the wheels keep on turning around here, and not much is really new. still grinding it out commuting to the DFTU client everyday. I think the commute is starting to get to me a little bit. the train is not so bad, well, when it’s running on time, or they have power, and they keep the doors open at union station so you can get off (they closed after 1 min of unloading yesterday, that was fun). but the metro, man, that’s starting to get to me. the masses in general, ugh. the groups of middle american jeebus groups in matching tshirts, the pushy lawyers cutting you off with their crackberry in hand. the delays, the stations, the, the, i dunno.

but i’m takin’ next week off bitches, so hopefully that’ll recharge the batteries.

so in other news, the last 6 months have been one (err, ones?) of discovery for little (now old) jefke. i won’t go in to it. but i’ve been doing some work on the old psyche, trying to get my head together and really ‘man up’ a bit about my life and where it’s been/headed. yes, i’ll admit there have been some self help books involved, but dammit, i think i’m making some progress. perhaps that’s why i’m not posting as much, i just don’t have the all the bitter trying needing an outlet. i dunno.

what’s somewhat interesting is that i seem to have a little bit more vigor to set out and do some shit that i’ve wanted to do for along time.

the first was ballet class, man have i always loved the ballet and i figure it’s high time i try it out for myself…………just kidding fuckers–you still AWAKE?

but somewhat seriously, in my youth (that’ pronounced yoot) i was caught up in the rock and roll grunge worldview, and got a tattoo. nothing too serious, a little trendy (or soon to be cliche) but nevertheless. a personal thing at a personal time (nekkid chick on my butt cheek) since then, i’ve pretty much been in a low grade himming and hawwing loop about whether another one would be cool, lame, uber cliche, or a bit of all 3. well dammit i’ve decided to do it. and not only that, i’ve actually gotten the ball rolling.

so last tuesday, i headed to a consultation session with an artist at the baltimore tattoo museum. Natty and the capt met me there (a little late b/c i told her the wrong street). it was a pretty interesting experience. i was a bit early, coming from the train, so i had some time to kill. I pretended to look at the exhibtis and drink in the past of american tattooing, but in reality, i was listening to the 2 sets of 18 yr old girls that had come in to get piercings done (sadly nothing really interesting) the mixture of giggling, lingo i didn’t understand, fear, excitement and sudden camaraderie that the 4 girls shared was interesting.

it’s saturday, my big get shit done day–and it’s raining. not all the time, just off and on- and its annoying. oh there’s plenty to get done inside, but that’s not as fun as doing shit to the yard. bleh.

i can’t ‘splain why, but i’m all ruffled, it might be the the angst (this site looks awesome) but i think it’s more the boredem, i can definetly say i’m feeling moody-though if i remember correctely (recollect seems to work here natty) moody in this context is not to be equated with pissy. it’s more to be moodful or to have moods, though this is me we’re talking about so it’s being pissy. but really what do you expect.

i subscribed to lifehacker‘s rss feed and in the last week or so they’ve had some features on this new attention disorder, ADT to quote their quote:

What is ADT? Hallowell: It’s sort of like the normal version of attention deficit disorder. But it’s a condition induced by modern life, in which you’ve become so busy attending to so many inputs and outputs that you become increasingly distracted, irritable, impulsive, restless and, over the long term, underachieving. In other words, it costs you efficiency because you’re doing so much or trying to do so much, it’s as if you’re juggling one more ball than you possibly can.

i think that sums me up pretty well. I’ve gotten to the poitn where if i actually do 1 thign for 10 mins straight, i feel as if i deserve a break (read: a beer) or something. on the rare occasion where i actually focus on something,, i actually get so in entraced that i shut out everything else. it’s like my attention wad all on one thing. they i scramble to catch up on the other 8 things that i normally keep track of at the same time. i’m gonna loose it soon, i know it.

actually, i just realized that sites like lifehacker, and rss feeds adn shit are actually contributing to this syndrome. ha, funny. i see a little red spot on the bloglines icon in my tool tray and i’m compelled to look, and there i go off on another thought tangent. har, funny.

maybe it’s just the diet coke on an empty stomach….i dunno.

well this took up an hour, the boy will be awake soon and need me to watch him. so i guess i’ve muddled through another crisis of consciousness.

thanks internet, you’re my pimp and my pusher.

i’m not sure what i meant by that, but it works, right?

man how big of an ass do i feel like having constructed a litebrite rendition of my nickname spelled incorrectly–and as fate would have it, don dug up some old versions of my original site, on that web archive service thingy–i had an update (this was before posts) where i addressed how i had heard that my old manager and his boss had been visiting the site, and thought i was overly bitter about my layoff–which, in all honesty was true–but never the less i fired off some post that made it look like i had a mohawk, several large weapons and was conducting regular "are you talking to me?" conversations in the mirror at our apartment. jackassery, every bit of it.

the funny part is, for someone that spends so much energy on the bitter side of the force you’d think i’d be much more careful in what i post up, what i lay out and what i’d expect to get back. funny thing is, i’ve never thought all of this through very well. i mean, chirst, why do i do  this anyway? i mean, i’m fucking lazy, i don’t reread anything before i publish it–should i even be doing this type of shit?

it’s weird–i think deep down, every person that posts shit up on the internet is hoping, either actively or passively to get famous. i mean, why not just write shit in an old school journal. if you didn’t want people to read it, you’d keep it to yer self. further, if you want people to read it, you should, by jove, put up what you actually want the people to read (perhaps proofread it, a spell check or 2—i will not repent in terms of capitalization, get the fuck over it).

