lal lalgon  lal reh lefi ouy ese
seh stuj wadent ot od reh wno tghin
rghti bisede lal fo oyu



while I traveled laughing,
I cried waterfalls dancing-
embracing uncharted restlessness
prototype propellers loose,
they  propel me loose-
and spin me spiraling forward!
good nights, good summer!
good night, good summer.
it's jump off the cliff time and a next great adventure.
may I never forget
how much I never wanted to forget


honesty would you honestly
be inclined to believe them freed
of this travesty
in your absence see
no amnesty for the bereaved

my mom used to do this super-cute thing when Cary, Mike and I were little kids where she would pretend like her hand was a little cockroach (tips of fingers are its little feet) and it would crawl on our arms or legs and try to tickle us. she’d be like, ‘oooooo it’s cocka-roachie. say hi to cocka-roachie!’ and we would be squeamish with delight. it was real precious moments’ shit. yup, everyone loved cocka-roachie and there were definitely fights over who was getting the most face time with the illustrious cocka-roachie.

anyways, I guess playing the cocka-roachie game must have imprinted in my mind as one of the only true ways to show affection towards someone you love (although i’m also in the habit of buying expensive meals for people i love after i have wronged them…..learned that one from daddy) b/c fast forward twenty years and guess who’s gettin a taste of cocka-roachie love’n: ole Seanie B.

that’s right. pretty much whenever Sean was going for a real-life intimate moment, cocka-roachie would show up (unannounced and uninvited) and foil his plans.

picture it: Sean having showered. maybe trimmed up the beard a bit, ready to make some moves..and as soon as I register his gestures on my ole affection-o-meter it’s like BAMMMMM

cocka-roachie time:

‘boooobs, guess who wants to say hi?!  surprise! it’s cocka-roachie!’

and the fingers on my right hand would become five legs and start crawling up Sean’s arm and straight for his face, tickling him along the way.

yup, turns out cocka-roachie was also quite the cocka-blockey..

then, once cocka-roachie was firmly established over Sean’s eyeball, I’d start pumping my hand up and down over sean’s face, slowly first and then much harder and faster…exclaiming aloud cocka-roachie was now demonstrating his undying love by vigorously dry-humping Sean’s face. Sean beared with it. in fact, he usually stayed motionless throughout the duration of the sex crime act itself. he would wince occasionally, however. sometimes even try to whimper out a plea to reason.

‘Mary…oh god, Mary, c’mon…cocka-roachie is molesting my eye…’

‘say hi to cocka-roachie.’

‘I don’t wa..”

sayyyy hiiiiii to cocka-roachie!’

‘ughhhhhhh….hi, cocka-roachie.’

‘see, he loves you. he wants to love on you! isn’t this great?!’

‘ughhh… .yeah. this is awesome. it feels like my skull is getting raped, marebear. cocka-roachie is raping my fucking eyeball.’

this would go on for minutes, on several different occasions, over the course of several years…

moral of the story:

-you will show love to others the way your parents showed love to you.


-the most amazing, patient, awesome, and inspiring guy a girl could ever have the (incredibly good) fortune of having entered her life will likely let her get away with pretending her hand is an insect-vermon vigorously violating his face when he is trying his darndest to create just one serious romantic moment between the two of them.

i love you, boobs.     this one is for you.


calibrated catastrophe destroying deliberately
increasing entropy
falling face first guarded girl
to happy hollow hindrances
to menacing muse mustering mania
negating nervous and novel neurosis
posit possible paradox:
 paralyzing potentiality
riot revolving revolutionaries
scandalous suspects swindling synergy
not wandering wonderland wastefully
explode through the ceiling dreamers
see there is no sealing dreamer



singing and dancing
and clearly not attached
to any of this scene
just like me
and i want to tell you:
that song and your voice and my hands at the wheel
be any thing and beside of  you
that is what beautiful is to me

I have always had pretty good luck when it comes to finding awesome roommates (edit: minus Babylon).

My new roommates, Annalise and Travis, are both incredibly smart, super-friendly, and all-around-awesome individuals.

Some fun facts that prove my point:

-Annalise is a psychology major and she works at a cupcake shop, which means she can bring home the leftover bounty every day (including the latest in talk-of-the-town vegan cupcake creations).

