because the News calls it 'Bad Weather'."
Mysterious Stranger: "My girlfriend is one of those people who keeps an umbrella in her car at all times? She hates the rain. Says it makes her hair go everywhere."
Me: "Aah. My buddy's spent most of her time in a desert, so when rain comes, it's like, 'Aah-! Moisture!'"
Mysterious Stranger: "Ahaha."
Me: "I know how your girlfriend feels though. When my hair's not tied back, and it gets wet? I look like that uh, UFC Fighter, Clay Guida. I used to get teased for it."
Mysterious Stranger: "...I can see the resemblance. Hah-!"
Mysterious Stranger: "I used to have long hair, too, but I work security down at Carousel? This girl, she was about fifteen-"
Me: "Pulled it when you caught her shoplifting or something?"
Mysterious Stranger: "She digs her fingers into my hair and pulls, and then sprays perfume in my eyes. Almost as bad as mace. Probably the only reason she was carrying it."
Me: "Oof. Rough deal."
Mysterious Stranger: "After that I was like, 'I'm bald for as long as I hold this occupation.'"
Me: "You ever notice that you can always hear the steamwhistles when it's raining? It's like some weird Indian voodoo magic or something, but it's like the whistles only go when it's raining."
Mysterious Stranger: "...Huh. You know, you're right."
Me: "One of my friends - he lives in Puerto Rico. He's a huge train affectionado. He's pretty sad because Cabo Rojo used to have a Train Station, until they converted it into a library, because the island's all of like, a mile long?"
Mysterious Stranger: "That does seem kind of useless, yeah."
Me: "I think of him every time I hear those steamwhistles."
Mysterious Stranger: "Well, I've just finished an eighteen hour shift. I'm going to go pass out."
Me: "I'll probably do the same in a couple of minutes. It's pretty late."

And with that, he finished his cigarette, and went up to his apartment.
It was really pleasant to catch someone like that. They're few and far-between, talkative strangers are.

I'm living for myself, once again. It's a pretty good sobering-slap for me, and I'm keeping all my cogs a-whirlin' and all of my priorities straight. It's good to kind of dig my head out from my white-knighting lovesick helmet. All the same, I'm really taking account of all of my opportunities and resources, and jamming them forcefully beneath my window of opportunity. Yeah. Just try shutting that bitch with all the crap I've piled over its window-sill.

Which brings me to that sour note. First, let me set the stage; I had gotten off the phone with Liam after failing to contact Paul as well as Andy, and had sort of invited myself to a Skype phone-chat with ten or so other people, including Liam.
It was fun, but it would occasionally go quiet as people drifted in and out from Getamped matches, so I figured I'd bust out my trusty dusty Magenta Triple-Guts Grappler's Arms, and see if I still had it in me.

I didn't, but CyberConnect was more than pleased to show that it still had it, if "it" were shitty server connections that allow me to win with my cheap-ass accessory and train-collision fighting style.

I really squished Liam's toes. And then his potential Girlfriend one-on-ones me, and says I need to understand his circumstances. I quietly informed her that I've known him far longer than her, and have duly noted them as such, and well...

I guess I may as well have written, "HUGE BITCH, BLUH BLUH" across my forehead.

Drama, drama, drama.

Bluh.

I get up in four hours.
Hark, that be'th the call of IRL.

Fuggituhbowdit.

I spent most of today visiting the Little Italy side of New York. They had an Italian heritage festival there, where there was more eggplant, tomato, and oregano going around than I could handle. When I got home, I thought to try two recipes I'd encountered there - fried ravioli and the caprese baguette.

Some family tension kind of broke there.
My sister and mother broke into a bit of a square-off after my mother inadvertently ditched her at a clothing outfitter - which happened to have all sorts of crazy stuff that I bet a few friends of mine would dig - they had this oldschool hat that would've made Liam look like This Guy, only blonde-ish.

I'm short fifteen bucks after going, but y'know?
I think it was worth it to have something to write about.

