I've got this thing on the side of my forehead, like a pimple. I've never had a pimple there before. Strange. Also strange, I bit my lower lip yesterday while eating dinner, and I've already bit it twice tonight. Since I had to hold my lip back to prevent myself from biting it again, I couldn't truly relish my Carl's Junior Famous Star burger. I feel that in terms of suckiness, biting one's own cheek, tongue, or lip is akin to jamming your toe, hitting your funny bone, or knocking your shin-that is, all of these things suck a hella lot, even when you don't have scrumptious fast food you're trying to eat.

I now have a cute lil' pocket dictionary taking up 3x5 inches of desk space as opposed to a fatty dictionary hogging like 8X11 massive inches. I'm very pleased with my mini dictionary, even if the definition of the first word I looked up was so consice it was only one word. [side note: That's weird. I just picked up my pocket dictionary and attempted to let it fall open naturally in the hope that it would open to the page that held the first word I looked up. See, I forgot the word and really wanted to be able to share it with you. Instead of revealing the page and word I had previously looked up, the dictionary fell open to a page with the word "josh" and its definition "tease or joke". Its the first word I saw. And what's really weird is...that's my name! I think my dictionary is trying to talk to me! How awesome. This has never happened to me before. I think my dictionary likes me. Oh, and another weird thing is that the definition of the word "josh" is actually what I'm doing right now. What are the odds?]

At work today I had a customer walk in and ask for help ordering a triple. For the first few minutes of our interaction I thought he was talking about a 3-ringed crankset. Then I realized that he was talking about a bicycle made for three people. The customer, John, was hoping to take trip around Canada and the U.S. with his two hyperactive boys. John needed help determining which size of Triplet he and his kids needed. So, I spent over an hour measuring John and his kids, talking to Santana (the company that makes the Triplet), analyzing data and sketches, and discussing exactly how the whole thing was going to work for his 5 and 7 year old boys. In the end, we decided on a custom frame that was medium sized in the front and small in the back-a size that, due to our analysis, was smaller than what the folks at Santana had originally recommended to John over the phone. First thing tomorrow morning I will place an order for the $6000 Santana Triplet. Apparantly, I handled the pressure of such a complicated project well, because Randy felt compelled to tell me good job, and he did so.

By the way, I hate the words "went" and "got". More and more, I find myself carefully selecting different words when I'm tempted to use those.

I rode my bike up Rocky Canyon Road this evening in spite of possible rain showers and a darkening sky. I felt good. I made a point to sit as much as possible and save my standing power for the last couple miles of much steeper terrain. When I reached that stretch, I couldn't really stand up without loosing traction on wet, loose gravel. In the last mile I had to ride over snow before dismounting and hiking a hundred meters to the top. On my way down I passed a Jeep that was spinning out in an attempt to climb what I had just cleared on my bike.

Bedtime. I'd like to get up tomorrow early enough to spend a solid hour reading at the Flying M before I have to head to work. Goodnight.

The weather during my night ride last Thursday was ok but for the 30mph winds that threatened to blow me off the trail. The next day, the temperature dropped 10-20 degrees, making it feel like February again. On Saturday I had to work. We got quite a show in the afternoon, as a storm instantly filled our parking lot with rain and hail. This inclement weather really made me grumpy. At least there was something to gripe about over the weekend. When I checked the forcast for the week I saw that temperatures were to remain low, in the thirtees and low fourtees. So it goes without saying that when I stepped outside of the shop this afternoon into a beautiful warm day, I was pleasantly surprised. I decided then and there that I would be riding after work. Later, I received a message from Fern which informed me that she had concluded the same thing. Sandy allowed me to leave ten minutes early so that I could rush home, change, meet Fern, and hit the trails while there was still adequate daylight to see by. Fern and I followed a course which included two moderate climbs and one challenging climb, as well as three especially fun descents of the thrill-factors 5, 7, and 9 (on a 1-10 scale). We made it back to town just as it became too dark to ride without a light. I then stopped by the Co-op and picked up some pasta sauce and wine. I took these goods home, cleaned up, ate dinner, and accompanied Fern to the Flying M where I read The End of Faith and got angry at Christians, and Fern began knitting herself a striped hat.

Night Riding

You'd be surprised at how little light you need to mountain bike at night in the Boise front. As the sun sets and the earth's shadow is cast over everything in front of you, the trail remains a crisp light grey. Even when all that's left of the day is a small patch of blue above the western horizon, you don't loose sight of the trail, as it has a way of gathering refracted city light and what is left of the daylight, and reflecting it back to your eyes. This happens because the trail is not dirt, but a yellowish sand that can vary in consistency from Sahara fine to granite rubble.

