no blog

no blog

not going to sleep on time!

not going to sleep on time!

went and saw roots nation with ben s. and sarah at harpers ferry, much fun!

going to sleep early regularly for the first time ever!

going to sleep early regularly for the first time ever!

hmmm blowin it

hmmm blowin it

the tipping point

the tipping point

there

what the blog?!

what the blog?!

recursive feedback loops really aren't that interesting

my brother celebrated with the celtics. world champions

my brother celebrated with the celtics. world champions

had a great night, went to central sq and got everyone amped up on the street for a while. got cars and ppl cheering us on for days. lovin it, best sports season of all time.

we saw some guy on the street whose birthday it was. some old grey haired legend came over and got emotional with us.

also, my brother is a hero. he made it to legends and got photos. somehow he made it into the garden claiming to be scals cousin and took cellphone photos with a bunch of people on the team. incredible, i just talked to him, one of the bigger moves of all time

celticsssss!!!!!!!! champions!!! number 11111!!!!1

here's the lamar odom mixtape, got to do it



SUPERSTAR_JAY_THE_MIXTAPE_FINALS_HOSTED_BY_LAMAR_ODOM_ANDTONY_YAYO_.zip

hey

hey, big thunderstorms.

hey

hey. not really sure where to locate my blogging impulses, they rest dormant

one of the greatest comebacks in sports history

one of the greatest comebacks in sports history

greatest?

did you see all of it?

bring it back

bring it back

spoiler for "The Happening" (2008), the new M. Night Shyamalan disaster

what things sometimes look like

what things sometimes look like

things sometimes look plastic, all hard and angular edges. they look confused and disheveled, turning around and around.

things that are round look 2 dimensional, but they aren't! spheres that twist and spin have sloping surfaces whose geometry positions itself without considering the eye.

things that make no sense are further complicated. they wind and fall and jut out sideways. put together, they look like mountain tops.

giant tetris bricks fall from above in 3 dimensional space. the green rain of the matrix data stream plops downward in a waterfall. the giant tetris bricks rotate around their central axis and arrange themselves in a double helix which separates.

the neon green and black matrix screensaver is visualized. held at arms length, structures recede into the distance. rectangular prisms full of innards dazzle and react to the touchscreen.

a side scrolling video sequence -- angular lego bricks and vicious sharp tetris bricks zig zagging and colliding and moving down one unit at a time.

with eyes closed they look like this

paul pierce is THE MAN

paul pierce is THE MAN

i hope KP43 is ok.

CELTICSSSSSSSSSS!!!~!!@!!@!@!@!@@~@@~@~@~~@~@

Looking Up At Central Square

Looking Up At Central Square

Surprises in Central Square abound. And yet, nothing surprises. Even fights appear run of the mill and quotidian. Brick sidewalks undulate and collect broken glass. Bums, drunks, and vets call each other names and sleep on soft grass. Police tire of peeling them off of curbs and doormats.

Wendy’s and CVS buttress T stations where the Red Line transports passengers from Kendall Square and Harvard Square. MBTA workers snap their jangling keys to their belts and assist the elderly with Charlie Cards. Subway cars dive into the earth on the Cambridge side of the Charles River and snake toward Alewife, sniffing the darkened recesses of underground passages.

Dozens of college kids congregate at the corner of Massachusetts Ave and Brookline St, filling up the corner in front of the Middle East. They’re here to listen to M83 or We Are Scientists or Deerhoof or Pretty Girls Make Graves or !!!. They smoke Camel lights and show off their skinny jeans and clever T-shirts.

Middle schoolers strut and shout. Minivans lean on the pavement and accommodate children leaving school. Backpacks, jackets, and basketballs attach to boys and girls. A Bluetoothed woman tightens her grip on the leash while the dog tugs at the collar.

Grads blend in with crazy-bearded men and hoarse women. The crowds of Central Square are quaint compared to the rabid hordes of Davis Square and Porter Square. Central manages to impart the sensation of open sky and scattered parking spaces, a welcome respite from the suffocating sea of humanity and cabs close by in Harvard.

We didn’t grow up in North Cambridge or East Cambridge, but here we have all grown up with the yammering youth of Central Square. They play in front of hoops and walk to the bus stop. Their mothers bust them walking down the street when they should be inside studying.

The pizza never gets better at the sub shops, and other constants maintain. Cambridge Community Television continues to broadcast “BeLive!”, the door stays propped to the JAX Liquidation Outlet, and the Blockbuster sucks harder every day. The Enormous Room ebbs from empty to stifling, white tablecloths smooth Rendezvous, and pool players disrupt nearby tables at The Field.

