Ken and I have spent the past three days in Cambodia, a bizarre land where the US dollar is the defacto local currency, kids rule the streets and House of Pain in Cambodian is rapped at village weddings. We arrived in Phenom Penh on Monday, and ate our way down Monivong Road, capping the night off with my new favorite dessert, "ice cream in coconut," which is a young coconut, with three scoops of ice cream, lychee and raisins inside. We took a bus the next day to Siem Reap, during which we suffered through countless Cambodian music videos, and Kevin Costner/Ashton Kucher in The Guardian. Despite copious tourists, Angkor Wat was one of the best attractions I've ever visited. The level of freedom we were given to climb, touch and explore with the temples are part of what made it so fun, although it probably wasn't helping any efforts at preserving the site. Aside from Angkor Wat, most our time was spent walking around eating and waving to people. Cambodian children love Ken, and Ken loves Cambodian children (don't be gross)! We came back to Bangkok, and on the last night we went clubbing with Jimmy's friend Monica and her friends. We stayed up until 4am dancing to house music, taking swigs of other people's bottles of Johnny Walker and participating in the unabashed hedonism that is universal amongst the wealthy.

Our hotel room in Siem Reap had a lot of toads hanging out by the door.

Angkor Wat, 6:37am, 03/28/07

Bayon Temple, Angkor Thom

Beng Melea was once a temple until trees took it over.

We climbed into the center of the temple by crawling through a small crevice between fallen stones avoiding fire ants along the way.

We went to Thailand's largest supermarket. Ken bought David some t-shirts with food on them. As we were checking out, there was a troupe of 10 year olds dancing in gold body suits by the checkout counter. When they finished, nobody clapped for them except Ken and I.

Ken got a haircut at the market.

Mural at McDonalds near our hotel in Bangkok

I was so busy in Thailand that I didn't really have a chance to write about my time there, but I really want to say something about it since it was one of the more positive random occurrences on trip thus far. I met up with J.J. and Doi at Udon Thani train station at 4am, after a grueling ten hour train ride from Bangkok in which I drank way too much Red Bull with the hope of staying up all night reading Ullysses. Little did I know, I was seated in the same car as the crew, and the crew wanted to sleep, so they decided to put black garbage bags over all the light fixtures. Thanks a lot assholes. In addition, I was seated next to the engine, which made a lot of low frequency rumblings whenever the vehicle was accelerating. Riding the rails in complete darkness, with 16 oz of "bull" coursing through my veins was not my idea of a good time. However, all was good once I arrived. J.J. and Doi picked me up in a car! Wow, a real four wheeled, enclosed, automobile! After weeks of riding buses, trains, tuk-tuks, tricycles, jeepneys, boats, donkey led carriages, you really appreciate why people, if they can afford it, choose to own automobiles - they're awesome!

We stayed at J.J.'s family's home in Phen, a rural village near the Thailand - Laos border. J.J. and Doi said that the only reason a westerner would come to the village would be to marry a villager. Would it be my lucky day? No, but I was treated like part of the family - J.J.'s family cooked some awesome food, we watched Barbra Streisand DVDs and I almost got to kill and butcher a live chicken! We crossed the border from Thailand to Vientiane, Laos for the day, just for the hell of it. In order to get from Thailand to Laos, we had to cross the "Friendship Bridge" which goes over the Mekong River. On one side of the river bank, Thai's splash joyously on inner tubes and paddle boats. On the other side, wild dogs stare hungrily at the Thais. If I was a better writer I would be able to draw parallels between this image and the two countries. All I can say is that we rode in a van most of the time, choosing not to give anyone any opportunity to sink their teeth into our soft, well seasoned flesh.

We hung out the rest of the time in Phen, and then Udon Thani, where J.J.'s sister works at a meatball factory. Meatballs were something I was looking forward to in Vietnam but have been surprisingly absent in my daily cuisine. Lucky for me, the Thai meatballs were a more than suitable replacement. Flavorful, firm and abundant. We also ate Som Tom (green papaya salad) in Udon Thani, where the dish was first created. Som Tom consists of shredded green papaya, that is mixed in a mortar and pestle with tomatoes, peanuts, peppers, fish sauce, served with sticky rice, grilled meats and fermented fish. The combination is a really well rounded meal that is spicy, savory and very filling thanks to the rice. I think I could live on a som tom diet for a few months.