now do i put that effort in to it? er, well that’s obvious.  and do i get flack about it, yes–and rightfully so. now (further) if i don’t follow through on points 1 and 2, and get the rightful flack, and don’t like it, i have 2 choices–really, i could either actually craft posts, and try to minimze the flack, or i could not post until i am motivated to do it correctly (sort of a put up or shut up argument).

this is interesting, as i’ve never thought of it this way. i mean, i don’t really know why i do this weblog bullshit. it doesn’t pay (damn you adsense), i feel guilty when i don’t post (wtf is that all about), and more often than not, i feel like an ass or an idiot when i post something and then reread it or the comments associated with it–so, really–what the hell am i doing? (perhaps the better question is: what the hell have i been doing for the last 4 years).  i’m not adding anything to anything, and while i’m not sure, i’m not taking anything from anything–well except my and people’s time.

by jove,  i’m having a mid cyber life crisis

i’m not doing anything here- with all of this. and apart from the fact that i prepayed for a fucking year of typepad–i’m not obligated to do anything with all of this.  so why am i doing with this? why do i bother…..what does this add to the world, (well fuck that, i’m not worrying about that). but anyway—why bother?

why indeed.

so they finally found spalding gray’s body the other day. that’s a damn shame about him, i liked his shit a lot. Monologist, that’s the gig for me too, it’s not stand up really, it’s not spoken word, it’s just telling stories, and commenting on them. i’d be good at that i think. Any way, if you don’t know who he was, rent swimming to cambodia, it’s really good. i’m not even sure why/how i have seen it, i know that for some brief period in say 1988 cinemax was runnign it all the time (during the day, when they don’t show the soft core smut). well anyway, enough of that.

Chatted with richy the quebe and Mr. B in madrid on richard’s super high tech online meeting/chat software, perhaps more amusing than 3 people with philosophy backgrounds trying to figure out technology, is the 3.4 second lag between when one person says something and the others see/hear it. too funny.

man, could life be more sterotypical? i mean come on….this could only happen in america, and only by a person that looks like this

other than that not much else is new. i have friday off, and i’m going to refinance my mortgage, so soon you ask? yeah sure why not. in the there is no out of pocket costs for me, and they project we’ll save 75 bucks a month. i mean i could use that for booze or something…or another trip to home depot… or or or…. oh sure i bet it’s not the best possible rate for us, i mean, we could pay some points and get it even lower, but hell it wouldnt’ really be worth it, overall. other than that. well i’m just coasting.

as i was driving in to work this morn, I remembered a fight i had on 2 different girlfriends (waaaay back in the day) about the same thing. I remembered what a lame ass i was, and how if that me could see this me, well he’d think i am an even bigger lame ass. This gots me thinking about my overall jackassedness of my early 20′s.

the quote goes a little something like this:

“I don’t know, all i really need is my music, i have to put that first–before me, before you, before us. it’s my life, it’s all i really have”

Context: fight with girlfriend after showing up somewhere between 2 and 4 hrs late because of band practice.

Analysis: Errr right tiger, who the fuck do you think you are–joan jett in “the light of day“, good to know that 10+ years later you rarely touch that guitar and never did really make a dime off of any gig you ever played. get over yourself.

“I’ve been reading a lot of the beat authors, burroghs, kerouac, etc. I dont’ really feel like striving for excellence is worth it, i’m really starting to see the poetic element of planned medocrity”

Context: my brilliant latin and 19th century history professor had pulled me aside to ask me why it seemed like i put more effort in to not doing my latin homework and then trying to fudge the answers, than just doing my homework. there was something like what a shame it is to not try to reach one’s full potential.

Analysis: er, see above. get over yourself kid, you ain’t all that. did you like managing that deli, because that’s your future.

“just like ross perot says, there is no way i can double your standard of living like you did compared to your parents. If i can just get a job as a ski lift operator or something and read my books–i’d be happy”

Context: Jefke’s parent prodding him on what the hell he’s going to do with a double degree in philosophy and english lit.

Analysis: ohh good tactic, quoting perot, very shrewd. jackass.

“look, i don’t know if i ever loved you or not, but i do know if i keep spending time with you i will either kill you, myself, or both of us. it’s over and it’s never going to start up again–don’t call me, i’ll call you”

context: psycho ex girlfriend stalked me for a summer, before i returned to college, she felt it necessary to inform me that all the guys she had been bringing to parties and making out with in front of me, were just to make me realize that we indeed, did belong together, and that she’d wait for me until i accpeted this fact.

Analysis: wow, you stood up for yourself…for once.

“no your ass is not fat, but if you wanted to start working out and it happened to get smaller, i suppose that would be ok”

Context: oh i think you can figure that out

Analysis: very smooth, so how did it feel when she kicked you in the balls?

“uh, no, i wasn’t from a fight, i hit my head on my beer stein headbanging/making fun of the frat boys dancing to that shitty soup dragons song

Context: in emergency room getting stitches next to my right eye. i had been at a party, and indeed hit my face on a beer mug headbanging making fun of the psuedo frat boys dancing to that stupid soup dragons song. 3 external and 2 internal stitches. apparently, about 2 mm over and i prolly would have been blind in my right eye. or maybe they were just saying that to scare me.

Analysis: ah youth, wasted on me. the offical story is i got jumped.

oh there are to many others.

Ok people enough about me, do YOU have any embarrassing quotes from YOUR early 20′s (READ: dont’ need to hear any that you remember from me, as i have already given a healthy sample).