South by Staten Island Southwest...

Or rather, I finally had an extensive ride in a car in New York City. Even rode across a bridge, to an island.

The bridge is called the Verrazzano and similar to the Bay Bridge. What I mean by this is that it's totally fucked up, because you have to drive a car across it - no riding bicycles, no walking across. It's also a steep toll - $10 for a car.

Here's my gripe: bridges are supposed to be about access. Why the hell would you design a bridge open to the public, and then limit its access to cars only? Isn't that a little screwed up, especially in New York City, where the population has a very low percentage of car owners (except evidently, anyone living in Staten Island and using the Verrazzano Bridge).

So whatever was I doing riding in a car, all 6 of you ask? Someone decided that for their 30's birthday party, they wanted to go the 1 of 2 roller skating rinks in New York (the other one is in the Bronx)! Evidently, the Staten Island was easier to get too, despite the rink being on the complete opposite end of the island from Brooklyn (it's right off of the bridge to New Jersey).


*** Uhh... I just noticed this draft when I decided to clean up my blogger account. Sorry about the delay, my faithful 5!

Late, but not as Usual...

More to the point, I didn't feel like blogging yesterday.

Why, you ask? Was it because I was out on a hot date? Was it because I completed my master plan to conquer the world? Was it because my people were finally liberated?

No, it is because it was my first year anniversary of completing my prison sentence. That's right, March 21, 2008, I left BOP custody and started my Supervised Release. I have 5 years of this garbage, but I did just put in a motion to the Court for termination (they're allowed to after you've completed 1 year, since recidivism rates go down so much after the first year).

Get this: I paid the $39 Court Fee by check, but they returned the money, explaining that although I wasn't in forma pauperis (broke) anymore, I was still Pro Se (representing myself), and the fees only apply to lawyers. At least you know where $40 of that 50,000 went to, right? I'm still in shock that the government wasn't going to take the money and run. Evidently, I needed a bailout too.

Except New York ain't jibin' - they still haven't given me my tax money back. Which means I'm broke... since this weekend, I saw the Watchmen at the IMAX theater, then went to the top of the Empire State Building (well, 86th floor, the 102nd costs an extra 15, so I said screwit!).

It's unfortunate, because I really need to get 2 tattoos done (bad jew! bad jew!), and would rather have them done now, rather than later.

That's it for now. I'll fill you all in some more next Saturday, when I have some real time to write (unless I get outraged by something this week, you never now).

Two nights, two bars, two weeks disposable income.

Or rather, another reason why I don't like bars.

I wish I could say that it was all worth it, but really, from a fiscal point of view, I blew through almost $150 in two nights, and only have buzzed memories to show for it. $16 a drink? I sometimes really hate New York.

I mean, $200 would be like my entire food and beer budget for a month (having a beer a day is still expensive in New York, where good sixers are about $12). And I spent that in two days.

Note to self: no more hanging out in bars. I've got a future to save for, so long as inflation doesn't kill the dollar completely.

So, why the hell was I hanging out in bars again? Well, mainly because I'm a sucker for good company, and I had a lot of friends who wanted to hang out in bars. Terrible, I tell you. I'd rather pick up a few sixers from the store, and hit the pad where Iiptsos awaits, and complete control over the music selection to boot.

Then again, I'm considered somewhat anti-social. Though a friend tried to rephrase this anti-social behavior into a different terminology: I need social "naps." Basically, in a crowd, I sensory overload after a period of time, and have to remove myself from the situation. I haven't figured out the exact person-to-square/cubic-foot ratio, but I know when it's been breached.

So, how did I make up for this incredibly stupid spending you ask, all five of you? Well, by managing to finagle insane discounts on airfare! Yes, yours truly managed to get two cross-country roundtrip air tickets at an INSANELY low rate. As in, you would think me a liar. I'm flying my older brother out to NYC for a weekend as a birthday present, and myself out to the Bay to check out schools and a place to live in May. Between the 2 bar nights, and the 2 airplane flights, it's almost a fiscal wash. Almost. JetBlue rocks, except they still overcharge to fly into Sacramento. Bastards on that!

Also, as my time in New York grows short, and the weather improves, I'm starting, alongside my brother here, a project to experience the "new york" scene. So yesterday was the Queens Museum of Art, with a panoramic miniature of all five burroughs of New York. It was awesome. Incidentally, getting in is a voluntary contribution, and their cafeteria actually has really good food that's insanely cheap. Weird that, I'm used to an overcharge to get in, and an overcharge if you want to eat. I gotta hand it to the Museum, they run a nice ship there.

