The Home Stretch
The day was going pretty well so far. I was able to occupy myself through all the daylight hours. Wait...what's that? Well my, my, my. The little bug that thought he could escape is back. I grab my flip flops. I try a few more casual drops and a couple land what seem to be damaging blows to the insect. He's not jumping as well. But no more fucking around. I take a flip flop and smash it down into the carpet, but he's still moving pretty well. Just then...he makes a fatal mistake. The bug gets close to my roller chair. He's inches away from one of the wheels. The perfect accident. The perfect crime. I push myself and my chair a few inches over and CRUSH! Got 'em. Like Zero Dark Thirty, after so long, I finally got my man. Make a movie out of this. Do it.
It's now just about 7:00. Only 5 more hours to go. I've used the sink once to wash my hands, walked to Carl's Jr., which had a TV, and now that the Carl's Jr. has made it's way through my body, I have used and flushed the toilet once. Which also flushed the bug that I tossed in there earlier. Good riddance, bug.
Inside Matt's Mind
Submitted for your approval. You're traveling through another dimension. A dimension not only of sight and sound, but of mind. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. A journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of
imagination. You've just crossed over into . . . Matt's Mind.
Meet, Matt Pellegrini. A young, good looking man that any sane girl or guy would definitely want to bang, who has decided that for 24 hours he will sever himself off from modern technology. So far, he has been successful. But for the next few hours, he has decided to let his mind wander to the furthest reaches of thought and idea. And as we all know, sometimes, not all ideas are good ones.
It's a little after 7:00 now, and I'm bored and am gonna just let my mind wander. What else can I do until midnight? I look outside and see airplanes. I could pretend that airplanes in the night skies are like shooting stars. Nah. I could make a list. I'm renowned for my detailed and completely unnecessary lists.
Like when I was looking at colleges to go to for undergrad and decided that each of the 50 states had to have at least one school start in my considering list. Funny how I ended up only applying to 3 schools then. One of which I had zero interest in going to. Yeah, I'm talking about you University of Illinois in Champaign-Urbana.
Or how about that list of roller coasters I made in an excel spreadsheet. Because the website I got ally my info from just didn't have it exactly how I wanted to organize it. By the way, have you heard about the new coaster Cedar Point is getting in 2013? I can't remember the name, but that shit is long. I think it's some kind of side-inverted coaster. Like, where the seats extend out off-rail. And then it loops and inverts through the Cedar Point entrance block things. I can't believe I've only been to Cedar Point once for how much it seems like I know or have been on all their rides. Gemini 'til I die, bitches.
That took 8 goddamn minutes. It's 7:08 now. At least I know I'm not a habitual tech user. I haven't once reached for my phone or remote and had to stop myself. That's pretty good.
So...how about that Kimye baby? You know, if Kim wanted to abort that baby, there'd by no way people would let her. Even pro-choice people. "No way! We fuckin' need this baby Kim. I don't care that you'd rather keep doing your whatever show rather than be the next Snooki and JWoww show." Does Jwoww have one or two "w's?" Who cares.
This is almost harder than not masturbating for a week right now. Oh, and I just turned on one light. To read and write this sack of shit blog. Maybe I should take my clothes off and try to name and label all the muscles and bones on my body while looking in a mirror. That...could be something.
I wonder how many frat guys laid chicks to Summer Girls by LFO back in the day?
I feel like there wasn't even dance music back in the 90s. Like, when girls went out to clubs, what the fuck did they dance to? Some Blues Traveler and Hootie? Weird. Wait? When did DJs like really start existing? Were there a lot of DJs in the 90s? I guess so now that I think about it. But they played full songs from like, I don't know, not computers and laptops. Big clunky systems. YMCA. Chicken Dance. Electric Slide. Goo Goo Dolls. Some people like DJs, I get it, you all have ADD, but when a song I like comes on, I wanna hear the whole god damn thing. Besides, songs like Call Me Maybe are bad enough without some Asian B-boy putting his own dope spin on the song by interlacing samples and pieces of other songs.