Its a pleasant sound your tires make on this surface-sometimes fuzzy, other times crunchy. Either way, its soothing, like white noise, and could easily put you to sleep if it weren't for the fact that all of your senses are employed in the navigation of your bike. This focus as well as the crisp cool air not only keep you attentive, but make you feel outrageously alive . Eventually, of course, you switch on your head lamp when all becomes several shades closer to black. The starkest contrast resides between the hills and the sky. Your immediate surroundings become one large silhouette against a night sky infused with the oranges, whites, and yellows of city lights. Sometimes the clouds above your head appear to be glowing red hot. Other times, when the city is hidden behind a hill, you might be fooled for a moment into thinking that a great fire raged in the valley. But most of the time, you are simply filled with awe at the sight of the city lights. This is especially true when, after riding away from town for the first half of the ride, you finally turn around and behold the entire valley, twinkling beneath you like a galaxy, almost close enough to touch. The lights of the city really do twinkle and shimmer as the air between civilization and you rises in spirals and waves. Looking down on the scene, its hard to imagine driving through traffic near the mall or dancing at the Balcony. In fact, at that moment its kind of hard imagining doing anything anywhere other than what it is your actually doing at the place you're actually doing it. I think they call this sensation, "living in the moment".

Night riding can be a thrilling experience, literally. Sounds, shapes, movement, and even your own thoughts can really creap you out. Sagebrush can look like anything-a person, a wolf, a cow, whatever. In the dark, they are big hulking dark objects that look especially menacing silhouetted against the night sky. Trail markers, with their reflective tape, can briefly resemble the eyes of a beast starring back at you. Sometimes what you see is very much alive. A couple of days ago, my route was flanked by a herd of deer. On the same ride, I startled an extremely large bird of prey; which, when it lept into the air, was so close to me that I felt a rush of wind from its enormous wings. There are also silly little birds that like to sit in the middle of the trail at night and burst into the air with a trumpet of inappropriately loud tweets. As startling as these experiences can be, its what you don't see that causes the skin on your neck to prickle. It was outrageously windy tonight, so of course there were a lot of sounds that turned my head. For example, a small tree creaked like an old wagon wheel when I rode by. The wind through the powerlines overhead produced the most haunting persistent howl. Various sacks, flags, and brush flapped at my heels.

More later...?

When I was 18 I worked at Sirloin Stockade in Independence, Kansas. I was a line cook responsible for tasks like dumping loads of chicken in the fryer for all-you-can-eat-chicken Sundays, calling out orders to the "broiler", preparing plates, making salads, and filtering the grease from the fryers at the end of the day. In addition, all of the cooks were very much concerned with keeping the restaurant well supplied with baked potatoes; because if we didn't, our manager Marty, who was pushing 6'5" and 300 pounds, would come storming into the kitchen all red faced and blustery screaming that a steak house NEVER runs out of baked potatoes. NEVER!
However unwarranted this long intro might be, I think it does a fair job of representing my feelings on this subject:
I civilized human being NEVER runs out of clean underwear. NEVER!
There are no excuses good enough to cool my indignation. The reasons for why this morning I had to pick what I thought to be the cleanest pair of underwear among those I've already worn are virtually inconceivable. Even now, I'm wearing no underwear at all. I admit it. I am guilty of either not doing my laundry enough or not buying enough underwear in the first place. Either way, I'm guilty. I deserve to be reprimanded severly. (And I call myself a modern man)

That said, my day was pretty nice. Work wasn't much. There was some retrieving bikes here, stocking things there, smiling at people-you know, the usual stuff. Fern and I were going to see a movie tonight but thought better of it. Instead, we did our own things, exercise-wise. I jumped on my mountain bike as soon as I got home and headed out to seize as much daylight as I could before I was forced to turn on my lights. I wanted to work on my overall biking fitness-increase power, improve cardio-so I rode up 8th street pushing a moderate to hard gear, maintaining a sustainable tempo. After about 7 miles or so, my toes had become pretty numb, and my fingertips weren't much better. So I headed back down in the dark, using the meager light from my handlebar mounted LEDs to warn me of the mountain bike-swallowing ruts that crossed my path. On the way, I navigated Trail Four to Freeway and down to Reserve. At home I consumed a plate of seasoned pasta for the third night in a row. Then I rode to the M and chatted with Fern for a while. We covered many topics, one being the pros and cons of breast milk. Now I'm home and am ready for bed.