The postal service is finally re-handling Hjalmar's package.
I hope to have it out. Again.

By the by, the Caprese Baguette?

Totally easy to make.
Mozzarella on a baguette, set to broil. Cook two strips of bacon, and once the fat renders, drop three slices of tomato into it with an Italian herb of your choice.
Pat it all down, later it, and squish it so that mozzarella runs over everything.

Perfect.

Also, I felt sort of good about myself. At this little antique joint, they had some vintage postcards - y'know, the sort that look like watercolor paintings and daguerreotypes?
My sister tried to get me one before she realized she didn't have her money on her.
Said, "You're always getting me things. I wanted to return the favor."

I think that, coupled with the fact that my mother wouldn't give her the postcard on-credit because she was on her way out kind of let the animosity between them smolder.

Regardless, I was really flattered.

Plat du Jour.

It's been awhile since I've done this.

It's Thyme and Lemon Linguine with Mushrooms.

I spent a portion of last night trying to coach John through a recipe - it usually calls for Mushrooms and Parmesan Cheese in addition to the Thyme, Garlic, and Lemon-Juice he had, but I told him to chuck in an onion so it wasn't just plain pasta.

It would seem that it was good, but got progressively worse as he ate it.

He said my punishment was to make it at eat it. I was supposed to make it with the ingredients he had lying around, but I hoofed it to the store and made it "Right" per se...

I'm cheating to avoid eating last night's flavor-anomaly. Here's the recipe I crappily swapped around to accomodate what he had.

My apologies to your taste-buds, John.

Also, I found this white kerchief. I've taken to wearing it.
Very Cooking Mama.

Food Waifu.

The glass is very small, and the savoiardi are rather large, but this is actually a Tiramisu Trifle.

Mascapone cream, over coffee-soaked ladyfingers, topped with a strawberry.


It's actually rather unflattering. I should have piped it in.

I'm also making White Chocolate and Cranberry oatmeal cookies. The secret ingredients are love and nutmeg.

Plat du "Every Damned Day".

For the past couple awhiles now, I've been living off these noodles. They've got lime leaves in them, and they taste very nice. They cost a startling thirty-six cents, too. I was walking around in the Hispanic Foods section, and even though they say "Product of Thailand - Diversity and Refinement" on the front, all the instructions are in Spanish. They're odd, and when given Healthy, Convenient, and Cheap you kind of have to check one box, as the good Witch puts it.

I've been following it with a glass of V8 to make up for the pretty-much-everything it lacks, and then following all that with one-hundred twenty-eight fluid ounces of water to hack down that sodium. By the by? That's three meals a day for one dollar and eight cents.

I've been having these frequent nightmares. The first one had something to do with a tailor's shop, and I don't remember much about it beyond someone being strangled. The second one was much more vivid and about a man being tortured in Yemen. He was thin and wearing only tan boxers and sandals, and couldn't speak English. These U.S. Soldiers were beating him against his bed, which he was trying to hide in. I don't recall what they were trying to get him do, but they eventually tried to mentally break him by showing him all these photos of dead and tortured people.
The first one was a video of a man fleeing naked, before promptly being lit aflame. They then showed him a picture of a man who's mouth was being held open by two gloved fingers to show that they'd drilled all of his teeth. The final one was a picture the inmate didn't understand, but as it was my dream, I knew what it was. It looked like a snail, but was actually a human head with the eyes pulled high out of the face like two red exclamation-points.
They stopped showing him these things, and one said "My friend has a shotgun. You will do whatever the fuck I say", but he didn't understand, he just knew he was being threatened.
It kind of panned out, and this woman was telling a crowd that these things tend to perpetuate themselves because Yemen is poor and the incidents go unreported. I woke up after she finished speaking, kind of terrified.

A friend said, "I think the guy's supposed to be you", and I said "It seems really stupid to picture myself as a victim of any sort". She had this perfectly deadpan reply of, "Your subconsciousness doesn't care."