I wonder if people have always dreamed? I mean, the answer is obviously yes, but holy shit, what was it like to be the first person that dreamed? He or she had to think it was real.
Animal life spans are weird to me. Hearing that an animal has lived for like 40-50 years always catches me off-guard, unless it's some old ass tortoise. Because the only animals that people talk about when those animals dies are pets, and their max life span is around 20 years. I have no idea how long lions or bears or squirrels live on average. Or snakes...ewww! But if somebody made me guess for money, I would always guess near the pet range, even though maybe these things live for way longer. Not WAY longer, but like a decade or two.
And then trees...I don't even know how they die. I pretty much assume they'd live forever until someone cuts them down. But the oldest trees aren't like tens of thousands of years old, I don't think.
This awful blog just turned into a what I think is weird series. What else do I think is weird? Empty space...obviously. Clouds. Pubic Hair...how has that not evolved away yet? I don't understand. Is it serving a purpose? Is it like a hairy armor that protects my genital just a little bit more from whatever might hurt them? I would assume humans started just as hairy everywhere else on their bodies as down there, but there's not nearly as much hair on my arms or legs. What's up with that?
Video...there's no such thing. How it's just like a million little still images or pictures every second to give the illusion as if things are moving in real life. Like the most advance flip books. That blows my mind. 8:00 p.m.
I'm trying to telepathically communicate to my friend right now, who asked if I wanted to go to Kogi, this Mexican-Korean food truck at 9:30, to say "YES! Get here at 9:00 and entertain me until 11:50 when you can promptly take me home, so I may resume my normal life." Sad, normal life is just us staring at screens full of pixels. Things that have no feel to them. No taste. No smell. No sound. But only give off light, and that is our world.
Weird how everything emits light just the same as a screen. I can't really smell or hear my wall. I can sort of taste it and touch it, but what makes a wall so much more real than a screen? Or even a screen of a wall?
Are people really pretty? Or is the light they emit more attractive or more something to certain people? I mean, if you took two seemingly identical looking people, would everybody pick the same one as prettier, or do we react to the light they give off differently?
Sports are...kind of weird. But sports fans...now them's is weird. I guess I get having pride in where you're from or some place you associate with. It seems weird that people hate on fans of the best team...sometimes bandwagon fans. That happens much less, if ever, for musicians or writers or actors. People appreciate and naturally like those that are the best at what they do. It's probably stranger to stay attached to teams, musicians, writers, that are bad. There's no logic there, only stubbornness. Now, I won't be one to condemn stubbornness, because I have all too much of that trait in situations. But people that stay with their hometown team their whole life are just static. If I had to hypothesize the results of an experiment that asked random people if they grew up cheering for their hometown team or a non-hometown team, the results would probably show that more often, people that grew up being hometown team fans also more often continued living nearby and didn't move away to other parts of the country.
8:17. Pleeeeeeeaaaasssseee come get me for Kogi. I'm just a damsel in distress waiting for my Prince Charming.
Shoelaces. Were there so many people that couldn't buy the right sized shoe that we needed to make shoelaces? I guess it's so you don't have to fight with your shoe to put it on every time. Easier to slip it on and then tighten it so it's a good fit. Whatever.
Do you think Disney will do a movie about a fat princess? You can be white, black, asian, native american, a book nerd, a bitch, a literal fox, a mermaid, but a princess CAN'T be fat. Duh, fatties...you ain't never gonna be good at nothing.
When did people who like coffee become more annoying than people who like weed? Alllll they talk about is coffee this, latte that, caffeine me please; can't function until I has my brown. Fuck, I get it, you like coffee. I don't post statuses about how much I love my alarm clock and a good balanced breakfast to get me going in the morning.
Man, the appendix...doesn't he just put the dix in dickshit. What have we ever done to it? We don't take it out like wisdom teeth simply because it's unnecessary and literally does nothing, but then he has the dix and balls to rupture and hurt us after we were like, oh we'll just let you be? That's redixulous.
