Call on me

The Lord giveth, and The Lord taketh away

but not hiphop, yo.

In the words of Ice Cube, I gotta say it was a good day. Indeed, I didn’t even have to use my AK. There’s nothing like an English midterm to remind me what academic success tastes like. Yeah I might bomb my programming assignments, yeah, I might f up every differential equation I get my hands on, but god damn if I didn’t get a hundred percent on that bastard today. Unless she grades me down for shitty handwriting or being too damn sexy, that’s a straight refrigerator-bound A+ test. Capoeira went damn well too.

Now I’m back at home, tired as shit and achy as all hell. We dug another hole, me and the other two members of the QBAB Assault Squadron, and it was superior in every way to the first. The geriatric Avila beach security force, a man so old he still calls America the New World, came and gave us some guff, but then took a liking to us and left us be. We tried to explain to him, using metaphors and complex analogies and obscure Karate Kid references (He claimed he’d “Seen the previews but never saw the actual movie”) why exactly three dudes were out digging a giant hole in the sand at 1130 at night on a Wednesday, but it was beyond his grasp. Instead, he mumbled and shined his flashlight, then smiled and abandoned us once he saw we had no booze, corpses, or firearms. I shouldn’t be so hard on him, he was nice. Much nicer than the 4 real po that sat up on the road watching us for 45 minutes, hoping we’d do something illegal or at least turn into minorities so they could shoot us. Fascists.

Sitting in that pit, listening to the waves and watching the moon through the clouds, is something. I don’t know, or at least can’t convey exactly what that something is, but it’s definitely something. Something good.

These past few days, I’ve been filled with an overwhelming desire to go back to Brazil. It’s all I can think about. Not just as an escape, although there are many aspects of my life that are escape-worthy at the moment, but as an improvement, a step up. I catch myself daydreaming, remembering walking the streets of some no-name town between Campinas and Pouso Alegre at 2 AM, talking haltingly in poorly accented Portuguese about the capibaras sitting on the lawn across the way. I’d seen those things on Animal Planet before, but you don’t even know how big they are till you see one up close. They’re like a 50 gallon drum with feet. I digress. For whatever reason, I’ve got it on the brain. Call it a shot in the dark, but if any of you work at an English language newspaper somewhere down in the Promised Land, get me a job and a visa come June and I will be forever indebted to you, mind, body, and soul. To live in a place where, simply because of their foreignness, even the most mundane things become adventurous; to have my language be my ivory tower; to distance myself from all the mire I’ve sunk into over the last 22 years; that’s what I want. The question is, how do I make it happen.

For now, it’ll have to remain academic. Pass classes. Finish senior project. Graduate. Move to Brazil.

Still have a lot of steps to get through before I worry about that stuff.

I thought about writing down something concerning greatness, about how utterly devoid of it my existence is, and what I should do to remedy it, but that’s a slippery slope I shouldn’t get started on tonight. No, what I need tonight is a fistful of Advil and 14 hours sleep. Maybe some Vitamin C. It’s hard, going to school and learning about people like Charlemagne or reading books by Helprin or Hemingway or any of those other fools, and then being expected to write a design document for some sockets bullshit. How do you people do it, how can you muster the will and smiles to go to the grocery store and make your bed and fill out forms when there are people out there loving, fighting, suffering, and basically just participating in meaningful shit? Whatever. We’ll discuss that some other time.

Just so you know, Quint-a-palooza 2005 is gonna be off the hook. I say, without jest or arrogance, that it will be the best and dopest party in years, certainly in our own college careers. Prepare yourselves, because guess what? You don’t even know. You don’tevenknow.

Natemo busted a quick little website for it, and keep your eyes peeled for flyers and invitations in the mail.

What else was I gonna talk about tonight… Something about that dumb hottie that sits in front of me in linguistics, blah blah I don’t remember….


Rereading High Fidelity right now, still a damn good book. I know what you’re thinking, “That John Cusack movie made me want to carve pagan runes into my abdomen with a steak knife just to have something to think about besides how boring the shit was”, but hey, the book is way better. First off, it’s British, and they do that quasi-romantic past your prime average joe shit way better than we do. Second of all, the main dude is very much not ice cold, but somehow I still find him endearing and root for him. That’s quite an accomplishment; good work author.

The only thing the movie had that the book doesn’t is JB. He’s the shit.

And so, in a very blatant and copyright infringing sort of way, I’ve composed the following three Top 5 song lists, just like they do in the book. Keep in mind these top five are not in order, these are simply the top five.

Top 5 Songs To Dig A Big Hole To On A Wednesday Night At The Beach:
1) The Rolling Stones – You Can’t Always Get What You Want
2) Erykah Badu – Call Tyrone
3) Whoever that dude is that remixed it – Call On Me
4) Spearhead – It’s A Crime
5) The Doors – Break On Through

Top 5 Songs To Listen To When Writing A Blog Entry
1) Stereo MC’s – Connected
2) Master P – Burbans and Cadillacs
3) Freaknasty – Da Dip
4) Sambassim
5) Beck – Tropicalia

You know what’s funny? Ashlee Simpson. Hahaha.

Top 5 Songs To Blare In The Parking Structure Cuz The Fuckwads In Front Of You Don’t Know How To Drive And It’s Taking Forever To Get Out.

1) Pharcyde – Passing Me By
2) Blues Brothers – Sweet Home Chicago
3) Neil Young – Southern Man (live version)
4) Nine Inch Nails – Closer
5) Cadillac Tah – POV City Anthem

Later yo.


p.s. Good job sox, you earned that shit. Long live Boston, the Yankeeslayers and defenders of the American Dream. May your reign be long and benevolent.


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