I've been throwing a bit of a pity-party for myself, lately. I'm taking a bit of a break from Steam to enjoy myself. Everyone's been on this perpetual Terraria binge anyways. Usually, I get a little generous or something, trying to feel better. I can be this really awful White Knight figure sometimes, but it's usually a little self-serving, because I'm typically trying to build myself up off someone's gratitude.
Lately, people have been more than eager to accept help, or assistance, or gifts, but I'm not getting the gratitude I repair my social chips and cracks with.

It's a lot like performing very hard for an empty room.

As such, I think I'm going to take a bit to focus on me, and maybe a couple dear friends.

Give Sparrow a call.

Get the Judge a kinky gift.

Write Pyon a letter or something - I actually need to write a lot of letters to relatives, but I don't have stamps. I think the local Sam's has it, and I need the excercise regardless, so I'll probably hoof it and call it good as it's pretty far away.

I should write Steve, too. He's surprised me with a bottle of Vinegar that he didn't need to.

Gibby's actually leaving with some friends to catch up out-of-town, and I've been invited. Sounds like a nice opportunity to play Mini-Golf and eat something other than noodles, so I might bum it to Savannah or wherever they're headed.

We've listen the house in the Newspaper - the Realtor thing isn't working out, and trying to sell it alone wasn't getting too much done.

Got to pick up my transcripts to have a final application sent to Pace.

In closing, I've been on a bit of a Cake binge, lately.

You should give Frank Sinatra or Never There a listen - Humor me.

Also, sorry for the poor quality picture. Someone liberally used the Camera without charging it, and it promptly died after one photo.

Plat du Hjalle

He hates being called that, but if I used any other name, it'd look odd.

I was talking to a friend of mine about Chinese food, and after weighing the pros and cons of it all, I finally decided to have gingered milk-curd and steamed wonton.


I used ginger, onion, cabbage and tofu for the dumplings. Things like this typically call for pork, but the Tofu at the store was actually cheaper pound for pound at the store; as much as I'd like to say it was health-conscious Sparrow chirping in my ear, it was really my wallet.

I simmered it all in a mix of soy-sauce, white pepper and rice-wine with a little red pepper - the red pepper paired with the ginger proved a little spicy, and unless you like that mint-pepper kick, you may want to sans the red pepper entirely.

Steamed it, dipped each in the soy sauce, and served with a spring-onion garnish because it's easy and adds a few points for showmanship.

The milk-curd went over less well. The idea is that you introduce juiced ginger to sugar and boiled milk and it solidifies into a mildly-healthy dessert. However, I have everything but whole milk, which is what I believe lead it to doing what it did - a delicious pudding-like curd floated to the top, however the entirety of it is essentially supposed to be a pudding. Letting it sit longer didn't help it, and it's supposed to be served warm.

The process takes an astonishing two minutes. I'm willing to bet I'd messed up somewhere, and I might try it a second time when my hands aren't screaming from the day's soak of ginger and hot water.

Healthiest Dessert Ever.

What an oddity. Sparrow reccomended I try Carrot Juice. It's sweet with a grassy aftertaste and has the consistancy of milk. I quickly decided to try and make a dessert of it.

I also made Banana Blancmange after Nyabi complained about cramps.
I'll tell you more later, I've got things going on.

Plat du Jour

First day of work today. Spent most of it on a ladder.

Had coffee, curry and carrots for lunch.

I made $52.50, and they hired me for an extra day.




Garrison called today to ask if I want to film tomorrow. I felt like I let him down by saying "No", but to put it bluntly, making that Indie Film doesn't net me $180 on day-three.

Gotta go beat the plaster-dust off my coat and shower.

Also made a sponge cake.

Cooking Nun 2: Dinner at Myouren.

I've been cooking my tail off, and now I'm about to do so again.