Find a clean bench and a flaky pastry. In the coffeeshops, between mugs and power cords, sandwiches wait in cellophane. Batteries come in many sizes at Radio Shack. Sirens and horns clash while we turn our backs.

Recurs Weekly

facebook meta status of the day: "came on to facebook to see FOUR of her friends' status updates reading "frustrated". Sorry, guys. "



Recurs Weekly

My Mondays, angsty and unpredictable, camoflauge themselves in calendars. On this day, the world’s weight amplifies. A sense of nervousness distills into strange sensations of irreplaceability and alienation.

Weekend memories cascade and fade in while the shower steams and crackles. The musty bedroom air seeps outdoors where I squint at obedient asphalt and shimmering tree limbs. Cambridge Public Works garrulously broadcasts warnings of street cleaning and tow trucks over loudspeaker.

The hypermediated morning pulses electric with cell phones, shower radios, laptops, and flatscreens that flash and glow “7:23” and “Inbox (4).” I cough and exit. The combustion engine awakens an hour after you do. The blinker indicates a dire need for a right turn.

Don’t let the banana peel touch the iPod. This uniform consists of black socks, sunglasses, and a water bottle. Forget one of these and it’s your first sigh of the day. Do you turn back and show up late? Pressing on, we steer with autopilot and switch our minds to cruise control.

Swirls and sudden pangs swoop from the sides and catch you unawares, challenging the footing you thought stable. An unconscious countdown to tomorrow commences. The day flies by and you forget what it felt like to be alive and breathing and thinking and experiencing the stress of eight hours ago.

Blown out of proportion and paid too much attention to, the Monday mood passes. Clear but muddled, present but receding, it burrows and cowers for another six days. Spines straight, we emerge facing the sunset and inhaling a landscape of faces. Mirroring our own inner spheres of rolling passion, a visage peeks around the corner.

Horizontal and decompressing, I exhale and condense. Visualizing a closed system of colored arrows, energy collects, dissipates, and infuses. A river carries away the tiny droplets and molecular sprays of toxins and waste.

Without Monday, the rest of the week wouldn’t be so much fun.

gimme a break

gimme a break

one guy picks the celtics to win??!?!?!?


haha it just says perkins

i'm getting a perkins jersey before thursday

Celtics Win! Celtics Win!

Celtics Win! Celtics Win!

Bostonalicious: The Drive Home

i got this cell from idiot comics (rob sergel)













Bostonalicious: The Drive Home

On the drive home the people in the left lane pass you on the left. Problem is, the people on the right pass you on the right.

I like looking at faces on the drive home. Who are all these people? Where did they come from and where are they going and where are they sleeping tonight? You can infer and extrapolate what you like from the make and model of their car, their driving style, and their seatbelted appearance.

In Massachuetts people wait for their chance to get angry. Road rage is ever-present, ready to emit at the sign of an aggressive driver or careless commuter. Parking, rush hour, and bumper to bumper traffic particularly incite emotions. Whatever frustration has built up at home, work, or the grocery store gets its chance to shine from the pulpit of the driver’s side window.

Pedestrians walking home from Whole Foods with their reusable bags enter the crosswalk in front of two lanes of weary drivers and proceed to shout back at the compacts that honk and bellow. I cheer on the pedestrians and the folks taking charge and taking offense. If nothing else, it’s entertaining after an hour on the highway.

Closer to home, walls of subway passengers spill from the T and clog the sidewalks and barricade intersections. Walk signals become white beacons of invitation and approval. Truck drivers and cab drivers plod through the sea of the homeward bound.

Most windows stay closed. I imagine everyone listening to boring talk radio or bad music on their iPods that they choose to connect via FM radio rather than a simple tape adapter. Here it’s still legal to gab on your phone, blast texts, and multi-task away from your desk.

Many roads carry these travelers – Route 2, 95, 495, and 9. The Mass. Pike and the Middlesex Turnpike. Commutes with traffic, reverse commutes, short commutes, long commutes. Telecommuters commute to the living room. Many commute across state lines. Cops and troopers wield radar guns and pull over with impunity.

If you make it home safe, be grateful you didn’t get into an accident, didn’t get ticketed for speeding, and didn’t get any bad news on your cellphone on the way home.

The drive home can take you from your parking garage to your two car garage, but it can’t take you much place else.