I have to write an easy fucking paper for my marketing class tomorrow. It should only take a couple of hours but I'm so motivated to just watch Fox's Sunday night programming which I DVR and play with my genitalia. I need the weather to break...I need to finish up with this semester...I need to scrape my stem for a hit. God I'm such a fiend. Its like all or nothing with me. If I have some all I do is think of reasons to smoke it. Then half the time it makes me lazy and extremely unproductive and the other half of the time I find it difficult to truely ponder the answers/solutions to the difficulties I have in finance or form.

I've really gotten a good handle on what the hell I'm doing in the gym, which is good. It took me about a year to find the proper form, technique by learning how to rip my muscles so they fill up with blood and repair ready for an increase in stimulus. I can't believe the weight I'm finally working out with...it took so long to pick up those 60's. I think the most important idea that I learned is to keep things fresh and to not stick to any type of routine. One day be that slow power lifter guy...the next week be the guy doing crazy circuits and drop sets. One thing that really pisses me off, though, are the jerks who not only sit on the equipment but also are in the process of hurting themselves by performing the movement backwards. These people put all this weight on their back then they bend over with it (as I hear the muscle fibers of their lower back seperate). Then one of two things happen : they leave a lot of sweat behind or they don't re rack their weight. So I have to pull off all this little weight just to put on some real weight which slows down my routine. And then they never walk back into the gym, ever.

I'm not sure where I was goin with that so I'm gonna stop and hit the water pipe. Oh Yeah.............................. That's the shit boy...hit this chief...Man you should have heard me try to explain why all the clocks in my house are set at a different time. What a bumbling idiot I can be when I'm stoned.

Well, I hope you had a good time, I for surely did. Things sure are funnier under the influence...to bad that there are side effects and at some point you have to come down. Have you yet?? Come down??? I'm quitting again because I'm not adult enough to know when enough is enough.

Perpetually high but with lots of love, MrDT

Yesterday is gone and I'm preparing for work tonight. It seems my vacation is finally over after I blew all of yesterday by sleeping. It was kinda funny I woke up ate something fell back asleep for the afternoon...woke up at 11:00pm ate some thing and then fell back to sleep around 2:00am...Sorry I missed your party Matt, hopefully the day was special for you, mine usually are...

I went to the Queen concert on Friday and have to say that it kinda sucked. Only 2 original band members (where was the quintasential Brian May?) and Paul Rodgers who surprisingly offered a good show if you don't mind bad company... I would have enjoyed the show but they left out a few of the major hits. I did get to here ANother one Bites the Dust and a tribute to Freddy Mercury with Bohemian Rhapsody. My first 35rpm was the Dust single with Keep Yourself Alive on the B-side....its my favorite Queen song but they didn't play it so here it is. Can you say reunion tour???

HMMMM...it seems the depatment of labor doesn't accept a master degree as section 599 training. Gee that kinda sucks...looks like my Sabbatical is coming to an end...it says that my training will not lead to a specific goal....WOW!!!! I can think of about a hundred that it could lead to....business training is not required to work as a cook or in the field of executive grocery store management.

I got to go reheat some food for a couple of hours...then I have to hit a mismanaged grocery store for some supplies. See ya later, Love..

MrDT

I can't believe its 3:30 and in a few hours I will be on a plane back to cold buffalo. the weather is gorgeous here. take for instance the time and the fact that its still 70 degrees out. I had the top down on the mustang on the way home pumping some armin van buuren. so many looks...so many complements...i want one of my own if i ever move down here.

brought some drunk ass youngins back to the hotle with me. i can't ever remember being that young, foolish or immature. it seems that the only thing on their minds was meeting hot guys tomorrow on the beach. good for them i guess i'm glad its out of my system. however i do wish i would have met some hot girl to share this time in the fun and sun with.

can't say i'm in a hurry to get home but it will be nice to get back into my old regimen. i miss the gym, the brownrice and every morning's regularity that come from eating a well balanced high nutrition and fiber diet.

my nose is peeling and i have to pack...i changed my user sound for all of those who appreciatate music.

lookin' for some sunshine in buffalo...with love, MrDT

Time for some fun big willie style.

Love, MrDT

Sio credesse che mia risposta fosse
A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma perciocche giammai di questo fondo
Non torno vivo alcun, siodo il vero,
Senza tema dinfamia ti rispondo.


LET us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherised upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats 5
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question 10
Oh, do not ask, What is it?
Let us go and make our visit.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes, 15
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap, 20
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes; 25
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate; 30
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

In the room the women come and go 35
Talking of Michelangelo.

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, Do I dare? and, Do I dare?
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair?" 40
[They will say: How his hair is growing thin!]
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin?"
[They will say: But how his arms and legs are thin!]
Do I dare 45
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all:"
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, 50
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?

And I have known the eyes already, known them all?" 55
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways? 60
And how should I presume?

And I have known the arms already, known them all?"
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
[But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!]
It is perfume from a dress 65
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?
. . . . .
Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets 70
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?

I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.
. . . . .
And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully! 75
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep, tired, or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis? 80
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head [grown slightly bald] brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet?"and here's no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker, 85
And in short, I was afraid.

And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while, 90
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all?" 95
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
Should say: That is not what I meant at all.
That is not it, at all.

And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while, 100
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor
And this, and so much more?
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen: 105
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all.
. . . . . 110
No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use, 115
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous
Almost, at times, the Fool.

I grow old, I grow old 120
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me. 125

I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown 130
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.


--TS Elliott--