I confess it's been a really odd week. I bought someone a "Quit Being So Stressed" TENGA, and now I'm feeling kind of uh. Greasy. Like, I should take an hour-long shower to wash the shame off. It was way more exciting for me than I care to admit because before I went to bed, "...They'll probably actually use it", crossed my mind. I definitely need to run myself through a carwash or something. There's only like, one or two people who I should get things like that.




Rather that buy Nyabi a TENGA, which did cross my mind I'm ashamed to say, I'm going to risk less lawsuits and bake for him. He's a dear friend of Pyon and I, and after thinking about it a little, I decided I could certainly jam a bunch of cookies I'd made into one of those cookie-tins you can get at Walgreens, and ship it off discreet-like.








Now, though, I have to worry about my baking. I sincerely wish I could just cram the Flan I made into a Dewar Flask or something, but I can't, and now I have to risk making the Paprenjak I'm not certain I can make. Oh, and the whole time I'm doing this, by the by, I want to tell you that Pyon is giving me the hardest of times:

"Aww, you're baking for Nyabi? So cute-!"

"Aww, you're worried about making lousy cookies? So cute-!"

"Shh, shh, shh. Save that cute pouting for Nyabi."

I can't win. Lv. 100 Hat.

Today's the day I'm supposed to get John's Drivers, so I can shamelessly mooch them onto my computer and begin playing things once more, though that's admittedly very poorly timed as I begin filming tomorrow around 1:00 PM, and I believe it lasts all the way until May something-or-another.

The dandelions have yet to grow back.

Inaba gave me the recipe for the Garlic Bread, though my Baking-over-Broiling goof made it a little off. It was actually still very good, though shamelessly artery-clogging.

The Teriyaki Salmon was pulled off the back label for a tube of ground ginger I bought. It was actually very good, and Pyon said, "Nyabi be damned - that Salmon is Mine!"
I'm now officially "Food-Waifu".
We have a beautiful, blooming relationship, but only in a Culinary sense.

The Flan is Flan. I made it without pumpkin this time. Exciting.

That said, I have to handle this computer's drivers, my Script Treatment, Nyabi's baked-goods, call Sparrow, write Sweden, and wash the shame of my TENGA-gifting bout off.

I'll be back in like, an hour.

Paru du Jour

I'd had a conversation with Parsee in the space between discussing Momiji with Pyon and Futae no Kiwami jokes with Shameimaru.

Parsee'd paged through here and said, "There's so much Freudian bullshit with that Fish Taco".

I said it was actually supposed to be worse, because the recipe I was using initially called for Cilantro, which would have turned the entire deal green. I'd omitted the Cilantro because I didn't want to purchase and eat the crap purely for the sake of a bit of innuendo.

Parsee thought about it for a moment before saying, "Y'know, I've never seen a Fish Quesadilla. It's a novel idea."

Here you go, Bridge-t.

Beyond Food, and over the shire to the Valley of Me, things are okay.
I've just finished reading the Initial Script for Clerks, one of my favorite films. The slated ending was pretty odd - In the film, Dante and Randal have this brawl in the store, have a conversation while exhausted, and realize they're still friends before Randal Randal-walks out the store.






If all went as Scripted, Dante would have promptly been shot after that, and a gunman would've emptied the register before bailing. In dark humor, a customer would have peeked in afterwords and cried, "...Hello? A little help?" and upon finding the store empty, would have taken a pack of cigarettes and bailed.

What a shit ending. I'm glad Dante lives.

The script-reading is in preparation for an Indie-Film I'll be making in my quest for College Credit. A friend of mine and I have slated "Frank & Stein", a Corporate Frankenstein film. It's centered around Frankenstein's Monster as he goes about his mundane little cubicle-job. It's done in a fashion akin to "Terry Tate: Office Linebacker" or "Trailer Park Boys", and even has a homage to the two when an employee named Ricky continually submits "OFFICE LINEBACKER." into the Suggestion Box. Franky's going to try to implement it, but on the Office Budget, can only afford an "Office Receiver", which is a guy name Terry who stands by a trashcan, assisting people who attempt to throw things into the trashcan from afar.

