tl;dr YOLO
you can't be a star in the sky without holy fire
Why should I keep telling you what I love, and whom?
I am so dull and awkward, what difference would it make?
Yet I can't shut up. I'm like that mockingbird up on the
bee-riddled pole at the corner of our easement. He is de-
mented, singing I must have sex, singing stay away from me.
Every once in a while he does a little hip-hop, he flaps his
wings, he does a break-down. When does he breathe? When
does he sleep? And beneath him are the morning-glories,
who could teach me a thing or two about the absolute rage to live,
and also the trumpet-vine, which is serene and alluring, but which
is all muscle and will underneath. And the wisteria! You
would stand naked in the snow-white shower of its blossoms, but it
would send a root down through you and plant a stake in your heart.
No, I can't shut up, it's not in my nature, just as beauty is not,
just as all those virtues I read about have gone missing. And I
don't want everyone to gather round either. In another world
I am ready to lie down in solidarity with all the doomed blossoms
along the white fences. In another world I would stop grinding
my own bones. In another world I would convert all my failures
and consume them in a holy fire. But then there is that mindless
bird - he can't shut up - and it's one world only, and he knows it.
- Frank X. Gaspar
Did I mention my birthday promise? I made a birthday promise, which is kind of like a new year's resolution crossed with a birthday wish. You make a promise to yourself that by your next birthday you will have fulfilled this awesome promise. It can't be a promise that you know will make you miserable like resolutions tend to (e.g. quit smoking/drinking, eat healthier, get in shape, things that will improve your life in the long run but really don't do anything for your happiness during said run), but something that gives you boundless joy, like travelling more, or reading more, or doing more of something that you enjoy doing. And then, instead of sitting around wishing for it to happen, you go and make it happen by sheer force of will and vengeful effort.
So I decided that my 27th year (well, technically it's my 28th, since we measure birthdays by the number of years we've lived, but I digress) will be my year of YOLO. Most people do this around college, but when you are around college you don't actually have enough money to do all the awesome shit you want to do. At 27, I have a decent amount in my savings account, I've started my IRA, I have a steady job with a super understanding boss, so I am going to pretend that it is my last year alive and LIVE IT THE FUCK UP.
And this is how. Every month I am going to do something ri-goddamn-diculous.
1) April is already pretty full up of ridiculous (I got gussied up and went to a fancy party and rode an unmarked black car home like a baller), but the Boston Bacon & Beer Festival is this weekend. I am going to day-drink straight from brunch through to dinner, kind of like last weekend when I did the Harpoon tour and followed it up with a drunken dinner at the Yankee Lobster, and followed that up with a drunken game night in my hometown. (Shadows over Camelot is a great game, made all the greater when you have NO FUCKING CLUE WHAT'S HAPPENING because you are drunk, and fuck that dragon I ain't going anywhere near that thing, but I got Lancelot's armor, so that's cool.) BASICALLY EVERY WEEKEND I GET DRUNK.
2) I have never been to Chicago, so I'm going to go to Chicago and see Igudesman & Joo in May. I might bring my sister with me, or convince some friends to come along to split room costs.
3) The American Craft Beer Fest is June 1-2. 'Nuff said. Note to self: string pretzel necklaces.
4) At some point in July, I'm going to Iceland with
roseclaw. We're gonna see the midnight sun like Ella Fitzgerald.
5) Maine weekend retreat to Kennebunkport's Hidden Pond in August with my BFF D and a bunch of other rubes. Hopefully during the Perseid meteor shower peak.
6) September onwards: ????? ANYTHING GOES. I'm sure something will come up. If you hear of awesome shit happening anywhere in the world (but preferably in North America, because I'm pretty sure the Iceland trip is going to tap me out), let me know.
This entry was originally posted at http://bluebombardier.dreamwidth.org/223872.html because Livejournal sucks at life.
Why should I keep telling you what I love, and whom?
I am so dull and awkward, what difference would it make?
Yet I can't shut up. I'm like that mockingbird up on the
bee-riddled pole at the corner of our easement. He is de-
mented, singing I must have sex, singing stay away from me.
Every once in a while he does a little hip-hop, he flaps his
wings, he does a break-down. When does he breathe? When
does he sleep? And beneath him are the morning-glories,
who could teach me a thing or two about the absolute rage to live,
and also the trumpet-vine, which is serene and alluring, but which
is all muscle and will underneath. And the wisteria! You
would stand naked in the snow-white shower of its blossoms, but it
would send a root down through you and plant a stake in your heart.
No, I can't shut up, it's not in my nature, just as beauty is not,
just as all those virtues I read about have gone missing. And I
don't want everyone to gather round either. In another world
I am ready to lie down in solidarity with all the doomed blossoms
along the white fences. In another world I would stop grinding
my own bones. In another world I would convert all my failures
and consume them in a holy fire. But then there is that mindless
bird - he can't shut up - and it's one world only, and he knows it.
- Frank X. Gaspar
Did I mention my birthday promise? I made a birthday promise, which is kind of like a new year's resolution crossed with a birthday wish. You make a promise to yourself that by your next birthday you will have fulfilled this awesome promise. It can't be a promise that you know will make you miserable like resolutions tend to (e.g. quit smoking/drinking, eat healthier, get in shape, things that will improve your life in the long run but really don't do anything for your happiness during said run), but something that gives you boundless joy, like travelling more, or reading more, or doing more of something that you enjoy doing. And then, instead of sitting around wishing for it to happen, you go and make it happen by sheer force of will and vengeful effort.
So I decided that my 27th year (well, technically it's my 28th, since we measure birthdays by the number of years we've lived, but I digress) will be my year of YOLO. Most people do this around college, but when you are around college you don't actually have enough money to do all the awesome shit you want to do. At 27, I have a decent amount in my savings account, I've started my IRA, I have a steady job with a super understanding boss, so I am going to pretend that it is my last year alive and LIVE IT THE FUCK UP.
And this is how. Every month I am going to do something ri-goddamn-diculous.
1) April is already pretty full up of ridiculous (I got gussied up and went to a fancy party and rode an unmarked black car home like a baller), but the Boston Bacon & Beer Festival is this weekend. I am going to day-drink straight from brunch through to dinner, kind of like last weekend when I did the Harpoon tour and followed it up with a drunken dinner at the Yankee Lobster, and followed that up with a drunken game night in my hometown. (Shadows over Camelot is a great game, made all the greater when you have NO FUCKING CLUE WHAT'S HAPPENING because you are drunk, and fuck that dragon I ain't going anywhere near that thing, but I got Lancelot's armor, so that's cool.) BASICALLY EVERY WEEKEND I GET DRUNK.
2) I have never been to Chicago, so I'm going to go to Chicago and see Igudesman & Joo in May. I might bring my sister with me, or convince some friends to come along to split room costs.
3) The American Craft Beer Fest is June 1-2. 'Nuff said. Note to self: string pretzel necklaces.
4) At some point in July, I'm going to Iceland with
roseclaw. We're gonna see the midnight sun like Ella Fitzgerald.
5) Maine weekend retreat to Kennebunkport's Hidden Pond in August with my BFF D and a bunch of other rubes. Hopefully during the Perseid meteor shower peak.
6) September onwards: ????? ANYTHING GOES. I'm sure something will come up. If you hear of awesome shit happening anywhere in the world (but preferably in North America, because I'm pretty sure the Iceland trip is going to tap me out), let me know.
This entry was originally posted at http://bluebombardier.dreamwidth.org/223872.html because Livejournal sucks at life.