Do you ever feel uninspired? Of course you don't. Surely I'm the only one in the world who isn't brilliant all of the time. Yeah, anyway, I'm not feeling like the sharpest tack tonight, which is strange, because usually I temporarily become a fckn genius after engaging in the activity I engaged in tonight. Who knows what's going on? I suspect I'm experiencing a hormone-induced mini-funk (I think that's the medical term). Or it could be the South Park eminating from the telli over my shoulders-you know, the hypnotic effects of a rather low-brow production. Whateva. I reckon I'll bury myself in more enlightening material tomorrow morning at the Flying M.

The weekend was good to me. Things warmed up just enough to make the three bike rides I went on bareable. On Friday, I did Reserve-Bucks-Shanes trail by myself. Saturday, Fern and I rode the tandem several miles out the greenbelt and back. Sunday, She and I cruised up Reserve-Central Ridge-Reserve-Freeway-half of Sidewinder-and back down Your Mom. Saturday morning and Sunday evening, we enjoyed time at the M and Barnes n' Nobles. Sunday morning we had breakfast at Jim's Cafe. Saturday we did sushi for dinner at Zuto's. I haven't included all the fun I had over Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Fern, wanna add anything? -Oh yes, on Saturday we had successful shopping experiences primarily at Savors, but also at the Mall.

Many things happened today that might just ensure I remember it years from now. First, I grabbed my Barnes n' Nobles-in-a-bag and made my way to a coffee shop to do some reading. The Flying M was packed so I settled for Java a block away. There, I read more of The End of Faith, and then spent some time reading An Essay on Morals by Philip Wylie. An Essay on Morals was printend in 1947. The author believes that morality should be tied to instinct. He pays special attention to instinct, time, the ego, individualism, the conscious, the subconscious, among other ideas. Incidentally, he thinks religion is ridiculous. The book is fun to read in that the author tends to go off on these tangents that sound very much like poetry or a sermon.
Yeah, so I read for a little over an hour, finished my mocha, and left Java in order to find a new place where I could get a new tasty beverage and read a little longer. First, I stopped in at The Lux, a used clothing store that features more quality, stylish apparel, and less of the common thrift store crap. I was surprised to find a couple things a really liked. One was a green t-shirt with graphics on the front consisting of a cruise ship in the distance, a sexy couple lounging on the beach, palm trees, and the word "California" splayed across the upper chest. Very 80s. The second thing I ended up buying was a black button up long sleeve shirt embroidered with two roses below the somewhat pointy collars. The shirt actually seems kind of cliche, in a fashion sense-like something Rob Thomas of Matchbox 20 would wear in a video-or like just about any pop artist would wear in a video, including modern country "artists". Nevertheless, it is a cool shirt, and I'm glad I bought it.
From the Lux I stopped in for some lunch at Subway. I had a 6" tuna sub with swiss, toasted. I scarfed that down and walked next door to River City Bagel and bought myself a Irish Creme Latte (to celebrate St. Patrich's day) and read another book I had in my bag called Introducing Marxism. The book is really neat. It is one in a series of "Introducing..." books which all utilize fun, cartoon/comic-like illustrations to provide the reader a visual aid in order to understand the oft-complex topics of focus. I find that the illustrations help a lot, and the book itself is exactly what I need to read a long with the more in-depth The Philosophy of Marxism in order to really retain the knowledge I'm being exposed to.
Next, I walked a few blocks over to Function, my favorite high-end clothing store, to have a look around. While there I had a talk with a guy named Andrew, someone who knows people I know, who hangs out at places I hang out, and who obviously shares my appreciation for stylish clothing. He also happens to be the brother of this guy Brian who I sold my 75 Plymouth Valiant to a couple months ago. A few weeks ago, vandals broke out the cars beautiful curved rear window, and tore off its antannea and windshield wipers. Andrew and I talked about how we'd love to get our hands on the fuckers who did that to such a cool car. I also had a long chat with the very pregnant salesperson about all things music, in a general, philisophical way.
I didn't buy anything. Then I went to my bank, Bank of America, cashed my check and attempted to close my account; but I couldn't due it as a transaction I had just made needed time to go through. So I made my way to Idaho Central Credit Union and opened up a checking and savings account. This is Fern's bank and she highly recommended it. My primary motive for changing banks was bitterness towards Bank of America for charging me a 29.99% interest rate on my Visa in the past. Also, the new bank has online banking and online bill pay which will make my life easier.
After setting up an account, I went to Georges and chatted with Tom for a while after letting him in on the fact that I was there to talk to Mike about getting a raise. When Mike was available, we talked in the office for just a short time, I asked him for a raise, and he said he would talk to Tom, but he responded so positively that I know the raise is a sure thing. So, hopefully, I'll get the 10% raise that I asked for, which equates to around $2000 more dollars in my pocket in a year.
I left Georges and headed home. There I did the dishes and worked out a bit. Fern called and said that she made arrangements to hang out with Devlyn for a while, so I went on a mountain bike ride. The weather was nice-just a little chilly, windy, and grey, but not bad overall.
At home I cleaned up and waited for Fern to pick me up so we could go get dinner. After going to Ichibon, a Japanese Steakhouse, and seeing that all non-sushi menu items were like $18 dollars, we fled and went to Red Robin. There I had a Mushroom and Swiss Turkey Burger that was absolutely amazing. Fern had a BBQ version of a Turkey Burger.
Finally, after making a trip out to Edwards for the opening night of V is for Vandetta, and after realizing that we'd have to wait a whole hour to catch the next showing, we went to the two dollar theater on Overland and watched Hoodwinked, a funny and cute animated film (aren't they all) about Little Red Riding Hood, her Extreme Sports Grammy, a singing goat, a hyped up squirrel, a big-dumb yoddeling actor, a funny looking frog PI, a investigative journalist wolf, a cute furry evil bunny rabbit played by Andy Dick-among others. The movie was hilarious and completely worth the two dollars.