There's some other silly things in it, and it'll open up with Jonathan Coulton's "Code Monkey". More or less on that depending on how stressful the process of making this proves to be.

Mildly irrelevant, but I'll be attempting to default my computer to fix the constant I/O Errors and Router issues that plague this lousy laptop. If I manage, I'll see if I can get Parsee to help me tweak Minecraft to my settings and maybe host for some Hisoutensoku or Warcraft III, which I torrented awhile back with hopes of Paladin-ing alongside Sparrow.

Fingers crossed, lads.
By the by, the Fish Quesadilla? Dynamite.

Plat du Café

It's a very Coffee-filled day. I've had quite a bit of it, and having gone to bed very early, I'm feeling particularly brisk and limber about everything.

I've got my To Do list for the day: Platelet Donation at 3:00, Postcards, Laundry, and a look-in to some Compositions - Einstein on the Beach, 1000 Airplanes on the Roof, and Winter, as well as some Chopin, Schubert, Bach, Liszt and perhaps Tchaikovsky and Beethoven.

Today's plate is actually from a few days ago. I came back from the Grocery-store using a portion of my Shovelmoney to purchase fish, and I wound up saving myself some money by getting a very large box.

Unfortunately, this means I've committed myself to eating Tilapia. Every. Day.
I've begun trying to prepare it in a unique way - In Odd Thomas, a book I disliked, I was fascinated with Odd's mild obsession with Fish Tacos, and I took the time to prepare one. It's served with marinated cabbage and a small dollop of Sour Cream, which added a very nice touch.

In addition to the fish, I purchased Lemons. I've been using them to make quite a bit of Blancmange which keeps the milk from spoiling in the fridge, make the fish more exciting, and as an ingredient for Aaron's "Oriental Ninja-Burger".

We'll see how this goes over.

Pyon and Nyabi have been making up a very significant part of my morning conversations over coffee. They're really great people. I feel better for knowing these guys.

Gotta mail word over to Robin and such - If I had that Einstein Postcard, I'd pass it his way, just for the odd, odd look in his eyes. That's photographic genius.

I'm willing to bet there was an odd sort of sadness in Einstein's understanding of things, and the expectations of the World upon his shoulders. I'm willing to bet he felt very much like Charlie Gordon in "Flowers For Algernon", or Robert Stadler when he saw the world he allowed to exist: "It's very lonely at the top".

I digress!
It's time for fish.

Plat de Victoire.

You ever really tell someone off who everyone has wanted to tell off, but hasn't? Like, well, have you ever addressed the elephant in the room, much to everyone's relief? I did that today, and by God, I feel like a victor for it.





There's three particular students who have no business being in my Medical Courses, and they sit in the corner of the classroom, earning -my- Credit with papers they admit to stealing from eachother and the grace of their standing with the instructor.

I told the Instructor several times that I didn't appreciate the special treatment that the three were getting, and that I think Medicine is no place for people to skirt by on grounds of reputation. I got the typical brush-off, save for today.

While sitting in class, I began to frown. I got, "You seem angry. Would you like to say something?"

I stood up and promptly said, "You there! Yes, you three! I'm tired of hearing things come out of your face. In addition, I think you're breezing through a class you should be failing by grace of your social standing."

The leader of the three laughed it off and I quickly added, "No. Seriously."

One of them said, "I'm in a course you're in. What does that say about you?"
I said, "Just wait until college, my friend."

Everyone just kind of stood there, mouth agape.
After the lesson, the Instructor pulled me aside and said:

"...I hadn't expected any of that to come out of anyone's mouth. Do you feel better?"
I said, "I do - is this a bad pull-aside or a good pull-aside?"
She opened her palm for a high-five and I laughed.

When No Child Left Behind essentially revokes your ability to fail students, you have to cross your fingers for the occasional self-righteous indignant loud-mouth to come along and say what everyone wants to.

I'll be that self-righteous indignant loud-mouth.