We took the train back to Bangkok, where J.J. and Doi live and where I was leaving the next day for Hanoi. I stayed at their house in Nakhon Pathom, one of the oldest cities in Thailand. Before I left I got a 100 Baht haircut from J.J.'s stylist, and visited the world's largest Buddhist stupa. The stupa, like my haircut, stands tall and has a certain traditional asian aesthetic, but is also more modern than its predecessor.

J.J. with (fake)baby

J.J. and Doi, with (real)baby

J.J.'s family prepared awesome meals for us every day. Everything they used to make the food was grown or raised on their land.

Red ants and ant eggs with herbs

Photos

March 9, 2007

Back in Bangkok, slept in the airport which was comfortable as per Christine's recommendations, got up early and retrieved the remainder of my stuff from the hostel. Feels good to have familiar things around again. Here are some photos I took from the Philippines, Malaysia and Singapore that I was unable to upload at the time:

The meal I ate on one of the Hundred Islands in the Philippines

Jeepneys are one of the cheapest and easiest forms of transit in the Philippines. Flat fare (7 pesos), you can get on and off anywhere you want along the route.

The transportation network in Manila is poor, case in point: the path along this market was filled with people walking, driving jeepneys, tricycles and anything else they could fit in.

Mt. Taal is an active volcano, the water is really hot

This police officer was letting these Japanese tourists shoot birds off the top of the volcano with his pistol in exchange for money

I've wanted to eat balut for a while. It's a fetal chicken; this one had some strange orange crust around it that was sweet and made it look like a tangerine. It was actually really good - I ate three.

Surprise!

Alma managed the billiards hall/flophouse I stayed in after I realized I got conned. Alma is what the Filipinos call, a "Billyboy." She was super cool and let me play pool for free with her friends. I think they let me win because they felt sorry for me.

This guy in Kuala Lumpur had a huge crowd around him, when I approached the table he this huge book of wangs, and was selling this weird oil that people were buying.

GAAH!

Food stands in Singapore

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A Game of You

March 7, 2007

I wrote this quickly on the plane and I think it captures well the state I was in leaving Manila:

Talking to Gina, my Cebu Pacific Flight 5J 803 seatmate, has made me think about what it means to get "ripped off." Gina's knowledge of the scams and confidence tricks of Manila has made what happened the past week a little more clear to me. I was alone, in an area where people prey upon naive travelers like myself, and through a coordinated series of events, was relieved of several hundred dollars through what seemed like chance. Once could say that I was "ripped off" because my money had been taken, unbeknownst to me. Adding to that, the manner in which my party absconded made the offense seem more egregious. The problem I have with saying I was ripped off was that I had such an enjoyable time. I feel betrayed, yes, but I also feel the betrayal wasn't personal, simply business. My experience still felt authentic, even more so than if I had gone traveling by myself through the Philippines, because I was traveling with locals on vacation, albiet local con artists on vacation. They were living their lives, partly financed by me, but I got to live it with them. Would I say that I got "ripped off" if I had purchased some packaged tour where I was lead along to a series of generic tourist destinations where no locals would ever go? In that instance I would have given my money to someone, and unbeknownst to me, I wouldn't have had an understanding of Filipino life, would be contrary to my intentions. Is a roulette player getting "ripped off" when, unbeknownst to him, he is probablistically subject to being fleeced? It is also against his will that his money get taken from him, but I think few would say he was being "ripped off." I think what it comes down to is a matter of value. The gambler may know he is predisposed to having his money taken from him, despite the fact that he plays with the intention of winning money, but there is a certain value in the game itself; the thrill and excitement of winning big outweighs the disappointment of losing. Similarly, I think my experience this past week has taught me that there is a certain value in the game I was involved in, and like the gambler, I valued this idea of travleing with these people, eating the fod they cooked for me, singing karaoke, and dancing with toothless old ladies more than the money that was taken from me. However, what was most bothersome was the betrayal of trust I had in these people, and as a result all people from here on out in these types of situations. That sucked, and made me want to go home, where I have more control of situations like these.

In any case, I flew from Manila to Singapore yesterday, slept in the airport with these two Thai guys I met on the shuttle, and have gone on a day trip to Kuala Lumpur with them. Again trusting strangers, which may be a bad idea, but as long as I don't lend them any money, and keep my wits about me, I'll hopefully do okay.