Marxism as I know it

What have I learned about Marxism so far? (consider this a review for my own sake, to see if I can remember what I read and present it in a concise way)

First of all, the philosophy of Marxism employs the dialect of Hegel but "turns it on its head." This is probably the trickiest part to understand. Hegel stated that reality is made up of ideas of things which are only really true when seen as integral parts of a process. Reality is a process of interrelated ideas which continue to change and progress towards something Hegel called the "absolute ideal." This "changing" and "progressing" is a phenomenon called "dialectic". Hegel's dialectic states that every idea is not simply that idea alone. Inherent or implicit in every idea or supposed truth is the exact opposite of that idea, or as Hegel called it, its antithesis. Every idea has this built in counter logic, which creates a conflict or "vitalizing principle" which causes an idea to evolve towards greater and greater truth. Ultimately, in principle, the end point of this steady march towards greater and greater truth is finally reality, or the "absolute ideal." The change that occurs when the thesis-or original idea-interacts with its inherent antithesis-its exact opposite-results in the new truer idea called the synthesis.

I find it somewhat difficult to provide an example of this, although dialectic is supposed to apply to any idea or thing. I'm am unclear if Hegel's dialectic applies to both subjective and objective ideas equally. Hegel's dialectic is easiest to understand when one thinks of advancements in human understanding through science. We used to think the earth was flat. Hegel says that because the statement "the earth is flat" is inseperable from its antithesis "the earth is not flat", that the idea, like all ideas, could never remain static, and that the vitalizing principle of the dialectic resulted in a more true discovery-the earth is round. For people like me who have only just been introduced to Hegel, its difficult to see how the dialectic is not faulty, but I'll give it a chance and keep reading.

Anyway, Marx was turned off by Hegel's view of reality. Marx thought that reality and truth were things that were grounded in material things, not something called the "absolute ideal" that exists so far off towards infinity that we can't reasonably hope to experience it. Marx thought "the absolute ideal" earily sounded like another word for God or supreme power, an ultimately unknowable thing. Marx believed that we can know the true nature of things. Indeed, everything our senses bring to our consciousness is absolute truth, not even a mere representation of the truth. Marx did not seperate what we experience through our senses as either true or false; instead, he said that there is only experienced reality or the unknown. For example, we may not be able to see or touch the internal makeup of a stone, but from that which we do see, we are able to see is true nature nonetheless.