My victory meal was blackened salmon, with a small grilled onion garnish.
There was also a small portion of vegetables served aside it, but one so small that there was nothing to photograph after eating.

Plat du Aaaugh.

Okay, do I didn't wind up doing rice like I'd predicted. I threw the whole deal over Couscous, which is a tiny grain-pasta kind of similar to Italian pastina. It was pretty good - the flavors complimented eachother very well. Not particularly exciting, though.




Mildly irrelevant, but Filet Mignon bothers me - I've always wanted to prepare it or something, but then I saw it, and I was kind of disappointed in its raw sum - a nice little puck of meat wrapped in bacon. Some day, if I have the time, I ought to learn to prepare Filet Mignon in an exciting way - somehow, it just doesn't have wow-factor by itself...

...I'm a little premature about thinking on that, though - we're not buying anything that's not Great Value for quite some time.

Also, the title - I was walking Fischer, a small dog we've been in care of for a bit when I passed a guy shoveling dirt. I said I'd help him when I came back, though I don't necessarily know what put me up to it. He said he'd take what he could get, and I grabbed my workmitts and short red shovel. We shoveled until the sun started to set. All the while, he talked politics and such with me - he said Medical's a good field to seek out, because there will always be "Suckers hurtin' themselves", and said, "When you're old like me, your memory's the first thing to go - can't remember what's second..."

He passed me twenty dollars at the end of the day, and asked me if I thought I was going to be sore tomorrow. I said, "I think my back's going to hurt - call it a hunch". We both laughed, and he told me I could come back today to do the same thing. I think I will - even though I'm hurting, this is the closest I've gotten to a Callback all year.

Oh - also, I watched a deaf comedian perform last night, too. She was very good, and her interpreter relayed all of her signing. It was a funny coincidence, too, because awhile back, my TAG-Instructor said, "Harmeyer, a second language is a good thing to know. Now, you took two separate ones, and that's no good - if you could learn a language - any language - what would you learn?"

I told him I'd really like to learn Sign Language, and he said "...That's an odd answer. Why?"

I told him I'd really love to flirt with deaf people, and he goes:
"That is the single most egotistical, insensitive, self-centered thing I've heard all year. I love it."

I could get a job relaying for deaf comics; more incentive to learn Sign Language.

Plat du Jour

I've been Anemic, as of late.
My Biomedical Instructor made the diagnosis as to why I am tired by 7:00 while my head spins like a top for the entirety of the day prior. As such, I thought to use a little meat, and maybe balance-out that Iron level.




It's just another toss-over-ramen bit. Boiled the Gyoza and Chicken together before generously applying a new Curry-style Rub I found to everything and foil-baking it.

Took it out. Tossed over noodles. Slurped generously. Mouth numbed from small but powerful addition of red pepper. Entire kitchen smells like curry-powder.

There's an additional breast I cooked along with it all leftover. It's just kind of sitting there - I'll see what I can do with it. It'll probably be the same scenario, only thrown over some rice.

A little irrelevant but, yesterday, I woke up with this deep longing to visit the sea once more. I've only been to the sea twice, and only one of which do I hold any sturdy memories of. I woke up with the faintest hint of salt on my nose, and I starting craving that thick-feeling, perpetual breeze on the sandless coast, and the saline-and-grass smell that accompanies it.

Then I damned the fact that I'm in the landlocked Midwest...

I want to try a seafood dish. Shrimp's a little pricey, but I might spring for it. In addition, I was paging through a recipe for Fish Tacos - very healthy ones. It alternated the crunch of batter for lightly cooked onion. It used a lot of lime as well - I'm a sucker for citrus.

They also had a pretty bold bit for Scallops.
I've wanted to prepare Scallops for a bit, but I've never had them before, and I bet they're pricey, too...
...I just like the way they look. Scallops are very nice-looking. Cute and dainty, and you can serve them alongside the shell to look awful showy.

Gotta place a New York call before it gets too late. Miss 'em.