Baguio City, Philippines

February 26, 2007

I haven't had access to a computer in a while so a bit of backtracking is due, which I hope to catch up in the next few days. I was in Manila for 24 hours in order to get my Vietnamese Visa, which was surprisingly un-bureaucratic. I basically showed up with nothing but my passport - no photo or application and they granted me a 15 day tourist visa in less than 10minutes. I also got bit by a two mosquitos waiting (which is the metric by which I measure time elapsing in the Philippines). I had booked a bus to go to Baguio City, north of Manila for 3pm, so I had some time to kill. I walked around the sketchy docks where there were a lot of men wandering aimlessly, looking for food, prey, or maybe both. I skipped out quickly and went to Rizal Park, the main park in Manila. I was feeling particularly pensive and decided to write in my journal since I didn't bring my computer when I was approached by a young person whose sex was not immediately distiguishable. He asked me if I was a student and I said no, and told him I was traveling to Baguio. He said he was from Baguio and that he was taking his relatives there to show them the city since they had never been. They invited me along. We were to leave at 8pm, but spent the rest of the day in Manila visiting Chinatown, and a karaoke bar. We then went to their other relative in Manila's house, Charity, who also had a karaoke machine. Seven beers later, I was singing Radiohead's Creep with 50 year old Auntie. I also sang Let it Be, Head Over Heels and Santana/Rob Thomas Smooth.

I've been traveling with this ragtag Filipino family for six days so far, and it has been a blast. They seem to enjoy my company (auntie takes every opportunity to complement me on how small my eyes are), and I find their good nature and hospitality comforting in a time when I was feeling distressed from traveling. I hope I will be able to write a more detailed entry, with pictures, about my time when I get the opportunity. There have been amazing meals, huge cakes, and penis sandcastles.

Guangzhou, China

February 22, 2007

My father was born and lived in Guangzhou (formerly Canton) in the 1940s before leaving for Hong Kong in the 50s. Despite not being back for more than forty years, he still maintains the contention that someone is taking care of his house in his village, and that if I wanted to "stay for free," I should just ask someone where the old Huey village is, and drop his name. Unfortunately I was unable to prove or disprove his claim. I also was unable to eat dog. One might say that not being able to find your ancestral home or violate any of your current home's taboos constitutes utter failure in travel. If it was anyone else but myself, I would agree, but it's not. I will simply push forward and as always, let time erase the memories of past mistakes.

The city of Guangzhou was formed from an agglomeration of many independent villages, which my Father's was one. Because much of the city developed around this process of annexation, the city lacks a clear central business district or downtown, and instead has a more polycentric land use pattern, similar to Tokyo. Guangzhou also has fewer restrictions on people coming to the city from outside provinces. Chinese citizens are not all equal, and movement through the country is heavily regulated. As a result, there are huge disparities in both opportunity and access amongst rural and urban citizens. Because Guangzhou has fewer restrictions, people are more suspect of each other. There also is more suspect behavior. It's hard to determine which came first, but the problems are real. One of the big problems in the city are the huge influxes of counterfeit money that get injected into the local economy by some organized crime element. This causes the problem where legitimate people, who failed to check their money for the latest watermarks the government has implemented, try and pass off the counterfeit bill to whoever they think is naive enough to take it. There's not much you can do since the bills are so ubiquitous, you simply have to continue the game of Old Maid.

This all makes for an interesting stroll through the city. Many of the villages that were annexed by the city have been preserved, although referring to them as villages now is somewhat of a misnomer. Due to the government's aggressive annexation policy, many villagers built as much as they could on their allotted plots of land so that when time came when the government exercised eminent domain, the land owners were able to maximize the amount of monetary compensation for the taking. As a result, these villages are comprised of multistory apartment buildings, separated by streets less than 5 feet wide, with building separations of a couple inches. Liz, Sterling and I visited the village of Yonggong Zhijie, which was one of the most dangerous villages in Guangzhou during the 90s. Although there is still trash, stray dogs and old ladies running back alley tattoo parlors have persisted, the streets felt safe, if not welcoming.

Entrance to Yonggong Zhijie

This statue was located in front of a Planned Parenthood-type building in the village

Mommy <3 baby

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Gung Hay Fat Choy

February 18, 2007

My last night in Shanghai was the first night of the Chinese New Year. The night began in true Chinese fashion - by eating Japanese buffet with a several pyromaniac Germans who thought that igniting fireworks in the mall where the restaurant was located was an appropriate way to honor the venerable God of Bootleg Diesel Jeans that currently resides on the third floor. What sounds like mildly annoying celebratory fireworks out in the open sounds like sniper fire when reverberating inside a large cavernous building. Fortunately for us, urban warfare sounds and sights would be a common theme for the rest of the night.