Every time I hear the words "gun control," I replace it in my mind with "fun patrol," so I won't hate you, and I'll think you're talking about something fun instead.
Is the U.S. really gonna get all up in my face about my student loan debt? How about, when the U.S. pays off aaaaaaaany reasonable portion of the national debt, I'll pay off mine. Besides, I'm not spending my money on dumb shit.
Why is it called body "building?" Everybody already has one. You ain't buildin' nothin'. You're enhancing, increasing, enlarging...ballooning. There we go! You keep the alliteration, and it's more accurate. Bodyballooning. That's what I'm gonna call it from now on.
If God exists, does he even care about us? I mean, after he created the first man and woman, why would he care about much after that? Do your great-great-great-grandparents care about you? No, they're dead. But if they were still alive, do you think they'd really care that far down the line? God's just a creator like Ke$ha. Do you think she cares that much about the remix of the dubstep remix of the remix of the song she wrote? She can't even remember half the songs she wrote.
8:49. Please come over in the next 15 minutes. I can't come up with three more hours of ludicrous thoughts and ideas.
Here's a riddle. What has no feelings, can't think or choose, has no morality, but can still be bad? Give up? Apparently, the answer is words. Yes, people believe words are "bad."
Friday, January 11, 2013
Low-Tech Day: Part II
The Morning
I first wake up around 9. No way! Back to sleep. I wake up about an hour later. I put on some deodorant and clothes. No shower. But my hair is all messed up. I go downstairs and get a bottle of water. Not from the fridge. I use it to brush my teeth and to wet my hair so I can make it presentable. Not even sink use yet. Pretty low-tech of me.
Sweet! There's a really bad knot in the drawstring in my shorts. This'll be fun. Maybe I can just make really hard knots and then fix them all day if I get bored. I take my tweezer, fix the knot and decided it's time for breakfast. Cereal and generic brand pop tarts. Not toasted. The cereal is a handful of scoops of Corn Flakes smashed into my mouth. The toasty tarts, or whatever they're called, are S'mores kind. They taste awful.
One of my plans was to go walk down the street to a park with some basketball courts and shoot around for a few hours. I head out with basketball and the remainder of my water bottle in hand. It's like a 5 minute walk, but today, I kind of wish it was longer. I get to the park and realize now is a good time to use a public restroom, because I won't have to flush. Low-tech! A guy leaves the bathroom as I'm going in, and I think he asked, "Are you working?" I say, "No." I'm not sure he's all there. I go to the bathroom and get to the court and start shooting around.
I start out just warming up ya know? With a few dunks here and there. Throw one off the backboard and alley-oop it to myself basically. You know, just easy stuff. After about 45 minutes of shooting around, I decide I'll shoot 100 free throws and see how much better I am than Dwight Howard.
My first 10, I start 9 for 10. I usually don't do that well, but this is low-tech day baby! Come on! I'm gonna be JJ Redick from the line! My next 10, I think I missed 4, maybe 5. But after the first 50, I've made 36. 72%. Waaaayyyy better than some ol' Dwight Howard. The wind starts blowing pretty hard though as I'm ready to start the second 50. I mean, we're talking the ball is moving left to right about a cylinder and a half at the wind's strongest. And then some cholos show up, probably on their lunch break, on the court next to me. I don't wanna perpetuate the stereotype that all white people love shooting free throws for hours, so I decide with the cholos and the wind, it's just not worth it to see how the last 50 go.
I don't know what it is, but I can't shoot a 3 pointer to save my life anymore. It's like the line is some actual, physical barrier when I shoot. I airball and brick about 10-15 3 point attempts before I finally make two, and I'm ready to go back home. But wait, before I go, I just need to fucking AAARRRGGGHH! Windmill dunk makes all the cholos go whoa! I'm pretty sure I saw one of them do the sign of the cross and kiss a Virgin Mary necklace he had on while I was still in mid-air. It was that epiphanous.