Marx was greatly influenced by Hegel's dialectic but he had a problem with what he considered Hegel's "mysticism" or his refusal to see reality as not just idea but material as well. Marx still thought that Hegel's dialectic held true, for the most part. But Marx chose to modify-or "turn it on its head" so that it would apply to his own materialistic view of reality. Marx said that the dialectic was the force behind all change in nature. In his time he observed that there were always forces working in opposition to each other. For example, atoms are made up of protons and electrons. The ocean pushes against land and land holds back the ocean. The "exploiting" class-the group of people who own property and act to maintain the current mode of production (including forming a state)-is in opposition with the "exploited class", or those who are denied freedoms and are oppressed due to their lack of control over the mode of production.

I could produce a bit more on Marx, but I'm starting to recite some of the stuff I'm just beginning to read about and I don't have the best feel for it yet, so I won't go on much more.

Anyway, I was more excited when I was reading about the philosophy at the heart of Marxism. I'm having big problems with the aspect of Marxism I'm currently reading about-history and the state. Marx thought that everything in history and all that makes up society can be explained by a society's mode of production. Mode of production is not a simple thing. The term includes quite a lot, but it really seems as though Marx oversimplified things in a grotesque manner when he singled out the ownership of private property as being a defining factor in one particular mode of production, as if there are countless ways items can be produced and societies maintained which don't include private property in the formula. Of course, communism took this ignorant view of private property, adopted Marx's ideas, and basically did away with private property in practice. (atleast as far as I know).

That's all for now. Time for a bowl-of cereal that is.

Anti-Religion

Its 10:07pm. Often, you'll find me playing a game or two of spider solitaire at this time of night. Since that's not a possibility anymore, I find myself using my brain instead, writing this here blog. And that's awesome.
So I'm reading a book I bought a few days ago entitled "The End of Faith." On the back cover of the book, Johann Hari of The Independent magazine provides a quote. He states, "Sam Harris launches a sustained nuclear assault...The End of Faith is a brave, pugilistic attempt to demolish the walls that currently insulate religious people from criticism...The End of Faith is badly needed." Upon reading that, and after skimming over the contents of the book, I got a little excited and I had to buy it, despite having no idea what "pugilistic" meant.
For years now I've been vehemently anti-religion. Of course, this shouldn't be confused with looking down on believers, because it would be silly to find fault with billions of people around the world who practice one religion or another. I was one of the believers when I was younger, and if circumstances had been slightly different, I would still be one. That said, I'm am so anti-religion its crazy. Religion has had it soooo easy for soooo long. If I could name something that has had the least amount of criticism in relation to the criticism it deserves, it would be religion in general or faith in particular. Religion has retarded society's intellectual and emotional progress; is responsible for war after war, and as a result, the death of millions; deprives believers of happier lives; acts as a cover and a tool for those who wish to wield power over society; condones and supports a subserviant/totalitarian hierarchical structure; increases conformity and hinders creativity; and speaks something akin to blasphemy when it calls humans and natural human behavior sinful, threatening us all with hell for being who we are. So, yeah, I'm not a fan of religion. Neither is Sam Harris, the author of The End of Faith; Religion, Terror, and the Future of Reason. He really calls religion out and holds no punches when he writes things like:

"The idea...that religious faith is somehow a sacred human convention-distinguished, as it is, both by the extravagance of its claims and by the paucity of its evidence-is really too great a monstrosity to be appreciated in all its glory. Religious faith represents so uncompromising a misuse of the power of our minds that it forms a kind of perverse, cultural singularity-a vanishing point beyond which rational discourse proves impossible. When foisted upon each generation anew, it renders us incapable of realizing just how much of our world has been unnecessarily ceded to a dark and barbarous past."

Of course, Harris backs up his harsh criticism with facts and solid points. One demographic observation that I found entertaining was that "120 million (Americans who interpret the bible literally) place the big bang 2,500 years after the Babylonians and Sumerians learned to brew beer."

Maybe one of these days, the argument against religion won't be derided as evil or unfair or insensitive the exact moment it is made. Its funny, society has granted respect to something that 1) harms us in all the ways mentioned before, and 2) is backed by the least amount of reason, evidence, or internal consistency (the Bible). Anyway, I know what Christianity's answers would be to the challenges Sam and I pose, and at this point I'm just unwilling to pay the price of simply "having faith" or "feeling the spirit". Too often, those answers have led to tragedy for both society and individuals.