We left the restaurant lead by Mr. Stokes with warehouse party as our destination. Where we were told we could light fireworks on the roof. The warehouse that said party was to take place was not your typical urban chic converted industrial space. This was a crumbling concrete edifice with seven stories of empty floor space that could have easily housed some Nike sweatshop or a clandestine drug lab.

Weird hole full of water

We walked up several flights of stairs made of rebar, our paths illuminated by cell phone screen and cigarette lighters. Once we made it on top of the roof we all realized that the city had become a war zone... a maniacally celebratory war zone.

City on fire

In the distance, Gung Hay Fat Choy'ers set off mortars on the freeway overpass

By the time midnight rolled around, the skyline had all but disappeared, and the fireworks were getting closer and closer. At one point a mortar shell had actually landed on the roof where we were standing.

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What you know about that?

February 17, 2007

I came to Shanghai with the expectation that I would be able to come away with a better understanding of the city, divorced from what I have learned about the city beforehand in classes, books and newspaper articles. The rapidity of physical and economic growth which Shanghai is experiencing at this moment is evident throughout the city where large holes in the skyline and sidewalk frontage portend another skyscraper, luxury apartment complex, or maybe even a TGI Fridays. As expected, the physical growth of the city has created jobs and wealth for some in Shanghai, and has produced a larger group of wealthy people. The past week has found me experiencing this first hand - as an American with American friends and American money, it is impossible to avoid. Which is to say, I have been unable to meet my expectation. I do not have any insights about Shanghai that you have not already read in the New York Times or seen on some MSNBC special. I can only offer you a brief snapshot of what Shanghai is like at this moment, significantly different than all other moments in the past and future.

Various permutations of desiccating meats and clothing

Chi, Ryan and Jason. Chi is the voice of China when it has to speak english. Jason is the voice of America when it has to tell the China about the new X-Men movie.

Anne and Jonny. Anne is an aspiring competitive eater.

Stuffed animal warehouse near Yuyuen Gardens

Shanghai, China

February 9, 2007

I have been in Shanghai for three days, but this is what I've come away with so far:

- I am able to eat at least six times a day, probably more;
- Just because it has a motor doesn't mean it can't be driven on the sidewalk;
- When you tip people, they get really happy;
- You're not supposed to tip people;

I've spent this past week in our nation's capital at the Transportation Research Board where I had the chance to present some stuff I did while in school. Presenting work is something that sounds provocative and edifying in theory, but when it comes down to it, it's a room full of of nerds asking you esoteric questions in order to prove their knowledge of the subject, or people talking to you more to hear themselves talk than anything else.

The conference wasn't really the objective for me traveling to Washington anyway. Nor was seeing the city, really. In fact I think I might hate Washington DC. The city was designed to be a picturesque monument, a display of national power through physical design, and it achieves that at the expense of its citizens, who kind of suck also. They also have the whiniest license plate slogan ever. "Taxation without representation" the equivalent of a younger sibling complaining that they don't get as much allowance as you. Sure it's sort of unfair, but bellyaching never changes the situation and only results in Dad getting pissed. The real reason I went was to some old friends and to enjoy myself on dime of the University and other publicly funded institutions across America, which I can confidently say with fist up, thumb extended skyward, "mission accomplished." Unfortunately I forgot my camera, but this drawing pretty much outlines everything notable that I did:

I made a comp of my ten favorite new songs of 2006 (in no particular order). You can download the file here. The volumes haven't been normalized so expect it to get loud/soft from song to song. I'm toying with the idea of making a separate comp of old songs I discovered in 2006, which I think may be more interesting and would have more music made by black people.