-Travis is a philosophy/religious studies major, and he boasts a (totally brag-able) collection of non-traditional board games (which helps fuel our slightly-less-brag-able obsession with playing them).

However, no home situation is ever 100% perfect. And here again, I find history repeats itself.

You see, just like my manipulative little Babylon attempted to throw a dark doggy wrench between Sean-Tamica-and-I in the planning stages of our forging a domestic utopia (refer to May 2009 posts), it seems there’s a new house pet in town adamant on challenging my latest domestic love triad:

her name, Moose. her game, playing inexplicably and unjustifiably hard to get.

Moose is Annalise’s cat. Like most cats I have crossed paths with in my quarter-century-wanderings, her general disposition can be described as follows: fearfully squeamish, overly reserved, and ostensibly unimpressed by all those who surround her (all this despite our best efforts to reach out our hands to her paws  in domestic fellowship).

Travis has already resigned himself to not caring one way or another whether (or how much) Moose loathes, resents, fears (or plots against) him in secretive kitty silence.

I, however, will be employing a more proactive approach.

See, I have seen her type before, so I play coy. Leave my door open and let her wander around. Glance at her every now and then, but with NO HINT of affection or admiration. NAY, because that mushy shit will not win  over the heart of a feline (so save it for a dog…or any other soul-bounded creature). You intentionally treat a feline with feigned indifference. Drastically minimize (w/out eliminating entirely ) attempts to reach out or offer acknowledgment.

My strategy: Intentionally treat Moose as if she wasn’t there indifferently circumventing me as if I wasn’t there.

I trust you see how this mysterious, non-verbal, cat-and-mouse dance is all part of a super-complex-super-complicated web I am weaving that will indubitably win the respect of this fretful feline; a web that (once all has been executed according to plan) will invariably result in Moose and I coddling together in the silky-safety-net I have created– mutually acknowledging each other’s existence once and for all.

Is it starting to work? yeah. duh.

It’s been all of three days and Moosey-pants is already starting to warm up. She comes in my room regularly now to see what I’m up to, and doesn’t zip into darkness the second I catch her checking me out.  I can tell this cat digs my style.  And y’know what: I dig that she digs my style. She sits on the headboard of my bed from time to time, and yesterday morning she circled me twice while I was organizing paperwork in my room. All the while, I just went about my business like she didn’t exist.

And one day very soon ( I give it two weeks-tops) Moosey-pants will be eating right out of my hand.

Moose will love me the way kitties love scratching-and-clawing out of their cat-nip-binging, warped minds.

It’s just a matter of time. I know this because I’m super-aware of what little Moosey-pants here is only-maybe-minutely-aware of: the utility of generosity in social reciprocity (b/c winning doesn’t feel the same when no one is willing to acknowledge you as ‘being’ in the ‘game’).

July 7, 2011

San Jose to Sarchi to Alajuela


In the morning, before we left San Jose, Dan and I stopped in for our first of several cathedral visits during the trip. Conversation shared while sitting in a church pew that day included philosophical issues concerning agent causation. Dan explained to me the contrasting accounts some philosophers (including Malebranche and Berkeley) offer in addressing them.

We then rode the bus to visit the small town of Sarchi, Costa Rica. Sarchi is (allegedly) famous for its large selection of locally hand-crafted souvenirs. We walked up and down steep, mountainside streets for hours in search of this promised land of local artistry (ahem. tourist trap). We ended up finding like two standard issue souvenir shops and were getting pretty P.O’d. Dan, however, was set on finding a souvenir for his mother (and not just any old souvenir, but one that would put all his past souvenirs to shame), and I was invested in this man’s mission (and inspired by his determination). Pressed for time, Dan scouted ahead (while I took a much needed breather) and finally did happen up a local artisan (a soft-spoken, elderly man with his own small woodcraft shop somewhat near the center of town). In his shop we found a beautifully hand-crafted wooden hummingbird that balanced by its nose on a little wooden platform. Hummingbirds are prevalent in Costa Rica and we were immediately sold on the delicate beauty of this little wooden statue. Deal! Oh, the sweet taste of success in Sarchi- and it was ours!

To add even more icing to this sweet-ass cake of a day, we saw the world’s largest oxcart (that’s right, world! You have a ‘largest oxcart’! Edit: Well, Sarchi has your ‘largest oxcart’. But trust, sweet world, it is being maintained and displayed with inexplicable pride). It was located smack dab in the center of town, in front of their colorful church. By the by, the world’s largest oxcart is super-pretty, and intricately painted in eclectic design.