The Afternoon
I get back home, and I crumple up on my bedroom floor, fetal position, and think, maybe now is a time for a good cry. But just then, I see some bug crawling on my floor. It's 12:40. For the next fifteen minutes I have a Mexican standoff with this stupid bug. I drop my flip flops on him like 8 times. I don't wanna actually smash him with one, I'm just trying to make it look like an accident. "Oh no, I was about to go to the pool and I dropped one of my sandals and it happened to land on this bug. I feel so bad." But this bug can jump, so about half the time, he ducks out of the way of my flip flop at the last second. He eventually sneaks his way into a box and is safe...for now.
So, cry interrupted, I decide I'll just read for awhile. I read from about 1:00 to ehhh, maybe 3:00-3:30. I am re-reading Rant by Chuck Palahniuk. As far as his books go, I think Rant is one of his most creative and unique and would recommend it to anyone who is a fan. But it is one of the those books that probably gets better and starts to make more sense as you read it multiple times.
Oh, also, after I got back home, my hands were pretty dirty, so I used the sink to wash them. First sort of modern tech thing I've used so far, not counting using the button at the intersection to cross the street.
So, it's 3:30, and I'm gonna go back to the park to run for a bit on the track they have that loops around the park. This is one of the few times I wish I could use a computer or something. I'm wondering if there's something about how long that track loop is. I did 6 laps on it the day before, but I don't think I'll do 6 today. As I'm walking to the park, some 10 year old kid from across the street yells "Hi" to me. I know he's saying it to me, but I'm like, just don't look. I don't wanna have some shouting conversation with this kid from across the street for a half block. He yells "Hi" again, and I turn and look. He's looking at me with two friends, backpacks on, just done with school. I shout "Hi" back. The kids laugh and the one says "I'm not creepy, I'm just friendly. But not too friendly." And I'm like great, shut the fuck up, and I keep walking.
I get to the park and start running. I only do 5 laps today. I think because the day before there were these two girls that were walking on the track for awhile in the opposite direction, and they gave me the power to show off and finish one more lap. Prettttty sure they were impressed with my runner's gait. It's pretty much like...the perfect runner's gait. Arms swinging in perfect unison, thrusting down hard like I'm holding harms. Calves and quads flexing and torquing, causing the sinews to stretch and snap as they tense and relax with each elongated stride. And of course, my runner's face. Mouth agape, drooling out of the side of my mouth. One side just a little more limp and sagging than the other like I might be having a stroke. And then, the mouth closes my lips part back, and I give them my runner's smile. The smile that says, "Hey baby, my lungs don't feel like they're on fire at all."
I finish the 5 laps, walk like I just got it up the butt for a few seconds after I finish and my muscles tighten up, and I go back home.
It's 4:00. I finish the last 40-50 pages of Rant and it's at least 5:00 now. I feel like that 5 hour energy guy. Read a book, ran a couple miles, shot some hoops, dunked for some cholos, awkwardly said "Hi" to a tween...might as well go record "My debut aaallllbum." And I didn't need some b.s. energy shot to do it. Just a fistful of cornflakes and s'mores pop tarts.
Dinner
I'm hungry. I decide it won't be too high tech to walk somewhere and get some food. I decide on Carl's Jr., or Hardee's for pretty much everybody else not on the West Coast. They do have TVs that play some weird Carl's TV channel, and my eyes happen to glance over at the screen a few times, but there was no prolonged watching. Dinner was boring. That's like all that happened. I have no funny jokes here. So I walked back and got home around 6:00. Only 6 hours left.
I first wake up around 9. No way! Back to sleep. I wake up about an hour later. I put on some deodorant and clothes. No shower. But my hair is all messed up. I go downstairs and get a bottle of water. Not from the fridge. I use it to brush my teeth and to wet my hair so I can make it presentable. Not even sink use yet. Pretty low-tech of me.
Sweet! There's a really bad knot in the drawstring in my shorts. This'll be fun. Maybe I can just make really hard knots and then fix them all day if I get bored. I take my tweezer, fix the knot and decided it's time for breakfast. Cereal and generic brand pop tarts. Not toasted. The cereal is a handful of scoops of Corn Flakes smashed into my mouth. The toasty tarts, or whatever they're called, are S'mores kind. They taste awful.