Tracklist:
1. Cold War Kids - God Make Up Your Mind (Daytrotter Sessions)
2. Black Lips - Boomerang (Let It Bloom)
3. Bonnie "Prince" Billy - Cursed Sleep (The Letting Go)
4. TV on the Radio - Province (Return to Cookie Mountain)
5. Madlib - The Rock (Movie Scenes Vol. 1-2)
6. Herbert - Birds of a Feather (Scale)
7. Jens Lekman - Julie (Oh You're So Silent Jens)
8. Camera Obscura - Lloyd, I'm Ready to Be Heartbroken (Lets Get Out of this Country)
9. Destroyer - Your Blood (Rubies)
10. The Ohsees - Broken Stems (The Cool Death of the Island Raiders)

#1 Thing I Hate About Mona Lisa Stiles: Cookie Snobbery

January 9, 2007

New York is an expensive city. Although everyone takes the subway and smokes cigarettes like the bums do in San Francisco, when it comes to buying a beer, all of a sudden we're in Switzerland. I've taken it upon myself to jump on any hint of a deal and have happened upon a New York institution: the alcohol/food happy hour. Sure you have to pay $7 for your beer, but that is a good deal when they're giving you 2 hours worth of all you can eat buffalo wings, or a free 12" pizza with every drink. And so began my Friday. One hour, 2 beers, and 18 wings later, we're on our way to some bar that the guy from The Hold Steady owns. Who? Exactly.

Which of the three will commit a petty crime tonight?

I've seen that look before.

After spending several hours listening to bad indie rock, watching a girl named Bitsy pour drinks down Katherine's throat and failing to top score a broken Erotic Photohunt machine, we decided to leave and go get Canoli at a real life eye-talian bakery. By "go get" I was assuming that meant "go purchase" not "grab and run" and by Canoli I was assuming that meant "small italian pastry" and not "2lb assorted cookie platter" but Katherine was never one to discuss semantics before a meal. Only pictures can tell the rest of this story...

The dance begins

It's as if the guy behind Allison knew we sprinkled rat poison on his cookie

E 14th and 1st Ave is the only place to score some shortbreads

Allison spots Julia Stiles, offers her a cookie, is denied, and proceeds to yell a pretty cogent critique of her role in The Omen

Julia is somewhere in this picture

I threw the last two on the ground after we offered them to a man who stalked around us in a circle and told us that he didn't want to "play our fucking game any more" Game over.

Top Tens Fives

January 3, 2007

Top Five Musical Things of 2007

1. Liars @ Bottom of the Hill - 6/5/06

I had been waiting to see the Liars for a while now, and despite my building their live show up in my mind, and verbally to Mike Harkin, they still exceeded all of my expectations. The music on their two most recent albums (which comprised most of the live show) often borders on noise and rhythm experiments, but what really stood out during their live show was the melodic quality of their rhythmic section. Drums and cymbals are tuned to the guitar providing counterpoint, drum sounds provide a segue into key changes, and sometimes they just sound like guitars. During the show I already knew I would not be hearing any better music in 2006.

2. Destroyer - Rubies

In the liner notes of Jeff Buckley's Sketches For My Sweetheart the Drunk, an excerpt of his personal writing is included where he proclaims the division between writing songs for an audience and writing songs for one's self, opting to only share songs he writes for his audience. The irony is that the quote is written in the liners notes of a posthumous collection of all the songs that Buckley wrote for himself, thus dishonoring his wishes. Dan Bejar of Destroyer writes songs for himself, creating an internal logic that confounds most. When he sings "Never had a chance/never had to choose/your blood verus your blues" in Your Blood, is he talking about Yer Blues, the album he released before Rubies? And when he says your blood is he talking about Your Blood the song he's singing? Is he speaking directly to the discerning listener who is evaluating his music versus his prior works? Did he write a song about you listening to his song and his position as song writer versus your position as music listener? What the hell is this shit?

3. Bonnie "Prince" Billy @ Great American Music Hall - 10/31/06

In a genre where live performances rarely move (physically or emotionally) crowd or performer, watching Will Oldham live comes close a spiritual experience. The band plays with a certain precision that could wind up sounding soulless if it were not for Oldham's singing which always carries the weight of his lyrics, especially on "Wolf among Wolves" and "Today I was an Evil One." The fact that the show was on Halloween and involved the lead guitarist playing the entire night with a Casper the ghost mask on, and Oldham slowly sweating off all of his tiger face paint made the sermon that much more surreal. My car was broken into during the show, and I lost several hundred dollars worth of stuff, but it all seemed sort of anticlimactic

4. MAX-FM Radio

95.7 MAX-FM rekindled my romance with FM radio. Before MAX, the only radio station I listened to was 560AM KFRC, the home of Oakland A's Baseball, and during non-A's baseball hours, the home of the best oldies in the Bay Area. I spent many hours this past summer interning at the San Francisco Dept of Parking and Traffic, driving my city vehicle, doing traffic counts, listening to Max-FM as well as 96.5 KOIT and Energy 92.7. Although I suspect that MAX-FM is basically just a gigantic randomized playlist, on certain occasions, when the stars are correctly aligned, the track sequencing borders on transcendent. The great thing about MAX is that they usually play the second tier singles of major stars. For instance they will play Cyndi Lauper, but not "Time After Time" but the superior "All Through the Night," "Human" by the Human League rather than "Don't You Want Me Baby."