In largely unrelated news (but I made a note of it in my notepad), Dan spotted a pretty large iguana crossing a stream that day. Pretty bad ass.

We had time to check out one more souvenir shop before we had to catch the bus to Alajuela. As we checked out some of the more ridiculous (as in, in-no-way-even-related-to-Costa-Rica, mass-produced souvenir options, I asked Dan who would even think to purchase some of these goods. He turned to me and smiled, nostalgically reminiscing on the wise words of his beloved grandfather:

‘Y’know what my grandpa always used to tell me? He’d say, Dan– there’s a sucker born every day.’

The delivery of this line was impeccable (maybe you had to be there. I don’t know. I don’t care). I cracked up instantly.It was comic gold.

Finally, we loaded the bus to Alajuela and Dan and I are seated across from a dude with some music player machine and accompanying headsets. Dude is playing the music… noticeably loud…but not bothering to use his headsets. Dan, in a Larry David fashion, nudges my shoulder, muttering under his breath:

‘Can you believe this guy?  ::swaying his head in the direction  of Dude::  Really? …c’mon. I mean,  he’s got the earphones right there.’

Dan was noticeably perturbed. It was pretty cute to witness. He went on to make a few more just-audible-enough-for-Dude-to-hear petty jabs. I giggled–loudly. Dude continued to play his music–loudly. Onward we all went.

That evening, we checked into the Maleku Hostel in Alajuela. Cozy, practical, and reasonably priced. We enjoyed a delicious dinner that evening at a local grocery market chain called Max por Menos (I think that’s what its called, anyways). We come back with some purchased dranks and while Dan is showering, the hotel clerk and I caught a televised soccer match (Costa Rica’s team was playing). Hotel clerk was super into the game  and was freaking out whenever a goal was made—which was cool, I was all about it. In fact, I freaked out a few times too, just for the hell of it.

Dan and I decided to chill out and play it low key in the hostel living room for the evening, sharing our booze and some laughs with a fellow hostel guest (Dave, a pretty chill American dude who had made the balls-to-the-wall decision to sell all his things back home and make a new life for himself in Costa Rica). We ended up watching the most random T.V. line up that would greet us during the course of this trip (compliments of Animal Planet). It included: ‘The Dog Whisperer’ (Dan fun fact: Dan can tell you what season an episode from ‘The Dog Whisperer’ is from), some show about ‘really short people’ whose relationship to any animals whatsoever remains a complete and total mystery to me, and a super-sad doggy-rescue documentary that went on for way too long.  Being the super-classy lady that I am, I eventually passed out drunk with Dan’s lap serving as my head cushion (and subsequent drool cushion) somewhere in the midst of the super-sad dog-rescue documentary.

All in all, this went down as another successful day of venture in my book!


View from our Hostel in Monteverde, Costa Rica (July 2011)


Q: When do you think you will get married?

A: Been there. Done that.

Q: Seriously. Don’t you see yourself as great marriage material?

A: I see myself as great before-marriage material, especially for girls.

Q: How are you going to get a baby if you’re not married?

Q: How am I going to get married if I’m not a baby?

Re: That doesn’t make any sense.

Re:Re: Doesn’t it?

Re:Re:Re: What?

Re:Re:Re:Re: What?

i don’t let on
what i see clear lee
if only for your say ache
that you and me
have a turn at tee
but not my move to may ache
to show how our dance
could grow at our chance
to glorify his holy name
but trebor pray wait
have faith for our say aches
that every thing has its time


“MY LORD GOD, I have no idea where I am going.
I do not see the road ahead of me.
I cannot know for certain where it will end.
Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. 

But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you.
And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing.
I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire.
And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it.
Therefore will I trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death.
I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.”