Damn Spider Solitaire. Damn it to hell.
If you talk to me long enough on any given day, you're bound to hear me utter something along the lines of "man, I gotta start working out more," or "I wish I had more time to read," or "one of these days I'll get around to cleaning the apartment." I'm a hopeful sorta guy, you know, with dreams and shit. Its only a matter of a few years before I make all of my wildest dreams come true (yes, this includes reading more and cleaning my apartment). That is, unless Spider Solitaire doesn't consume me whole first.
Spider Solitaire is a curse. No. Its much, much worse. Spider Solitaire is the scourge of the Earth.
I, Josh Travis, swear that when I'm done typing this, I will remove Spider Solitaire from my computer. It will be a brave act or it will be the biggest mistake of my life. It all depends upon the sort of built in defense mechanism the Spider Solitaire program is armed with. If you find a pile of ashes on my chair, tell my mom that I love her and that now I am with grammy on the "other side". And for the love of Christ, do not attempt to finish the game on my computer screen.

Today I had pizza for lunch and pizza for dinner. Also for dinner, I had beers. I have not ridden my bike in weeks. I don't need a nurse to take my blood pressure or stick her finger up my butt to know that I could benefit from more intense physical activity. This physical activity I have in mind is going to happen really really soon dammit. I don't want any more excuses from Mother Nature. Things better warm up soon or there's going to be hell to pay. I'm serious. I'll start littering all over the place! If the Northern Hemisphere doesn't start getting its act together, I'm going to have to take things into my own hands. I don't want to start driving a 76 Cadillac Eldorado around to contribute more than my fair share of greenhouse gasses, but I'll do it if things don't get a little more pleasant around here. Fuck Hootie the Owl, Smokie the Bear, Shamoo the whale-the whole lot of em. I want to ride my bike!

I'm so disappointed! Tonight, on the way home from Barnes n' Nobles, Jennifer told me about the drama that's been happening on Devlyn's site. A while back, Devlyn wrote a blog about her trip to Portland, and in doing so, she commented on how the opening act of a show she attended put her to sleep. The "artist" that she referred to googled his name and Devlyn's blog came up at the top of the page. He chose to post a comment in defense of himself by calling Devlyn a stupid girl and a white trash whore (or something like that). Several of Devlyn's friends responded, the musician responded back, and some sort of "debate" ensued (or at least the musician seemed to think that he was engaged in a debate-funny). My point for bringing this up: I'm disappointed I couldn't join the fray. That's all. Devlyn wisely chose to shut down the comment feature under the entry. I'm sure she'd prefer her blog not devolve into something like a Bill Oreilly interview session, regardless of how entertained I would be if it did.
Yeah, so I'm riding this big philosophy kick right now. I've been reading "The Philosophy of Marxism" as well as a book entitled "Introducing Hegel". I'm progressing through them both, learning a lot, and even enjoying the experience.
I've got more to say, but if I don't post this now, I'll be late for work. Later,

Its my Friday and I'll party if I want to... And I don't-want to, that is. I've already eaten, drunk, and behaved merrily tonight, and so I'm through with all that. I'm now looking forward to crawling into bed. And just like I always have room for desert, I can always stay up a little longer to play at least two games of spider solitaire. I don't think writing a blog is like playing spider solitaire though. I'm very capable of pooping out in the middle of sentences, so I'd better get down to business.
Tonight, Jennifer and I had the great privilege of attending a dinner at the home of Devlyn. We enjoyed three delectible courses; blessed with a dizzing array of flavorful vegetable dishes, a well seasoned chicken breast with spicy sauce, and a delightfully tart tart-all prepared and presented lovingly by the lady of the house, our hostess, Devlyn. And of course, fine wine filled our melodious crystal throughout the evening. A high time was had by all those in attendance; which happened to be Devlyn, Alisha, Laura, Kelly, Sarah, Amy, Jennifer, and I.
Some highlights of the evening were: Making our wine glasses hum by running wet fingers around their crests. Making buccaneer hats out of our cotton napkins. Pouring milk out of hollow cow into my cup of coffee. Getting really excited when Fern declared that she could see a lady next door who didn't appear to have her clothes on. We eventually realized she wasn't naked, but not after plenty of amusement and gawking on our part. ...Oh, and being enthralled with Fern's story of the events leading up to the breakage of her faucet.
Its been a week and four days since I became sick. I'd say that I'm over it completely, but I still hack (cough) every now and then, and I think I'm capable of sleeping for however long I allow myself-so clearly I'm still recovering. Otherwise, I've been in a much better mood and my energy level is up, especially at work. Today I swept and mopped the floor and organized/cleaned the back storage area, in addition to helping customers. A winter storm hit Idaho a couple of days ago, so we have snow at very low elevations. Bogus celebrated receiving 100+ inches of snow. Fern and I will be snowboarding either tomorrow night or Saturday or both. I'm looking forward to it. I'm also hoping that I feel up to snuff, physically speaking, so that I can thoroughly enjoy myself.
For the record, a couple of nights ago, Fern and I walked into the north end and enjoyed some beverages at Lucky 13. I downed a Bloody Marry and Fern sipped a glass of wine. During the walk we talked about how we'd like to get back to having nights dedicated to working on creative projects (drawing, writing, music, etc).
Yesterday evening Fern visited with Amy while I was at home cleaning the bejeesus out of everything, in addition to doing my laundry.