5. Groove Merchant - 687 Haight St., San Francisco

Discovering Groove Merchant this year has filled a void in my record buying habits. Weekly visits to Amoeba are a necessity in order to peruse used vinyl and find deals, but going to Groove Merchant means dealing with the best hip hop and soul sides you're going to find. I always learn a ton about music, even if I don't end up buying anything, and there is never an air of pretension in the staff. Anyone who has a passing interest in music made before 2000 owes it to themselves to go there.

December 25, 2006

Christmas evening has been mostly spent scouring the Internet, ripping off HTML code from various web sites in order to get this thing properly working before I have to go to work tomorrow. In the afternoon I went to a relative's house, drank a lot of Coca Cola and failed to help someone successfully burn a copy of Blue Streak on to a DVD-R. The pattern of going to Hercules, CA, ingesting a lot of caffeine and helping people I may be vaguely related to with their consumer electronics has been a Christmas tradition for quite a few years now. Last year, same place, same time, I was put in charge of installing Chinese translation software on a relative's computer so that he could talk with his bride that he may or may not have ordered in China. Apparently their ability to convey their true feelings for one another was stifled by the clumsy, yet universal language of hand gestures and stick figure sketches. Luckily I was successful in installing the software last year, and surely their marriage has blossomed into a full-fledged e-lationship, complete with smiley faces and, if the Chinese language had an alphabet, internet acronyms. As for Blue Streak, I can't say that I'm sorry that I didn't succeed; if it was Bad Boys or even Big Mommas House, that would be another story...

Working backwards in the summary of my Christmas day, the morning was spent watching A Christmas Story with my Father, which is not so much a tradition, but more of a necessity since they play it pretty much all day, and my family watches a lot of TBS. There was a time when A Christmas Story wasn't on 24 hour repeat during the days leading up to Christmas, but I can't remember when that ended. It probably replaced 24 hour repeats of It's a Wonderful Life, or Miracle on 34th St., which begs the question, when will A Christmas Story be replaced, and what will replace it? It seems that they've already begun scaling back on the number of times it's played during the holidays. I think a few years ago they used to play it constantly for at least two weeks.

I am pretty fond of A Christmas Story, despite having watched it so much over the years. It's simultaneously cynical and warm-hearted in regards to Christmas, and that tends to be the attitude I've had towards the Holidays ever since I realized Santa didn't exist, which happened around 1989 when I negotiated a deal with my Father, a couple weeks before Christmas, allowing me to be able to open any presents that I could find hidden around the house. A Christmas Story points out truisms which every child born in post-1970's America can identify with: Santa's fucking creepy, you rarely have the time to articulate what you actually want, and he probably isn't listening to you even if you could.

The warm-hearted moment comes when Ralphie spots a final present amidst the post-Christmas flotsam and jetsam, his much sought after Red Ryder Rifle. My Father attempted to re-create this warm-hearted moment when I was younger, when amidst the post-Christmas flotsam and jetsam, he pointed out that there was one last present to be opened behind our dining table, and suggested that I bring it over. Upon opening, it turned out to be my very own Red Ryder of sorts, except that it was the Anschutz 8002 Compressed Air Rifle, and it wasn't much sought-after by me (I wanted a Super Nintendo), but he didn't seem to mind as he was mostly satisfied with weaving a cinematic reference into our Holidays. Later in the day I brought up the idea of selling the 8002 in order to buy myself a Super Nintendo, but that idea was rejected seeing as it was a gift, and that my Dad had a match at the shooting range that month.

The inconsistent writings of a man with too much time on his hands

December 23, 2006

This entry mostly serves as a test to see if my limited HTML skills will reveal themselves to the world in the form of drastic formatting errors and/or (unintentionally) poor text positioning. In the future the writing here may be more inspired and entertaining, with the intention being to document my relocation from California to New York, and my upcoming travels (more on that later).
-Brian