-Thomas Merton

and while he was boisterously blabbering away to buddies on the phone  she last minute grabbed a  bag of cheetos she had been nervously exchanging glances with for some tangible feeling of minutes.

he  stopped to scold her:  we can’t be spending our money like that on things we clearly don’t need words said with calculating intent where italics suggest as he dissected her overweight body with his thin tiny tall laser-beam eyeballs.

meanwhile and mind you their cart was filled with 6 packs of various beer brands and meanwhile and mind you he was running over this purchase to verify the order (as any good head-of-household planner would do) with his buddies over the enthralling laughter-filled phone call he had been so disciplined astute and responsible so to have seconds ago put on hold so that he could insidiously deliver this inexcusably ironically misinformed blow:

that the world clearly sees her as a fucking frivolous disgusting powerless gluttonous wasteful expenditure of income

and as every fat cell in my body shuddered skin crackling currents of anger i waited and prayed for some tangible feeling of minutes before i deliberately took control of the next moment time slice of all three of our lives to go on and on complimenting her on the beauty of the intricately woven french braid that had managed itself into her flowing healthy and gorgeously maintained light brown locks of hair

which had been after all the very first inspiring detail that had struck me as i navigated this otherwise sobering setting waiting to check out behind a couple at wal-mart.


you fall in love so hard each time

that you give yourself a concussion

but amnesia ammends

your imaginative lens

so that when you arise

your dry open less eyes

will be greeted with no recollection


you fall in love so hard each time

that you give yourself a concussion

but amnesia ammends

your imaginative lens

so that when you arise

your dry open less lies

will be greeted with no recollection


you fall in love so hard each time

that you give yourself a concussion

but amnesia ammends

your imaginative lens

so that when you arise

your dry open less guise

will be greeted with no recollection

A lovely night for insulin tears insomnia fears and lines
for abrupt subtleties
that greeted him here these eves
But glad to do
what she had to do
to reserve her dimensionless sphere
A manifestation locale
too interfacing and frail
for influential less tension less peers
Inundated by his judgment hues
can he take these cues
that she can't have him here
straight lacing her queer
 rainbow thoughts

Sunday August 7th of the Year of 20 AND 11

ur mind…i’m about to blow it, so brace yourself.. here it comes: i may or may not have entered a photo of yours into a ‘best male pin-up’ online contest. May or may not? wtf? I know, I know (damn my proclivity towards non-committal claims) ((and damn my meta-commentary on my proclivities)) did i or did I not submit tasteful nudes in your honor? will you win? can you win? does the online contest even exist? Does God exist? Can god make a square circle that secretly deludes itself into believing it is still a square at heart, but just prefers to dress up in make-up and heels like a circle? it’s a mystery. these are mysteries. mysteries are facts. and facts are God. and God needs people who like to pretend to care about solving mysteries and finding facts to verify him…..and that’s where we come in. we’re the ‘bread-less butter’ (as they say), you and I, if we don’t act like any of this matters, the whole sold-out show ‘goes to the shits’ (as they say) but u gotta call me so we can get to the bottom of all this, a.s.a.p.! i can be Watson. you can be Holmes. and we can be the subversive and analytic and homoerotic hardy boys of the underworld together. ‘i got the plan, if you got the tan’ (as they say). the question is: do you have the tan?

Jack Kerouac Quotes


“Don’t use the phone. People are never ready to answer it. Use poetry.”


“Offer them what they secretly want and they of course immediately become panic-stricken.”


“I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another til I drop.”

July 6, 2011

San Jose, Costa Rica to Turrialba, Costa Rica (and back)