You'd think that during a time when Americans can't get enough reality television, you'd see more people visiting my blog. You'd think, but you'd be wrong. I'm lucky if more than 4 different people check up on me a day. Hell, I could've been run over by a car a week ago as far as all my non-visitors know. I guess my life isn't exciting enough. Not prime time MTV reality show exciting anyway. What do I need to do, start sleeping with everyone I live with (just kidding. that's just wrong.)? Would it help if I was schizophrenic and a drug addict, or had multipersonality disorder and beat my girlfriend? Whatever. I just have a hard time accepting other people's inability to accept my narcissistic and exhibitionist tendencies. I'm here for the coddling people. C'mon already, coddle me!
Maybe I'm being a little dramatic for kicks, but I think there's a sober point to be made regarding the lack of familial discussion on my blog. And it follows from the question: Am I the only person in my family who will ever ask sensitive, personal, religious, psychological, or philisophical questions throughout his/her entire life? I'm not saying that anything I've ever said is better than shit on a stick, I'm just saying that life is short, and my family seems to have missed the opportunity to really connect intimately/intellectually to spread a little wisdom and learn from one another. That said, I'm pretty much as bad as everyone else when it comes to communication. I don't keep in touch with family like you'd expect a son or brother would.
What I wan't to draw out is that whereas my family seems-atleast from a distance-content knowing what they know about who they are, why they are who they are, what to do next, how to live their lives, how to relate to others, etc, etc; I readily admit that I don't feel secure in my answers to all of those issue. Also, I often feel enthused about taking those sorts of amateur philosophy questions on. I sometimes feel a mild urgency to cut the the crap, so to speak, and talk honestly. I guess I'm prone to seriousness when it comes to life, and the shortness thereoff. I watched a little Larry King tonight. The topic of discussion was the life of Dayna Reeves (the wife of Christopher Reeves) who died today from lung cancer. They showed a clip of Dayna saying something like, "Look, life isn't fair, and we need to stop expecting that it's going to be". I thought that was great because it was so honest. Life is so unfair (if you choose to think that way), especially when you think of what happens there at the end of it. Its funny, because I believe in a sort of unity of thought and feeling with others in the world, based on the fact that so many of us are born and live under such similar circumstance. For example, if you decide to jump off a bridge, there are going to be many others who decide to do the same based on the exact same feelings and reasons that compelled you to do so. If you don't decide to jump off a bridge, then that same number of people probably won't either. So its no surprise to me that these days I'm hearing sentiments about mortality that sound like echos of my own. For example, the running theme of the latest Death Cab for Cutie album is mortality. There's a song that goes, "Love of mine, someday you will die, but I will be close behind, and follow you into the dark...if heaven and hell decide that they both are satisfied, and illumintate the 'no's on their vacancy signs, if there's no one beside you when your soul departs, I'll follow you into the dark." The romantic sentiment is stunning, of course, but its the sober acceptance of the unknown-the agnostic sentiment-that I find extraordinarily touching. Anyway, for some strange reason, my sharing of that sentiment is related to my desire to cut the crap and talk about this whole "life" thing a little bit. Is that so wrong?