One of my plans was to go walk down the street to a park with some basketball courts and shoot around for a few hours. I head out with basketball and the remainder of my water bottle in hand. It's like a 5 minute walk, but today, I kind of wish it was longer. I get to the park and realize now is a good time to use a public restroom, because I won't have to flush. Low-tech! A guy leaves the bathroom as I'm going in, and I think he asked, "Are you working?" I say, "No." I'm not sure he's all there. I go to the bathroom and get to the court and start shooting around.
I start out just warming up ya know? With a few dunks here and there. Throw one off the backboard and alley-oop it to myself basically. You know, just easy stuff. After about 45 minutes of shooting around, I decide I'll shoot 100 free throws and see how much better I am than Dwight Howard.
My first 10, I start 9 for 10. I usually don't do that well, but this is low-tech day baby! Come on! I'm gonna be JJ Redick from the line! My next 10, I think I missed 4, maybe 5. But after the first 50, I've made 36. 72%. Waaaayyyy better than some ol' Dwight Howard. The wind starts blowing pretty hard though as I'm ready to start the second 50. I mean, we're talking the ball is moving left to right about a cylinder and a half at the wind's strongest. And then some cholos show up, probably on their lunch break, on the court next to me. I don't wanna perpetuate the stereotype that all white people love shooting free throws for hours, so I decide with the cholos and the wind, it's just not worth it to see how the last 50 go.
I don't know what it is, but I can't shoot a 3 pointer to save my life anymore. It's like the line is some actual, physical barrier when I shoot. I airball and brick about 10-15 3 point attempts before I finally make two, and I'm ready to go back home. But wait, before I go, I just need to fucking AAARRRGGGHH! Windmill dunk makes all the cholos go whoa! I'm pretty sure I saw one of them do the sign of the cross and kiss a Virgin Mary necklace he had on while I was still in mid-air. It was that epiphanous.
The Afternoon
I get back home, and I crumple up on my bedroom floor, fetal position, and think, maybe now is a time for a good cry. But just then, I see some bug crawling on my floor. It's 12:40. For the next fifteen minutes I have a Mexican standoff with this stupid bug. I drop my flip flops on him like 8 times. I don't wanna actually smash him with one, I'm just trying to make it look like an accident. "Oh no, I was about to go to the pool and I dropped one of my sandals and it happened to land on this bug. I feel so bad." But this bug can jump, so about half the time, he ducks out of the way of my flip flop at the last second. He eventually sneaks his way into a box and is safe...for now.
So, cry interrupted, I decide I'll just read for awhile. I read from about 1:00 to ehhh, maybe 3:00-3:30. I am re-reading Rant by Chuck Palahniuk. As far as his books go, I think Rant is one of his most creative and unique and would recommend it to anyone who is a fan. But it is one of the those books that probably gets better and starts to make more sense as you read it multiple times.
Oh, also, after I got back home, my hands were pretty dirty, so I used the sink to wash them. First sort of modern tech thing I've used so far, not counting using the button at the intersection to cross the street.
So, it's 3:30, and I'm gonna go back to the park to run for a bit on the track they have that loops around the park. This is one of the few times I wish I could use a computer or something. I'm wondering if there's something about how long that track loop is. I did 6 laps on it the day before, but I don't think I'll do 6 today. As I'm walking to the park, some 10 year old kid from across the street yells "Hi" to me. I know he's saying it to me, but I'm like, just don't look. I don't wanna have some shouting conversation with this kid from across the street for a half block. He yells "Hi" again, and I turn and look. He's looking at me with two friends, backpacks on, just done with school. I shout "Hi" back. The kids laugh and the one says "I'm not creepy, I'm just friendly. But not too friendly." And I'm like great, shut the fuck up, and I keep walking.