our first long bus ride and turbulence twists and turns on curves swerving mountain bends kilometers are hour long ventures and poor dan felt like he may get sick and its almost three hours of bouncing bus we busied ourselves with topics to include deliberation concerning god’s existence (typical philosopher ‘small talk’) and its great conversation always with dan always so patient with me and then arrival.  guayabo national archeological site and remains of ancient city ruins that have only recently been excavated and we take the trail through the ruins and we eavesdrop on tour guides and guided tours and it’s okay guys really we can’t speak a lick of Spanish by the by but they are moving too slow for us anyways. and so we finish that trail and embark on a second one where we seem to be the only four feet and its wild bugs and crazy sounds and brush and debris and dan doomed to walk through several spider webs and spiders on my legs and swatting through silk that day and mosquitoes making their rounds round and around about our heads and we are squeamish sharing laughs over the absurdity of this unmaintained and hazardous little rendezvous through this lengthier path less traveled and the bus will be late that day so we sit and wait to discover we will have to stand and wait for the duration of some bus rides. and we’ll end up back in Galileo listening to brian as he explains his interview experience with the journalist from Lonely Planet and then john will tell us about 60 cent guarro shots (a local rum that will end up being my official alcohol of choice while in CR) at the Crowne Royal Plaza Hotel & Casino (only a few blocks away) and so duh. dan and I head over. and we meet max, who will be the first stray dog of many to adopt us for a day. max follows us crossing busy intersections and quiet side streets and listening to our calls and following our cues and bidding us ado when we came upon our final destination and i think he loved us and i know we loved him and dan him and i were just one big happy family for several blocks and a few short minutes that evening on July 6th. then dan and i went on to bear an uncanny resemblance to any old couple you may ever happen upon in any casino in any town, USA. drinking and drinking three  four five doubleshots of guarro and drunk and i’m going to throw a fit over my tab being mishandled and dan is going have me watch as he blows through some four dollars of change on some select slot machines. and he orders fries at the bar because they are his absolute favorite food on this planet (along with NY and Jersey style pizza) and its just a great wonderful perfect night to me. we wander wavering  through the wee hours back to our hostel and with plenty of reasons to justify not remembering our walk back to Galileo that night   i am happy to report i did not (will not) forget that walk back to Galileo . and its day 2 and this trip has already proven itself in singular moments of genuine awe  adoration laughter and promise.


This was a very cool short film to experience (very creative commentary on certain aspects of interpersonal gender relationships). BUT HEADS UP:  it is filled with profanity (f-bombs mostly) and abrupt violence.


What if:

Life was not entirely unlike a simulated reality frame in the mind of God ?

(hypothetically speaking, of course)

I work at my little logic mill (metaphorically speaking, of course) here in this dim corner of my mind in the mind of God and I do this for me and I do this for God. decode and recode the binary code some finite number of regressions as part of the necessary leg work for infinite progression.

(theoretically speaking, of course)

What if I just do this work to light up minds in the mind of God?

(figuratively speaking, of course)

And how about:

When I really want to glorify God, I just go outside of my mind to play peacefully and creatively with other minds in our minds in the mind of God?

We create art and experience beauty and cultivate imaginative ingenuity together.

It rejuvenates us for work the next day in the way only a sense of purpose could.

If so, then it would follow (logically speaking, of course):

In these moments when our minds are interacting peacefully, creating equally, laughing uncontrollably, and (most importantly) loving unconditionally, we exponentially produce the light that fuels the glorification of the mind of God.

And if so, then it would follow (technically speaking, of course):

That’s when we are most productive in life; not at work, but at play.




Line: Beauty sin Death
Progress sin Polarity
Design sin Chaos

C  i Run E  In Con sis 10 C
C Pole Air it T n K os in D sign
C  B U T in Death

Plummet porcelain doll

D   O    W    N

You    g  r   o   w

To your glorified grave
Laced lovely in licorice and lavender
Laced lovely in lies





“Nothing is original. Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination.* Devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings, photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations, architecture, bridges, street signs, trees, clouds, bodies of water, light and shadows. Select only things to steal from that speak directly to your soul. If you do this, your work (and theft) will be authentic. Authenticity is invaluable; originality is non-existent.** And don’t bother concealing your thievery- celebrate it if you feel like it. In any case, always remember what Jean-Luc Godard said: “it’s not where you take things from- it’s where you take them to.***”

-Jim Jarmusch


* Given my beliefs regarding intellectual property rights (property rights in general) I’d sub out all this misleading language of ‘stealing’ and ‘thievery’ for language that gives me the warm-n-fuzzies,  like the concepts of ‘borrowing’ and ‘sharing’ to ‘co-create’ and ‘glorify a greater good’. Mmmhmm, we’re all sharing ideas and building bridges and lots of love and sunflowers and hippie shit all over the place. Live it. Love it.

** ‘Originality is non-existent’ = Jim, Jim, Jim…you had me at ‘Originality is..’. But this is gutsy claim, a wee bit too gutsy for my blood..

***What a great quote! What a great idea to try, and to try the idea on the idea, mmhmm more warm-n-fuzzies. With a start like this, it’s going-to-got-to-be a glorious day.