I've been a fan of negativity most of my life. I'll laugh if the response to "how ya doin' today" is something along the lines of "well, the hemmoride's actin up and the misses' cackle is gonna drive me off a bridge." Also, I think the word "fuckin" sounds great as an adjective. I particularly like music that makes me feel like my heart's being shattered into a million pieces. I don't think the fact that I find humor and pleasure in negativity makes me a negative person. On the contrary, finding good in the bad mean that I'm a very positive person, right? Ok, maybe it means I'm slightly twisted, but no less positive.
This is something for everyone to remember when they aren't in the brightest of moods, or when they just feel like bitching and moaning like I've done since I got sick a week ago. It doesn't mean that we're really negative people during those times. It just means we temporarily enjoy acting negative more than we do happy. Anyway, I guess I'm just reassuring myself that I'm still good ol' Josh, because its been over a week since I felt in high spirits, thanks to the flu.
Today I felt much better. Thankfully, work was not nearly as stressful as it was yesterday, and I was able to stock some things, order some things, and sell a couple things. After work I stopped by Winco to pick up items needed for a meatloaf recipe (speaking of meatloaf, Meatloaf the singersongwriter almost ruins meatloaf for me, because I think of his schweaty chubface singing "I would do anything for love" whenever I say the word "meatloaf". ...and meatloaf the food already borders on disgusting, especially if its not made just right. I'm sure Meatloaf the singersongwriter has cost the meatloaf industry billions of dollars.). Fern came over and we consumed a dinner of quality meatloaf and palmagrannen? potatoes while we watched the movie "Closer".
For the record; yesterday, I hung out with Fern at the Neurolux n' listened to music n' drank a jackncoke (fern a wine) n' made out a bit.

I just felt a flash of inspiration and motivation for turning my interests in religion, morality, philosophy, ideology, and psychology into a project. I'd like to discover what is capable of filling the "void" left if religion were to disappear. What philosophy could grant societies the security and freedom they need to help individuals gain the fulfillment they seek? Are there really universal laws and human rights that should be preached in place of religious dogma? How would the philosophy of liberalism manifest itself if it were defined and afforded respect in much the same way religions are defined and respected? Hmm, my inspiration is quickly being replaced by exhaustion. Maybe later I'll dedicate another blog to this project. Its high time I narrow my focus and begin structuring my thoughts on the matter of a philosophy of living. I'll start by examining the logic associated with various religions and alternative life philosophies.

If a flu doesn't go away, it might as well be interesting. Mine has done so by being markedly different each of the three days I've had it. Day one was "oh shit, I've got a tumor" day. Day two was "flu, what flu?" day, as all of my symptoms drastically diminished thanks to my taking the day off of work and subsequently resting and drinking a lot. On day three it was the flu's turn, declaring, "I aint done yet", as a general feeling of crappiness filled my person once again.
Of course this sucks, because with being sick, it seems as if everything about me that rocks goes into deep hibernation. Its like I'm half the man I used to be (cue Stone Temple Pilots). Where's my charm gone? My sense of humor? My mojo? My zeal for seizing the moment? For the moment, they seem to have dissappeared.
Things could be worse. As a matter of fact, my symptoms are some of the least miserable symptoms I've ever had with a bout of flu. So every now and then I've got a flemy cough that hurts a little. At least my nose isn't stuffed up and running like a leaky faucet. So my throat is a bit sore and my glands feel a tad swollen. At least my throat doesn't feel like an ice pick is being stabbed into it every time I swallow like it did when I had mono a year ago. I can breath air, swallow water, and eat food relatively painlessly; which given that I have a roof over my head, is all that a person needs, right? See, its good to have perspective about these things. Enough about me and my silly flu.
Work sucked today because Armagedon is nigh and no one but me seems capable of recognizing it. Seriously, its sooo busy and its not even the busy time of year. Even with the employees we have now, we can't get the things done that we need to get done from day to day. At the rate things are going, we'll be running out of bikes and sucking at customer service by the end of the month. But, whatever. I like to believe that I have the wisdom to try to change the things that I can change and accept the things I can't change, and all that nonsense. [hmm, I think there's a creature outside my sliding glass door. I heard a noise. Well, I hope it likes the mashed potatoes and gravy I threw out there last night]
I met up with Fern at the Flicks today after work. We watched Brokeback Mountain. An awesome movie, to say the least. Absolutely stunning in its simplicity, realism, and tragedy. A movie that pulls on your heart strings in just the same way all movies about love, lack of love, divorce, and death do. It was an extraordinarily unoriginal movie, except that its rare to view a love story about two gay men. In addition, it was way beyond ordinary in terms of acting, directing, and producing in general.
Tomorrow I work from 10am to 9pm. I've agreed to man the 3rd annual Boise Bike Swap from 6-9 in exchange for getting my sick day back-the one I utilized yesterday. I was hoping I'd have this flu beat by Friday, but I somehow doubt that being on my feet 11 hours tomorrow is going to help in that goal. At any rate, I've never been to the Bike Swap, and I'm curious to see what its like. Maybe I'll find something I've got to have. Which would be exciting.