I get to the park and start running. I only do 5 laps today. I think because the day before there were these two girls that were walking on the track for awhile in the opposite direction, and they gave me the power to show off and finish one more lap. Prettttty sure they were impressed with my runner's gait. It's pretty much like...the perfect runner's gait. Arms swinging in perfect unison, thrusting down hard like I'm holding harms. Calves and quads flexing and torquing, causing the sinews to stretch and snap as they tense and relax with each elongated stride. And of course, my runner's face. Mouth agape, drooling out of the side of my mouth. One side just a little more limp and sagging than the other like I might be having a stroke. And then, the mouth closes my lips part back, and I give them my runner's smile. The smile that says, "Hey baby, my lungs don't feel like they're on fire at all."
I finish the 5 laps, walk like I just got it up the butt for a few seconds after I finish and my muscles tighten up, and I go back home.
It's 4:00. I finish the last 40-50 pages of Rant and it's at least 5:00 now. I feel like that 5 hour energy guy. Read a book, ran a couple miles, shot some hoops, dunked for some cholos, awkwardly said "Hi" to a tween...might as well go record "My debut aaallllbum." And I didn't need some b.s. energy shot to do it. Just a fistful of cornflakes and s'mores pop tarts.
Dinner
I'm hungry. I decide it won't be too high tech to walk somewhere and get some food. I decide on Carl's Jr., or Hardee's for pretty much everybody else not on the West Coast. They do have TVs that play some weird Carl's TV channel, and my eyes happen to glance over at the screen a few times, but there was no prolonged watching. Dinner was boring. That's like all that happened. I have no funny jokes here. So I walked back and got home around 6:00. Only 6 hours left.
Low-Tech Day: Part I
Consider this blog post a coming out party. Hmm...maybe coming back is a better phrase for me. It's been a long time since I've blogged and it's pretty clear by all the sad ugly faces that I see on you guys that you miss it.
There were a few near blogs over the past one and a half years. One was going to be about my two and a half day driving trip from Illinois to California and all the weird shit I thought about and saw. Like the cat that magically appeared on the roof of my car after I checked in to a hotel in Kingman, Arizona and was coming back to get my stuff to take up to the room. That was terrifying, only because I was convinced ever since I stopped at a Rest Area in Texas with a sign that said, "Danger Rattlesnakes," that a snake was going to just be waiting under my car to lash out and bite my shin. I hardly consider a place that tells you to be on high alert and don't walk too close to bushes and rocks because of deadly, poisonous snakes to be what I would call a "Rest Area."
Another near miss was a blog following the Dark Knight Rises shooting about how that would never have happened if we didn't have such strict Super Power Control laws. I was definitely going to smash both sides of the gun control debate and make you all look like idiots, but I guess that happened anyway without my blog when you all started talking about Gun Control anyway.
There may have been one or two other ideas, but alas, I'm pretty sure they sucked.
But THIS, a low-tech day...now this is the kind of thing you live tweet about. Of course, I can't do that, so you people are going to have to wait 24 hours and pretend like it's live. Ah, you finally had to be patient and wait for something. That's one problem I've noticed these days. Everything is live this, live that, live coverage. If you're ten minutes late to posting about a story, you might as well not even post at all it seems. But with the race to be first comes errors. Errors in reporting and facts. Silly mistakes. Misinformation. And overreaction to something before the full story is every known. Consider l'esprit de l'escalier (stairway wit). The French term about how you think of the perfect comeback or the perfect thing to say, only juuuuust after the argument has ended and you've made your way down the stairs from the first floor in France, which is really the second floor in America. Idiot French people. If only you maybe had taken the time to be patient and let it come to you.
I can assure you the rest of the blog won't be like this, but it will probably delve into many tangents as I chronicle the close calls throughout low-tech day and live write what I am doing. It turns out I wrote a lot, so I'm going to be breaking this up into a few parts.