July 5, 2011

Orlando, FL to San Jose, Costa Rica

Dan and I land and its check into Galileo an eclectic and young hostel with down to earth vibes and welcoming spirits and we take to walking about the streets of San Jose and locals greet me with customary cat calls but Dan reassures me not to worry by noting, ‘I got my masters in Philosophy, but I got my PhD in whoop ass’ and I know this is going to be the trip of a life time and we’re at their central market walk way and its lunch time first opportunity at authentic Costa Rican dishes my casada de vegetales comes equipped with plantains and pasta and corn and arroz con frijoles negros and its authentic and delicious and Dan insists he is ordering authentic Costa Rican cuisine but whatever it is it bears an uncanny resemblance to a chunk of deep fried chicken and some french fries and a side of tortilla wrap but who’s to say and we keep walking La Plaza de Cultura and el Teatro Nacional and being the cultural connoisseurs that we are we inadvertently enter a local library under the impression we are walking into a fine arts museum and after a longer than necessary exchange with the local guard upon entry we immediately realize our mistake alas it is too late and hubris has taken a hold of us: we must proceed to walk for some twenty minutes around the entirety of all levels of this library all the while greeting it as if it were a worldly art museum because pride is a fools’ fortress and we are the fools and the library was our fortress and we weren’t leaving until we were damn sure that security guard believed in his heart that we had been fully aware this was a local library and not an art gallery and had fully intended to walk through this local library to view it for its own sake. and then we’re off to a post modern art exhibit that threw us for a loop serving as the catalyst my favorite philosophical exchange with Dan to date on modern versus postmodern art and artistic sentiment and its objectivity versus subjectivity individuality versus collective right versus right in this context but how can we objectively judge post modern art? contrasted with when did judging become necessary for subjective experience and growth? and its entirely frustrating and its wholeheartedly illuminating how different kindred spirits can be and we are walking and now its raining and street entertainers are practicing their juggling and hipsters are creating their scenes and don’t mind the unanticipated strokes of our colorful verbal exchanges on their canvas our peculiarity in their exhibitions for only just today this 5th day of July in the mid-afternoon heat and rain drops droplets soaking through the paint and then its Galileo again for a movie night in the bar with its periodic table of spirits and its ‘Machete’ a gruesome and gory favorite-male pelicula which is apparently a total crowd-pleaser and we laugh and we drink and we meet John and Brian and the employees here will be  for sure among the finest hostel employees we meet during our 21 day adventure we can’t know this of course at this moment but regardless we enjoy the immersion in the absurdity of this scene as well and it’s an overwhelming and exhausting and captivating and glorious first day of travel a day that has now proven a truly inspiring cesspool for postmodern creative expression through the lens of a lass whose perspective accompanied yours  and is there anything meaningful worthwhile and immune from judgment in experiencing this?


Prisoner’s Note: at 12 and at 17 and 21 and  now again with a month to go. five year intervals and extending the release date. each time being reassured the pay off is greater: more colors, broader strokes.  in return your request stays the same: don’t cover the canvas in black. so its St. John’s instead of coke for now, and reason in freedom but with faith steadfast. it’s don’t worry about being sent to the ward and give it 5 more years. you’re doing good here. you remind me i asked for this first. release after.

I think it helps to get profiles and short biographies on the main characters of any story. You feel slightly more invested in their fates, and empathetic of their perspectives, concerns, idiosyncratic personality traits, and general dispositions. In the case of our summer travel trip to Costa Rica, the main characters are Dan, David, and I (but there were also a number of epic guest starring appearances, that in many ways helped make this trip the incredible experience it ended up being).

Below are excerpts from the email exchanges ( b/w David, Dan, and I) that set this trip in motion (the logistics and planning period)– proffered to provide some semblance of a backdrop and genesis story for the otherwise entirely happenstance decision to make this random idea to trio-travel to Central America a reality. I figure this is as close as we are going to get character profiles or an account of plot inception. I also like this approach since it requires so little on my part: mostly just copying and pasting email excerpts of the past.



On meeting up once we all arrived in Costa Rica:

> > We could potentially just agree to meet David at the airport, or some other agreed upon location, at a specified date and time. I defer to
both you seasoned travelers on the best way to go about this. Also, David, this is all operating on assumption you’d want to meet up immediately. If
you have some other plans, and want to meet up at any later date (after reviewing ouritinerary) that’s fine too! Whatever date and time frame, I am
sure we can accommodate.