It's at this place, the location of the World's Fair back in the day, now called Flushing Meadows. New York is weird like that - you're in this total urban zone, then suddenly you're in a massive park, and the buildings become a backdrop. I still can't get used to it.

So then brother and I met up with a friend, had some Mexican food on Roosevelt Avenue (no, nothing compared to a mission burrito), then headed to a bar in Brooklyn. Actually, truth be told, Saturday night wasn't as bad as Friday night, whereby I had 3 drinks and 1 plate of food, and spent $80. Ouch.

Anyways, you all get to look forward now to weekly weekend missives of my mighty adventures through NYC, instead of the inane exploits of Chupecabra (though I'll certainly keep you posted on that as well, just for the hell of it).

Psychic Near-Hit, and Fuck the Vatican

So, Hastings didn't accept me this week. Berkeley did reject me. Golden Gate University, School of Law did accept me though, meaning I missed by about 1 mile (distance between the two schools).

I just want you five to keep that in mind, when asking for my psychic predictions - 1 mile can mean very little ("You will live in a mansion in Beverly Hills on Santa Monica Boulevard," we can give or take a mile and it's all good), or it can mean a lot ("You will be near the Ocean of San Francisco," could mean the bottom of the bay).

Onto the other headliner. Fuck the Vatican. I can't make it any simpler: any church that would excommunicate the doctors that performed, and the mother who authorized, the abortion for a nine-year old rape victim who's pregnancy endangered her life, and not ex-communicate the rapist stepfather, is a church that should burn in the proverbial hell. If there were a devil, they would be carrying out his work.

I mean, I know I need to brush up on my buy-bull knowledge, but still, I remember enough to know that Jesus did NOT say "Honor thy mother and father, but most of all, any rapists that belong to the church - forgive them and condemn those that support and help the victims of their rape." Maybe I missed the Gospel of Memnoch, the secret Dead Sea Scroll that really is the guiding force of the Catholic Church, when it's not divinely inspired to support priests that rape, and ex-communicating those involved with 9-year old girls that might die from their rape-caused pregnancy for getting an abortion.

*Whew* haven't had a rant like that since the last time I had a priest shit in my oatmeal, for which I was ex-communicated. I knew there was another reason I had to become an atheist!

Life Ain't Nuthin' But Demon Goats n' Hookahs

Also known as: you'd never believe the kind of night I had last night. Or the week. It's been hectic.

So there I was, in the jungle, a.k.a. a bar that my brother dragged me to. Amidst this ordering of drinks and social studies thing, a little play got carried out, one that left an incredibly attractive woman alone and annoyed at the bar.

I know what all five of you are thinking: "No, he _didn't_!"

Nothing cheesy, really. Just asked her to join us for a drink (she declined the drink) and a little bit of talk, since sitting alone at a bar just doesn't look right.

Risking rebuff? Certainly. Risking rejection? Certainly. Outside my character as a general principle? Certainly. But hell, she did come over to chat for a little bit.

Why do I bring this up? Because I realize that I'm empowered through accouterments - whether it be Iiptsos, or my wonderful Fedora. When I have my power object, I suddenly possess some kind of confidence and attractive powers. I feel like Popeye, addicted to spinach. It's terrible.

And also related - because much like Popeye, I thought I had superstrength, and decided that my brother's drunken idea of riding bikes out to Coney Island to watch the sunrise was a good idea. Oh yeah, forgot to mention, we closed out the bar - left at 3:45 in the morning. By 4:45, we were off riding South through the massive entity that is Brooklyn.

This worked great, and we had a great time - even brought Iiptsos for some beachfront sunrise smokin'. Worked great until that bad part - needing to ride home. Needless to say, it was a tortured ride through the dirty Brooklyn Streets, with a bright sun shining, mocking our tired eyes. We went on two fruitless and one successful quest for cheap sunglasses, had breakfast muffins with the Queen of Brooklyn Baking Goodness (ninecakes.com), and limped the rest of the way home.

Fabulous night. Chupecabra handled it all like a champ - except for one unceremonious dump onto the concrete when I jumped the front wheel onto a curb, and the rear wheel decided to slide sideways instead. Que sera, sera.

On the boring note, got accepted to Golden Gate University, School of Law. Soon I shall wear the vestiges of our enemies, my five faithful readers.

And with that, I'm totally exhausted, feeling a little beat up (rode over 40 miles yesterday), and about to head out for another night on the town (First Night at the Brooklyn Museum). Someday, this abuse will stop. In the meantime, party on Wayne!

The Psychic Strikes Again!

Berkeley Law was apologetic, but regretfully had to deny my application for their 2012 J.D. program, and encouraged me to apply for the 2013 J.D. program.

Now... about Hastings...