The Countdown
I was gonna spend my last few hours playing a video game I got from Santa Claus this year. Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim (Thanks, Santa!). No coal for me. Must have been preeeetty good I guess. ; ) The ladies know what I'm talking about. But I got a little bored around 10:30 and figured I'd cruise into the midnight hour with some Comedy Central. Some Workaholics, South Park, and then Stewart and Colbert...definitely can't go wrong with any of those. I like to think of myself as pretty much all of those shows combined. I think you'd all agree.
Is a retainer high-tech? Because I just got back into a habit of wearing it again for two nights in a row, and I think I'm gonna wear it.
Ahhh, the South Park episode about the cause bracelets. Possibly the best one of the season in my opinion, and it has maybe my favorite quote ever from South Park...AND it rhymes, Seuss style. "In modern day there are those who believe, a cause is a thing to be worn on your sleeve." If that just doesn't perfectly describe like 80% of the people on social media, then only something much more vulgar and inappropriate could.
The shows all ended. I powered down everything and went to sleep...tech-less.
Stay tuned to see if I was able to make it through 24 hours using little to no technology.
There were a few near blogs over the past one and a half years. One was going to be about my two and a half day driving trip from Illinois to California and all the weird shit I thought about and saw. Like the cat that magically appeared on the roof of my car after I checked in to a hotel in Kingman, Arizona and was coming back to get my stuff to take up to the room. That was terrifying, only because I was convinced ever since I stopped at a Rest Area in Texas with a sign that said, "Danger Rattlesnakes," that a snake was going to just be waiting under my car to lash out and bite my shin. I hardly consider a place that tells you to be on high alert and don't walk too close to bushes and rocks because of deadly, poisonous snakes to be what I would call a "Rest Area."
Another near miss was a blog following the Dark Knight Rises shooting about how that would never have happened if we didn't have such strict Super Power Control laws. I was definitely going to smash both sides of the gun control debate and make you all look like idiots, but I guess that happened anyway without my blog when you all started talking about Gun Control anyway.
There may have been one or two other ideas, but alas, I'm pretty sure they sucked.
But THIS, a low-tech day...now this is the kind of thing you live tweet about. Of course, I can't do that, so you people are going to have to wait 24 hours and pretend like it's live. Ah, you finally had to be patient and wait for something. That's one problem I've noticed these days. Everything is live this, live that, live coverage. If you're ten minutes late to posting about a story, you might as well not even post at all it seems. But with the race to be first comes errors. Errors in reporting and facts. Silly mistakes. Misinformation. And overreaction to something before the full story is every known. Consider l'esprit de l'escalier (stairway wit). The French term about how you think of the perfect comeback or the perfect thing to say, only juuuuust after the argument has ended and you've made your way down the stairs from the first floor in France, which is really the second floor in America. Idiot French people. If only you maybe had taken the time to be patient and let it come to you.
I can assure you the rest of the blog won't be like this, but it will probably delve into many tangents as I chronicle the close calls throughout low-tech day and live write what I am doing. It turns out I wrote a lot, so I'm going to be breaking this up into a few parts.
The Countdown
I was gonna spend my last few hours playing a video game I got from Santa Claus this year. Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim (Thanks, Santa!). No coal for me. Must have been preeeetty good I guess. ; ) The ladies know what I'm talking about. But I got a little bored around 10:30 and figured I'd cruise into the midnight hour with some Comedy Central. Some Workaholics, South Park, and then Stewart and Colbert...definitely can't go wrong with any of those. I like to think of myself as pretty much all of those shows combined. I think you'd all agree.
Is a retainer high-tech? Because I just got back into a habit of wearing it again for two nights in a row, and I think I'm gonna wear it.
Ahhh, the South Park episode about the cause bracelets. Possibly the best one of the season in my opinion, and it has maybe my favorite quote ever from South Park...AND it rhymes, Seuss style. "In modern day there are those who believe, a cause is a thing to be worn on your sleeve." If that just doesn't perfectly describe like 80% of the people on social media, then only something much more vulgar and inappropriate could.
The shows all ended. I powered down everything and went to sleep...tech-less.
Stay tuned to see if I was able to make it through 24 hours using little to no technology.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)