Regarding the concern that David and Dan had never met prior to there meeting in Costa Rica:

> >  I do wish you two could have met before CR, but there was no way, given all our schedules. Let me take this opportunity to reassure both
of you, each of you is *totally amazing and freakishly intelligent* (almost as awesome and smart, in fact, as your mutual friend, Mary) and I’m
entirely confident any misadventures the three of us endeavor upon together during our time in CR will yield only the best kinds of memorable
experiences! Hmmm…don’t know what else would need to be said towards that end. If this helps (and I’m *well aware* it won’t, but I’m going to say it
anyways, b/c I think its funny):

> > To Dan: David’s mannerisms remind me of the main character in ‘That 70’s Show’, but he is way smarter and more adventuresome.

> > To David: Dan’s mannerisms remind me of Larry David, but he’s way smarter and better looking.
> >
> > To both: I’m just being an asshole right now.



June 29th, 2011


>> Dear Mary,

>>Firstly, I have to say, I think you nailed me, to a tee!  I’m sure with that, Dan will generally know what to expect upon meeting me. 🙂  His
description is quite evocative as well.  He and I will have to have a tête-à-tête and come up with a blurb for you.  It’ll be good, i promise.
Anyway, this sounds ballzdacious.




June 29, 2011

>>Hey David,

>>First off, let me say that the fact that you identify with Eric Forman already puts me at ease- we should get along swimmingly.  That being said, there are a few questions that I might be able to (partially) answer.  Most of our knowledge of the places we plan to go is derived from a lonely planet guidebook (I’ve always found them quite helpful in the past).

>>I believe you can get almost anywhere in the country from San Jose by bus (including Santa Elena/Monteverde, I think).  But, since Mary is in possession of our guidebook, she can probably give you more of the specifics on this stuff.  And, I’m willing to try out a “No English” rule for a while (although, this might result in much confusion due to my lack of command of the Spanish language).



June 30, 2011


>>Dan, thanks for addressing questions so promptly.  Makes me look good.   Like I know how to pick out quality friends or something.

>>David, I can’t wait to see you! Truly! This is going to be awesome!

>>’No English Rule’ = Duh. I’m in. I was born not to speak English.

>>Btdubs, Dan is right.  I have his precious guide book in my possession. And, per an age old gentleman’s agreement (a ‘policy’ turned ‘principle’ in my book), I think we all know me well enough to know the fate of Mr. Miller’s formal possession.
>>And, needless to say, that’s where it will stay!…Waddled up, coo’ing, and all super-cute in my arms, for all eternity. Amen.


July 3, 2011



>>I finally read MY *sweet ass* CR travel guidebook, y’know.. that one that I own (that one that is mine). Anyways, so now I got knowledge to drop on your ass (es) BUT…there’s a catch..

>>if you want relevant safety and logistical planning intelligence, you’ll have to keep me alive…for the duration of the trip.
Sounds simple enough, right? Right. Until I got a few guaros in me (look it up, b-words…or keep me alive and I’ll tell ya…choice is yours).

>>To address David’s concerns (in case you were starting to doubt I would):
1) Dan, can we agree to meet David at the bus station in Monte Verde on July 12th (rhetorical)?
David, the bus from San Jose to Monte Verde  leaves from Calle 12 (street b/w Ave. 7 & Ave. 9)  twice daily (once at 6:30 a.m. and once at 2:30 pm). It costs like $6 and is about a 4 1/2 hour commute. Note: this trip books quickly, so if at all possible, book ahead).

>>David, given this information that I have provided strictly from my mind and not verbatim from the book (you’re welcome), maybe you can be a petunia and give us an E.T.A?

>>Dan, can you too be a mint julep for me and provide David with your phone number (rhetorical)? I would like him to be the single prison call you offered me.

>>David calls us that day when his ass is on a bus seat headed towards Monte Verde (w/ updated E.T.A).
We’re at the station in our Sunday finest to greet our prodigal son’s return.

>>And then there were three. And the day was there’s.

>>P.S. Yes, David, I’ve been practicing my Spanish. In fact, (1) I caught the tail end of ‘Fools Rush In’ just the other day, (2) I attempted to address my mother in Spanish just today–entirely unprompted. She smiled her *super sweet* Carmen smile and asked me gently,
‘What language is that you’re speaking, it sounds so pretty?’ (3) I just had a margarita (or two or three) at a *Mexican* Restaurant (thank you very much) a few hours (or minutes) ago.

>>So, I’m going to call ‘Down Dino!’ on your one-man  ‘Spanish Inquisition’, David.. just cool it, bro. How many times do I got to tell you, I grew up to Speedy Gonzalez and Zorro. It’s in my blood. Can’t ‘learn’ what flows through your veins, just gotta feel it..

>>Anywho, can’t wait for us bros to unite forces.

>>Your affable Ren among Stimpy’s,



Note: I chose to memorialize this summer’s travel-abroad misadventure in a series of loosely-structured idea bundles delivered in a stream-of-consciousness-styled blog post.

Apologies to the extent this style of writing compromises clarity in communication to other readers besides myself.

Like a lot of my posts, the writing herein is delivered more as a work of creative-artistic expression for personal pleasure and memorial notation (as opposed to a systematically structured, grammatically sound anecdote written in traditional prose).

As a general rule, I leave that latter writing style to real philosophers (and by real, I mean analytic) ((and by analytic, I mean objective and good)) (((and by objective and good, I mean Western))) ((((and by Western, I mean American)))).

Take them as seriously as they take themselves.

Question them as often as they question themselves.

And the truth of everything will always be anything but ambiguous, unclear, or uncomfortable.

And the truth of something will always be everything but susceptible to variables of contextual relevance and subjectivity.

And the truth of anything will always be something but nothing valid in every reality frame.


Ahem. God, it’s exhausting being this witty (petty). I’m over writing for now, so lets just call this post the preface to my post on traveling (and call it a day). See ya on the flip-side, fools..

I’m going down this road (D & D game) in the not-so-distant futureFirst order of business, I had to complete a hundred-something question exam for my DM (that’s the in-the-know acronym we gamers use to denote the role of Dungeon Master). Standard print denotes the results generated from quiz responses and the italics are personal reflections on said results.

I am a:

Neutral Good Elf Druid/Wizard (2nd/2nd Level) Elf druid sounds semi-lame, but not sure what to make of it..

Ability Scores:
Strength- 12  12 out of what? who knows..
Dexterity- 12
Constitution- 13
Intelligence- 16  well, well, well..
Wisdom- 15
Charisma- 15

Neutral Good- A neutral good character does the best that a good person can do. He is devoted to helping others. He works with kings and magistrates but does not feel beholden to them. Neutral good is the best alignment you can be because it means doing what is good without bias for or against order. However, neutral good can be a dangerous alignment because it advances mediocrity by limiting the actions of the truly capable (wtf? I advance mediocrity and compromise the efficacy of the truly good and gifted).

Elves are known for their poetry, song, and magical arts, but when danger threatens they show great skill with weapons and strategy. Elves can live to be over 700 years old (oh good, that’s more than enough time to perfect the art of promoting mediocrity in all realms of human existence) and, by human standards, are slow to make friends and enemies, and even slower to forget them. Elves are slim and stand 4.5 to 5.5 feet tall (we like long strolls in the park and prefer snuggling by a warm fireplace to a night on the town any eve). They have no facial or body hair, prefer comfortable clothes, and possess unearthly grace (hmmm  “unearthly grace” you say?). Many (Edit: ALL) others races find them hauntingly beautiful.

Primary Class:
Druids- Druids gain power not by ruling nature but by being at one with it (we’re the hippies of the underworld). They hate the unnatural, including aberrations or undead, and destroy them where possible. Druids receive divine spells from nature, not the gods, and can gain an array of powers as they gain experience, including the ability to take the shapes of animals. The weapons and armor of a druid are restricted by their traditional oaths, not simply training. A druid’s Wisdom score should be high, as this determines the maximum spell level that they can cast.

Secondary Class:
Wizards- Wizards are arcane spellcasters who depend on intensive study to create their magic. To wizards, magic is not a talent but a difficult, rewarding art. When they are prepared for battle, wizards can use their spells to devastating effect. When caught by surprise, they are vulnerable. The wizard’s strength is her spells, everything else is secondary. She learns new spells as she experiments and grows in experience, and she can also learn them from other wizards. In addition, over time a wizard learns to manipulate her spells so they go farther, work better, or are improved in some other way. A wizard can call a familiar- a small, magical, animal companion that serves her. With a high Intelligence, wizards are capable of casting very high levels of spells. Mischievous. Dig it.